In the vibrant city of Jaipur, a secret deal was struck between two worlds. Abhimaan Deep Shekhawat, the enigmatic King of Rajasthan, controlled the political and criminal underworld with an iron fist. His power was unmatched, his influence unparall...
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I woke up to the usual emptiness of the room, a stark reminder of my solitary mornings. Mr. Shekhawat had already left for his daily gym routine. I told myself not to care, not to expect anything. I wasn’t particularly interested in spending time with him.
Today was the reception, and the thought of my family arriving filled me with dread. I didn’t want to see them or pretend to be a happy bride. All I wanted was to disappear. It wasn’t that I was ungrateful; it was just that my family had never shown any affection towards me. From birth, they had never made me feel like their daughter.
“Maa, I’ll have my breakfast in my room today,” I said, trying to keep my tone casual.
Maa looked at me with understanding eyes. “Okay, beta. I know you’re nervous about the reception. It’s perfectly natural.”
I nodded, feeling both relief and guilt. Maa always had a way of comforting me, but I didn’t want to burden her with my issues. I just wanted to get through the day without any additional drama.
The evening arrived faster than I anticipated. I was getting ready in a stunning traditional outfit, its intricate embroidery and sequins catching the light. My makeup was understated, meant to enhance rather than overwhelm. As I adjusted the drape of my saree, I saw him through the mirror. Mr. Shekhawat had entered the room, but I didn’t react. I think I was getting used to his presence.
He, however, seemed taken aback. His eyes widened as he took in my appearance, his gaze lingering with a softness I hadn’t seen before. He looked as though he had been frozen in place.
For a moment, we just stared at each other, the only sound being the soft rustling of my saree. Then, as if breaking free from a trance, he shook his head and headed to the closet to change.
I continued getting ready, my heart beating a little faster. The way he had looked at me was... unexpected. I couldn’t help but wonder what it meant.
When he emerged from the closet, he looked dashing in his professional attire. I finished my final touches, feeling like a complete bride. As I started to walk past him, he gently stopped me with a hand on my arm. I looked up at him, puzzled.
Without saying a word, he guided me to the mirror. I was about to ask what he was doing when he opened a drawer and pulled out a small container. My heart skipped a beat as I realized it was sindoor.
I reached out to take it from him, but he was quicker. With a gentle touch, he applied the vermilion powder to the parting of my hair. I felt a shiver run down my spine as his fingers grazed my skin.
“Now you are looking complete, Mrs. Abhimaan Deep Shekhawat,” he said, his voice low and husky.
I blushed and looked away, unsure how to respond to this sudden gesture.
He turned and left, leaving me with a swirl of emotions. Why had he called me Mrs. Abhimaan Deep Shekhawat?
I shrugged off the confusion and told myself not to overthink it. I didn’t want to embarrass myself by appearing too flustered.
