Siya's life in Chandipur was marked by resilience and solitude, her days consumed by nurturing the vibrant blooms of her flower shop. Abandoned at birth and haunted by the mystery of her parents' disappearance, she had grown accustomed to the whispe...
📖 "The King, The Entrepreneur, and The Dal!" ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ ˚ ༘♡ 🪷🪕🪞🦢⋆｡˚ ❀
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The Randhawa wedding was today, and my flowers had already taken center stage. Every corner of the venue would soon be draped in my delicate blooms, the ones I so painstakingly nurtured. But let's be honest no one-cared about the flowers right now. Least of all me.
No, today was about something or rather, someone...else entirely.
I stood in front of the mirror, staring at the reflection of a woman who, apparently, had become an entirely different version of herself overnight. I mean, who is this woman?
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This red chiffon saree had no business fitting me this well. The pallu clung to my shoulder, nearly slipping off and showing just enough skin to make me wonder if I was still the same Siya who avoided any kind of attention at all costs.
"I swear, if Adhiraj sees you like this, he might actually combust on the spot," Ishita said, biting her lip as she clasped the delicate waist chain around me, her fingers brushing my skin. I flinched slightly, a shiver running down my spine though not in a bad way. No, this weird feeling was something else. Something good, something dangerous.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I replied dryly, trying to keep the sarcasm alive even as my skin tingled where her fingers had been. She stepped back, admiring her handiwork like an artist gazing at her masterpiece.
"You look hot, Siya. No wonder Adhiraj can't keep his hands off you," I shot her a warning look.
"Don't start," She pinched my waist with a grin.
"Oh please, like you don't love his attention."
"Ow! I don't," I lied, swatting her hand away.
"And if you pinch me again, I swear I'll ruin your precious manicure," Ishita just laughed.
"Keep lying to yourself, babe. We both know you've got the hottest man in Raipur chasing after you, and here you are pretending you don't notice," I huffed, brushing off her words, but I couldn't stop my heart from racing. He's not chasing after me. He's... hovering. Lurking. Being generally annoying at the same time so thoughtful yet I can't risk his life.
