✨   Chapter 6✨

His Wife 🩷

By morning, the storm had disappeared.

But the tension between Meera and Veer had not.

Meera stood near the mirror fixing her bangles with slightly trembling fingers while memories from last night replayed endlessly in her mind.

His hand around her waist.

The way his eyes had dropped to her lips.

The roughness in his voice.

And worst of all—

the fact that she hadn’t wanted him to step away.

The realization embarrassed her deeply.

This was Veer Pratap Singh.

Cold. Unreadable. Dangerous.

Not a man she should be thinking about at seven in the morning.

A knock interrupted her thoughts.

“Bahu sa,” Gauri called softly from outside. “Maaji is asking you to come downstairs.”

Meera inhaled slowly.

Another day in this haveli.

Another day pretending she belonged here.

—

The dining hall was quieter than usual when Meera entered.

Veer’s mother sat near the window speaking to two village women in expensive sarees. The moment Meera stepped inside, their conversation paused.

Then the judging began.

Meera had already started getting used to those looks.

Almost.

“Good morning,” she said politely.

One woman gave her a fake smile.

“So this is the younger daughter.”

The emphasis stung.

Veer’s mother sipped her tea calmly. “Yes.”

The second woman leaned closer curiously. “You adjusted quickly for someone who became a bride overnight.”

Meera forced a small smile while humiliation burned beneath her skin.

Before she could answer, footsteps echoed behind her.

The atmosphere shifted instantly.

Veer entered wearing a crisp white kurta today, hair still slightly damp from his shower.

Simple.

Yet every eye in the room moved toward him automatically.

Authority followed him naturally.

He acknowledged the guests with a nod before his gaze landed briefly on Meera.

Just one second.

Still enough to make her heartbeat stumble.

“Veer beta,” one woman said sweetly, “we were just telling your wife how difficult village life can be.”

The hidden insult was obvious.

Meera lowered her eyes quietly.

Veer walked toward the table calmly.

Then stopped beside her chair.

“Sit,” he said softly.

Meera blinked slightly.

The chair beside him.

Not across the table.

Beside him.

The two women exchanged quick surprised glances.

Slowly, Meera sat down.

Veer took the seat next to her naturally, as if this arrangement had always existed.

One servant immediately began serving breakfast.

The silence around the table felt heavier now.

Then the older woman smiled carefully.

“People in the village are still talking about the wedding.”

Veer continued pouring tea calmly.

“They’ll stop eventually.”

“They say the elder sister ran away because she feared Devgarh.”

Meera’s fingers tightened painfully around her spoon.

Enough.

She had tolerated humiliation quietly for days now.

But hearing strangers gossip about her sister felt unbearable.

“She left because she loved someone else,” Meera said softly before she could stop herself.

The table fell silent.

Veer slowly turned his head toward her.

The woman looked mildly shocked. “You speak very boldly for a new bride.”

Meera realized too late that she probably should’ve stayed quiet.

But exhaustion and humiliation were slowly wearing down her patience.

Before the tension could worsen—

Veer spoke.

“My wife is allowed to speak.”

The room went still.

Something about the way he said my wife made warmth crawl unexpectedly into Meera’s chest.

Protective.

Certain.

The older women quickly changed the topic afterward.

But Meera noticed something strange.

Veer never once looked irritated by her speaking.

If anything…

he looked slightly impressed.

—

Later that afternoon, Meera wandered toward the back gardens of the haveli.

She needed escape.

Fresh air.

Space away from constant judgment.

The gardens stretched beautifully behind the haveli, filled with jasmine flowers, stone pathways, and old mango trees.

For the first time since arriving in Devgarh, peace settled around her.

Until she heard voices nearby.

Male voices.

“…the sarpanch has changed since marriage.”

Meera slowed her steps quietly.

Two workers stood near the well talking.

“He protects her too much already.”

The second man laughed softly. “Did you see yesterday? One glare from him and everyone shut up.”

“Still,” the first muttered, “she’s beautiful. Trouble always follows beautiful women.”

Meera turned immediately to leave before they noticed her.

But her foot snapped a dry branch beneath her sandal.

The men looked up instantly.

Awkward silence spread.

Meera’s face heated with embarrassment.

“I—I was just walking—”

One of the men stepped closer with an uncomfortable smile. “Bhabhi sa, we didn’t mean anything bad.”

The way he looked at her made uneasiness crawl up her spine.

She stepped back slightly.

Then suddenly—

another voice cut through the air coldly.

“What’s happening here?”

The men froze instantly.

Meera turned around.

Veer stood several feet away.

And for the first time since meeting him—

she saw real anger in his eyes.

Quiet anger.

Dangerous anger.

The workers immediately lowered their heads.

“Nothing, Veer baba.”

Veer walked closer slowly.

Too slowly.

Every step carried warning.

His gaze moved from the men to Meera.

Then back again.

“Did my wife look uncomfortable to you?” he asked calmly.

Nobody answered.

The silence itself became terrifying.

Veer stopped directly beside Meera.

Close enough for her shoulder to brush lightly against his arm.

The worker swallowed nervously. “We were only talking—”

“I did not ask what you were doing.”

His voice remained soft.

Which somehow made it worse.

“I asked,” Veer continued quietly, “whether my wife looked uncomfortable.”

The man immediately nodded. “Yes.”

Veer stared at him for several long seconds.

Then—

“Leave.”

Both men disappeared almost instantly.

Silence returned to the garden.

Meera finally looked toward Veer properly.

“You scared them.”

Veer’s expression remained unreadable.

“Good.”

The answer came too quickly.

Meera stared at him.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Veer’s eyes settled on her face.

“Yes,” he said calmly. “I did.”

Something shifted inside her chest again.

Dangerous.

Warm.

Confusing.

The wind moved softly through the trees around them.

Meera looked away first.

“I could have handled it.”

“I know.”

The response surprised her.

Veer wasn’t treating her like weak glass.

He simply… protected her anyway.

Before Meera could process the thought properly, Veer stepped closer.

Too close.

Her pulse immediately betrayed her.

A strand of hair had loosened across her face from the wind.

Without speaking, Veer reached up and tucked it gently behind her ear.

Meera stopped breathing.

The touch lasted barely seconds.

Yet it burned against her skin afterward.

Veer’s fingers lingered near her cheek for the smallest moment before he pulled away.

His dark eyes held hers steadily.

And suddenly—

the entire garden felt too quiet.

Too intimate.

Meera’s lips parted slightly.

Veer’s gaze dropped there instantly.

Heat rushed through her body.

Oh God.

That look.

That dangerous look from last night had returned.

Then voices echoed from the haveli entrance nearby.

The moment shattered immediately.

Veer stepped back.

Coldness slipped over his expression again like armor.

“We’re leaving for the village temple this evening,” he said calmly.

Meera blinked, still trying to steady her heartbeat.

“What?”

“As sarpanch’s wife, people will expect your presence.”

Wife.

Again.

The word affected her far too much.

Veer turned to leave.

But before walking away, he glanced at her once more.

And said quietly—

“Wear the red saree tonight.”

Then he left Meera

standing alone in the garden…

with burning cheeks—

and the terrifying realization that her husband was becoming impossible to resist.

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