Love at first Hug?

“I’ll be right back!” Ishan muttered to Aryan and made a beeline for Rohan’s room, hoping to catch him before the door slammed shut.

“Wait!” Aryan called out, turning his wheelchair toward them, but Ishan was already halfway down the hallway.

Just as Rohan’s hand moved to shut the door, Ishan wedged his foot in the frame, his breath ragged from running.

His eyes locked on his younger brother’s scowling face.

“Rohan, wait!” he gasped. “Please, just let me in. I need to explain!”

Rohan didn’t budge. His grip on the door was firm, his glare sharper than ever.

“Explain what? Why you’re dressed like that? Or why you’re kissing a man?” he shot back, his tone laced with anger and disbelief.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Ishan blurted, wincing at his own choice of words.

“It’s Ma’s idea! Those nosy aunties wouldn’t stop gossiping, so she told me to... you know, act lovey-dovey with Aryan to shut them up.”

Rohan’s eyebrows shot up, his lips curling into a sarcastic smirk. “Oh, so now you’re the doting wife? With Aryan?”

“Can you just let me in first?” Ishan groaned, still pushing against the door. The jingling of his bangles made Rohan cringe even more.

With a resigned sigh, Rohan opened the door and sat on the chair by his study table.

Ishan stepped in, carefully lifting the hem of his saree to avoid tripping, which only earned another grimace from his brother.

“What's your problem? You knew about this! You cried during my vidai, for crying out loud!” Ishan shouted, his frustration boiling over. “So why are you acting like this now?”

“Why would you care?” Rohan snapped back, his voice rising. “Go kiss your hubby! Maybe this time on the lips. I’m sure you’ve done worse already.”

“That’s enough!” Ishan stepped forward, his hand instinctively raised, but a sharp knock at the door froze him mid-motion.

“Can I come in?” Aryan’s voice carried from the hallway.

“Stay out of it!”, Ishan barked, glaring at the door.  "This is a family matter!"

“Well, I’m part of the family, aren’t I?” Aryan quipped, rolling himself inside uninvited. “I even knocked this time, Right! wifey?”

Neither Ishan nor Rohan laughed. Their unamused stares could’ve pierced through steel.

“Tough crowd,” Aryan muttered, his gaze wandering until it landed on a stack of books on the bed. “Oh, The Lord of the Rings! You’re a fan?”

Rohan’s expression softened, caught off guard. “Yeah. Huge fan. You?”

“Of course. Every Frodo needs a Sam", Aryan grinned as he continued, "But Frodo also needs to trust Sam more than Gollum, don’t you think?”

The corner of Rohan’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile.

“How did he do that?” Ishan thought, baffled. “Did he learn emotional manipulation at Stanford or something?”

Aryan’s tone shifted, his playful demeanor replaced with seriousness. “Now, tell me. Who are the guys bullying you?”

Rohan hesitated, his gaze falling to the floor.

“Vishesh and Atul,” he mumbled.

“What?” Ishan’s voice rose in shock. “You’ve been getting bullied? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“And how was I supposed to tell you?” Rohan shot back, his frustration bubbling over.

“You stopped talking to me after the wedding! The only things you talked about with Ma were how padded bras give you more cleavage and how many types of lipsticks you have”

Ishan glanced at the mirror and felt a flicker of embarrassment—he’d started enjoying dressing up more than he cared to admit.

His makeup was meticulous: a radiant foundation, soft blush, bronze eyeshadow blending into precise eyeliner, and coral lips that added warmth to his face.

His saree, a shimmering blue adorned with rich brown embroidery, hugged his frame perfectly, the pleats and pallu draped with care.

It wasn’t just for show anymore. Even alone, he found himself experimenting with looks, trying new techniques, and perfecting his saree draping.

At first, it had been a necessity for the charade, but now he couldn’t deny the quiet satisfaction it brought.

He sighed, adjusting the pallu.

“What’s happening to me?” he whispered, but his reflection, beautiful and composed, offered no answers.

Aryan noticed his unease and placed a hand on his.

“Your brother’s doing all of this for me,” Aryan said gently, his voice calm and reassuring. “If anyone’s at fault, it’s me.”

Ishan’s heart skipped a beat as he stared at Aryan. His eyes drifted to his husband’s hands.

“Were his veins always this... attractive?”

he thought, his stomach doing somersaults before he snapped back to reality.

“I just wanted my brother,” Rohan murmured, his voice breaking. “Someone I could rely on to help me deal with this.”

“Well, you’ve got him—or her,” Aryan said with a grin. “And you’ve got me, too. I’m your brother-in-law. That has to count for something, right?”

For the next few minutes, Rohan explained everything—the mockery, the taunts about his simplicity, and how topping his coaching classes made him a target.

Aryan listened intently before pulling out his phone.

“Hi, Mr. Godbole. This is Aryan Mehra. Yes, I’d like you to file a complaint against two students, Vishesh and Atul. No, I don’t want them expelled, just a formal warning. Make it clear that this behavior won’t be tolerated.”

Rohan gaped at him. “How do you know our dean, Mr. Godbole?”

Aryan smirked. “We own the entire chain of institutes. Perks of being a billionaire.” He winked at Ishan, whose cheeks flushed again.

“He really has a cute smile tho..... Wait!! What the hell is wrong with me?” Ishan thought, shaking his head.

“Why are you even preparing for exams?” Aryan asked Rohan. “I could get you into India’s top medical school without any of this nonsense.”

“Because I want to earn my place on my own merits,” Rohan said proudly.

“Like sister, like brother,” Aryan teased.

Everyone chuckled. Then, without warning, Rohan stood and wrapped his arms tightly around Ishan, pulling him into a hug.

Ishan froze, caught off guard by the sudden gesture. The embrace was awkward, to say the least. Ishan's padded chest pressed against Rohan's torso, the silicone breast forms beneath his blouse squishing uncomfortably against the compression.

"Ugh, this feels weird," Ishan thought, his mind racing as he adjusted his posture. But no matter how he shifted, the sensation didn't improve.

To make things worse, the tight hug caused one of the forms to pop slightly out of place, tilting awkwardly beneath the saree. A flush of embarrassment swept over him as he tried discreetly to press it back into position with his arm.

Rohan, oblivious to Ishan's discomfort, held on tightly, his head resting against Ishan's shoulder.

"I'm sorry for being rude, Bhaiya," he whispered, his voice muffled.

“It’s okay,” Ishan replied, his voice softening. “That’s what siblings are for—to vent our frustrations.”

“Uh, hello?” Aryan interjected, pouting. “I’m the one who fixed everything. Don’t I get a hug?”

“Of course, Jija Ji,” Rohan said, grinning as he opened his arms. Aryan wheeled closer, joining the group hug.

As they embraced, Ishan’s mind raced. His heartbeat quickened, and a new, unwelcome thought crept in.

'Why does he smell so good all of a sudden? God, please, don’t do this. Don’t make me fall for a guy.'

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Hi readers, Apologies for publishing this chapter so late... My other book(conquerors pleasure) was on its climax so I had to focus there a little more..

But now that its completed my entire focus will be only on 'billionare master'...

Also It takes a long hours work to write these chapters (well images take longer to generate but whos counting 😅)...

So I would really appreciate if you could vote these chapters if you liek theme.