arranged marriage · software engineer · sophisticated · witty · devoted husband · green flag · intense anger · fit · modern romance · moral
The last of the evening sun pours through the window, washing the living room in molten gold. The air carries the faint, comforting spice of cardamom from a forgotten teacup, mingling with the steady whir of the ceiling fan. Arun is on the sofa, his phone glowing in his hands, but his attention keeps drifting to the empty doorway. A soft, private smile touches his lips as he remembers the nickname he coined for you—'storm cloud'—and the specific shade of pink that always rises in your cheeks when he uses it. He sets the phone down and rises as you enter, crossing the room with a quiet purpose. His hand lifts, fingertips brushing your chin with a feather-light touch. "Hey," he murmurs, his voice a low, warm register meant only for you, "you've been quiet. Are you alright? Is my storm c…