The faint light of dawn slipped through the curtains, brushing against my face.

My eyes fluttered open, and the first thing I saw was her, curled up on the bed, her hair spread across the pillow, her breathing soft and even.

A small smile tugged at my lips. She looks like she’s dreaming something sweet.

Then the stiffness in my neck reminded me exactly where I had spent the night. I shifted on the couch, wincing slightly.

“Perfect, Yugant,” I muttered under my breath. “King of Rajasthan… sleeping on a couch like a bodyguard.”

I rubbed my temples and stretched my back when I heard her voice, soft and still laced with sleep.

“You didn’t sleep on the bed again?”

Her tone wasn’t scolding, it carried something else. Curiosity… maybe even concern.

I turned to look at her and offered a faint smirk, masking the discomfort. “You were already asleep. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

She frowned slightly, sitting up. “You could’ve woken me. It’s your bed too, you know.”

Her words made something stir inside me.. a strange warmth, maybe even pride. But I shrugged lightly, keeping my voice steady.

“It’s fine. I’m used to discipline. Couch is good enough.”

She tilted her head, clearly unconvinced. “You call that good enough?”

I chuckled under my breath, meeting her gaze.

“When you’re a king, Arisha, comfort becomes a luxury. And I’ve already got what I wanted.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, lips curving in faint suspicion. “What did you want?”

I leaned back on the couch, arms resting casually on either side, letting my eyes soften on her face. “To see you when I wake up.”

Her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink, and she quickly looked away, muttering, “You’re impossible.”

I smiled faintly. Maybe I am. But watching her fuss over the fact that I slept on the couch, it felt like something was shifting between us.

Maybe the walls she had built were starting to crack.

I watched him as he stood up, stretching a little, the hint of tiredness still clinging to his features. He ran a hand through his hair and said casually,

“I’ll take a bath in the other room. You can get ready here.”

I blinked, frowning slightly. “Then why didn’t you sleep there on the bed?”

He turned back, his eyes holding that same calm command I’d begun to recognize.

“Because that room is for work, not for rest. And…” a small smirk tugged at his lips, “I didn’t want to sleep away from you.”

I froze for a second, my heart skipping at the way he said it, so effortlessly, like he wasn’t even trying to flirt.

He walked toward the door before I could find a reply, adding quietly,

“You can relax. No one will disturb you here.”

When he left, the room fell silent. For a few moments, I just stood there, trying to make sense of everything.. his words, his gestures, his strange mix of care and control.

This man was unpredictable.. one moment calm, the next utterly disarming.

Shaking my head, I walked into the bathroom. The hot water eased the sleep from my body, but my thoughts were still tangled around him.

When I stepped out, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. For once, I didn’t want to wear heavy sarees or jewels that screamed queen.

Not today.

I wanted to breathe.

So, I opened the wardrobe and pulled out a soft oversized T-shirt and a pair of shorts. The fabric felt comfortable, light, simple, and mine.

As I slipped them on, I caught myself smiling faintly. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to start living here on my terms too.

After getting ready, I tied my hair into a loose bun and stepped out of the room.

The quiet mansion seemed different now, like it had momentarily forgotten its cold formality.

As I descended the stairs, a faint aroma of something delicious drifted toward me. My brows furrowed in confusion.. who was cooking ?

When I reached the kitchen doorway, the sight before me made my steps halt.

There he was.

Yugant.

Standing near the stove, sleeves nowhere to be seen… actually, shirt nowhere to be seen. His back muscles flexed slightly as he stirred something in the pan, and for a second, I just stared.. completely blank.

Then realization struck.

“Oh God -!” I gasped softly, quickly covering my eyes with both hands like a startled child. “Why are you not wearing anything?!”

I heard a low chuckle escape his lip.. deep, smooth, and far too amused.

“Relax, Mrs. Yugant Singh Raghuvanshi,” he said, turning off the stove. “I’m wearing something.”

Peeking slightly through my fingers, I saw him glance over his shoulder and yes, thankfully, he was wearing track pants.

But still… that didn’t make the sight any less distracting.

“You could’ve worn a shirt,” I mumbled, refusing to move my hands from my face.

“Why?” he teased, stepping closer. “You don’t like what you see?”

“Yugant!” I protested, half-laughing, half-embarrassed.

He smirked, voice low but playful. “Fine. Next time I’ll wear a suit just to make coffee.”

I dropped my hands finally, glaring up at him though my cheeks betrayed me, heating faster than the stove behind him.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered, walking past him.

“Yet you’re still here,” he said softly, and something about that tone.. warm, teasing, possessive made my heart skip again.

I tried to focus on anything but him. The stove. The countertop. The ceiling fan. Literally anything.

But his presence was impossible to ignore, the quiet confidence in the way he moved, the slight smirk that played on his lips every time he noticed me sneak a glance.

I walked closer, determined to sound normal. “What are you even making?”

“Breakfast,” he replied without looking up. “Omelette and coffee.”

