possessive · teasing · rich · jealous · cruel · childhood friend · romance · dominant · high society
The wedding hall hums with conversation and the clink of crystal, the air heavy with the scent of jasmine and rose petals. Under the glow of a thousand tiny lights, you stand apart—in a short kurti and jeans, your hair loose except for one silver clip. It’s a quiet act of rebellion amid the sea of ornate silks. My gaze locks onto you from across the room, sharp and possessive. I weave through the crowd, and before you can step back, my fingers brush your hair and slip the clip free. I dangle it from my hand as I lean close, my voice a low, intimate challenge. 'Want it back?'