Genre: Steamy Forbidden Romance | 16+ | Emotional

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The house hadn’t slept yet.

Lights still glowed softly in the corridor, the leftover scent of rose garlands lingering in the air like a ghost of celebration. The sound of utensils clinking, distant murmurs from elders, and someone snoring on a couch in the living room—all of it told Meher that the wedding was done… but far from over.

And yet—she sat alone on the bridal bed, her lehenga still heavy on her waist, her hands covered in mehendi that now felt like shackles.

> He didn’t come.

Not a knock. Not a whisper.

Armaan, the groom—her newly-wedded husband—had vanished right after the rituals. No room entry. No “first night” games. No explanation. Just silence.

Her fingers slowly slid the bangle off her wrist. The clink of glass on marble echoed louder than the laughter downstairs.

She wasn’t heartbroken.

She was hollow.

---

The knock came gently.

She turned sharply, half-expecting Armaan. A part of her—stupid and naive—still hoped.

But it wasn’t him.

Reyan.

Her brother-in-law.

The younger son of the house.

The one who barely met her eyes throughout the wedding.

The one whose glances burned more than her own husband’s touchless indifference.

He stood at the doorframe, dressed in a black T-shirt and joggers, hair messy from sleep—or restlessness.

“Bhabhi…” he said softly, like the word hurt his throat.

Meher stiffened. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know,” he replied.

They stared at each other for a moment that stretched like a string pulled tight.

She noticed the way his chest rose and fell slowly. The way his eyes weren’t looking at her face anymore—but at her bare shoulder where her dupatta had slipped down.

She fixed it quickly.

He stepped inside.

“I came to check if you’re okay,” he said, voice low. “You’ve been in here for hours.”

“I’m fine,” she lied.

“You’re wearing the same thing,” he noted, taking in her bridal lehenga.

“I didn’t get the chance to change.”

Silence again.

He moved closer. Stopped right in front of her. And then, voice even softer—“Did he say anything before leaving?”

Her throat burned. “No. Just… walked away. Like I was nothing.”

His jaw clenched. His fists curled.

And before she could look away—his hand came up and cupped her face.

Warm. Firm. Gentle.

“I would never walk away from you,” he whispered.

Her eyes widened. “Reyan…”

His thumb brushed a tear from her cheek she hadn’t realized had fallen.

“I shouldn’t be saying this. I know. But watching you sit here like this—unloved, untouched—like you’re a burden…”

He paused. His lips came closer to her forehead. “It makes my blood boil.”

“Don’t,” she whispered, chest rising and falling under her heavy dupatta.

“Why not?” he breathed against her skin. “He left you. On your wedding night. Do you still feel like you’re his?”

She didn’t answer.

Because no matter how wrong this was—it didn’t feel wrong when Reyan looked at her like that. Like she mattered. Like he saw her.

---

“I should go,” he said suddenly, stepping back.

But her hand caught his wrist.

And that single movement shattered every boundary they had left.

He turned around, slowly, staring at her hand wrapped around his.

“Don’t leave me like he did,” she said. Her voice cracked—but her eyes were steady. “Just stay… for a while.”

He exhaled sharply. As if he'd been holding his breath since the day she stepped into the house.

Then—he leaned in.

His lips brushed hers. Once. Soft. Testing.

She didn’t pull away.

He cupped her face again, deeper this time, kissing her like a man who’d held back too long. Her mouth opened under his, hungry. Desperate. Her hands found the back of his neck and pulled him in like she needed him closer to breathe.

He pushed her back onto the bed gently, his body covering hers, lips trailing down to her jawline, her collarbone. He paused at the curve of her chest, lifting his eyes to meet hers.

She was trembling. With fear. With guilt.

But not with regret.

He kissed her again, slower this time. His fingers tracing the back of her blouse, tugging the dori loose.

“Reyan…” she gasped.

“I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”

---

Suddenly—a knock.

They both froze.

A woman’s voice called out—“Meher beta, are you okay? Did you eat something?”

Her eyes widened in panic. Reyan rolled off her, sitting upright on the bed as she frantically pulled her dupatta up.

“I’m fine, chachi!” she called out, voice shaking. “Just… about to sleep.”

Footsteps faded.

Reyan stood up, running a hand through his hair. “This… shouldn’t happen again.”

She nodded quickly.

But as he left, their eyes met one last time.

And both of them knew—it would happen again.

Because some fire burns even when you pour water over it.

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So for today that's it , from next chapter story is going forward more spicy and streamy!!!

Bye bye...

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