Page 32 of His Arranged Wife
Evening - The Back Gardens
The back gardens of the Ranawat estate were Bruno's domain—a sprawling area of manicured lawns and strategic shadows where the dog could patrol without being disturbed. It was also, Nimisha had discovered, the perfect place to hide when the walls of the house became too suffocating.
She sat cross-legged on the grass, a paper bag from her favorite street vendor beside her, the smell of pani puri and chaat making her mouth water.
"Don't judge me," she told Bruno, who sat watching her with his typical regal disdain. "I needed this."
The dog's expression suggested she needed many things, and street food was low on the list.
"I know it's not sophisticated," she continued, pulling out a pani puri and popping it whole into her mouth. The explosion of tangy, spicy flavors made her close her eyes in bliss. "But it reminds me of home. Before all... this."
Bruno's tail swished once—his version of sympathy.
She pulled out another puri, this time carefully removing the spicy water and offering the hollow shell to Bruno. "Here. Try it. Just the puri, no spice."
The dog sniffed it suspiciously, then delicately took it from her fingers. He crunched it thoughtfully, then looked at her as if to say:I've had better.
"You're impossible," she laughed, reaching for another. "Nothing pleases you."
"I wasn't aware my dog had developed such refined tastes."
Nimisha's head whipped around.
Samarth stood at the edge of the garden, still in his work clothes—crisp white shirt, dark trousers, the top button undone. His tie was missing, and his sleeves were rolled up, revealing those forearms that did illegal things to her pulse.
Behind him stood Abhay and Armaan, both looking vaguely amused.
Nimisha scrambled to her feet, brushing grass from her simple cotton salwar. "I didn't hear you come out."
"Clearly." His dark eyes swept over the scene—his wife, his dog, and what appeared to be a street food picnic. "What are you doing?"
"Eating dinner."
"In the grass."
"It's pleasant out here."
"The dining room exists for a reason."
"The dining room has your mother and Kritika discussing flower arrangements. This has fresh air and no passive-aggressive commentary about my inadequacies."
Abhay coughed to cover what sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
Samarth's jaw tightened. "You shouldn't be eating street food. You don't know what they put in it."
"I've been eating street food my entire life. I think I'll survive."
"That was before you were a Ranawat."
The words hung in the air, sharp and cutting.
Before you were mine,he didn't say.Before you belonged to me.
"Would you like one?" Nimisha asked, her voice carefully neutral as she held out a puri. "They're quite good."
Samarth's eyes narrowed. "I don't eat street food."
"Of course you don't." She should have known better than to offer.
