Janaat Viraj Singh POV:

The first thing in the morning, I saw his eyes, jet black. His eyes were stuck on my face; he wasn’t even blinking. I feel my heartbeat has started racing. The only thing I can feel is the thudding of my heart. My breath was also uneven. 

Next was his hand; I felt his palm on my neck. His hand was warm. My breath stuttered. We are just one hand's distance. I was stuck, not even blinking. My own dumb head was frozen just staring at this handsome man. 

Before my eyes travel to his other features, he slides the comforter. Gosh, I was not wearing a bra under my top. So I ran from there, but he made me wear slippers, then I came to my room. 

Mannerless man, he should know you just can’t pull the sheet off a girl.

Then he stopped me for slippers, and my breath was still caught in my throat again. 

I could feel the heat rise in waves, a slow wildfire. So I shut the door as if it shut all the sensation too.

I can still feel his palm behind my neck. 

Why does my heart sprint when he’s near? 

Why does it behave like that? 

It’s a spell. I’m sure he did some black magic on me. 

I tell myself it’s a trick of hormones, or a trick of the body. But my periods ended just five days ago, and I’m not ovulating. Then why do I feel that pull? But why can’t I control myself? My own heart insists he belongs to him.

Like, seriously, He’s not just handsome; he’s a catalog of small miracles. The way he breathes in and out sounds choreographed. 

When he speaks, the words land like velvet on bare skin, soft and gentle. His gaze lingers a heartbeat too long, as if he’s reading the weather of my soul.

His gaze lingers a heartbeat too long, the way he looks as if I’m my life. He behaves as if he loves me beyond the earth. And when gaze met, just a fraction, just a breath, the world narrows, everything fades. 

Just him and me.

I realized one thing: if we continue like this, I’ll not fight the pull anymore. I’ll surrender to the gravity that belongs to him, to us. 

What the fck did I forget about the rule in one day? I made that rule last night and broke it the first thing in the morning. 

“Remember: NOO LOOKING, NAA DROOLING,” I whispered to myself, standing in front of the mirror. 

I decided to wear a maroon dress with a little ribbon in my curls. He already told me that they all have breakfast together. I can’t fail to impress other family members because I already failed in his eyes. Mumma teaches me that the first impression is the last. 

Firstly, I start with skincare, a ritual. I keep makeup minimal: a touch of concealer where the night’s shadows linger, a sweep of mascara to wake my eyes, and a whisper of light rust gloss. 

Yesterday’s straightened hair seems like a memory fading into the night. Today, my curls return, bouncy and alive, resting softly on top of my head like always. I just ran my finger through my curls and tied the two ribbons on each side. 

I’m done with my look. 

Also, I packed my backpack with a tablet and an empty notebook. Pen? I’ll ask anyone from the class. My phone is already charged because yesterday I didn’t use it at night. 

I wonder how I can sleep peacefully without using my phone.  

I study my reflection once more, taking in the whole image: the maroon dress, the ribbon, the red gloss, the polished but natural look. “Am I too dressed?” I asked the mirror as he will revert me. Then I thought I’d change before going to college. For the first breakfast, it’s perfect, I’m choti bahu. 

“Let’s go downstairs before you get late. Don’t forget, first impression is last impression.” Muttering and looking on the floor for the slippers. I don’t remember where I took off my slippers. Never mind, I wear my heels and run towards the lift. 

When the lift opened on the ground floor, “I’m here, on time…” My words stuck in my throat when I looked; everyone was seated at the dining table, and helpers were bringing the dishes from the kitchen. 

“I hope I’m on time,” I said in a timid voice.

“Haan Putter, Humne abhi breakfast shure nhi kiya hai, aaja baith,” Bua said.

(Yes, Daughter. We haven’t started yet, come sit.)

I took my seat at the table just beside the Bhabhi; she is again wearing a blue suit. Her hair is so long, and her braid is resting on a chair. I’m sure when they are open, they touch her knees from behind. 

Later, I’ll ask what she does with her hair, because mine is not growing, and still stuck on my lower back.

I can’t believe how I can miss this?

Viraj is seated in front of my chair, and Veer-ji is facing the bhabhi. Vaani di and bua ji sat together. My eyes fell on an old man sitting on a chair a little bigger than a normal one. A separate chair for the head of the family. Now it’s awkward because Dadu is sitting with a neutral expression, resting.

