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"Tumhare sasuraal."
(Your in-laws' house.)
That word... it kept echoing in my ears.
Was he joking?
He looked like a don-and dons don't have homes. At least not the kind with sweet families and a doorbell.
We had already checked out of the hotel.
I looked around-cars lined up one after another, guards standing at attention everywhere.
And the hotel? No less than a five-star one.
Hmm... who knows how rich he really is.
Show-off.
But again... that word-"sasuraal."
It clung to my thoughts like stubborn mist.
"What are you thinking? Go sit in the car."
I turned to find him walking toward me, motioning with his hand to get in.
I obeyed quietly, slipping into the passenger seat while he settled into the driver's side.
"๐๐ข... ๐๐๐ฉ๐ค๐ ๐ ๐ก๐๐ซ ๐๐ก๐ข ๐ก๐๐ข?"
(So... you do have a house?)
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
They'd been bothering me ever since he said it.
He glanced at me, amusement flickering in his eyes.
I think he was a little shocked too.
"๐๐ฎ๐ซ ๐ญ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ก๐๐ข๐ง ๐ค๐ฒ๐ ๐ฅ๐๐ ๐? ๐๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ก๐๐ซ๐ ๐ฉ๐๐ญ๐ข ๐๐ฐ๐๐ซ๐ ๐ก๐๐ข?"
(And what did you think? Your husband is a vagabond?)
"Ji nahi... vo-"
(No, I didn't mean-)
"I have a big, sweet family," he said, starting the car, his gaze shifting to the road. His voice had a casual finality to it.
"Are they like you?" I asked, and he immediately turned toward me, his eyes narrowing-but they didn't scare me now.
"Like me, how?"
"Are they dangerous like you? Like... like you belong to some mafia family or something?"
A smirk curled up on his lips as he turned back to the road.
"๐ ๐ค๐ง๐จ๐ฐ ๐ ๐ก๐๐ฏ๐ ๐ ๐ฏ๐ข๐๐ ๐ฅ๐ข๐ค๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐๐ญ, ๐๐ฎ๐ญ ๐ข ๐๐ฆ ๐ง๐จ๐ญ ๐จ๐ง๐ ๐ข๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐จ๐ฌ๐ ๐จ๐ฅ๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ง๐ฌ."
"Old? What old men?"
A wave of confusion passed through me.
I remembered something from twelfth standard-my friend used to say mafias are handsome, charming, mysterious... she liked them so much, she wished one would marry her forcefully.
Why would she want to marry an old man?
"Mafias look old?" I asked.
"๐๐ฒ๐ฎ๐ง, ๐ญ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ง๐ ๐ค๐ฒ๐ ๐ฌ๐จ๐๐ก๐? ๐๐๐ฃ๐ค๐ฎ๐ฆ๐๐ซ ๐ฃ๐๐ข๐ฌ๐ ๐๐ข๐ค๐ก๐ญ๐ ๐ก๐จ๐ง๐ ๐?"
(Why? Did you think they'd look like princes?)
"Do you also read these kinds of novels?"
"No, I don't. Why?"
"Nothing." His smirk widened-probably to tease me.
"Gunda kahinka..." I muttered under my breath and turned my face outside.
(Rogue...)
"Suna maine."
(I heard that.)
"Haan pata hai."
(Yeah, I know.)
My gaze drifted to the lights twinkling in the dark outside the window.
Only I know how long it had been since I last felt this-the air brushing my face.
This nature, this air... I'm being forced again. But this force doesn't feel like a cage-it feels like... freedom.
But why?
What, why, Devika? Don't question. Just feel.
Feel the warmth of the moment.
It's the middle of June.
And yes, I've heard-mid-June means monsoon.
I looked up at the sky. It was dark. No moon, no stars. The weather itself looked gloomy.
Maybe it's about to rain.
And then-
A thunderbolt roared, and I flinched in my seat, eyes darting around, even toward him.
He was just driving, looking straight ahead-not even glancing at me.
My eyes caught the edge of his jawline.
God... those eyelids-so divine. Naturally curled.
My heart sped up.
What am I doing?
Was it the fear of thunder or the way his beauty pulled me in?
Whenever he came near, I felt like I'd known him forever.
"Anjaan hokar bhi, anjaan kyun nahin lagte aap..."
(Even as a stranger, why don't you feel like one...)
"Are you ok", he aksed without even looking at me,
"Hmm",
Another thuderbold clapped when I whispered,
My eyes straightened to the windshield-I saw droplets appear.
I stretched out my hand, letting the raindrops fall into my palm.
My eyes closed on their own as I felt them touch.
"Kya kar rahi ho Devi? Haath andar karo. Bimaar pad jaogi."
(What are you doing, Debu? Put your hand in-you'll fall sick.)
I heard him, but maybe my mind didn't.
My greed grew-I slowly leaned further, letting my face catch the drizzle.
Then-
A hard grip wrapped around my wrist, and I was pulled inside.
My face turned, now staring directly into his dark, emotionless eyes.
