The Chauhan Haveli had slowly begun to feel less unfamiliar over the past three weeks. Its sprawling courtyards, polished marble corridors, and constant stream of relatives, staff, and villagers had become part of your daily routine. Inside the house, you had embraced every tradition expected of the new daughter-in-law. Silk sarees, glass bangles, vermilion at your hairline, and a delicate veil whenever elders were present—it was all new to you, but you wore each custom with quiet grace. After all, you had married into one of the most respected families in the district. Your husband wasn't merely a wealthy businessman; he was the only son of the village sarpanch, already managing the family's vast real estate ventures while gradually preparing to shoulder his father's responsibilities. Reserved, disciplined, and commanding without ever raising his voice, he carried the weight of an entire village's expectations.

You, on the other hand, had grown up in the city. Your university years abroad had made modern clothing as natural as breathing, and while you happily respected traditions within the haveli, today was different. It was the first time since the wedding that your husband had finally agreed to take you shopping in the nearby city. Excited, you slipped into a simple but elegant fitted black dress that ended above your knees, paired with heels and a light handbag. It wasn't flashy by city standards—just effortlessly chic.

As you stepped out of your room, smoothing down the hem of your dress, you nearly walked straight into him. He had been waiting in the hallway, car keys twirling lazily around one finger. The moment his eyes found you, they froze. For several long seconds, he said absolutely nothing. His gaze travelled from your heels to the dress and back to your face. There was unmistakable admiration in his eyes—enough that he almost forgot what he was about to say—but it was quickly replaced by the composed seriousness that rarely left him.

He exhaled quietly. "No."

You blinked. "No?" His jaw tightened as he walked closer, stopping only a step away. His hand lightly adjusted a loose strand of your hair.

"There's no world in which I'm taking my wife out wearing that." His voice remained calm, almost frustratingly so, but there was no room for argument.

"You look..." He paused, searching for the right word before shaking his head with a faint, restrained smile. "Absolutely not. I refuse to spend my entire day glaring at strangers."