Devil's Bride

village meets the city

The village air was thick with the earthy scent of freshly tilled soil, mingled with the faint aroma of blooming jasmine. The small winding roads, lined with modest houses and fields, were a stark contrast to the bustling streets of Mumbai. Ayaan sat stiffly in the backseat of the SUV, his gaze fixed ahead, his expression a mask of disdain.

As the convoy turned into a narrow lane leading to his grandfather’s house, he finally spoke, his tone sharp. “How much longer?”

“Just a minute, sir,” the driver replied, hesitating slightly. The tension in the car was palpable. Ayaan had been in a foul mood ever since they left the city.

The car came to a stop in front of a modest but well-kept house. Ayaan stepped out, adjusting his tailored jacket and surveying his surroundings with a critical eye. The house was simple, surrounded by a garden bursting with color. It was picturesque, yes, but to Ayaan, it was suffocating.

“This is it?” he muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with irritation.

The old wooden gate creaked open, and his grandfather appeared on the porch, leaning on his cane. His face lit up as he saw Ayaan, though his grandson’s stiff posture dampened his enthusiasm.

“Ayaan, my boy!” the grandfather called out, his voice filled with genuine warmth.

Ayaan forced a tight smile and walked toward him. “Dadaji,” he greeted curtly, giving a quick hug before stepping back.

Just as Ayaan was about to make another remark about the house, a voice interrupted. “Dadaji, I brought your—oh.”

Maya stood at the porch, holding a small tray with a cup of tea. She froze, her wide eyes taking in the tall, imposing figure before her. Ayaan turned his head, his gaze sweeping over her with a fleeting look of indifference.

Maya blinked, unsure how to respond. She wasn’t used to being ignored, especially not in her own home—or what felt like it.

“This is Maya,” the grandfather said, his voice full of affection. “She’s our tenant. A bright girl, studying to be a doctor. She visits me often.”

Maya smiled, her natural charm coming through as she held out the tray. “Nice to meet you, Ayaan.”

He didn’t take the tray. Instead, he glanced at her, his dark eyes devoid of warmth. “You don’t have to waste your time on formalities,” he said dismissively before turning back to his grandfather. “Where’s my room?”

Maya’s smile faltered for a split second before she recovered, placing the tray on the nearby table. “It’s nice to meet you too,” she said softly, more to herself than to him.

The grandfather’s brow furrowed slightly, but he chose not to address Ayaan’s behavior. Instead, he gestured toward the house. “Come, Ayaan. I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

The room was simple—too simple for Ayaan’s taste. A wooden bed with a neatly folded quilt, a small desk, and a single window overlooking the garden. He stared at it, his expression unreadable, before tossing his bag onto the bed.

“This won’t work,” he said flatly, turning to his grandfather.

“It’s all we have,” the old man replied, his tone patient. “You’ll get used to it.”

Ayaan’s jaw tightened. “I’m not staying here longer than necessary. A few weeks, and I’m gone.”

The grandfather sighed, leaning on his cane. “You’ll learn to appreciate the quiet, my boy. Sometimes, life has a way of showing us what we need.”

Ayaan didn’t reply, his mind already drifting back to Mumbai, to the skyscrapers, the power, the chaos that fueled him. This village, with its stillness and simplicity, felt like a punishment.

Outside, Maya watched from the garden as Ayaan paced the small verandah of his room, his phone in hand. His sharp, angular features were striking, but his cold demeanor overshadowed any allure he might have had.

“Arrogant city boy,” she muttered under her breath, pulling a strand of hair behind her ear.

Her father, who was tending to the plants nearby, looked up. “He’s just not used to this life, Maya.It will take time to adjust with new surroundings.”

Maya shrugged. “Maybe. But there’s no need to be so rude.”

Her father chuckled. “Not everyone can charm the way you do, my daughter , Just let him be, and try to help him to adapt to the village"

Maya bit her lip, her curiosity about Ayaan outweighing her irritation. He was unlike anyone she’d ever met—aloof, intimidating, and completely uninterested in the world around him. It was infuriating and, somehow, intriguing.

Later that evening, as the village settled into its usual rhythm, Ayaan sat by the window, staring out at the garden illuminated by the soft glow of fireflies. His thoughts were a storm—restless, impatient, and haunted by the ghosts of Mumbai.

But in the back of his mind, an image lingered—Maya’s bright eyes and that quick, confident smile. He brushed it aside, telling himself she was just a part of a world he didn’t belong to.

And yet, a part of him wondered how long he could remain unaffected.

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