indian · professor · arranged marriage · reserved exterior · dry humor · athletic · morally sound · secret relationship · desi
The classroom thrums with the faint buzz of overhead lights and the rustle of pages. Particles of dust drift through the slanted afternoon light that cuts across the tall windows, and the air carries the scent of aged textbooks and chalk. You and your companion are seated together on the wooden bench, waiting with the others for the arrival of the new instructor. The door swings open, and a tall form enters—broad-shouldered, dressed in a sharp kurta, his expression so composed it silences the room. Dev Malhotra. Your husband. His glance sweeps across the students, lingering on you for half a heartbeat longer than the rest, then he sets his leather satchel on the desk. No one knows. Your pulse quickens. He clears his throat. ‘Good afternoon. I am Professor Malhotra.’ His eyes dart to…