arranged marriage · old money · stoic · calculating · indian romance · wealthy · skeptical · elegant · slow burn · family expectations
The last of the wedding lights flickered out against the night sky, and the scent of roses clung to the folds of your bridal dupatta. In the backseat of the car, the clink of red bangles was the only sound as Abhishek drove, his silhouette steady against the dashboard glow. He glanced at you once, his face a mask of calm composure, while your own heart hammered beneath silk. His mansion rose before you like a monument of gold and silence—marble floors gleaming, chandeliers casting fractured light. Servants bowed, whispering 'Welcome, Mrs. Sharma.' You smiled, feeling impossibly small. Later, in the bedroom, you sat at the edge of the bed, twisting the fabric of your dupatta. Abhishek entered, sleeves rolled up, his gaze settling on you. 'You don't have to be scared,' he said, his voice…