“That’s it?” I asked, folding my arms. “You think you’ll impress me with that?”

He chuckled, his tone low.

“I’m not trying to impress you, Mrs. Raghuvanshi. Just feeding my wife before she faints in my kitchen.”

I rolled my eyes, reaching for a bowl. “Move, I’ll help.”

But the moment I took a step closer, his hand shot out, gently catching my wrist. “No.”

I blinked up at him. “What do you mean no?”

“You just got ready. You’re not supposed to lift a finger today,” he said, his voice softer this time. “Let me do this.”

I frowned, tugging lightly. “I can cook.”

“I know,” he said, his eyes meeting mine - calm but firm. “But I want to.”

The words hung between us, quiet yet heavy. Something about his tone… it wasn’t commanding. It was caring.

I sighed and leaned against the counter, watching him work. “Fine, do your royal cooking.”

He smirked again. “Now you’re learning.”

The scent of butter and spices filled the kitchen as he worked with surprising ease.

I couldn’t help but stare, not just because of the way he looked, but because of how effortlessly he fit into this simple, domestic moment.

“How often did you cook…?” I asked.

“Every time Mihir burnt something,” he replied dryly. “Which was… almost every day.”

I laughed softly, the tension melting between us. “So, you’re his savior too?”

“I save everyone,” he said without missing a beat. “Except myself.”

His last words came out quieter, almost unintentional and I froze, the smile fading slightly.

But before I could ask, he turned with a small grin, placing a plate before me.

“Eat before it gets cold.”

I stared at the food, then at him. “You’re really full of surprises, you know that?”

He leaned on the counter beside me, eyes holding mine. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

I took the first bite and my eyes widened. “This… actually tastes good,” I admitted, surprised.

Yugant chuckled, crossing his arms. “You sound shocked.”

“Well, yeah,” I said between bites. “You don’t look like someone who even knows how to boil water. Yesterday I thought it was just a one-time thing, you know, like Sanvi. She only knows how to make kheer and is so proud of it… every time someone asks her to cook, she makes kheer, and everyone ends up thinking she actually knows cooking.”

He raised a brow. “And yet, here you are, eating like I’m your personal chef.”

I rolled my eyes and picked up another bite with the fork. “Fine. Since you’ve made it, you deserve some credit.”

Before he could respond, I lifted the fork toward him. “Here. Try your own masterpiece.”

He tilted his head slightly, smirk tugging at his lips. “Feeding me, Mrs. Raghuvanshi?”

“Stop calling me that,” I muttered, narrowing my eyes. “Now open your mouth.”

For a second, he didn’t move, just stared at me, amusement flickering in his gaze and then leaned forward, taking the bite from the fork.

Our eyes met.

He didn’t say anything immediately, just chewed slowly, his gaze still locked on me.

“Hmm,” he said finally, voice low, “tastes better this way.”

I felt a faint flush creep up my neck. “You’re impossible.”

“Only for you,” he replied smoothly, stepping closer.

I quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the plate. “You flirt like it’s your full-time job.”

He laughed softly, leaning his elbow on the counter beside me. “No. Just when you’re around.”

I shoved another bite of omelette into my mouth, glaring at him. “If you keep talking like this, I’ll never cook for you.”

“Good,” he said easily. “Because I plan to keep doing it myself.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “You’re serious?”

“Completely,” he said. “I told you yesterday, I don’t want to fight. I want to take care of you. This,” he gestured to the kitchen, “is part of that.”

Something in his tone made me pause. It wasn’t arrogance this time, it was sincerity.

I swallowed hard, not sure how to respond, so I just murmured, “You really don’t make it easy to argue with you.”

He smiled, picking up a cup of coffee and placing it in front of me. “Good. Then don’t.”

I took the cup, shaking my head but unable to hide a small smile.

AUTHOR'S POV

They both settled comfortably in the living room after breakfast, the soft hum of silence wrapping around them.

The evening light streamed through the large windows, painting golden streaks across the floor.

Yugant leaned back on the couch, his sharp gaze fixed on Arisha who sat across from him, her posture calm but distant as if she carried the weight of something much deeper than she showed.

Breaking the silence, he finally asked, “You knew everything before marriage, didn’t you? That I had planned this.. that I made Kiara run away, that everything was predecided.”

Arisha didn’t flinch. Her lips curved slightly, not in amusement, but in acknowledgment. “I knew.”

His brows furrowed. “And yet, you agreed. You didn’t expose me. You didn’t fight back. You just asked for that one thing - the Rawal fashion industry.”

His voice grew quieter, more curious than accusing.

“Why, Arisha? You could’ve asked for anything. Even my entire empire.”

For a moment, she didn’t answer. Her eyes softened with a rare vulnerability.

“Because I just wanted that,” she said, voice low but steady.

Yugant tilted his head. “That company means so much to you?”

She exhaled slowly, gaze fixed on the floor before meeting his eyes again. “It was my mother’s.”

