Samira's Pov
The house was quiet, but my mind wasn't. I lay on the bed in the room that was now supposed to be mine, staring at the soft glow of the lampshade casting warm patterns on the walls. It was strange being in this space, surrounded by unfamiliar things-new clothes, new surroundings, and most of all, a new identity. Samira Chaudhury.
The wedding might have been over, but the rituals weren't.
Ahan wasn't allowed to be here with me, thanks to one of those old customs that dictated newly married couples couldn't stay together until their first night, which would be celebrated the day after the wedding. I had grown up in a house where traditions were rigidly followed, so the ritual itself wasn't unfamiliar. But for some reason, the absence of Ahan in this moment felt sharper than it should have. It was only a night, yet it felt like the beginning of a much larger divide.
I shifted uncomfortably, feeling the heavy weight of my wedding jewelry pressing against my skin, the bangles clinking softly as I moved my hands. The day had been overwhelming, from the wedding ceremony to the reception to arriving here, and now, everything was catching up to me.
Ahan's family had been nothing but kind since the moment I arrived, but kindness didn't erase the nervousness brewing inside me. Despite the warmth and love they had shown, this was still new, and I was still navigating what it meant to be part of this world.
Part of his world.
I let out a breath, rolling onto my side, staring at the empty space beside me. The silence of the room was comforting and unsettling at the same time. My mind wandered to Ahan. What was he doing? Was he feeling as out of place as I was, or was he perfectly at ease with all of this? I barely knew him, and yet, here I was, married to him.
It wasn't love that had brought us together, but duty, family expectations, and the weight of traditions we could never escape. I wondered if he was as unsure as I was. I hadn't missed the slight tension in his posture, the way he seemed composed but distant during the ceremony. Maybe we were both trying to figure this out-two strangers thrust into a bond we hadn't asked for.
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Earlier that evening, after the family had celebrated our arrival with the aarti and a small dinner, Ahan's cousins had pulled me aside, teasing and laughing about what awaited me the next night. They had been full of life, excited about the customs and rituals that still had to unfold. Kavya, in particular, had leaned in, grinning mischievously.
"Tomorrow's the big night, bhabhi. Don't worry, we've trained Ahan well," she had joked, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
I had smiled politely, but inside, my stomach had churned. It wasn't the physical part of the relationship that scared me-it was the emotional distance. The unknown. Ahan and I had barely spoken to each other since the wedding. What was there to say? How did one start a conversation with their husband when the entire relationship had been arranged like a business transaction?
The cousins had continued to chatter, filling the room with laughter, their excitement palpable. They had teased me endlessly, making me blush in response. At one point, Kavya had even declared that a little pinch of sindoor had fallen on my nose during the ceremony-a sign of immense love from my husband, according to tradition.
"See, bhabhi! Ahan loves you already," Kavya had teased, winking at me.
Her words had left me speechless, not because I believed in the superstition, but because I didn't know what to make of Ahan's feelings. Could love even blossom between two people like us, who barely knew each other? And did I even want to hope for that?
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(Ahan's POV)
The room I had been given felt suffocating. I wasn't in the mood for all this drama. The wedding, the traditions, the forced smiles-it had all become too much. I should have been with her, sharing the room, but this ridiculous ritual kept us apart for now. It didn't bother me, though. It wasn't like I was in any rush to be close to Samira.
I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, trying to push away the irritation gnawing at me. This whole wedding had felt wrong from the beginning. Not because of Samira herself-she had been nothing but respectful, quiet, distant. But because I wasn't over her yet.
The woman I had loved. The one who had left a void so deep I doubted anyone could fill it. Not Samira, not anyone. I had been pushed into this marriage, cornered by family pressure, societal expectations, and the need to move on. But how could I move on when every step I took felt like a betrayal of what I had once felt?
The frustration mounted as I thought about how I was expected to just...forget. To act like nothing had ever happened, like my heart hadn't been broken. But here I was, married to someone I barely knew, with a night ahead of us that should have felt intimate, but instead felt like a duty.
I glanced at the clock, the seconds ticking by painfully slow. Tomorrow would be another day of pretending, of playing the role of the dutiful husband. I wasn't ready for any of it.
I shut my eyes and leaned back in the chair, trying to silence the bitter thoughts in my head. Maybe with time, this would become easier. Maybe Samira would understand, or maybe we'd just settle into the life that had been mapped out for us.
But I couldn't shake the thought that I wasn't ready to let go of the past. And that made the future with Samira all the more complicated.
---
Now, in the solitude of the room, Kavya's words rang in my ears. Ahan loves you already.
It seemed impossible. Love felt too distant, too far-fetched. What we had was an arrangement, not a romance. Yet, there had been moments, fleeting as they were, where I had caught Ahan looking at me during the wedding, his gaze softening just slightly. But maybe that was just my imagination, or maybe it was wishful thinking.
I turned again, this time feeling the exhaustion of the day pull at me. Tomorrow was our suhaag raat, the first night we were expected to be together as husband and wife. The thought made my chest tighten. What would it be like? How would we navigate that intimacy, both emotional and physical, when we were still strangers?
Would he be gentle? Would he understand the whirlwind of emotions I was feeling?
---
The door creaked slightly, and I sat up, my heart thumping in my chest. But it wasn't Ahan. It was one of the household staff bringing me a glass of water, smiling kindly before retreating back into the hall. I sighed, sinking back onto the bed. Ahan would be in a separate room, somewhere else in the house, following the same tradition that kept us apart tonight.
This was our waiting game.
I stared at the ceiling, letting my mind wander again. I didn't know what tomorrow would bring. Ahan was a mystery to me, and I to him. We hadn't been given the luxury of falling in love, of discovering each other in the ways people usually did. Instead, we were here, bound by rituals and family obligations.
The uncertainty gnawed at me, but at the same time, there was a small flicker of hope. His family had been so welcoming, so loving. Maybe there was a chance-however small-that Ahan and I could find something real between us. Maybe not love, but understanding. Maybe kindness.
I wasn't sure. But I wanted to hope.
---
I closed my eyes, trying to silence the thoughts running wild in my mind. Tomorrow would come, and with it, our first real test as husband and wife. I wasn't ready for it, but I would face it, just like I had faced everything else in my life-one step at a time, uncertain but determined.
And maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't have to face it alone.
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End of Chapter 3