Kritarth pushed open the door to his room, the soft creak of the hinges breaking the heavy silence that enveloped the space. The air hung thick with unspoken anxieties, a stark contrast to the joyous celebration that had filled the day.

Today is supposed to be their wedding night, a night filled with love and promise, a new beginning etched in shared dreams. But the tension in the air was palpable, a heavy weight pressing down on the fragile hope that remained.

The dim light from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow, painting the room in soft hues of amber and gold, but it did little to ease the tension in the air. The carefully chosen decorations, the fragrant flowers, and the luxurious fabrics seemed to mock the unease that permeated every corner.

His heart raced as he stepped inside, his eyes immediately finding Ruhanika, who was pacing back and forth, her hands wringing together nervously. The rhythmic sound of her footsteps was the only sound in the room, a frantic drumbeat against the silence.

“Ruhanika,”

He said softly, taking a step closer. His voice was gentle, a deliberate attempt to soothe the storm raging within her. He wanted to reach out, to offer comfort, but he hesitated, unsure of how she would react.

“You don’t have to be afraid.”

She stopped abruptly, her gaze snapping to him, wide and fearful, like a cornered animal. Her eyes, usually bright and full of life, were now clouded with apprehension.

“I’m not afraid,” she replied, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her. The words were a hollow denial, a fragile shield against the unknown. She resumed her pacing, her footsteps quickening as if she could outrun the weight of the moment, the expectations, and the fear that threatened to consume her.

Kritarth’s heart sank. He could see the fear etched on her face, the way her brow furrowed and her lips pressed into a thin line. The vibrant colors of her wedding attire seemed to fade, overshadowed by the pallor of her skin.

He wanted to comfort her, to reassure her that everything would be okay, to promise her a future free from fear, but he knew that words alone wouldn’t bridge the chasm of anxiety that had formed between them. This wasn't the joyous union he had envisioned, but a battlefield of unspoken fears and forced expectations.

“Just talk to me,” He urged, taking another step forward. His voice was a plea, a desperate attempt to connect with her.. “I want to understand what you’re feeling.”

As he moved closer, Ruhanika’s eyes widened in alarm. She took a step back, her body tensing as if bracing for impact. The space between them felt charged, a silent battlefield where unspoken fears clashed.

“Don’t touch me,”

She said, her voice barely above a whisper, a fragile thread in the heavy silence. A lone tear escaped her eye, trailing down her cheek like a silent plea, a symbol of her vulnerability. It was a tear of fear, of resentment, and of shattered dreams.

Kritarth halted, his heart breaking at the sight of her distress. He felt a pang of guilt, a recognition of the role he played in this charade.

“Ruhanika, I would never—” he started, but the words caught in his throat. He could see the fear in her eyes, the way she flinched at his approach. The weight of tradition, the expectations of their families, and the societal pressures all converged in that single moment.

“I’m not here to force you into anything.”

" Shut up"

She shouted shaking her head, her breath hitching. Her chest heaved with each ragged breath, a sign of the panic seizing her.

“You are lying, Mr. Kritarth Suryavanshi. Today is… today is our wedding night. I’ve heard how you all planned this marriage, and how my family and including your family forced me even after knowing that I was not ready for this marriage.”

Kritarth’s anger simmered beneath the surface. He understood her fear, her resentment, but her words stung nonetheless. Kritarth’s eyes darted to her, a flicker of hurt crossing his face by her words. He had been forced into this marriage as well, a union that felt more like a prison than a partnership. He didn’t want to be here, and he could see that Ruhanika felt the same way. He was as much a victim of this arrangement as she was.

“You know, we didn’t have to do this,” He said, his tone laced with bitterness. The words hung in the air, heavy with regret and resentment.“We’re strangers in this room, and in front of the world, we’re just husband and wife by name.”

" Don't pretend to be good in front of me... You can never make a place in my heart... I'm not going to melt by your sweet words. You all mens are same .. You want my body...right.. Get rid of this hunger of yours..."

Ruhanika took a step forward removing her saree pallu from her shoulders and throwing it on the ground . The delicate fabric landed with a soft thud, a symbolic gesture of defiance and vulnerability.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Kritarth snapped, his voice low and dangerous, laced with a madness he didn't understand as he averted his gaze and stepped closer to her. He reached out and covered her with her saree, a gesture that was meant to be protective but felt suffocating. He then reached out, grabbing her wrist with a grip that was more forceful than affectionate, his fingers digging into her skin.. “Why didn’t you say no to this marriage?”

