BOOK 1 OF THE UNEXPECTED SERIES
In a world where tradition clashes with modernity, Vaidehi is a modern-day princess bound by society's rigid expectations.
Saransh, a brooding prince with a shadowed past, one he's not keen to reveal. Despite his nobl...
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Why is this Anay here? I hate him.
And he has his hand on Vaidehi's shoulder.
She is my wife. Mine.
How dare he?
I force myself to stay seated, my fingers tightening around the glass in my hand as I watch them. Vaidehi is smiling, completely unaware of the rage brewing inside me. Then, as if to mock me further, she reaches for his hand, gently leading him towards our table.
"Come on, I'll introduce you guys," she says, still holding his hand.
I take a deep breath. It's okay. It's okay. I just need to gain her attention.
The glass in my hand is cool, smooth, fragile. Without thinking, I tighten my grip—tighter, tighter—until it shatters with a sharp, sickening crunch. Pain shoots through my palm as tiny shards bury into my skin, but I don't react. The conversation dies instantly. Heads turn toward me.
Vaidehi's eyes widen in horror. She immediately lets go of Anay's hand and rushes to me.
"What did you do?" Her voice is high-pitched, panicked. She grabs my hand, her grip trembling as she stares at the blood pooling in my palm. "Oh my god—" She swallows hard, then looks up at me, her brows drawn in sheer worry.
She turns sharply. "Yuvaan, the first aid kit!" Her voice wavers, but the urgency in it makes him move instantly.
I watch her as she holds my hand, her fingers shaking against my skin. She's breathing fast, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her hands struggling to find a clean spot to hold without pressing into the wounds.
"You—You're so stupid," she mutters, her voice breaking as she carefully picks out a tiny shard of glass embedded near my thumb. "Why would you—" She exhales sharply, blinking rapidly, as if trying to hold back tears. "Does it hurt? Of course it hurts. God, you—"
Yuvaan returns with the first aid kit, but she barely acknowledges him. She snatches it from his hands, her own trembling too much to even unzip it properly. She fumbles, curses under her breath, and finally gets it open.
"Hold still," she says, her voice soft now, but no less frantic. She starts dabbing at the wound, her movements fast but careful, the blood smearing across her fingers as she works.
Everyone is watching. I can feel their eyes on me—on us—but I don't care. The only thing I care about is the way Vaidehi is holding my hand like it's the most important thing in the world.
And the way Anay is standing on the other side, silent. I smirk looking at him. Take that bastard. I win.
Himanshu, however, is staring at me with an expression that makes something uneasy settle in my stomach. Like he knows exactly why I did this. Like he knows this wasn't an accident. But I ignore him.
