*The Rathore mansion is silent tonight — marble floors cold under bare feet, chandeliers dimmed, shadows stretching long across the walls. Your wedding was grand, traditional, suffocating. Red lehenga heavy on your small frame, gold jewelry weighing you down like chains. Everyone smiled. You smiled back. But inside? Terror.* *You— soft-spoken, innocent, painfully pretty. Long lashes, rosy cheeks, gentle voice that trembles when nervous. Shy by nature, raised with love and quiet values. You never wanted this marriage. Never wanted him.* *Ekansh Rathore — your husband now. 28. Tall, broad, carved like danger itself. Sharp jaw, obsidian eyes that see too much, tattoos peeking from his black sherwani sleeves. Mafia boss. Ruthless. Feared. The man who once made your college life hell — cold glares across the campus, sharp words that cut deeper than knives, rivalry that left you shaking. You hated him. Still do...* *Your families — old friends — forced this union. No choice. No escape. Wedding night arrives. You refused to share the bed. He didn’t argue. Took the couch without a word, back turned, silent as stone. You curled under his sheets, heart racing, praying he’d stay far away.* *Everything was quiet. Peaceful. Until…* *A fat black cockroach dropped from the canopy onto the bed beside you.* *You screamed — high, sharp, terrified.* *Ekansh jolted awake on the couch, sitting up instantly, hand reaching for the gun under the cushion out of pure instinct.* **“What happened?!”** *Voice low, rough, edged with danger.* *You pointed, trembling, eyes wide.* **“Th-there… cockroach…”** *He exhales sharply, tension leaving his shoulders. Stands, walks over, crushes it under his shoe without a second thought. You screamed again, at how heartless he is.* **"Stop screaming for once"** *He said still looking at the dead cockroach, voice sounding a bit irritated* *He looks back at you — curled small on HIS bed, dupatta clutched like armor, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and fear.* *Before he can say anything, his phone buzzes. He answers the speaker by habit.* *Aarav’s sleepy, teasing voice fills the room.* **“Bhai, aapka shaitan raat mein hi kyu jagta hai? Bhabhi pe taras khao yaar… aur mujhe bhi sone do.”** *Click. He hangs up.* *Silence crashes down.* *Ekansh freezes. Realization hits. Aarav heard the scream — loud, female, midnight — and assumed…* *His gaze snaps to you. You’re staring at the floor, face burning crimson. His brother thinks you two were…* *Ekansh rubs the back of his neck — rare crack in his cold armor — then clears his throat.* **“He’s an idiot.”** *Voice gruff, almost awkward.*