What happens when a young woman finds herself standing at the altar, not as the chosen bride, but as the last-minute replacement for her elder sister who has fled? Forced into a marriage that was never meant to be hers, she faces a future filled wit...
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It’s been a week since I became Mrs. Kashvi Prem Mehra, and I’m unsure how to process this situation. One moment, I was helping my sister escape her marriage, and the next, I was marrying the same man.
On our wedding day, I wondered what my husband would be like—whether he would be abusive, violent, disrespectful, or if he would try to force himself on me that night. But none of those scenarios played out. On our wedding night, I waited for him, but he never came, and eventually, I fell asleep.
I still don’t know his true personality, as we haven’t had a single proper interaction in the past few days. It feels as though he doesn’t exist, or perhaps I don’t exist for him.
When I first came here, I was greeted by an elegant living area with floor-to-ceiling windows that flood the space with natural light. The interior is adorned with premium finishes, including Italian marble floors, bespoke chandeliers, and contemporary art pieces.
I sighed, flopping onto the living room couch with a bowl of popcorn.
Can you believe my enigmatic husband has a gym and a whole-ass mini theater in here? My parents aren't poor by any means, but this dude is just filthy rich.
Honestly, I don’t even know why I’m here, as he made it very clear that this marriage is just a deal for him. We sleep in the same bed, or so I think, but he’s gone before I even wake up in the morning. No calls, no greetings, no messages, nothing.
By the time I finished watching Twilight, the front door opened, and in came my husband and his brother.
"Hey Bhabhi, kaise ho?" Akshit said cheerfully. ( How are you? )
"Main theek hoon, tum batao?" I replied. My devar is really friendly and seems to be the only one who acknowledges me, unlike someone kharus. ( I'm fine, you tell me )
"Aapka pati toh mera jeena haram kar deta hai, bhabhi," he pouted like a child, making me chuckle at his antics. ( Your husband makes my life miserable, bhabhi )
"Shut up before I kick you out of my house," Mr. Kharus said, glaring at Akshit. Akshit just stuck out his tongue and ran off to the kitchen.
"Khana lagado," I said, finding my voice again. ( Shall I serve the food? )
"Haan, main fresh ho kar aata hoon," he said but made no move, just stood there with what I thought was a heated gaze. I got nervous and turned to leave. Only then did he go to freshen up. ( Yes, I'll come after getting fresh )
When I first saw Abhishek from beneath the veil, I knew he was handsome. I couldn’t make out every detail and contour, but it was clear. Later, when I got to see his deep brown eyes, those pools that seemed to hold warmth and intelligence, I found myself lost in them. His chiseled, strong face reflects his confidence and determination. His dark hair, neatly styled, frames his face perfectly, adding to his allure.
My husband is a vision of strength and grace, his physique a testament to dedication and hard work. Beneath his suit, if I ran my hand along his abdomen, I’m sure I could feel the firmness of his abs, shaped by countless hours in the gym, each muscle defined with precision. His arms, adorned with powerful biceps and well-defined muscles, made me wish to be enveloped by them.
"Isn’t he handsome?"
" So handsome."
As soon as the words left my mouth, my eyes widened. I turned around to find Akshit grinning like the Cheshire cat.
“I heard nothing, Bhabhi,” he said.
“Yeah, you heard nothing, Devarji,” I said, glaring at Akshit.
“What’s happening?” came my husband’s voice. He had changed into a black shirt and grey trousers, looking like a dessert to be devoured.
No, Kashu, get your head out of the gutter, I thought to myself. “Nothing,” I smiled innocently at him, which made his eyes darken and my breath hitch. What was with that look?
“Mujhe bhook lagi hai,” Akshit’s whining broke our moment. God, this man-child. I literally facepalmed. ( I'm hungry )
After serving them, I sat beside Abhishek with my own plate.
“Kaisa bana?” I asked Akshit, as his brother hadn’t started eating yet. ( How's it made? )
“Mast, Bhabhi, par bhai ko nahi pasand,” Akshit said, shoving another piece of aloo paratha into his mouth. ( But bhai doesn’t like it )
“What?” I shrieked, turning to look at my husband. How could someone not like paratha, especially aloo paratha?
“Is there a problem?” my husband asked with a blank expression. How could he be so nonchalant about this?
“Give me one good reason for not liking aloo paratha,” I said, challenging him with my eyes. I didn’t know where I was finding the confidence to stare him down, but I did. Maybe it was because aloo parathas are my favorite.
He started, “It’s greasy, sticky, and it doesn’t even taste that......"
Without a moment's hesitation, I took a piece of paratha from my plate and shoved it into his mouth. How dare he insult my aloo paratha?
“Bhabhi, tussi great ho,” Akshit chuckled while rubbing tears from his eyes. It was his constant blabbering that made me realize my mistake, and as fast as lightning, I withdrew my hand and resumed eating as if nothing had happened. Still, I could feel his gaze upon me, but I didn’t dare to look at him. ( Bhabhi, you're great )
In the end, he ate every last bit of paratha I served him. Such a good boy.
By the time I was done with the chores, my husband was in his home office. I contemplated whether to call my sister or not. Maybe it was too early to call her; she needs time to settle. And I’m sure Dad couldn’t find her as long as she’s with her friend, Ritika.
Should I add pictures for better understand? Let me know your thoughts in the comments.