“Morning, everyone,” I said, and my eyes met his eyes. His eyes were fixed on me. For a reason, now I’m feeling awkward and shy. The breakfast table was filled with juice, milk, and poha. Then a plain and bland salad and a mixed fruit salad were also there.

Both Viraj and Veer-ji serve themselves that bland salad. Veer-ji poured milk for bhabhi, and bua did the same for vaani di. Do I also have to drink milk? Noo, naa!! 

Dadu serves poha on their own and starts eating. “Kya hua Baby, aap kuch kyu nhi kha rahi?” Bhabhi asked.

(What happened, Baby? Why are you not eating?)

I smile awkwardly, then a hand comes towards my plate and adds fruit salad to it. It was him, Viraj.

“Eat this, they are good for you,” he said. 

Excuse me? I can’t eat this stuff. I want my sandwich. I thought I’d have my sandwiches here without any nagging. But they didn’t even serve–not very demure, not very mindful.

Then Veer-ji also served that fruit salad in Bhabhi’s plate. Bhabhi and I look at each other awkwardly. I want Bhabhi to speak first, and maybe she wants the same from me. After the wait of a few moments, “Humare aalo ke paranthy kaha hai?” bhabhi asked, and I thank god for that, I can also eat paratha.

(Where is my potato paratha?)

“Phle aap ye kha lijiye Heer, then aapko aapka aalu parantha bhi mil jayega. Subha-Subha hume healthy khanaa chaiye.” Veer-ji said in an utterly calm voice.

(First, you eat this, then aalu paratha will be served too. In the morning, we should eat healthy food.)

Then my tongue also slipped, “I thought you would serve some delicious food, but all I got was this bland salad and fruit. I want to eat my sandwich. I always eat sandwiches for breakfast.” With that, all eyes turned towards me.

“You both will eat the same food that we all are eating, all the dishes that are served are healthy, and what you both were demanding is unhealthy,” Dadu said irritably. 

This is the first time I heard Dadu’s voice, and he is scary. Bhabhi and I looked at each other with a tiny nod, and we both started eating fruit salad. 

This is so unfair. It was my first breakfast, I am their guest, and they are forcing me to eat this. 

No worry, I’ll attend classes later, firstly I’ll buy my sandwiches from the college canteen. I already ate that, they are also good. 

“The way you both got married was not pleasant. But what’s done is done, neither I nor you can change, nor are you both going to change that. I’ll accept your wife as my daughter-in-law when you properly introduce them in front of the world. So, better if you both start preparing for the reception.” Sullenness was evident in his voice.

No one spoke, only the clinking of cutlery, and all were eating their food. 

If a reception were held, then the whole world would know I’m married to Viraj. And I’m not mentally prepared for that, not in this mood, not in this house, not with this storm of expectations battering my ribs. 

We got married in a hurry; it was a surprise marriage. How can we announce that? Noo, naa!!

At this point, I was panicking and looked at him, he just passed me a nod and a blink. 

Okay, I’m not panicking now. 

The whole table was silent like a dead then Vaani di asked, “How will you go to college? Baby.”

Without much chewing, I forced the fruit down my throat. 

“I’ll go with my baby.” 

Everyone paused, glasses hovering in midair, and Viraj choked on salad and started coughing, while Veer-ji started rubbing his back. 

"So," she says, all casual, "do you have a boyfriend?" 

A boyfriend? 

Where did that even come from? 

I was talking about my baby. 

And that's when I saw it. The raised eyebrows. 

Six people–eight pairs of eyes filled with confusion. 

Before I can answer Bhabhi through another question, “Agar baby ke paas boyfriend hai toh hume bhi chaiye. Baby, aapke kitne boyfriends hai?”

(If the baby has a boyfriend, then I also want. Baby, how many boyfriends do you have?)

“Heriye aapke boyfriend aur husband hum hi hai,” Veer-ji said, getting possessive. 

(Heriye, I’m your boyfriend and husband.)

“Putter ab tum Viraj ki biwi ho, so ye dusra boyfriend kon hai? Ye thik nhi hai…hum itne bhi modern nhi hai putter,” Now bua spoke. 

Why is everyone assuming this? 

Where is this conversation heading? 

It’s turning into chaos. I got up from the chair and shook both my hands, showing them my palms, “Nhi, nhi, mera koi boyfriend nhi hai.”