Ruhanika’s eyes widened in shock, her breath catching in her throat. His sudden outburst and the intensity in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine, her heart pounding in her chest like a trapped bird.

“What do you mean? I didn’t have a choice!” she retorted, pulling her wrist free from his grasp, a red mark already forming where his fingers had been. “You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to be here, in this situation?”

Kritarth’s jaw clenched, the muscle ticking in his cheek as frustration boiled over. He had imagined this day differently, filled with at least understanding, not accusations and resentment. “You could have fought for it! You could have told your parents you didn’t want to marry me!”

“And what would that have accomplished?” she shot back, her voice rising in pitch, tears welling up in her eyes. “You think I wanted to disappoint everyone? You think I wanted to be the one who ruined everything?”

He stepped back, running a hand through his hair, his fingers tangling in the dark strands as he tried to contain the storm brewing inside him. He felt like he was losing control, and the realization terrified him. “You could have at least tried taking to me for once! Instead, you just went along with it like it was nothing!”

Ruhanika’s eyes flashed with anger, her voice trembling with emotion. “You think this is easy for me? You think I’m happy about this? I’m just as trapped as you are!”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken words, years of longing and unfulfilled promises hanging heavy in the air between them. Both of them were breathing heavily, the weight of their emotions pressing down on them, suffocating them.

"You know I love and respect my grandfather and when he approached me with your proposal, I couldn't refuse him, even though I was against the idea of marriage. His wish has always been my command," He said, barely containing his anger.

"And I am not such a low person...Now even if you beg in front of me, I will not touch you. I am a king and I also have principles...I am not a stray dog from some street."

Kritarth turned away, frustration boiling over as he walked to the closet, yanking it open with unnecessary force. Clothes fell to the floor as he searched for something, anything, to distract him. He needed a moment to breathe, to think, to regain some semblance of control before he said or did something he would regret.

Ruhanika stood there frozen by his harsh words, each syllable a sharp blow to her already wounded heart. She was pretty tired now by the change of events, the emotional turmoil draining her energy. She wanted nothing but to sleep, to escape into the oblivion of dreams and clear her mind of the chaos surrounding her.

As he rummaged through his things, he heard Ruhanika moving behind him. She slipped into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind her. When she returned, she wore a simple night dress that clung to her figure, the soft fabric accentuating her curves.

Kritarth’s eyes instinctively roamed over her, drawn to her beauty despite his anger. But he quickly averted his gaze, feeling a mix of hurt and anger, a battle raging within him between desire and resentment.

Ruhanika was moving to her side of the bed, her steps hesitant, when Kritarth voice echoed in the room, sharp and cold, and she flinched at her place.

" Don't you dare to sleep on the bed... I don't want you to accuse me of taking advantage of you. "

Kritarth’s heart twisted at the sight of her flinching, the vulnerability in her eyes piercing through his anger. But his pride and hurt clouded his judgment, preventing him from reaching out to her.

“Sleep on the couch." He said harshly, pointing toward the small sofa in the corner of the room, his voice devoid of any warmth.“And don’t touch my things. I don’t want you messing with my stuff." He muttered, his tone laced with anger as he lay down on the bed, turning his back to her, creating a physical and emotional barrier between them.

Ruhanika’s heart sank at his words, each syllable a tiny hammer blow against her spirit. She didn’t respond, not wanting to escalate the already tense situation. Instead, she walked over to the couch, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

The weight of his rejection, and the countless similar instances that had preceded it, pressed down on her. She curled up on the small piece of furniture, trying to find comfort in the uncomfortable situation. The scratchy fabric of the throw pillow offered little solace.

As they both lay there, separated not just by the physical distance of the room, but by the vast chasm of their unspoken feelings, they closed their eyes. Each was trapped in their own private world of hurt and disappointment, accepting the harsh reality of their marriage.

The silence enveloped them, thick and suffocating, a constant reminder of the battles they had fought, the compromises they had failed to make, and the seemingly endless conflicts that were still to come. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway seemed to amplify the emptiness.

In that moment, they were two souls bound together by circumstance, perhaps by a promise made in better times, now adrift in a sea of discontent. Each was grappling with their own pain and confusion, unsure of what the future held, or if there was even a future worth fighting for. The flickering streetlight outside cast long, distorted shadows across the room, mirroring the distorted reality of their relationship.

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To be continued....

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