I glanced at my hand then, seeing the name imprinted with dark brown ink of henna. The colour so pigmented that it almost appeared black.
But my heart felt heavy, seeing that there were no efforts from him in getting ready as a groom... While I-- everything on me screamed... That I got ready for him.
.
.
.
.
As he held the next grape to my lips, I couldn't help but smile, my heart full of a hope I shouldn't have felt. But as our eyes met, his hand froze. The softness in his face drained away, replaced by a cold, sharp edge. He leaned closer-not with the warmth of a husband, but with the calculated grace of a hunter.
" You would need energy for the night, darling!... Each properly. "
I choked, spraying bits of grape all over his face.
I started coughing loudly.
Randhir sucks in a deep breathe, wiping his face with one hand and passing water to me from the other.
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