ใ โง ๐๐๐ง๐๐ค โง ใ
As Aryan's hand closed around mine, the warmth of his hand spreading through me, I found myself staring across at him, the entire family circling us. Watching. I held my breath, still trying to make sense of how we had arrived at this moment.
After he had tucked me in bed, he had left, for god knows where. I remember falling asleep right after. Tara Aunty had come to wake me up, a doctor was called, and the rest was a blur. I didn't even leave the room.
My first day after marriage was spent reeling from the aftermath of the clusterfuck that was the wedding.
The entire day, I hadn't seen my husband, just his family cooing over me, coddling me. They had cancelled the post-wedding games, and we just waited for my husband to come home.
I was too tired to even be mad about the fact that my husband was missing. Right after the marriage, no less. By the time the clock was inching towards nine, there was still no sign of my dear husband.
In fact, I was too tired to even be humiliated. This was as close to abandonment as one could get, especially after his absurd declaration of sending me back to my parents. He should have counted himself fortunate I hadn't slapped him right then and there for the ridiculousness that had left his mouth.
All through the day, as I waited to see him, the phantom press of the dagger he had once placed in my hand itched against my skin. The sheer embarrassment of sitting around, waiting for a husband who had forced me into marriage, made me want to drive that dagger into his chest, if only to rid myself of the insult.
But I was also, apparently, a patient wife. A giving wife. I was prepared to wait for him to come home, offer me his explanation, allow me to decree it nonsense, and then stab him.
So, why was I sitting across from him, letting him hold my hand?
"I know we had officially cancelled the post-wedding games," Tara Aunty stated, as she stood behind her son. "But we have to fulfil the ritual. So, it would just be family."
"Yes, Aryan bhai. Come on, look for your name in her mehendi," Shiva said, as she peeked from behind her husband. She had managed to irritate Aryan with her useless blabber the minute he had returned.
Aryan looked straight at me.
"Your name is not on her face, Aryan," Parth said.
Clearly, the cousins were only trying to soften the air, throwing words around to keep the silence from swallowing the room. But even over their voices, I could feel Dev Uncle's glare searing through the space, fixed on his son.
I knew exactly where his name was etched into my skin. I had given the artist his full name, every letter, and made a special request that only I would understand.
Will he see it?
I remembered trying not to see his name, especially after writing mine on his hand. I didn't want a reminder of it. And so, even though I knew where it was, I never actually saw it. My breath caught as his eyes moved over my hands. The chatter faded into the background, meaningless, as I watched him search.
"It's not here," he said at last, and the room erupted in boos.
"Yes, it is!" I snapped, and his gaze flicked to mine.
"No, it isn't."
"Yes, it is."
He let out a breath, already tired of the game. "Other than my initial, there is nothing else."
I couldn't stop the roll of my eyes. His entire name was carved into my skin, plain as day, and he could only find the initial?
I rolled my eyes. "So, are you accepting defeat?"
"This isn't a fair competition. I found the 'A', and it's not my fault the rest of the letters weren't written," he said.
I raised a brow. "And if I find them?"
He smirked. "It would be the first time I would accept defeat."
And so I looked down, tracing the swirls where the artist had hidden his name.
And then, I kept looking.
Two minutes passed in silence as I combed over every curve and line. Finally, it struck me that he was right. Other than the solitary 'A', there was nothing else.
"That's strange..." I murmured, remembering how the woman had asked me for my groom's name as she worked the mehendi onto my hands.
The room fell quiet, the air thick with the awkwardness of the moment.
"Looks like Aryan Rathore won't lose to his wife, either," Aryan whispered.
My gaze lifted slowly, narrowing, sharpening into the nastiest expression I could summon.
"We have more games to go through, Peasant," I whispered back.
"Alright then," Shivanya clapped, her voice too bright. "Looks like bhai won this round, and we don't have to ask Bhabhi to find her name in his mehndi, considering..." Her gaze flicked to Aryan's hands, wrapped in bandages, marked only with my name.
