𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐥 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐟𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒚-𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕♡

The morning sun spilled golden warmth across the cream walls of the room, filtering through soft ivory curtains that danced lightly in the breeze. Somewhere in the Haveli, birds chirped — but inside this room, everything was still. Suspended. Dreamy.

Ishanvi stood in front of the mirror, carefully adjusting the soft sea-blue chiffon saree that hugged her waist like a second skin. The fabric shimmered faintly in the light, dusted with silver threadwork along the borders that glistened like dew drops. Her blouse — a backless one with thin silver strings tied delicately at her nape — made her honey-toned skin glow.

Her hair was curled softly, half pinned, letting waves cascade down her back. A small silver bindi rested between her brows, and a hint of kohl defined her hazel eyes — still dazed from the memory of last night.

Her lips?

Still swollen. Still tingling from his kiss.

And she couldn’t stop smiling.
She tried to fix her expression, but her cheeks had a mind of their own — flushing pink every time her mind replayed the sound of his groan, the feel of his body moving above her… the way he whispered, "Come on my cock, Ishanvi."

“Aap pagal hain bilkul…” she muttered to herself under her breath, trying to focus on applying her kajal. “Sharam bhi nahi hai inhe… mujhe bhi besharam bana diya…”

Her thought train crashed the moment the bathroom door opened.

And there he was.

Aayansh.

Fresh out of the shower, towel drying his hair lazily, droplets of water still clinging to his sculpted chest, sliding down in sinful trails. His lower half was now properly dressed — black trousers hugging his hips perfectly, belt undone, shirt still unbuttoned.

Intense brown eyes locked onto her through the mirror — and the second their gazes met, her hand stilled mid-air, her lips parted slightly.

His smirk?

Dangerous.
Confident.
Unapologetically feral.

“Tum toh lag rahi ho…” his voice dropped as he walked closer, slowly, like a predator approaching prey, “…jaise kisi dulhan ki jagah kisi fantasy mein se nikli ho.”

["You look like… not a bride, but a fantasy brought to life."]

She turned, her saree shifting slightly with the movement, revealing the delicate dip of her back.

“W-wait,” she stammered, stepping back instinctively as he advanced. “You’re not fully dressed.”

“And yet,” he said, tossing the towel onto the chair without breaking eye contact, “you’re the one blushing like you walked in on me naked.”

Her hands flew to her cheeks.

“Aap—!”

Before she could finish, he was already close. One hand braced against the wall beside her, the other resting on her bare waist. His forehead gently touched hers as his voice dropped into a whisper only the walls could hear.