Page 181 of The Redemption
Simran immediately smacks his arm, but the amusement in her eyes tells me she’s enjoying every second of this.
“There won’t be any proposal,” I reply flatly. “Siya is already my wife.”
Vishnu merely raises an eyebrow. The look on his face clearly says, ‘We’ll see.’
Right then, Krish and Trisha walk over. Unfortunately, they seem to have overheard enough of the conversation, which means I’m not escaping this topic either.
Krish grins as soon as he reaches us. “Don’t think getting married means you’ve won, brother. The real struggle begins after marriage.”
Vishnu hides his smile while Simran shakes her head as Krish goes on. “You think the wedding is the finish line?” he scoffs. “That’s just the registration process. The actual race starts after that. You’ll spend half your life trying to figure out why she’s angry, and the other half trying to earn enough brownie points to get back into her good books. And if you’re expecting romance on demand, forget it. First, you’ll need approvals, permissions, mood clearances, and sometimes even written applications. And don’t even ask about forgiveness. That’s a separate project altogether. In short, if you think putting a mangalsutra around her neck means you’ve won, just wait till she starts punishing you with silence. That’s when you’ll understand who really rules the kingdom.”
Trisha rolls her eyes.
“Ignore his rant, Raghav. He just enjoys teasing you,” she says.
Then she scolds her husband. “And you… stop getting on his nerves.”
“I’m only preparing him for the worst-case scenarios of married life, baby,” Krish goes on.
Trisha ignores him and hugs Simran and Vishnu. But Krish, being Krish, doesn’t let the matter end there. His eyes wander over my kurta, and he whistles dramatically.
“I see marriage is already changing you. All these years, I’ve never seen you wear anything except black. What happened? Is black out of stock in the market?”
Vishnu laughs this time, while Simran immediately shoots Krish a mock glare.
“Excuse me?” she says, folding her arms across her chest. “Idesigned these outfits. Dare you say another word about them.”
Krish instantly raises both hands in surrender.
“Ahh, I wasn’t questioning your fashion sense, Simran. I was appreciating your miracle.” He then points at me. “Do you even realise what you’ve accomplished? I honestly thought the day Raghav wore anything except black would be the day the world ended. You managed to make the Dark Prince wear colours. That’s practically a national award-worthy achievement.”
Trisha joins in the laughter while I rub a hand over my forehead.
“This is exactly why I hate family functions,” I mutter. “You all have only one topic…me.”
More laughter breaks around me. But truthfully, I stop listening after that. Family functions have never been my thing. I’m physically present, but mentally I’m already regretting coming early. Half the guests don’t know me. The other half know too much.
I absent-mindedly take a sip of the coffee in my hand, only half-listening as Vishnu asks Krish whether they’re staying back after the function, to which Krish replies yes. That’s when a movement near the main entrance catches my attention, and everything else fades into the background.
The voices.
The laughter.
The noise.
My hand freezes halfway to my mouth, the coffee forgotten before it ever reaches my lips, as Siya walks in with Ayaan, Meher, and her mother. And for one insane second, I forget how to breathe. Not because she’s beautiful.That she always is.But because this is the first time I’m seeing her in a saree.
She’s dressed in an ivory saree paired with a sleeveless blouse that hugs her perfectly. It has a delicate embroidery running along the neckline, while the pallu falls gracefully over her shoulder. Her long, silky hair is left open, and those tiny earrings glint beneath the lights every time she moves.
God help me, that damn transparent saree should come with a warning. The sheer fabric clings to her curves, offering a glimpse of the smooth skin of her waist and the tempting dip of her navel peeking out beneath the folds. And just like that, whatever little focus I had left abandons me.
Bloody hell.
Siya stands there, smiling as she talks to everyone around her. I’ve seen her fight with armed men, I’ve seen her fury, I’ve seen her broken, and I’ve seen her asleep in my arms. But nothing could prepare me for this softer, more feminine side of my wife. My eyes keep returning to that teasing sliver of skin visible beneath the transparent fabric, and suddenly the conversations around are just distant noise. I simply stand there, staring at her, completely mesmerised, even forgetting to take a sip of the coffee that remains halfway in my hand.
I forget to blink. Hell, I probably forget how to breathe. I can tell that Vishnu, Simran, Krish, and Trisha have noticed. Even Ayaan catches me staring from across the hall. But I can’t control my reactions. I can’t seem to look away.
Somewhere beside me, I vaguely hear Vishnu teasing.
