"I am not your puppet I am not going to continue this relationship as if nothing happened I will never consider her as my wife"
Is this all a joke to you this marriage and stuff first you forced me to get married and when the bride ran away you tied...
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I woke up with a drilling sensation in my head, like someone was hammering nails into my skull. Every throb made me wince as I forced my eyelids open, groaning in frustration. I reached up to massage my temples, trying to ease the pain, and squinted against the light filtering through the curtains. My brain felt foggy, sluggish, and the more I tried to remember, the less I could grasp.
Where's my phone? I need to check the time.
I scanned the room, my vision still blurry, but couldn’t recall where I had left my phone. In fact, I couldn’t recall much of anything from last night. A heavy sigh escaped me as the realization hit—I didn’t remember a thing. What happened last night? Why can’t I remember anything? And why does my head feel like it’s about to explode?
Just then, a deep, familiar voice broke through the haze. "Good morning," it rang out, clear and unmissable.
I slowly turned my head toward the sound, and there he was—Avivansh, standing near the edge of the bed, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes locked on me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. His gaze was both piercing and amused, Did I do something,?
"Morning," I croaked, my voice scratchy. "Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked, the words coming out slower than I intended, my head still throbbing.
He raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Looking for this?" he said, sounding exasperated I gulped closingmy eyes as the memories of last night flashes before my eyes.
I had a coke with yuvan and he was stopping me to drink and my head started to spin haaww! I gasped as all the memories started to boop in my head.
You are looking so handsome right now it makes me do things with you.
What the fuck did I said to him?
Panic shot through me as I piqued my one eye at him, trying to piece together the fragments of last night.
"Here, drink this. You’ll feel better," he said, handing me a bottle filled with a strange, murky liquid. I stared at it skeptically, trying to analyze it with my eyes. "What is it?" I asked, suspicious.
Avivansh sat down in front of me, gently tucking a strand of my messy hair behind my ear. "It’s for your hangover," he said, his voice calm but clearly amused. Hangover? My brows furrowed, and I looked at him completely blank. "Did I...?" I trailed off, already dreading the answer.
"Yes," he nodded, confirming my worst fear. With a knowing look, he unscrewed the cap of the bottle. "Now, drink it fast."
I groaned, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over me. How could I not tell the difference between a soft drink and alcohol? What is wrong with me? It’s not like I’ve never had alcohol before. I have, and I know exactly how it affects me—I blackout after just two shots. That’s why I avoid it.
