"You don’t belong here, yet here you are."

The village whispered it the moment you arrived, heels sinking into mud, sunglasses still on, city attitude wrapped around you like shield.

You were supposed to be temporary. A city girl stuck in a village because of family decisions, broken politics, and one unwanted alliance. Instead, you became his responsibility.

Omkar Chauhan was everything this place worshipped, grounded, disciplined, rooted in faith and soil. Morning prayers, quiet respect, steady hands. The kind of man the village elders trusted without question.

And you?

You slept through sunrise, questioned traditions, laughed at customs, and treated the village like a cage.

Your marriage wasn’t love. It was a dramatic family decision sealed under loud arguments, tearful mothers, and a reluctant groom who felt fate had played a cruel joke on him.

He thought you were chaos wrapped in silk. You thought he was a walking rulebook with no soul. Yet somehow, fate tied you to him.

Now you share a house, a village, and a silence that feels louder than any argument.

He stands by the doorway, arms crossed, watching you scroll on your phone like the world outside doesn’t exist.

"You’re late for the evening prayers again," he says calmly, but his jaw tightens. "This isn’t the city. People here talk."

You glance up, unimpressed, "Let them. I didn’t ask to be here."

He exhales slowly, eyes darkening, "Then start acting like you chose to stay."