"Let's play the next game," she announced, bouncing on her heels like a child too eager for mischief.
We rose from the sofa in the living room and trailed out into the backyard, only to stop short at the sight waiting for us. A kiddie pool sat in the middle, filled to the brim with water.
Om motioned to a servant, who came forward with a jug of milk, pouring it in. Another followed with a bowl of powdered haldi and sindoor, tipping it all into the pool. The clear water clouded, twisting itself into a murky reddish-brown.
Akanksha snapped strands of kalava and dropped them one by one, as though completing a ritual.
It couldn't be what I thought it was.
"What exactly is this?" Tara Aunty demanded, her eyes narrowing at the kiddie pool.
Akanksha grinned, walking up to Aryan with her palm outstretched. "Your ring, bhai. Hand it over."
Aryan slid it off without a word and dropped it into her hand.
"Wait!" Tara Aunty snapped. "Don't tell me you're about to play that ring game in Myra's kiddie pool. Have you all lost your minds?" She shook her head, muttering. "Bring a thali," she ordered a servant.
Parth chuckled. "A thali? Really, Aunty? You think a tiny thali can survive these two?"
Vedika Aunty blinked. "Survive them? What are you talking about?"
"Vedika Maa," Parth said gravely, "give them a thali and they'll be bashing each other over the head with it before the ring is even dropped in it."
That set the cousins off, laughter spilling out into the night.
I rolled my eyes at that. Not because he was wrong, but for thinking that using a kiddie pool would be any different.
"Let them have their fun, Bhabhi," Brij Uncle said. "The kids need it."
"I agree," Mohini Aunty said. "After all, the last few hours have been too stressful for the new bride. Let's just enjoy this."
Tara Aunty sighed. "Fine. Everything else in this wedding had been anything but normal, so why should this be any different?"
Akanksha practically bounced as she dragged us forward, our hands caught in hers, until we were standing on opposite ends of the pink pool. The rest of the family gathered in a circle, eyes bright with anticipation.
"Alright!" Akanksha announced. "I'll drop the ring in three times. Whoever finds it the most wins. And the winner gets one wish, which the loser is bound to fulfil."
"Make sure you win, Aryan," Vikram called out. "I lost to my wife once, and she still brings it up every chance she gets."
"Don't worry, Vikram," Aryan said smoothly, his tone carrying that familiar arrogance, while opening his bandages. "Aryan Rathore does not lose, evโ"
"โeven to his wife?" I cut him off, my voice sharp with mockery.
His head tilted, that irritatingly confident smirk tugging at his lips. "Something like that."
"Ohhhh..." Shiva said. "You have to prove him wrong now, bhabhi!"
"And you know what they say, right?" Parth said. "That, whoever wins, would rule over the other for the rest of their lives."
"Well, we can't have that now, can we?" I said.
"Prepare to serve your husband for the rest of your life, Princess," he replied.
"One..." Akanksha started, drawing everyone's attention.
Aryan and I knelt on either side of the kiddie pool, while she stood above us, holding the ring high in the air.
"Two..."
Our eyes met across the water. And in that second, I knew what I was going to do.
"Three!"
She dropped the ring. It caught the light for a moment before sinking into the cloudy water with a soft splash.
I knew I would let him win.
The instant the ring hit the water, we both leaned in, splashing as our hands moved through the pool. My fingers brushed against the ring once, then again, but I pulled back, pretending not to notice.
He searched too, moving the water around, but with no luck.
When it became clear he was too slow to actually find it, I even pushed the ring in his direction. I even gestured at him with my eyes.
And still, somehow, he managed to miss it.
Do I actually have to hand it to you? I thought, slowing my movements in the water. Are you really that daft?
The game dragged on for several minutes, our hands churning through the cloudy water, splashing and scattering drops across the grass. Slowly, the frenzy dulled. Both of us began to hesitate, our movements slowing until we were only stirring the surface, staring at each other across the kiddie pool. Because it had finally dawned on us.