The motion was too quick-I hadn't realized the car had stopped.
I was facing him.
"Agar aisi harkat ki toh tumhare haath pair bandh doonga.
Aur khidki band kar doonga.
Jo bahar ke nazare dekh rahi ho na-vo bhi naseeb nahi honge."
(If you do this again, I'll tie your hands and feet. And shut the window. You won't even get to see the outside.)
"Leave me!" I shouted as anger rushing over my veins, why he behaves me like he owns me when I didn't even who he is,
"Awaaz neeche. Mujhe apne aage kisi ki awaaz pasand nahi."
(Lower your voice. I don't like anyone raising their voice at me.)
His grip tightened so hard I thought my nerves would snap.
"What are you doing? Leave my hand-you're hurting me!"
I screamed.
He abruptly let go.
He slumped back in the seat, rubbing his forehead-probably trying to calm himself.
Maybe I forgot who he is-a man who could point a gun at a priest.
How would he care about someone's pain? Especially a woman's?
A woman he married forcefully... without knowing her emotions.
I don't know how his family will treat me.
What if they treat me like mine did?
No. No-I can't even imagine that.
And what if they found out...
That I'm someone's abandoned bride,?
"Ek chhodi hui dulhan ko kaun apnana chahega?"
(Who would want to accept an abandoned bride?)
Maybe... maybe he doesn't know.
Maybe he married me out of anger-because of Roohi.
But what if he finds out? What if he throws me away?
Panic boiled over me but before they could howered and I would react, I felt ...
A soft grip on my wrist.
I turned.
He was gently holding my wrist, jaw clenched, eyes shut-then slowly opened.
He opened the car's drawer and took something out.
I followed his gaze-my wrist was crimson red.
His finger marks were etched into my skin.
Silently, he applied a cream.
I flinched at the burning sensation. "Ahh..."
He looked at me. Our eyes met.
His face, like always, was emotionless.
But in his eyes-there was guilt.
He leaned forward, gently blowing cold air over the bruised skin.
"I... I'm sorry," he whispered.
I didn't respond. My gaze stayed on his hands.
"Kuch log bhi kitne ajeeb hote hain na...
Pehle zakhm dete hain,
Phir sorry kehkar marham lagate hain."
(Some people are strange-first they wound you, then they say sorry and tend to the scars.)
I don't know why those words left my mouth.
He lifted his chin.
"Taana maar rahi ho?"
(Was that sarcasm?)
I didn't respond.
Instead, I jerked my wrist away and turned to the window.
I heard him sigh. Then-
The car door opened.
I turned.
He was gone.
He left me alone.
The thought pierced me with fear.
Was he that angry?
I tried to open my door-only to realize it was locked.
Even the window was closed.
"Did I make him that angry?"
Tears welled up.
He can't leave me.
He married me.
He can't just leave me.
But he didn't marry me out of love.
More than a minute passed.
Finally, I heard the door open.
"Where had you gone? Why did you lock the door?"
I didn't cry-but my voice cracked.
He said nothing-just handed me two big Dairy Milk Oreo packs.
"I'm sorry, Devi.
I won't shout at you again."
"Ghoos de rahe hain mujhe?"
(Are you bribing me?)
"Nahin. Pyaar se de raha hoon."
(No. I'm giving it with love.)
He tilted his head slightly, that dangerous glint returning to his eyes-sharp, steady, and soul-piercing.
For a second, it was hard to breathe. The way he looked at me-like I was a puzzle he had already solved, but enjoyed watching me struggle to put myself together.
I immediately turned my face away, breaking the eye contact before it swallowed me whole.
"Aap bohot bure hain," I snapped.
(You're a terrible person.)
"Chalo achha hai, bohot jald tumhe ye baat samajh aa gayi," he shot back with a smirk.
(Good. Glad you realized it early.)
This man...
No manners. No shame. No filter.
Mannerless. Arrogant. Monster.
Talking to him is like arguing with thunder-pointless and only leaves your heart rattling.
I crossed my arms and sank into my seat, staring out the window.
The rest of the ride went quiet.
Not a word from him.
Not a glance from me.
Just the soft hum of the engine and the occasional splash of raindrops trailing down the glass like tears we were too stubborn to shed.
.
.
.
.
.
I must've drifted off at some point.
When my eyes fluttered open, sunlight was spilling in through the windows. The air felt warmer. Brighter.
And... my hand still clutched one of the chocolate bars. The other one was half-eaten on my lap.
I blinked, disoriented.
"Kitna soti ho tum," I heard that same dominating voice-deep, sarcastic, and unfortunately familiar.
(You sleep a lot.)
"Achha hua khud hi uth gayi, varna grah pravesh bhi mujhe tumhein apni bahon mein lekar karna padta ."
(Good that you woke up, or else I'd have had to carry you in my arms for the housewarming.)
What the-
I shot him a look.
Of course, it's him.
Who else could say such absurd things so early in the morning, with such straight-faced confidence?
