✨8. New day and embarrassment

Niharika walked into the luxurious washroom, its marble floors cold against her bare feet. The mirror gleamed as if mocking her disarrayed state, and the soft golden light reflected off the large bathtub and ornate fittings.

She stood in front of the mirror, her hands reaching for the kurta she had been wearing. As she began to remove it, she felt a sudden tug around her neck. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the mangalsutra slipping out with the fabric.

Her fingers instinctively reached up, clutching the sacred thread. She froze for a moment, staring at the simple yet significant ornament. It was his name she bore now-a constant reminder of the vows they had taken, however hollow they might feel to him.

For her, though, it was everything. The mangalsutra symbolized a bond she had been taught to cherish and respect, no matter the circumstances. She carefully slipped the kurta off without letting the chain fall and gently adjusted the mangalsutra back into place.

Niharika touched the beads, her fingertips lingering for a moment. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away.

"This may mean nothing to him," she whispered to her reflection, "but it means everything to me. And I won't let anyone take it away."

She straightened herself, took a deep breath, and finished changing before stepping out, carrying a quiet resolve with her.

Niharika turned on the shower, and the cold water cascaded down, sending a chill through her body. At first, it took her breath away, but soon, the sensation began to soothe her frayed nerves.

She closed her eyes, letting the water wash away the remnants of yesterday-the heavy emotions, the overwhelming rituals, and the suffocating sense of uncertainty. The cold touch of the water grounded her, as if it was rinsing away her fears and giving her a moment of clarity.

Standing there under the steady stream, she allowed herself a rare moment of peace. Her fingers brushed against the mangalsutra around her neck, and despite the chill, she felt its warmth-a reminder of her present reality.

"This is my life now," she thought, her heart heavy yet resolute. She took a deep breath, allowing the water to calm her mind and steel her for the day ahead.

After what felt like an eternity, she turned off the shower, wrapped herself in a soft towel, and stepped out. For the first time since entering this new chapter, she felt a faint glimmer of strength returning.

Niharika stepped out of the bathroom, feeling the soft fabric of the saree in her hands. Her hair, still damp from the shower, cascaded in loose waves down her back, untouched by any styling. Without makeup, her natural beauty shone through, her glowing skin and calm features adding to her elegance.

She gently draped the saree around her, carefully tucking it in, trying to get the folds just right. As she adjusted the petticoat and the pleats, she found herself lost in thought, unaware of anything else. The quiet stillness of the room made her think that perhaps no one would come to disturb her today, giving her the moment of solitude she so deeply needed.

Her reflection in the mirror seemed to remind her of her own resilience, even as the heaviness of the situation weighed on her. With each step, the fabric swirled around her, and for the first time in a while, she felt like she could breathe.

Niharika, still trying to adjust the saree, felt a wave of frustration wash over her as she struggled to get the folds just right. She tried again, but the fabric wouldn't cooperate. In her concentration, she didn't notice the door slowly creaking open.

Shivaay stepped inside, perhaps lost in his own thoughts, and paused as he saw Niharika in the mirror. Their eyes met, and a deep, awkward silence followed. His gaze quickly shifted away, and Niharika, blushing crimson, turned to the side, trying to cover herself.

The embarrassment hung heavy in the air. Shivaay cleared his throat, awkwardly muttering, "You should have locked the door."

Niharika's voice was soft but firm, "I will always remember this mistake. It won't repeat."

With that, Shivaay nodded stiffly and turned to leave, his face betraying nothing but a flicker of discomfort before he stepped out, leaving Niharika alone once again.

Niharika stood there, her heart pounding as she clutched it with one hand, still reeling from the encounter. What was that? she thought, feeling a mix of embarrassment and confusion.

She had never felt so vulnerable before, especially not in front of a man she barely knew, and who didn't seem to care about her at all. Why did I say that? Her mind raced, replaying the words she had spoken-"I will always remember this mistake. It won't repeat."

The sharpness of her own words surprised her. She had never intended to sound so detached, so distant. In that moment, she realized the truth: she was still coming to terms with the reality of this marriage. With each passing day, she was learning that her life had changed in ways she couldn't control.

Her breath hitched as a tear fell from her eye, and she quickly wiped it away. What kind of relationship was this going to be? Niharika asked herself, feeling lost and small in a world she no longer understood.

Outside the room, Shivaay stood frozen for a moment, his mind racing with the sudden tension of the encounter. What was that? he thought, running a hand through his hair. Why did I just barge in like that?

His gaze drifted back to the image of Niharika in the saree, the way it clung to her body, revealing her curves that he hadn't noticed before. Damn, he cursed silently to himself, trying to shake off the unwanted attraction that sparked inside him.

He was married to her now, a part of him reminded, but it didn't make the reality any less complicated. Focus, Shivaay. This is just a contract, nothing more, he thought, trying to push the growing thoughts away. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, the image of her in that saree lingered in his mind. He clenched his jaw, a mixture of frustration and something else he couldn't quite name.

