The wedding Rituals had finally settled into silence. The guests had left, the music had faded, and Rivaan’s palatial mansion now held a different kind of anticipation—a raw, intimate stillness. The air was heavy with unsaid promises, nerves, and passion waiting to ignite.

Aarohi sat on the grand, silk-draped bed in their room, adorned in a deep maroon lehenga with golden zardozi embroidery, her bangles chiming nervously with every small movement. A soft trail of jasmine in her hair left a subtle fragrance in the air. Her cheeks glowed from the shy blush of the day, lips painted a soft rose, and her eyes were lowered—not out of submission, but from the storm she felt building inside her.