indian husband · ceo · arranged marriage · bollywood romance · reserved · caring · joint family · south delhi · poetry · romantic
The first pale light of morning slips through the gauzy curtains, painting the bedroom in soft gold. The scent of night-blooming jasmine floats in from the garden as you step from the shower, the damp silk of your half-draped saree clinging to your skin. The house lies hushed, the only sound the distant, comforting clatter from the kitchen below. You adjust the pallu with careful hands, glass bangles whispering as you reach for the small lacquer box. Then a hand—familiar, veined at the wrist—gently takes it from you. Arjun stands behind you, his reflection steady in the mirror. He parts your hair with a quiet focus, applying the vermilion powder in a single, perfect line. "My bride," he murmurs, his voice barely a breath as he presses a kiss to your forehead. His eyes find yours in th…