Morning in the haveli began before the sun fully claimed the sky. Servants moved quietly through the corridors, carrying trays of chai and fresh parathas. The air was cool, but inside the dining hall, the warmth of the clay tandoor filled the space, mingling with the smell of ghee.

You walked in dressed simply—a pale salwar kameez instead of the heavy bridal lehenga, your hair loose down your back. The faint sound of gold bangles at your wrist was the only noise you made. Your eyes were calm, but you carried the memory of last night like a secret.

Kabir was already there, seated at the head of the table, reading the morning paper. He didn’t look up right away, but you knew he’d noticed the exact moment you entered—he always did.

His mother was at the far end, directing the servants with clipped efficiency. She glanced at you, her smile polite but sharp. “Good morning, bahu,” she said, voice wrapped in sugar that barely hid the bite. “I hope you slept well. You know, in this house, we always start the day with… discipline. No laziness, no drama.”

The words hung in the air. You caught the faintest flicker of amusement in her eyes, as though she was daring you to respond.

Before you could speak, the newspaper folded shut with a crisp snap.

Kabir leaned back in his chair, gaze sliding to his mother—not cold, but heavy enough to still the room. “Discipline?” he said, voice deceptively casual. “You mean like knowing when to speak and when not to?”

Her fingers tightened on the edge of her dupatta, but she tried to keep her tone light. “I’m only reminding her of the family ways.”

Kabir’s hand rested on the arm of his chair, his signet ring catching the light. “She’s my wife. She follows my ways,” he said, each word slow, deliberate. “And my way is simple—no one in this house talks down to her. Ever.”

The servants froze mid-step. Even the clink of teacups seemed to fade.

He finally looked at you, his gaze softening in a way it never did for anyone else. “Sit,” he said quietly. “Eat.”

You moved to the chair beside him. A servant immediately set down a plate in front of you—parathas, aloo curry, and a cup of chai still steaming. Kabir didn’t touch his food until you took the first bite.