(No, no, I don’t have a boyfriend)

“I was talking about my scooty, I called her my baby because that was the first thing I got from my own earnings.” Then I hear a relieved huff from Viraj, and his shoulders relaxed a fraction. 

I looked at Viraj, and I turned my face away. I felt everyone was relaxed now, the storm had passed then…

“Tum dono ne kaisi ladki se shadi ki hai. Ek dimaag se bachi hai aur dusri sach mein bachi hai. Choti wali ko toh pure kapde phanne ka dhang bhi nhi hai.” Dadu grumbled and left the table without finishing his food. Dadu’s words rang through the dining hall, a sour bell that refused to die.

(Whom did you both marry? One is a child from the mind, and another is a real child. Also, the younger one doesn’t know how to wear full clothes.)

Don’t cry.

Don’t cry.

But my eyes filled with water, and before they fell, I ran towards my room. I didn’t spare a backward glance, didn’t give them the spectacle of my tears. 

Reaching my room, the door clicked shut behind me. And I started crying. I am missing Mumma now. 

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Viraj Janaat Singh POV:

She ran from the table, and without eating, she only took the four bites of fruit salad. 

So without wasting a single second, I followed her. But the lift was already closed. I climbed the stairs. 

When I reached the fourth floor, I saw her room door was closed, so I opened the door without knocking. I saw her sitting on the bed, her back to my side, but her shoulder tremors showed she was crying. I went near her and gently turned to face me while I took a seat on the bed. 

There were tears, BIG FAT TEARS, flowing like a river. Her nose turned pink, and her lips were trembling. 

I wipe her big fat tears with my fingertips, but those red nose and lips were tempting me to kiss the hell out of her. She is looking cute on the next level, and her lips are looking kissable.

My subconscious screams, Stop acting like a libidinous teenager.

I did not rush. I lowered myself onto the bed just in front of her. I waited until her eyes met his, until the flood of tears began to slow, until the tremor in her lips softened. 

I reached out and brushed a curly strand of hair away from her face with tenderness. Offered her my hand, asking for hers. She placed her hand in mine. The moment her fingers met, something shifted inside me. 

I pulled her against my chest, and she also wrapped her arms around my neck instantly. The next moment, a broken sob left her mouth. Her little body is shaking against mine, so I tighten my grip around her, my hand cupping her head from behind, and I stay with her there, not forcing a recovery by words but guiding it with presence. 

When her breathing began to settle, “Shh, it’s okay, don’t cry. You are my pretty baby. If you stop crying, then you can have your sandwiches daily for breakfast,” continued patting her head. I said this to distract her from crying, and it seemed to work on her. After a few seconds, she stopped crying.

Pulling from hug, she started looking at me with such big eyes, “Promise, I can eat my sandwiches daily, and you will make sure that,” she whispered.

My idea backfired. 

Words slip, and I can’t take them back. Coaxing her now might invite more tears from those dark green eyes. Her food habits can be improved later, but for now calming her is my priority.

She shook her head, a small, grateful smile breaking through. She sniffed, pressed the heel of her hand to her eyes, and blinked away the stinging brightness that had pooled there. Her eyes widen, glistening with the last remnants of tears, and she watches me with a wary, grateful gaze. 

“You promised, my sandwiches,” she whispered.

“Hmm, I’ll tell the bua,” I said, smiling gently, and she nodded just a fraction.

“He didn’t like me and also scolded…” she tried to speak, her eyes again welled up. But the words got tangled in a sob, and before she cried.

I reached out and pulled her into my arms again, one hand was smoothing her back, and the other patting her head gently. “Don’t pat me, I’m not a dog,” she hisses between her sobs. 

Only I know how I controlled my smile.

“Who said he doesn’t like you? He is angry with me, not with you. We didn’t get married like others, and before us, bhai bhabhi also married in a hospital temple. He is an old man and snapped both of you, but don’t worry, Bhai, and I’ll talk with him.” I said to her that my voice was a little husky. 

I hold her tiny hands in mine, “I want you to be comfortable here. This is your home too. You can do and wear whatever you want. You can complain about anything to me, and if you have any problem with me, then talk directly to me. I’ll make things right.” 

She shook her head, “If you did something, I’ll complain to my Veer-ji.” I smiled and nodded, “As you wish, but I’ll never get you that chance.” 

She gives me a tiny smile with that same pout. That smile is the prettiest thing I have seen today. 

