Devil's Bride

The Moment of Realisation

As the days passed, Maya found herself spending more time with Ayaan. Whether it was his gentle teasing or the way he always seemed to be around when she needed help, she couldn’t deny the growing warmth in her heart. She didn’t understand it yet, but her heart betrayed her every time she caught herself blushing under his gaze.

For Ayaan, every moment with Maya felt like a treasure. Her innocence, her laughter, her wide-eyed wonder at the simplest things—she was unlike anyone he had ever met.

One afternoon, as Maya sat in the courtyard stringing marigolds for the festival decorations, she noticed Ayaan standing in the doorway, his arms crossed, a smirk on his face.

“You know,” he said, walking toward her, “you’ve got a whole team of people who can do that. Why are you doing it yourself?”

Maya looked up at him and smiled. “Because I enjoy it. It’s relaxing.”

“Relaxing?” he asked, crouching down beside her. “You call pricking your fingers on those flowers relaxing?”

“I haven’t pricked my fingers!” she protested.

“Yet,” he countered, plucking a marigold from the basket.

Maya rolled her eyes and continued working, but her fingers trembled slightly under his watchful gaze.

After a moment, Ayaan reached out and grabbed her wrist gently. “You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep shaking like that.”

“I’m not shaking!” she insisted, her voice betraying her nerves.

He leaned closer, his face mere inches from hers. “You are. Why?”

Her heart raced as she struggled to find an answer. “I… I don’t know.”

Ayaan’s smirk softened into a small smile. “Maya,” he said softly, “you’re too easy to fluster.”

Later that evening, after dinner, Ayaan found Maya sitting on the steps of the veranda, gazing at the stars. She looked lost in thought, her face glowing in the moonlight.

“You’ll catch a cold sitting out here,” he said, draping his coat over her shoulders without waiting for her to protest.

She looked up at him, surprised. “You don’t have to keep doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Taking care of me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ayaan sat down beside her, the space between them almost nonexistent. “I don’t have to,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I want to.”

Maya looked down at her hands, her cheeks flushing. “Why?”

Ayaan tilted his head, studying her for a moment. “Because you’re worth it, Maya.”

As the night grew colder, Maya found herself leaning against Ayaan’s shoulder, the warmth of his presence comforting her in a way she didn’t quite understand.

“You know,” Ayaan said after a while, “you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met.”

Maya glanced up at him, her curiosity piqued. “Why do you say that?”

He smiled faintly. “Most people... they want something from me. Power, money, connections. But you? You just... are. You don’t ask for anything. You just be, and somehow, that’s enough.”

Maya blinked, unsure how to respond. “I don’t know how to be anyone but myself.”

“And that’s exactly why I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admitted, his voice so quiet she almost missed it.