His Unwanted Bride

✿ DRESS ✿

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DHRITI

"Ma'am."

"Yes." I tilt my head up and realised that I've zoned out in a fucking meeting.

Oh, all the holy things, grant me mercy to focus on my company instead of swirling back to the dirty words of my husband.

I suppressed a groan. It's been three fucking days since I'm doing my best to ignore him. Or more like he's ignoring me. The fire is ignited on both sides and God forbid if I counter an eye contact with him, the stingy butterflies in my stomach are going to kill me.

Despite being burned, I felt my body on fire when he opened his sexy mouth to charm me. Uh, huh, heat is not good for me. Both literally and figuratively.

I'm doing my best to keep my mind empty but this specific crush of mine is invading my thoughts like a goddamn caterpillar. Slowly and creepily. Because why in the world would Saad say something so blunt and— hot?

I snickered. Let's stick to sexy instead of hot because I don't have a lovely history when it comes to fire.

"Ma'am, we should move the schedule of our photography session. We need to formalise it as soon as possible since we'll be launching our bridal collection next week." My assistant spoke.

I knitted my eyebrows together and leaned into the leather chair. Alright.

"You know what, let's do it right now." I said.

Her eyebrows shot up to the hairline. "Right now?"

"Mhm." I hummed.

Let's have some fun. "Please call my husband and let him know about it." I glanced at my wristwatch. "It'd take him almost four hours to reach here. In the meantime, make sure to arrange everything."

"Sure." She passed me a nervous smile and then stormed out of the room.

I tapped my fingers nervously on my thighs. What the fuck is wrong with me? Have some fun? The hell is fun when it's me who's desperately trying to crawl into a tiny hole so that I don't have to face him.

If I rip apart the bandage of butterflies in my stomach, there's something deeper. It might be his jealousy that got the best of him and for a moment, I felt flutters in my heart but then it didn't take me much time to settle down with my reality. The reality of my being a burnt rag doll.

Maybe out of compulsion or pity or anything that I don't give two shits about, Saad would decide to touch me intimately but then he'd start removing the layers of my clothing only to flinch away in disgust.

My body is not a temple, it's a used paper bag that's severely stomped upon.

And I'd never be able to blame Saad after seeing the disgust in his eyes because how can I expect him to be okay with my body when I can't even look at myself without flinching?

Maybe he'd prove me wrong and wouldn't be disgusted after seeing my scars but I'm not his patient. His medical background might've sensitised him but how can he indulge himself physically with me?

I spent the rest of my time, going through the latest designs and when my secretary came to inform me that my husband was here, I took a deep breath and composed a neutral face, I walked out to the empty hall where we were supposed to get our pictures clicked.