When Aarav Kapoor, a shrewd businessman born into wealth, and Aanya Mehra, an ambitious architect returning to India, are thrust into an arranged marriage, neither is prepared for the secrets beneath their union. What begins as a reluctant compromis...
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The sun blazed overhead as we stood at the base of the grand staircase leading up to the temple. My arms were folded tightly across my chest, my saree pallu slipping slightly off my shoulder as I fumed silently. Aarav, of course, stood a few feet away, cool as ever, scrolling through his phone like this was the most casual outing in the world. His indifference over the last few days had been gnawing at me, and my patience was wearing thin.
When she looked at the temple, she saw that unlike the ancient, mystical temple they had been married in, this one was simple yet imposing, with steep stairs leading up to its entrance.
"Are we climbing all that?" I asked incredulously, staring at the seemingly endless flight of stairs.
Maaji and the priest approached us, explaining the ritual. Aarav, of course, took it in stride, nodding along as the priest elaborated. I saw that this priest was different than their guruji but who cares I was just following instructions.
"Aanya beta, Aarav beta," Maaji called out, her voice gentle but firm. "It's a tradition. The husband must carry his wife up all hundred stairs to seek the blessings of the deity. Your marriage must be blessed."
"Wait, what do you mean Aarav has to carry me up the stairs?" I asked, eyes wide.
"It's tradition," Maaji said with a smile. "The husband carries his wife as a sign of strength and devotion."
Aarav glanced at me, an amused glint in his eyes. "Afraid I'll drop you?"
"Afraid you won't make it past the first ten steps," I snapped, unable to stop myself.
My voice was sharper than I intended, but I was still fuming over his aloofness earlier.
Aarav raised an eyebrow, clearly unfazed. "Don't flatter yourself. You're not exactly light as a feather."
"Excuse me?!" My jaw dropped, my cheeks flushing with both indignation and embarrassment.
"I'll have you know—"
"Okay, okay," Aarav interrupted, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Let's not start World War III at the temple steps. If it's a tradition, I'll do it. Come on, get on."
Reluctantly, I wrapped my arms around his neck as he lifted me with ease. Despite my initial embarrassment, I couldn't help but notice the strength in his arms, the steadiness of his hold.
"You're heavier than you look," Aarav teased as he began climbing the steps.
"And you're weaker than you act," I shot back, trying to ignore the steady rhythm of his breathing and how close we suddenly were. I could feel the strength in his grip and the warmth radiating off him. It was unsettling in a way that made my stomach flutter.
"Comfortable?" he teased.
"Don't get too cocky," I replied, though my voice softened as I felt my cheeks warm.