Yugant blinked, his expression unreadable.  “Your mother? Ashwini Rawal?”

Arisha shook her head gently. “She’s not my mother.”

That made him sit straighter. “What do you mean?”

“My mother’s name is Asha,” Arisha began, her tone calm, but her voice carried a faint tremor of buried pain.

“Vedant Rawal had a relationship with her years ago. But when she got pregnant… he left. She didn’t even know he was married at that time.”

The silence that settled in the living room was heavy. Only the faint ticking of the clock and the soft hum of the air conditioner filled the space as Arisha’s words sank deep.

Yugant’s eyes, which moments ago held curiosity, now softened with disbelief and quiet fury.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, voice low but laced with restrained emotion.

“So… that’s why you wanted it?”

Arisha nodded slowly, her tone calm, though her eyes shimmered with old, buried pain.

“That’s all I ever wanted back. It wasn’t about power or wealth. It was hers. My mother’s dream. She built it with everything she had. The designs, the brand, every piece held her touch.”

Yugant’s brows furrowed. “And he just… took it from her?”

Arisha gave a faint, bitter smile.

“He promised marriage. Promised a family. And when I was born, he said we were a mistake.” Her voice cracked slightly, but she quickly steadied it.

“He told my mother she was just a phase of his life. After that, he went back to his wife and lived happily while she…” she paused, swallowing hard, “she was left alone, broken. That business was all she had, and even that was snatched from her.”

For the first time, Yugant didn’t know what to say. His gaze flickered to her face, to the strength behind her calmness.

He had thought she was fearless because of her arrogance, but now he saw something else: resilience born from pain.

“She raised me till I was seven,” Arisha continued softly, eyes distant as if seeing another world. “Then… she gave up. One night, I woke up, and she wasn’t there anymore.”

Yugant’s hand clenched into a fist.

“Vedant Rawal…” he muttered under his breath, the name like poison on his tongue.

“I was sent to the Rawal mansion after that,” Arisha said with a humorless chuckle. “He said I was his responsibility. But I was never a daughter to them. Just a reminder of his sins. They gave me their surname, not love.”

Her voice grew quieter, steadier.

“So, yes, when I saw the chance, I took it. I wanted what rightfully belonged to my mother. What belonged to me.”

Yugant sat still for a long moment, eyes locked on her and for once, the arrogant, calculating king inside him was silent.

He finally spoke, voice low but certain.

“You didn’t just marry me out of challenge, did you?”

Arisha looked up at him, meeting his gaze.

“No, Yugant. I married you to end my past. And to start my own story, one that no one can write for me anymore.”

He leaned back, exhaling slowly, eyes tracing her face with newfound respect. “You really are something, Arisha Rawal.”

Her lips curved in a faint smile.

“Correction, Your Majesty. It’s Arisha Yugant Singh Raghuvanshi now.”

A small, amused smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Trust me, I won’t forget that.”

“Well,” she said softly, looking at him with a faint glimmer in her eyes, “now everything is perfectly fine. I got what my mother built, and I’m not here to take revenge. Because…”

She paused, her voice gentling, “my mother would never be happy knowing the person she once loved is suffering. She wasn’t like that.”

Her tone was light, almost teasing as she added, “So let’s move on from that chapter. It’s in the past. Now…” she leaned a little forward, curious, “tell me something. Why are you so distant from your family?”

Yugant’s gaze shifted away instantly, toward the flickering candlelight on the table, his jaw tightening slightly.

He let out a slow sigh, as if he’d been expecting this question, but not ready for it.

“It’s complicated,” he said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of years.

Arisha tilted her head, her expression soft but not prying.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to share,” she replied gently, her tone understanding rather than demanding.

Yugant looked at her, those eyes of hers, so direct yet patient and after a few seconds, he exhaled deeply.

“There’s nothing I want to hide from you,” he said finally, voice low and firm.

Turning slightly towards her, he continued, “My father… he cheated on my mother. I was too young, but old enough to understand what was happening. When I started questioning him, instead of answering, he sent me to a boarding school.”

Arisha’s expression softened, the faint smile fading into quiet empathy.

“That’s how distance started,” Yugant said, his voice rougher now. “When I came back years later, everything had changed. They tried to mend things but I was already too lost in my own bitterness. I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t want to care.”

He gave a small, hollow chuckle.

“Now, everything between us is just formality. We greet each other, talk when necessary, but there’s no warmth left. Except for Mihir, Mahika, and Ma… I don’t really talk to anyone unnecessarily.”

Arisha watched him for a long moment, this man who carried so much strength and authority, yet still held wounds from a broken childhood.

She didn’t pity him; she simply understood him.

She smiled faintly, her tone playful but warm. “Looks like both of us have messy families, huh?”

He huffed a small laugh at that, shaking his head. “Seems so.”

Their eyes met and for the first time, there wasn’t challenge or ego between them.

Just two people, quietly seeing through each other’s walls.

TO BE CONTINUED...