I settled into the couch with a rare sense of satisfaction. A woman had entered my life, and I had willingly let her dictate it. It was an odd realization, knowing that I would be her puppet for the rest of my life, but there was no hesitation, no regret only a strange kind of contentment. A part of me danced with joy, knowing that, no matter how much she denied it, she cared for me. And that was enough. More than enough.

She was consuming me, sinking into every fiber of my being like an addictive drug, and I had no desire to fight it. If anything, I would let her consume me entirely until my last breath. She was the answer to all my prayers, the one I never knew I needed until now.

With that thought, I closed my eyes and drifted into a deep slumber, knowing there was now a woman in my life my wife.

---

The warmth of the morning sun spilled through the windows, its golden rays creeping onto my face, stirring me from sleep. My brows furrowed as I shifted slightly, unwilling to let go of the peaceful haze of slumber just yet. But then, my eyes fluttered open, and for the first time in my life, waking up felt like a blessing.

Because the first thing I saw was her.

There she was, my wife standing in front of the mirror, getting ready for the day. A comforting sense of familiarity wrapped around me, despite the newness of it all. And then I noticed what she was wearing a saree. A red saree.

Fuck.

If waking up to her was a blessing, then this was something divine. A red saree vibrant, bold, and unmistakable a silent proclamation to the world that she was a newly married woman. My woman.

She was breathtaking. Devastatingly so.

Her pallu was draped loosely over her shoulder, teasingly, carelessly, before she adjusted it with practiced ease. My gaze followed the graceful movements of her hands as they traced over her face, carefully applying whatever products made her skin glow the way it did.

And then, I caught the scent.

Vanilla. Cupcakes.

It was faint yet intoxicating, lingering in the air, wrapping around me, awakening something raw within me.

I swallowed hard as I continued watching her, completely entranced. Every movement was precise, every action deliberate. And then, as if sensing the weight of my gaze, she reached for something small a box.

The moment she opened it, my breathing slowed.

Sindoor.

My fingers curled into fists as I watched her take a small pinch of the deep red powder, her fingers delicate yet sure. And then, slowly, deliberately, she applied it to the partition of her hair.

My throat went dry.

There was something profoundly intimate about it something that sent an unfamiliar ache through my chest. Because in that moment, it wasn’t just a ritual. It wasn’t just a symbol. It was a silent declaration.

She was claiming herself as mine.

And in return, she was claiming me as hers.

The realization hit me with the force of a storm, leaving me breathless.

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, she reached for another piece of jewelry a simple yet sacred black and gold chain.

Mangalsutra.

I let out a sharp breath as I watched her lift it with reverence, her fingers brushing against the cool metal before she carefully secured it around her neck.

A sight to behold.

She belonged to me.

And yet, in that moment, I realized I belonged to her just as much.

It was raw. It was overwhelming. It was everything.

And as I lay there, drinking in the sight of my wife,my woman, my everything one thing became clear:

If I got to wake up to this every day, I wouldn’t mind staying in bed forever.

Then, her hands reached for something else something delicate, yet dangerously captivating.

A waist chain.

She picked it up with care, running her fingers along the intricate design, her expression unreadable. But it wasn’t just the ornament that caught my attention it was what came next.

She moved her saree slightly, revealing a glimpse of her waist.

Shit.

I was ruined.

My jaw clenched, my fingers tightening against the sheets as I fought the sudden rush of desire that surged through me. Control, Araav Raghuvanshi. I repeated the words in my head like a mantra, but they did nothing to subdue the fire spreading in my veins.

Her curves were flawless perfect, sinful, demanding my attention.

She took her time, securing the delicate chain around her waist, adjusting it until it sat perfectly against her skin. My breath hitched.

I despised that piece of jewelry in that moment.

A ridiculous surge of jealousy shot through me as I watched it wrap snugly around her, as if it had more of a right to touch her than I did. That should be my hands gripping her waist, not some damn piece of metal.

Tanvi in traditional attire was a rare sight one I wasn’t willing to miss. Every time she wore something like this, she looked devastatingly beautiful. Almost untouchable. But she was mine.

Then, without warning, she turned.

Shit.

My body tensed, and I barely managed to shut my eyes in time, pretending to be asleep.

Her soft footsteps approached, each one sending a ripple of anticipation through me. Then, I felt her fingers wrap around my arm, giving me a gentle shake as she attempted to wake me up.

"Araav," she murmured, her voice soft, coaxing.

I suppressed a smirk, feigning a groan as I lazily opened my eyes. And the moment my gaze landed on her face, I stilled.

Enchanting.

That was the only word that came to mind.

She was standing over me, her expression a mixture of exasperation and something else something that made my stomach tighten. Her beauty was almost unfair, and it took everything in me not to pull her onto the bed and keep her there for the rest of the day.

But then she spoke.

"We have to go to your mother’s house," she announced, her voice laced with authority.

I raised a brow, silently questioning her.

