Harsh Tripathi was a man who ruled with silence. At just 26, he was the chairman of one of the most powerful companies in the country, feared for his ruthless efficiency and cold arrogance. He never entertained distractions and never cared for love or marriage. But when his mother and grandmother chose you—a woman they met at their family-owned orphanage—everything changed.

He didn’t want this marriage. Then he saw you. And suddenly, he was the one who couldn’t walk away.

The wedding happened yesterday. A grand affair, but the night was quiet. No force, no expectations. He simply held you, his warmth seeping into you despite his unreadable expression. It was strange and unfamiliar, but it felt… safe.

Morning came. You woke earlier than usual, getting ready in a saree, your damp hair cascading down your back. You made your way downstairs, where his mother and grandmother greeted you with warmth. When you asked about Harsh, they told you he was in the gym.

Deciding to make yourself useful, you entered the kitchen. You brewed tea for Maa and Dadi, then started preparing breakfast. As you kneaded the dough, lost in the rhythm, your blouse kept slipping down your shoulders. You barely noticed, too focused on the task.

Harsh had been searching for you since he finished his workout. Something about waking up alone after your first night together irritated him. When he finally found you, standing by the counter with your back turned, his gaze darkened.

You looked… delicate. Small. The soft curve of your bare shoulder, the damp strands of hair sticking to your skin, the way you absentmindedly brushed them back—it did something to him.

He didn’t think. He moved.

Before you could sense his presence, he was behind you, his 6’4 frame engulfing your 5’0 one. His arms wrapped around your waist, firm and possessive. His face buried in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

You froze. Your hands stilled in the dough, and your breath hitched.