A Glimpse of Red

Ram Singh Arrival

The golden morning light filtered through the grand curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. The melodious chirping of birds played in the background, a gentle soundtrack to the beginning of a new day. Nitya stirred as the warmth of the sun kissed her face, her eyelids fluttering open. She blinked, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings—ornate furniture, intricate carvings on the ceiling, and the grand scale of the room that spoke of Rawal royalty.

Her brows furrowed as she adjusted to her new reality, her gaze lingering on the sunlight streaming in through the wide windows. For a moment, she was surprised at how deeply she had slept. Rarely did she manage more than five hours, and yet now, she felt unusually rested. Perhaps it was the exhaustion from the wedding ceremonies, she thought, a faint smile crossing her lips. But as her mind replayed the events, the realization struck her with the force of a lightning bolt: she was married now. She was in Rawal palace.

Her breath caught when she felt the weight of something strong and warm across her waist. She froze, her heart pounding as she slowly turned her head, and there it was—a muscular arm draped possessively around her. It was Pratham's arm.

Her pulse quickened, and in a flash of determination, she shifted, trying to extricate herself from his hold. But as she moved with all her strength to push the arm away, Pratham, still half-asleep, reacted instinctively. His hand shot out, catching her wrist in a firm grip, and before either of them realized it, they tumbled together in a swift, chaotic motion.

In what felt like a whirlwind, their positions shifted—a complete 360-degree turn that left Nitya pinned beneath him. Pratham hovered over her, his dark eyes locking onto hers. The chaotic tumble left her breathless, and her hair fell in messy strands across her face, partially obscuring her expression.

Pratham's gaze softened for a fraction of a second as he took in the sight of her disheveled beauty. Slowly, almost absentmindedly, he reached out, brushing her hair away from her face with deliberate care. His fingertips grazed her skin, sending an unspoken electricity between them. Nitya's breath hitched as she narrowed her eyes at him.

"What do you think you are doing?" she demanded, her voice laced with a mix of irritation and defiance.

Pratham paused, his expression unreadable as he finally absorbed the situation. Pratham watched Nitya's flustered movements with a silent smirk curling at the corner of his lips. He leaned slightly closer, his intense gaze locked on her, and asked in a low, teasing voice, "Is this how a Rajput princess wishes her husband good morning?"

Nitya froze, the weight of his words sinking in as her breath hitched. She couldn't bring herself to meet his piercing eyes, the heat radiating from his gaze making her feel cornered. Instead, her focus shifted downward, landing on his chest—a mistake, as even that didn't offer her any reprieve from his commanding presence.

Pratham released her wrist deliberately, the ghost of his touch still lingering on her skin. He stepped off the bed, his movements graceful yet commanding, his eyes never leaving her as he moved toward his study room. His silence spoke louder than words, his actions leaving an unmistakable mark on her morning.

The moment he disappeared through the door, Nitya exhaled sharply, as if finally freed from a storm's grip. Without wasting a second, she bolted out of the bed and headed straight for the bathroom. Once inside, she shut the door behind her and leaned heavily against it, her chest rising and falling with each deep breath.

She moved toward the sink, splashing cold water onto her face as if trying to cleanse the fiery sensation his presence had ignited within her. The icy droplets dripped down her cheeks, grounding her, as she whispered to herself, her reflection staring back at her with determined eyes.