The purity on her face makes me feel different things that I still have to figure out. I want nothing more than that pretty smile. 

Her eyes bore into mine, and her slightly red nose made me want to hide her in my arms again. I brought my hand up, sliding it in her curly hair, and started rolling it around my finger. I want to do that earlier, too. Her nose is pink and maybe red, but she is looking so cute and kissable. 

I want to kiss her nose. 

Her brows knitted together, and a tension line formed on her forehead. “About reception?” she said, looking in my eyes. 

I understand what she meant; she doesn’t want to disclose our relationship in public. I also agreed with her on that. She is only twenty, and I don’t want to put any pressure on married life and rush anything between us. 

I stopped rolling her hair strands. “Don’t worry about that, I’ll handle him.” 

I perked her nose that was red because of the crying, just like a soft brush. 

I tried to control, but it’s too cute to be ignored. 

Ignoring that red nose would be a crime; for that, I deserved to rot in prison. 

Then, with a knock, Vaani entered the room with food, not just food, but her weakness sandwiches. 

“My little bhabhi, saw what Maa made for you and also her special sauce.” She placed a plate between us and started bending over the floor to sit. 

I hold her arm, “Did you forget you're six months pregnant and the doctor strictly prevents you from bending?” She is being careless.

“Thanks for the reminder, Mr. Singh.” My sister checked my temperament from time to time. I got up from bed so she could sit. 

Vaani said, “Baby Bhabhi, I’ll teach Nanu a good lesson, and for that I need your help. The old man dares to scold both my bhabhis; he deserves a good scene on that.” She nodded with a grin, that mischievous grin. 

“Baby Bhabhi, you ate this, and let me think how we can teach him a lesson.” Our troublemaker is going to spoil my Heaven, too.

“Okay, now eat. We will meet in the evening,” she left. 

My heaven, take the first bite of the sandwich dipped with sauce, “mmmmmmmm,” and her eyes snapped at me, “It’s the same… I mean the sauce.” My Heaven is smart too. She got that sauce was the same when we shared our meal for the first time at our first meeting. I smiled and approved her words with my head. 

“Get ready, I’ll take you to college,” I said. 

She shook her head, “No, I’ll go on my baby.”

This is weird to digest that my baby has her own baby. It’s a non-living thing, a scooter.

“Okay, but today you will attend all classes. I know you haven’t attended a single class yet.” I said, looking at her. She was so busy savoring the food that she didn’t reply to me. 

I smiled seeing her eating. I know everything about her, I mean everything. She thinks I didn’t notice why she ran from the room in the morning. I already knew the reason was her thin top. Do I care? No, she can wear whatever she wants. I’m a man with morals and patience.

“Did you hear me?” I asked again. 

“Yes, yes, I’ll attend all the classes. Now I've got my favorite sandwiches, so I’ll go straight to the classes.”

What does she mean she will do directly in the class? Does she have another plan? 

Got it, she would eat sandwiches from the canteen and then go to classes. But now she has them, that’s why she said that. 

She is savoring the sandwiches as if they were heaven for her. She has the prettiest smile that burns in my soul. I wanted to look away, but couldn’t. 

My eyes forget to behave when they see her; they even forget to blink. 

“Go now, let me eat in peace. It’s bad staring at someone,” she mumbled, chewing her food. 

Did she forget that someone is my precious wife? 

“Eat slowly, they will not run. Otherwise, you will choke,” she gave me a narrowed eye look and waved her hand so I could leave. Her silent way of telling, Get lost from here. 

I leave the room, not before turning and watching her eat peacefully. I can admire her all day, but now I have to handle one more person. It’s time to see that old man. He should not scold her like that. It was her first day, and our first breakfast as a family.

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As soon as I entered Dadu’s room, I heard Bhai's words, “Keep your mouth in control. I already warned everyone on the first day not to make my wife uncomfortable in any way. This is the first and last time you speak in that tone to my wife. She is my responsibility. I’m letting this aside for this time.”

Dadu already knew about this, so he agreed. He never crosses Bhai’s words because he is well aware of the anger behind this calm personality. He was angry but talking in the calmest voice, maintaining respect, “Lastly, my wife and baby sister are not here to tolerate any of your nonsense. They are here, leaving behind their family. No woman deserves a narrow-minded environment. They can do whatever they want. They are the new owners of this moonlight villa, not any servant.” 

