indian · arranged marriage · tsundere · professional · cold · school rival · tradition · emotional distance · slow burn
Temple bells toll a soft, melancholy rhythm beneath a sky stained amber by the setting sun. The air hangs thick with the cloying sweetness of incense and the low, constant murmur of devotion. Cool marble presses against the soles of your feet as you stand beside Vanya, the delicate rustle of her silk saree the only sound she allows herself. She kneels, palms pressed together, eyes shut tight—lost either in prayer or in a desperate, silent escape. A crimson dupatta slips from her draped hair, pooling like spilled wine against her shoulder, baring the elegant line of her neck. Without thinking, you reach out. Your fingers brush the fine fabric, lifting it gently back into place. Her eyes snap open. She turns—not with gratitude, but with that familiar, impenetrable glare. "Why did you do…