Everyone in the Rathore mansion was nearly ready for the party. Hrudhay had already left, and Dadi Ma and Dada were on their way. The younger couples remained behind for now, while Isha and Ishani had gone with their grandparents. Ekansh and Aavyan stayed with their father.
Arnav stepped into the room, his eyes immediately drawn to Arthi. She was stunning, no doubt about it, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to take her in. But he quickly masked his expression, his hands casually slipping into his trouser pockets as he let out a quiet sigh. Arthi, adjusting her dress, glanced up at him with a soft smile.
He didn't return it, instead walking over to the bed with a slight frown. His gaze hardened as he stood there, his demeanor unreadable.
"Sweetheart, turn around," Arnav ordered, his voice carrying a touch of impatience. Arthi's heart skipped a beat, sensing the tension in his tone, but she did as he asked. He watched her intently, nodding to himself as he sat on the edge of the bed, legs parted, hands resting on his thighs.
"Again," he instructed, his deep voice steady. He gestured with his hand, urging her to spin once more. Arthi complied, turning slowly, her unease growing under his intense scrutiny.
Arnav rose, moving toward her, his eyes never leaving her as he studied every detail of her appearance. His face remained serious, almost too serious, as he finally stopped in front of her.
"You look like you're mine," he murmured, his tone low and possessive. The words sent a shiver down Arthi's spine as she instinctively lowered her gaze, a small smile tugging at her lips.
"Sweetheart," Arnav called again, but this time there was a hint of concern in his voice. Arthi looked up, her brow furrowing slightly.
"One thing's missing," he said, his frown deepening. She blinked, confusion crossing her face as she began to glance over herself, wondering what she'd overlooked. She was certain she'd worn everything.
Arnav watched her fumble, a faint smile playing on his lips. Then, in one smooth motion, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. The gesture caught Arthi off guard, halting her movements entirely. Her cheeks flushed red as warmth spread through her.
"It's perfect," Arnav said, his voice turning cold once more as he straightened. "Let's go." He took her hand, his grip firm yet gentle, leading her out of the room. Arthi, still blushing, followed him, her heart racing as they descended the grand staircase.
As they reached the bottom, they spotted Abhimanyu entering the mansion. Arnav gave him a curt nod before heading straight outside, while Arthi offered a polite smile. Abhimanyu returned it with a nod of his own before heading toward his room, likely to fetch Misha for the event.
Abhimanyu strode into his room, glancing at his watch as he entered. He had almost left for the party without Misha, only remembering because Dadi Ma insisted he take her along. He could already imagine the trouble he'd be in if he left her behind.
As he stepped further inside, his gaze shifted up and he froze in his tracks. Misha emerged from the closet, adjusting her saree with delicate fingers while her eyes remained downcast. She looked ethereal, almost like a goddess draped in the elegant fabric.
Misha didn't notice him at first. She continued straightening the pleats of her saree and then lifted her gaze, catching sight of Abhimanyu. He stood rooted to the spot, his face devoid of expression. With a small sigh, Misha turned away and walked toward the mirror, intent on giving herself a final once-over.
Abhimanyu's gaze followed her, his eyes darkening as they traced the movement of her hands and the gentle sway of her form. He couldn't tear his eyes away, his gaze dropping to the curve of her waist. His throat went dry, and he swallowed hard, the sight sending a jolt through him.
"It's perfect," he thought, unable to stop the thought from surfacing. Realizing where his mind was headed, he mentally chastised himself. With a sigh of frustration, he turned away, trying to regain his composure.
Misha noticed his sudden turn and frowned slightly. Gathering her courage, she stepped in front of him, searching his face for a reaction. But Abhimanyu kept his eyes averted, unwilling to meet her gaze.
"We have to leave now," he murmured, his tone clipped. He couldn't bear to look at her, knowing his thoughts were far from appropriate. Misha gave a silent nod, her expression unreadable.
Without another word, Abhimanyu turned on his heel and made his way out of the room, Misha trailing behind him. The silence between them was heavy, neither knowing what to say.
As they exited the mansion, Abhimanyu glanced at his watch, trying to distract himself. But his steps slowed, his brows furrowing as he replayed the image of her in his mind. Confusion etched across his face, he glanced up, exhaling sharply.
"What did I just see?" he muttered to himself, feeling a surge of disbelief. Shaking his head, he picked up his pace. "It's... it's backless?" he whispered, the shock clear in his tone. He couldn't comprehend how he'd missed such a detail earlier. With a startled realization, he hurried forward, trying to shake off the thoughts swirling in his mind.
As Abhimanyu walked toward his car, he noticed Misha already seated inside, her posture relaxed against the backrest. He sighed and slid into the driver's seat, starting the engine. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep his mind from drifting back to the sight of the backless blouse she was wearing. He wasn't even sure if he'd seen it correctly or if his mind was playing tricks on him. Casting a sideways glance at her, he realized she was leaning back in her seat, making it impossible to check.
Abhimanyu's gaze lingered on Misha for a moment longer. She was staring out of the window, her face turned away. Something felt different. Normally, she would have been fuming, throwing jabs at him for almost leaving her behind. She'd have made a fuss and started a petty argument just to get back at him. But now, the silence between them was deafening, and it bothered him more than he'd care to admit.
When did he start caring about her not fighting with him? He frowned, trying to shake off the thought. It made no sense. He should be relieved. Why, then, did he find himself wanting her to snap at him, to stir up trouble like she always did? He groaned softly, frustration building up inside him. His mind was a whirlwind of confusion, and amidst it all, the image of that blouse kept resurfacing. Was it backless? Why did it matter to him so much?
