tormenting temptation

•|𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

“abh vapas kaise jaogi?” He looked at me, and I opened my eyes to meet his gaze. He had just applied vermillion on my forehead and was dressed in a white sherwani with golden embroidery. A pastel pink dupatta, matching my Gucci lehenga, draped over his shoulder

“Aapko damad bana kar,” I replied, turning my head and looking at the sacred fire.

– ✦ ʚ ♡ ɞ ✦ –

Married. That’s what I am. Married in front of no one except the priest. It hurt me, but who cares? I’m married to him, and that’s what matters—umm, that too in a Gucci lehenga, which was made overnight, just for me. Especially for me.

I was lying on his bed. He told me to stay here and went out, saying he’d be back and that I shouldn’t wait for him. But how could I not wait when it’s our first night? I shivered at the thought, clutching the sides of my nightdress. It was a short nightie, and maybe that’s all I had in his closet for nights.

Married. This decision has completely changed my life. If I hadn’t married him, would things be different? Could I have lived without the fear of being caught? But I’m here for a purpose. As soon as that’s done, I’ll divorce him and leave. But for now, I have to act like the perfect, loving wife.

The door clicked open, and I looked towards it. He stood there, looking at me with a raised brow, as if asking why I was still awake. I sat on the bed, lowering my head and playing with my fingers.

I wanted to get intimate, and it was the most embarrassing thing ever. I couldn’t openly say it to him—what would he think of me? A desperate, horny mess?

He leaned against the wall after closing the door with his foot. “Want to do the deed?” he asked. I looked at him for a moment, trying to read his expression.

I nodded, then looked back at my lap. “Words, Ishq,” his voice was gentle. I hadn’t expected him to ask for my consent after the way I had observed him, turning him into a monster he never was.

“Y-yes,” I stammered and stood up from the bed, looking at him.

I watched him come closer, my heart beating fast. The room felt smaller with each step he took. His eyes were gentle but intense as he reached out. I felt his warmth even before he touched me.

He touched the zipper of my dress, making me shiver a bit. The sound of the zipper going down seemed loud in the quiet room. As he unzipped my dress, it loosened and began to fall away. The cool air against my skin made me feel nervous but excited.

He carefully took off my dress, letting it drop to the floor. Then, he moved to the straps of my nightgown. I held my breath as he lifted it, feeling the soft fabric slide up my body. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to calm myself.

When I opened my eyes, he was watching me with a gentle look. I felt exposed but also trusted him deeply with it for some unknown reasons. I didn't hate him, how can I hate him? Hate someone who did nothing but try to heal me? And what did he get in return? Being pierced with my broken pieces?