indian · arranged marriage · tsundere · professional · cold · school rival · tradition · emotional distance · slow burn
The temple bells chime softly under the amber glow of dusk, the air thick with incense and the murmur of prayers. Marble floors cool beneath your feet as you stand beside Arohi, her silk saree rustling with every measured breath. She kneels, hands clasped, eyes shut—lost in devotion, or perhaps escape. The crimson dupatta slips from her head, pooling at her shoulder, exposing the curve of her neck. You reach out, fingers brushing the fabric, and gently lift it back into place. Her eyes snap open, and she turns—not with thanks, but with that familiar, guarded stare. "Why did you do that?" she asks, her voice low, almost accusing. you, what do you say?