I'll deal with this later, he muttered under his breath, heading towards his study, trying to escape the conflict brewing inside him.

Niharika took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart after Shivaay's sudden exit. What was that? she murmured to herself, her cheeks still flushed with embarrassment. Shaking her head, she focused on getting ready.

She carefully draped the saree once again, this time ensuring it was perfect. The expensive fabric felt unfamiliar but elegant against her skin. She moved to the dressing table and sat down, her reflection staring back at her.

Her hand instinctively reached for the small box of makeup placed neatly on the table. She applied a light touch of foundation and a soft pink lipstick, just enough to enhance her natural beauty. Her kohl-lined eyes sparkled as she brushed out her long, damp hair, letting it cascade down her back.

Finally, she reached for the small box of vermillion. She opened it hesitantly, her fingers trembling slightly. Taking a pinch of it, she filled her hairline, the vibrant red standing out against her fair complexion. She looked at herself in the mirror, her identity as a bride solidifying with each passing second.

Niharika stared at her reflection for a moment longer, her hand brushing over the mangalsutra resting on her neck. She felt a mixture of emotions-fear, hope, and a strange sense of responsibility. This is my life now, she thought, standing up with a newfound determination.

She was ready to face whatever came next.

Niharika made her way down the grand staircase, her steps cautious yet graceful. The clinking of her anklets echoed softly in the vast hall. Her eyes scanned the luxurious decor of the mansion until they landed on Indra Singh Ranawat.

He was seated on a plush sofa, engrossed in the morning newspaper. The headline prominently featured an article about Prince Shivaay Singh Ranawat's marriage. The words sent a shiver through her, a reminder of the life she had stepped into.

Gathering her courage, she approached him, her hands nervously clutching the edge of her saree. When she reached near, she bent down and touched his feet respectfully.

Indra looked up from the newspaper, his piercing eyes meeting hers. For a moment, he remained silent, observing her carefully. Then, with a slight nod, he acknowledged her gesture.

"Good morning, Bahu," he said in a deep, authoritative voice. "You're up early."

"Yes, Bauji," she replied softly, keeping her head slightly bowed, her voice barely above a whisper.

He gestured toward the seat next to him. "Sit," he said, folding the newspaper neatly and placing it on the side table.

Niharika hesitated for a moment before sitting down, her posture stiff and formal. Indra's gaze lingered on her, as though evaluating her demeanor.

"You seem nervous," he remarked, his tone neutral but not unkind.

"I... I just wanted to greet you," she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Indra nodded thoughtfully, his expression unreadable. "You are part of this family now, Niharika. Carry yourself with dignity and confidence. This house is your home too."

His words, though seemingly supportive, carried a weight that she couldn't ignore. She nodded silently, her fingers nervously clutching the edge of her saree.

"Shweta will guide you through your responsibilities," he added before standing up. "Make sure you don't let us down."

With that, he picked up his newspaper and walked away, leaving Niharika sitting there, her mind racing with thoughts about the expectations she now had to meet.

As Niharika rose from the sofa, she noticed Shweta walking toward her, accompanied by Anita and Anand. The three of them were engaged in a quiet conversation, their voices soft but filled with authority.

Shweta's eyes met Niharika's, and a warm smile graced her face. "Good morning, Bahu," she said, her tone gentle yet firm.

Niharika folded her hands in greeting, "Good morning, Maa."

Anita stepped forward, her expression slightly curious. "You're up and ready early, Niharika. That's a good habit," she remarked, her tone carrying a note of approval.

"Ji, Chachi," Niharika replied, her voice modest.

Anand gave a small nod, his presence as imposing as Indra's but his demeanor a bit more approachable. "How are you settling in?" he asked, his deep voice kind.

Niharika hesitated for a moment before replying, "It's all very new, but I'm trying to adjust."

Shweta placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You'll do fine, Niharika. Today is your pehli rasoi-your first time managing the kitchen. It's an important tradition in our family."

Niharika's eyes widened slightly, the weight of the responsibility sinking in. "Ji, Maa," she said, nodding.

Anita chuckled softly. "Don't worry. It's a formality. Just prepare something simple and heartfelt. That's all we expect."

Shweta added, "I'll come with you to the kitchen and help you get started."

Niharika felt a surge of gratitude. "Thank you, Maa."

Anand spoke again, his tone laced with a hint of humor. "And remember, Bahu, the Ranawats have high expectations. Make sure it's good enough to impress even the strictest critic."

Shweta shot him a playful glare. "Don't scare her, Anand. She'll do just fine."

They all shared a light laugh, easing some of the tension Niharika felt. As they began walking toward the kitchen, Niharika couldn't help but feel a mix of nerves and determination. This was her first step in proving herself to the family, and she was ready to give it her best.