"Did you..." Akanksha's voice broke the silence, her head tilting as she watched. "Were you two actually trying to make the other win?"
"Awwww..." Shivanya squealed, clasping her hands together as though she had just witnessed the height of romance.
Parth groaned, cutting through the moment. "Okay, guys, enough of the theatrics. Just find the ring already, and let someone win. We've got a lot riding on this."
"Yes, just find the ring." Dev Uncle finally spoke, his voice breaking through the chatter. "Not that this isn't a good sign," he added, his gaze steady on us. "You've already shown you're willing to help the other win. Now show us how well you can challenge each other and still stay on the same side."
We looked at each other again, knowing full well just how well we challenged each other.
And then, we dove into the water to find the ring.
Sifting through the distracting materials Akanksha had added to the water, my fingers grazed his ring, and with a smirk, I pulled it out of the water. There was a round of cheers around us.
Cheering for my victory, Akanksha took the ring from me and raised it over our heads again.
"Remember, Aryan, only two more times. If she wins this round, the game will be over." Vikram's voice carried over the otherwise silent night.
"Don't worry, Vikram," he began. "The ring is too important for me to lose."
"Alright, ready?" Akanksha said and dropped the ring.
Before I could even properly dive into attempting to take the ring, Aryan had already seized the ring.
"Yes!" Vikram cheered. Only Vikram cheered.
"One last chance, Bhabhi," Akanksha said as she retrieved the ring from Aryan.
"So, what? Only my brother-in-law is supporting me?" Aryan asked as he noticed Akanksha sulking. Along with every one of his cousins.
"Yes," Dev Uncle said.
I contained the laugh that bubbled inside me.
"This is it!" Akanksha said. "All the best, Bhabhi," she said and dropped the ring.
This time, I was faster. But I should have known better. Aryan never played fair. The moment the ring hit the surface, his hand cut through the water, sending a wave crashing against me, soaking through my saree as the ring vanished into the murky pool again.
"How childish," I muttered, pushing the wet fabric aside as I searched through the water.
"It's called Strategy," he said, his hand moving deliberately through the cloudy water, still hunting for the ring. "Winners don't play fair."
"Then it's a good thing you haven't won yet," I snapped, splashing water toward him as I searched.
He smirked, eyes fixed on the pool. "Keep telling yourself that, Princess. Maybe it'll make losing easier."
I shoved his hand aside when it brushed mine. "Stop shadowing me."
"Then stop being in my way," he shot back, his hand cutting through the water again.
The pool splashed violently as we both searched, our arms colliding, shoving, each refusing to yield. And his hand kept following mine
The ring was there, buried in the cloudy water, and I would find it. I was certain of it.
"You're wasting time," I said, my tone clipped as my fingers swept methodically across the bottom. "You've never been good at focus."
"And you've never been good at patience," he replied, lunging across as though he might cover more ground.
I shoved his arm back, water spraying across his face. "Focus and patience. I'll take both. And the ring."
It was then that my fingers brushed against a lump of threads swirling at the bottom. I began working them apart, praying the ring had caught somewhere inside. And by some miracle, it had. The threads slipped loose, and the ring rolled free, glinting faintly before sinking back into the water.
Our eyes met in that instant. Without hesitation, we both lunged. My fingers closed around the ring just as his did, our grips colliding, neither of us willing to let go.
"I found it," I declared, tugging it firmly toward me, trying to pry his hold away.
"I had it first," he countered, yanking it back.
"Uh, no," I snapped, tightening my grip. "You wouldn't have even known it was there if I hadn't untangled it."
"But I grabbed it first," he argued, pulling harder, the water churning around us.
I tightened my grip on the ring. "It's mine. Let go."
Aryan's fingers flexed the ring, firm. "Funny, I was about to say the same thing."
