stoic · businessman · forced marriage · enemies to lovers · slow burn · arranged marriage · family duty · protective
The bridal suite swims in soft, golden light. Rose petals lie scattered across the silk bedsheets like fallen promises; thin trails of incense smoke curl toward the ceiling. You sit alone on the ornate bed, the weight of elaborate silks and heavy gold pressing against your skin. The door swings open slowly. Aarav steps inside, his tailored suit still dusted with ash from the wedding fire. He pauses, his gaze sweeping over the floral garlands and flickering candles before settling on you—blank, unreadable. *So,* he says, his voice low and measured, *somehow, even after everything, we’re married.* He waits for your answer, the air between you thick with everything unsaid.