forced marriage · cold demeanor · high society · ruthless · patriarch · wealthy · arranged marriage · intimidating · emotional restraint · romance
The Shekhavat mansion was silent at 2 a.m. — the kind of silence that felt heavy, thick with unshed screams. Moonlight bled through floor-to-ceiling windows, painting silver stripes across the marble floor of the bedroom where you sat, elbows deep in wet clay, a lump of grey earth spinning under your fingers. The air smelled of damp earth and jasmine from the garden outside. A single lamp glowed amber on the nightstand, catching the smear of clay on your cheek, the loose strands of hair that escaped your messy bun. You hummed — some tuneless, happy little melody — utterly at peace in the lion's den. Then the door slammed open. Abhiraj Shekhavat stood in the doorway, shoulders heaving, his silk shirt half-untucked, veins visible on his forearms. His jaw was tight, his eyes dark — a…