"You wouldn't even know it was here if I hadn't pulled it out," I shot back, tugging harder.
His smirk curved, infuriatingly calm. "And yet, here you are... still fighting me for it."
"Because you refuse to accept defeat."
"Or maybe you can't accept that I won," he said, yanking the ring closer to himself.
I jerked it back, water splashing between us. "You? Win? Don't make me laugh. You've been a step behind me since the beginning."
His grip tightened, eyes gleaming. "Behind you? No, Princess. I'm the one leading you exactly where I want."
I leaned in, tugging harder. "Keep dreaming. The only thing you're leading is your ego."
"And still," he murmured, his smirk widening as he gave one brutal pull, "you're following."
The force ripped through my grip, dragging me forward before I could steady myself. My balance gave way, my hold on the ring slipped, and with a sharp splash, the water rose around me as I toppled straight into the pool.
For a moment, there was silence, then a roar of laughter burst out from the circle around us. I pushed my wet hair back, sputtering, as Aryan sat smugly on the edge, the ring glinting between his fingers. His smirk hadn't faltered once.
"You cheater!" I screeched, pointing straight at him. "Everyone saw him cheat, right?" I demanded, looking around for backup.
Vikram lifted a hand, all mock-seriousness. "Well, the rules of the game are very simple. Whoever pulls the ring out of the water wins." He shrugged. "Which makes Aryan the winner, and Parth, Shivanya, and Om officially owe me money!"
Om groaned as he fished a note out of his pocket and shoved it in Vikram's hand. "Man, I thought Bhai would at least be a gentleman and let Bhabhi win!"
Parth narrowed his eyes at me, shaking his head as he handed over another note. "I was betting on your obsession with victory. What happened to you?"
Shivanya pouted dramatically as she passed her money to Vikram. "Bhai, husbands are supposed to let their wives win!"
The circle erupted in laughter again, and all the while Aryan sat there, maddeningly smug, the ring glinting between his fingers.
While Vikram took the money, he circled it thrice over Shiva's head and gave it to one of the servants.
"Don't take it personally, Princess," Aryan said, slipping the ring onto his finger with deliberate ease. "This ring was far too important to be handed over just like that."
"No, Bhai," Shiva objected, frowning at him. "The foundation of any happy marriage depends on the husband surrendering to his wife at least once in a while."
"It's not his time yet, Shiva," Vikram cut in with a grin. He glanced at Dev Uncle. "Right, Uncle?"
At that, Dev Uncle smirked, his eyes flicking from Aryan to me before settling on Vikram. The two of them exchanged a smile that only seemed to irritate Shiva further.
"What?" she demanded. "What am I missing?"
"You won't understand, Shiva," Brij Uncle said, leaning forward, his gaze shifting from us to Om. "Right, Om?" He added a wink for good measure.
Om chuckled, clapping his hands. "I'm just waiting for that day."
I was still sitting in the water, my saree clinging heavily against my skin.
"Oh no, Kanak beta," Tara Aunty exclaimed suddenly. "Your bandages are soaking through."
Aryan's eyes snapped to my foot, his expression shifting in an instant. Without hesitation, he stepped into the pool, lifting me in one swift motion.
"You should've stepped out sooner," he scolded, his voice low, urgent. "What if the wound gets worse?"
I arched a brow at him, water dripping down my face. "You should've thought of that before dragging me in here," I said, while snaking my hands around his neck.
He didn't answer, only tightened his hold as he carried me out. "Are there any more games?" he asked curtly.
"No," Tara Aunty replied. "Just one last ritual."
As he carried me into the living room, all eyes followed. When he finally set me back down on the sofa, his movements were careful, deliberate, too careful for someone who had just dragged me into a pool.
He didn't rise. Instead, he lowered himself to his knees before me, his gaze fixed on my foot as though the rest of the room didn't exist. "Bring me the first-aid kit," he ordered, his tone clipped, leaving no room for argument.
