Devil's Bride

Testing Patience

The days following their return to the mansion were both blissful and frustrating for Ayaan. Blissful because Maya had taken it upon herself to personally care for him. She was attentive to every little detail, ensuring he ate on time, that his bandage was changed, and that he didn’t overexert himself.

But frustrating because every time he tried to draw her closer, Maya would step back, citing his injury as an excuse.

One evening, as Ayaan sat in his study, he could hear Maya humming a soft tune in their room, just down the hall. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, his frustration bubbling to the surface. How had he, Ayaan Raichand—the man who never had to wait for anything in life—ended up in a situation where he was being denied by his own wife?

“Enough,” he muttered to himself, standing up and heading to their room.

When he entered, Maya was sitting cross-legged on the bed, reading a book. She looked up, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him. “Ayaan, you’re supposed to be resting,” she chided, closing the book.

“I’ve had enough of resting,” he said, his tone sharper than he intended. “Maya, I’m not a fragile man who needs constant care.”

Maya frowned, setting the book aside. “You were injured, Ayaan. It’s my responsibility to make sure you heal.”

He strode over to her, sitting down beside her on the bed. “And it’s my right as your husband to hold you, to kiss you, to—” He stopped himself, taking a deep breath to rein in his frustration.

Maya’s cheeks flushed, and she looked down at her hands. “Ayaan, I just… I don’t want to hurt you or make things worse.”

“You’re not hurting me, Maya,” he said, his voice softer now. He reached out, gently tilting her chin up so she met his gaze. “But this distance you’re keeping? That’s what’s killing me.”

Maya bit her lip, her eyes glistening with uncertainty. “I’m only trying to take care of you.”

“And I appreciate that, I do,” he said, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “But Maya, you’re my wife. I need you, not just your care, but you. Do you know how hard it is for me to hold back every time you’re near?”

Her breath hitched at his words, and she looked away, flustered. “I’m… I’m sorry, Ayaan. I didn’t realize…”

He sighed, pulling her into his arms, careful to avoid putting pressure on his injury. “I’m not angry, Maya. Just… impatient.”

She let out a soft laugh against his chest. “You’re not used to waiting for anything, are you?”

“Not at all,” he admitted, a small smile tugging at his lips. “But for you, I’ve learned patience I never knew I had.”

Maya looked up at him, her heart swelling at his words. She reached out, lightly touching the bandage on his arm. “Let’s make a deal. Once this is fully healed, no more excuses. I promise.”

His eyes darkened with a mix of desire and amusement. “You’re making me wait on purpose now, aren’t you?”

She giggled, her laughter lightening the tension between them.

Ayaan groaned dramatically, leaning his forehead against hers. “You’re going to be the death of me, Mrs. Raichand.”

Maya smiled, wrapping her arms around him in a soft embrace. “But you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Despite his frustration, Ayaan couldn’t help but smile. She was right—he wouldn’t trade her for anything in the world.

The evening was quiet, the Raichand mansion bathed in the soft glow of chandeliers. Ayaan sat comfortably in his private lounge, his sharp white shirt slightly unbuttoned, exuding an air of relaxed dominance. Yet, his mind was far from calm; it was filled with a certain image—a vision of Maya dancing, her grace and beauty captivating him like nothing else ever had.