She sighed, folding her arms. "She called me this morning. Apparently, there are some rituals we need to do. So, get up, Mr. Lazy."

I smirked at the nickname, stretching lazily before meeting her gaze.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

"You're looking beautiful, Mrs. Raghuvanshi."

The words slipped past my lips before I could stop them, but there was no way I could resist saying it not when she looked like this.

Draped in red, adorned with symbols that marked her as mine, she was a vision. A sight so breathtaking it made my chest tighten with something unexplainable. Possession. Admiration. Something dangerously close to devotion.

Tanvi’s lips curved into a small, almost teasing smile as she met my gaze.

"Thank you, Mr. Raghuvanshi," she replied, her tone light, yet laced with something I couldn’t quite place.

I let my eyes linger on her for a moment longer, before finally speaking again. "Can you please pick out my clothes before I come out of the shower?"

She arched a brow, arms folding across her chest in defiance. Shit.

I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.

Her silence was loud, her expression making it clear that she had no intention of indulging me in this request. And yet, I pushed forward.

"Please," I added, stepping closer. "We don’t have time."

It was a lie. A shameless, desperate lie.

She narrowed her eyes, clearly catching onto my bluff, but after a deep sigh, she finally gave in, nodding reluctantly.

Victory.

A slow smirk tugged at my lips as I turned away, striding toward the washroom, feeling the weight of her gaze on my back.

This woman might fight me at every turn, but she would always be mine.

I emerged from the bathroom, a towel secured loosely around my waist, while rivulets of water trailed down my chest, dripping from my damp hair. The cool air hit my skin, but it wasn’t what sent a shiver down my spine.

It was her.

Tanvi sat on the bed, completely oblivious to my presence, her eyes glued to her phone as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. An urge surged inside me to snatch that damn device from her hands and destroy it.

How could she be so unaware? So unaffected?

My gaze flickered to the bed, and that’s when I noticed the clothes she had laid out for me a neatly folded red kurta.

A slow, knowing smile traced my lips.

She had matched my outfit with hers.

The realization settled deep in my chest, warming something inside me. She cared, whether she admitted it or not.

A soft clearing of her throat pulled me from my thoughts. My eyes snapped to her, and what I saw nearly undid me.

Crimson.

Her cheeks were flushed, painted in a shade of red that I had started to admire no, obsess over. It was more than just a color now. It was a trigger, an addiction, a raw hunger to see her bathed in it.

"Can't you behave with some shame?" she finally muttered, her voice clipped, her eyes darting everywhere—everywhere but at me.

I tilted my head, feigning innocence. "What?"

She swallowed hard, still refusing to meet my gaze. "You're naked," she accused, her voice losing its usual sharpness as her blush deepened.

I smirked, thoroughly enjoying this.

"It's half-naked, Hello Kitty," I corrected, stepping forward slightly, my voice deliberately teasing.

Her lips parted in disbelief, her fingers clenching around her phone.

I took another step. "Am I making it hard for you?"

The moment the words left my mouth, her entire body tensed. Perfect.

"Never," she shot back instantly, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her.

I chuckled, loving every second of this game. "Then look at me, sweetheart," I challenged, my voice dropping lower. "If it doesn’t affect you, prove it."

For a long moment, she didn’t move. But then, as if gathering courage, her eyes slowly lifted to meet mine.

And that’s when I saw it her struggle.

Her gaze flitted over my bare chest, her breath hitching slightly before she forced herself to appear unaffected. But her traitorous cheeks burned brighter, her fingers tightening around the sheets beside her.

"There’s nothing attractive," she muttered, her lips pressing into a firm line. "I've seen way better men."

Wrong move, sweetheart.

A sharp, unfamiliar rage twisted inside me at her words, boiling my blood. The very thought of her eyes on someone else, admiring someone else, sent a dark possessiveness surging through me.

I didn’t hesitate.

Closing the distance between us, I leaned in, trapping her in place with just my presence. My voice was a low, dangerous murmur as I spoke.

"You could have," I conceded, my tone deceptively calm. "But from now on, the only man you’ll see is me."

Her breath caught, her defiance flickering for a brief second before she lowered her gaze. Silent. Submissive. Mine.

"Understand?" I asked, my voice laced with an unspoken warning.

She gave a meek nod, her lips slightly parted, her body still tense.

"Good girl," I praised, watching the way her lashes fluttered at my words before finally pulling away.

Without another glance, I turned and disappeared into the wardrobe, but my mind was far from settled.

The idea of her seeing other men irked me no, it fucking enraged me.

I wasn’t oblivious to the fact that my thoughts were unhealthy, that this was obsession in its purest, most unhinged form. But I didn’t care.

Because she was bound to me.

From this moment forward, Tanvi would have no choice but to live in a world where I was the only man she saw, the only man who existed for her.

And if any other man so much as dared to look at her the way I did he was dead.

If she even dared to lay her eyes on someone else he was dead.

She was mine.

And I would make damn sure she never forgot it.