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...
I know you all waited so long for this chapter. So I tried my best to make your Sabr ka Phal meetha. I was up all night giggling while editing this chapter.
⚠️: Read the chapter alone and comment lots. Okay cuties?
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I woke up feeling like a rock had been placed on top of me. Did Saransh kill me in my sleep? No... but why would he kill me?
I fluttered my eyes open—and froze.
There he was. The most beautiful sight. Saransh, fast asleep, lying on his stomach, partially draped over me. His face was buried in the crook of my neck, legs tangled with mine, and his arms wrapped so tightly around me, it felt like he was trying to press me into the bed.
The weight of him, the warmth—it pulled me straight back to the first night of our marriage.
He'd fallen asleep on me just like this. And I, had shoved him off the bed.
Had I not known better now... I might've done the same.
I brushed his hair gently with my fingers. "Saransh," I whispered, trying not to smile.
"Five more minutes," he mumbled, nuzzling deeper into my neck, his voice so hoarse that it sent me places.
I swear, the man was hibernating on top of me.
"You're crushing my lungs," I tried again.
"Mmm. Then die in my arms. Romantic, no?"
I rolled my eyes, already plotting how to push him off again—gently this time. Maybe.
"Saransh, seriously. You're heavy," I muttered, trying to wriggle free.
In response, he only tightened his grip. "Stop moving. You'll wake me up."
"You're already awake!"
"Lies," he said, burying his face even deeper into my neck. "I'm in a dream. A very comfortable, warm, sweet-smelling dream."
"I'll smack you."
That's domestic violence, sweetheart," he mumbled sleepily.
I groaned. Loudly.
"What's the time?" Saransh asked, finally lifting his head.
I reached out, grabbed my phone from the nightstand, and checked. "It's 8:30."
In a flash, he shot up. "Oh no—we're late!"
"Late for what?" I blinked, confused.
He shook his head dramatically. "No time to explain. Let's just go get ready!"
And that's exactly what we did.
In the next 30 minutes, Saransh slipped into a casual dark navy blue shirt—left open over his bare chest—and light blue striped shorts.