“Bhai is correct, Wo malkin hai es moonlight Villa ki. Unhi ke ghar mein rah kar unka apmaan nhi kar skte aap.” I tried to control, but words come. 

(Both are the owners of this Moonlight Villa. You cannot insult them while living in her house.)

Then bhai said, “And about the reception, you can arrange that on Sunday. She is my wife, and I’m not ashamed of my wife. She is my pride. Heer and I’ll be present there just for a few minutes. You know, Heer is not comfortable in a crowd.” When he turned and passed me a tiny nod, with a reassuring look.

But I stopped him, calling, “Bhai, I don’t want that baby and bhabhi to eat their first meal of the day in this annoying and conservative environment.” Bhai nodded and agreed with me, “So, both women wouldn’t eat when Dadu is present,” saying he would leave the room. 

That old man (Dadu) clenched his jaw, a habit as stubborn as the house’s old wooden beams. His eyes, narrowed, scanned the room as if searching for a rule to pin us to. “No, need. I’ll eat in my room from onwards. You can’t break this ritual of this house.” His voice carried the weight of decades. 

“Rituals?” 

“So, you care about the ritual, not the person who made this.” My question drifted into the space between us, unanswered. 

Now, Dadu is alone. I stood rigid, fists clenched at my sides. Dadu’s gaze shifted to the ceiling, as poke to the room, not to us. 

“The girl—” Dadu began, voice steady. 

My jaw tightened.“My wife, not any girl. She is my precious wife, who is the owner of this villa. Be respectful.” I roared. 

Dadu’s eyebrows lifted, and an old cat arched into a defensive stance. Old man’s lips pressed into a thin line. My brows were still creased with anger, “Old man, you can not talk to my wife with that tone. That was her first breakfast, and you made her cry.” 

I clenched my jaw to control myself. I don’t want to say hurtful words to him. “We are not disclosing our relationship in public.”

His eyes meet mine, angry and sharp, filled with question, “Why, you can marry her but can’t accept in front of the world?”

The room’s air thickened, and each breath was sharp. Ego, that's what he is, an empty shell of ego. 

I stepped forward, closer to the old man.“We both are adults, and I don’t give a single right to anyone to question my life, especially my wife,” I said with a sharp tone. 

I’m not scared, but she is still a teenager. She should build her career, and I’m waiting for her, just standing behind her. Whenever she turned, she would find me behind her. 

Dadu looked hard at me with that stubborn flame. “I have all the rights, did you forget, I’m your father’s father.” A sly smile slipped from me, “Don’t call yourself father, when, because of your ego, your one son left this house with your wife. You are the reason we broke our family in two pieces.”

The clock continued its relentless rhythm. Dadu’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. My eyes met his with a kind of steel. “Don’t discuss the past. It had already happened, and we can’t change that. Here we are talking about you. You should announce your wedding, too. She should understand her responsibility as a daughter-in-law of the Singh family,” he exhaled. 

Still standing with his ego. Old and stubborn man. 

I turned my gaze to the other side, just to control myself, and then a soundless laugh. “This is my married life; you have no right to tell me how a relationship works. Your ego was so high that you let your wife leave. She is alive, but you didn’t meet her once. Because of you, we didn’t get the love of our grandmother. You are keeping a daughter away from her mother. Bua and Dad didn’t say anything to you that time when you threw their mother and brother out of the house. I don’t know why they didn’t crush your ego that time. So you thought you could do as you wish, like in the past. Not with my and especially not with my wife. You are going to stay away from my wife.”

And my words hit him hard; with that, his lips are sealed. “Stay away from my matters and never, I repeat never, talk rudely to my wife again. She can do whatever she wants; she can wear whatever she wants. She is my wife, and she is too young to understand the responsibilities of a daughter-in-law. You will not put any pressure on her. I don’t give you any right to question my wife again. I hope I made myself crystal clear.”

Dadu exhaled, a breath that seemed to carry some of the weight he had carried for years. I turned to the left, and for a heartbeat, the room seemed to compress into a single, heavy second. His gaze pinned me, slow and unyielding, as if the truth itself stood behind his eyes and pressed forward with quiet insistence.

He said nothing, but the silence carried that weight, and the weight of truth is unbearable.

“Someone had to say the truth– show him that his empty ego breaks our house into two pieces.”

To be continued…

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⬩➤ This chapter started with a rom-com and ended with this tension. What’s your opinion? 

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