The box was in his hands within moments. Without hesitation, he began peeling away the soaked bandages, layer by layer. The fabric had turned a dull, muddy brown where the water had seeped through. He discarded them without a second glance, his jaw tight, his focus unshaken.
I watched him work, the brush of his fingers against my skin unexpectedly careful. His touch betrayed none of the arrogance he had just displayed in front of everyone.
How has he not seen it yet? I wondered, my breath catching for the briefest second.
Maybe because it's on my other foot?
I shifted slightly, testing him, but his concentration didn't waver. He unrolled fresh bandages and wound them around my ankle with practised precision, every fold neat, every knot secured firmly.
When he finally tied off the last strip, he exhaled, sitting back just a fraction, as if satisfied with his work. Then, only then, did he turn his head toward Tara Aunty. "Let's finish the rituals? She needs to rest."
She nodded, and Vedika Aunty handed him a pouch. "Open it."
The red velvet pouch in his hands was too small, but I could hear the faint clinking of metal. He opened the pouch and inverted it to take out its contents. Two rings fell on his hands.
Two silver rings.
Two silver toe rings.
"Come on," Vedika Aunty said, "Put them on her."
Aryan already had my right foot resting against his knee, his hand firm around my ankle as if it belonged there. With deliberate slowness, he picked up one of the rings and slid it onto my second toe. The metal was cool, his fingers warm, the contrast making me shiver.
It was loose, slipping down too easily, and instead of letting go, his thumb pressed against the band, moulding it tighter to my skin, making my breath hitch at the pressure. When the ring finally sat snug, he released my foot.
And then, without hesitation, he took my left foot into his hands. His palm skimmed the arch, his grip tightening just enough to remind me of his strength. My breath caught, trapped somewhere in my chest.
I held my breath.
Will he see it?
Will he finally see it?
The second ring glinted between his fingers, but he didn't place it right away. Instead, his thumb dragged slowly across my skin, tracing the mehendi design. When his touch stilled, it was over the part of the pattern that didn't belong, the small curve of letters.
His gaze snapped up to mine. And in that moment, with his thumb pressed against the name carved into me, I felt undone.
'Peasant', it read.
Yes, Aryan. Your name was always on me. I thought. Just as mine was always on you.
Without breaking his gaze, he slipped the second ring on my toe, again tightening it against my skin, making me feel the pressure of his hands.
I gulped.
"Anything else?" He asked.
"Yes," Mohini Aunty said. "You just need to demand your wish from your wife, after all, you won."
Aryan smirked, his gaze never leaving mine, as it dawned on me that he had yet to claim his spoils of war.
Me.
"I can demand anything, right?" He asked no one in particular.
"Yes, you can," Mohini Aunty replied. "So, what will you have your wife do, Aryan?"
His thumb kept rubbing the area where my preferred name for him was written, as he looked deep in my eyes. "There is one thing I would like my wife to do," he said, voice low, before letting the words hang in silence.
Parth groaned loudly, breaking the moment. "Oh my god, please don't say it if it's too inappropriate to be said in front of family." His face twisted in mock disgust.
Shivanya gasped, scandalised, and smacked his shoulder. "Parth bhai!"
"You know," Tara Aunty cut in, glaring at him, "I know you are Aryan's childhood friend, but you have your own room in this house. Which means I hold the right to do this." She reached up and tugged sharply at his ear, making him wince. "Don't just go around saying whatever nonsense that comes to your mind!"
Laughter rippled through the family, but Aryan didn't so much as glance away. His thumb was still tracing the hidden word on my skin, his eyes still locked with mine, as if none of them existed.
"Well then, tell us!" Shiva pressed, leaning forward, her eyes wide with curiosity.
Aryan's smirk deepened, his thumb still brushing over my skin as if to remind me he held the upper hand. Finally, he spoke.
"Ghoomer."
The word slipped out smoothly, followed by the faintest smile. His gaze never left mine. "At the reception party. Once your injury is healed."
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