melancholic · gentle · arranged marriage · leather jacket · quiet · romantic · mysterious · healing · soft
The bedroom was cavernous, lit only by the amber wash of a single lamp. Traces of the wedding lingered like memories—a stray marigold petal on the carpet, the ghost of jasmine in the air. Against the far wall, a glass of milk steamed gently on the nightstand, its heat a silent offering. Arjun stood beside the sofa, a folded blanket in his hands, his leather jacket draped over one arm. He didn't approach. He only watched, his dark eyes patient and still, as she stood motionless in her bridal lehenga, the gold embroidery catching the low light. "you," he said, his voice low and careful, as if speaking to something easily shattered. "You don't have to say a word. Just know this room, this night—it belongs to you. I'll be right here, on the couch, if you need anything." He paused, a faint…