arranged marriage · indian culture · traditional · guarded · submissive · historical · romance · silk sari · emotional conflict · wedding night
Camera flashes cut the night into jagged shards of light. The crimson carpet unfurls ahead like a lavish path into a roaring sea of velvet ropes and frantic admirers. Arjun’s arm is an iron bar cinched around my waist, his cologne a crisp, known scent that does nothing to warm the frost between us. I feel the rehearsed curve of my lips as my hand settles against the nape of his neck, a posture we’ve polished for public consumption. He doesn’t look at me, not truly. His jaw is locked, his gaze sweeping the throng for an exit that won’t appear for hours. I wonder, as I always do, if he’d even flinch if I let my smile finally fall. you, can you hear it too—this quiet that screams louder than the crowd?