With a muttered curse, he stole another glance at Misha, only to find her still leaning back in her seat, making it impossible to confirm. His grip tightened on the steering wheel, irritation bubbling over as he hit it lightly in frustration.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, forcing himself to focus on the road. But no matter what, Misha didn't so much as glance at him.
Misha, meanwhile, kept her gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside, fully aware of Abhimanyu's lingering glances. She didn't bother to acknowledge him. Why should she? After all, he never seemed to care about her. Last night, she'd stayed up late preparing dinner, waiting for him, and he hadn't even bothered to ask if she'd eaten. He just came in, completely indifferent, as if her efforts didn't matter.
And now, he was upset. She could tell by the way his knuckles whitened against the steering wheel with every passing minute. But why was he angry? Misha sighed softly, wondering if it was because he had to take her along to the party. Did he find her presence that burdensome?
No, she decided. She wasn't going to think about him, not when he didn't care about her. If he wanted to be irritated, so be it. She was done trying to get his attention or make him see things her way. Until he realized his mistake and made an effort, she wouldn't say a word to him.
With that thought settled in her mind, Misha turned her attention back to the window, letting the silence fill the car. Abhimanyu's jaw clenched as he stole one last glance at her, frustration simmering under the surface. He still couldn't understand why the quiet between them felt so suffocating.
The rest of the drive passed in tense silence, neither of them making any attempt to break it. Finally, they reached the venue. Abhimanyu parked the car and turned off the engine, but for a brief moment, neither moved. The weight of unspoken words hung in the air before they silently exited the car, each lost in their thoughts as they made their way to the entrance.
Misha and Abhimanyu entered the hall, the grand space glowing with opulence and reflecting the prestige of the Rathore family. The crystal chandeliers hung high, casting a warm glow over the elegantly decorated hall, where guests mingled in luxury. But Abhimanyu's attention wasn't on the lavish surroundings or the curious gazes that turned their way. Instead, his focus was on Misha.
Walking side by side, he found himself slowing down as if compelled by some invisible force. Before he knew it, Misha had moved ahead, leaving him a few paces behind. His eyes hardened, turning cold-colder than the ice that seemed to encase his emotions.
"Damn it," Abhimanyu muttered under his breath, his gaze locked on her as she moved confidently through the hall. He noticed it again, and this time there was no mistaking it.
"It's backless," he whispered, his voice dropping to a frigid tone. His hands clenched into tight fists as a torrent of emotions churned within him. Why did it matter so much? Why did the sight of her bare back ignite such a surge of possessiveness? It shouldn't bother him-he told himself that countless times. But it did. And the thought of anyone else seeing what he was seeing now made his blood boil.
What angered him even more was the realization that every man in this hall would have a chance to see his wife's exposed back. At that thought, something dark and primal flared within him, a possessive rage that clenched around his heart like a vise.
"If anyone dares to look at what's mine, I'll kill them," he growled softly, his voice low but seething with threat. His stride lengthened as he marched toward Misha, his jaw clenched tightly. He almost forgot himself in that moment-forgot the restraint, the careful distance he'd maintained between them all these time. But right now, none of that seemed to matter.
Mine. The word echoed in his mind, strange and unfamiliar. He hadn't considered Misha as his before-not truly. But seeing her like this, the thought of other eyes lingering on her, made it impossible for him to ignore the undeniable truth pulsing inside him.
Shaking off the confusion, Abhimanyu focused on one thing-reaching her before anyone else's gaze could touch her. His steps were firm and purposeful as he closed the distance between them, determined to make his presence known beside her.
The realization that he'd just referred to Misha as his would have to wait for later. For now, he needed to stake his claim, even if it was only in the shadows of his own conflicted heart.
Arnav glanced at Arthi, who had been standing beside him for quite some time. He couldn't recall when she had arrived, but now he couldn't take his eyes off her. Arthi, aware of his lingering gaze, felt her cheeks heat up, turning a rosy shade of red. She found herself unable to meet his eyes due to her shy nature. When she could no longer bear the intensity of his stare, she looked up at him, their eyes locking for a moment.
"Don't look at me like that," Arthi murmured, her tone flustered as she lowered her gaze, a smile tugging at her lips.
"I'm just looking at what's mine," Arnav responded with a teasing edge in his voice, causing her cheeks to flush an even brighter shade of red. Before she could respond, Hrudhay approached them with a faint smile.
"Arthi, beta," Hrudhay said with a tender tone. At the sound of his father's voice, Arnav composed himself and shifted his posture, giving Hrudhay a respectful nod. Arthi smiled at her father in law.
"You've prepared everything perfectly. I really appreciate your efforts; the whole event is exactly as I wanted it to be," Hrudhay praised, pride evident in his voice. Arthi looked down, smiling softly.
"You arranged all this according to the Rathore family's reputation. I'm proud of you, Arthi. All the guests are impressed by the event's preparation," Hrudhay continued, his voice warm as he gently patted her head. Arthi looked up, then respectfully bent down to take his blessings. Arnav, listening intently to his father's words, felt a sense of pride swell within him.
"Dad, I just did my job. If you're happy with it, then that's all that matters," Arthi said with a humble tone, her eyes shining. Hrudhay nodded, pleased, before casting a knowing look at Arnav and walking away.
As Hrudhay left, Arnav turned his gaze back to Arthi. With a gentle smile, he reached out and tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.
Arthi glanced towards the entrance as she noticed Misha walking in with a wide smile. Without a word, she stepped away from Arnav and headed towards Misha. Arnav made an attempt to hold her back, but she had already moved away, her smile still faint yet radiant. He sighed softly, watching her for a moment before turning to approach a group of guests to discuss business matters.