This mannerless monster...
There should be a law against people like him talking before coffee.
I rubbed my eyes and tried to sit up straighter.
Where are we?
He casually replied,
"Ahmedabad."
I blinked again.
"Itni jaldi? Kal toh hum Banaras mein the... aur aaj Gujarat?"
(So fast? Yesterday we were in Banaras, and today-Gujarat?)
My voice rose in disbelief. I stared out the window, expecting to find a board saying "Just Kidding. You're still in a dream."
But no.
The skyline was unfamiliar. The colors, the air, the roads-everything was new.
"Are you joking?"
He shook his head.
Stone-faced. Serious. Confident.
No mischief in his eyes this time.
What is this man even made of?
Is he human?
Or just a storm on legs?
"Waise ab sona mat. Main baar-baar tumhare liye gaadi nahi rok sakta,"
he said, sliding on his black goggles with that same air of indifference he wore so naturally.
I didn't reply. Just rolled my eyes internally and leaned my head back against the seat.
He's impossible.
---
After a few more minutes of silent drive, the car slowed down-then halted completely in front of massive iron gates.
"Pratap Manor."
That was all it said. Bold letters. Golden. Powerful.
Two guards immediately stepped forward and pushed the gate open.
And then...
We entered.
As the car drove through the entrance, I could see it-wide open fields stretching far and wide.
A tall, elegant fountain stood right in the center of the lawn, water dancing with the breeze like poetry in motion.
Greenery kissed every corner. Birds fluttered across patches of flowers.
But my breath caught-
Daisies.
So many of them. An entire garden overflowing with white and yellow daisies.
Why daisies? Why only daisies?
He brought the car to a stop-right in front of the house.
Without a word, he stepped out.
I sat frozen.
I can't do this.
My heartbeat was deafening. My hands cold. Legs refusing to move.
That's when he came to my side, pulled the door open, and extended his hand.
Without thinking, I placed mine in his.
Absentmindedly. Almost instinctively.
Like my soul trusted him before my heart ever did.
As I stepped out, my eyes rose to the house.
It wasn't one of those glassy, towering mansions you see in movies.
No. This house had soul.
Grandeur wrapped in grace. It wasn't shouting wealth-it was whispering legacy.
A kind of pride that came not from gold... but from roots.
And then-
A pang. Sharp and sudden.
A tightness in my chest.
Why does it feel like... I've been here before?
No.
No, Devika.
You're imagining things. Don't get carried away. It's just a house.
Just another turn in this strange journey.
I pushed the feeling aside and looked toward the grand entrance.
There-stood people.
A small crowd.
Not too many, but enough to call it a family.
A man and woman. Possibly in their forties. And a little boy between them
A adult aged boy and girl perhaps 20 or 21.
Two beautiful Labradors wagging their tails excitedly. One was big while the other was a kid
And in the center of it all-
An elderly woman, gracefully draped in a soft silk saree, her silver hair tied in a neat bun, a thali in her hands-adorned with kumkum, diya, and aarti.
My throat went dry.
His family.
All of them.
Lined up. Waiting. Smiling.
They didn't look royal.
They looked... warm. Whole. Rooted.
And together.
That word. Together.
Something I never truly understood. Never really felt.
But now... I was seeing it. Right in front of me.
So this is what a happy family looks like.
A family where the women stand with pride, and the men with presence.
Where even silence speaks of belonging.
My steps grew heavier with every inch I walked.
My nervousness wasn't just peaking-it was screaming inside me.
What if they don't like me? What if they see me as a mistake? What if... they find out the truth?
About the real me.
The broken girl. The abandoned one. The outsider.
And yet...
I kept walking.
Because his hand was still wrapped gently around mine.
I didn't even realize when my grip around his hand tightened.
Maybe out of fear.
Or maybe... because I didn't want to face this alone.
He felt it-of course, he did.
And in his usual, effortless voice, he whispered,
"Don't feel nervous. I told you na-my family is sweet. They won't eat you."
There was a teasing softness in his tone, the kind that doesn't mock but tries-tries hard-to comfort.
I looked up at him.
He was already looking at me.
Not smirking.
Not smiling.
Just... watching. Calmly. Quietly.
As if trying to understand every tremble running through my fingers.
You don't know me...
That's why you can say this so casually.
I didn't say it aloud.
I didn't need to. It was my inner voice screaming
My eyes shifted away, falling straight ahead again.
And something inside me shrank.
Shrank like a child curling into itself after too many broken promises-too many slammed doors.
I tightened my grip on his hand, though just slightly. He didn't look at me. But he didn't let go either.
We reached closer.
The woman in the center-the one holding the aarti plate-had a commanding grace. Her presence alone could silence a room, yet her eyes held a softness that tugged at something inside me.
He bent down and touched her feet.
I hesitated for a breath... then followed.
She placed her wrinkled, warm hands on my head.
"Sada suhagan raho," she whispered, her voice rich with blessings.
(May you always remain married.)
Then, gently, she cupped my face and kissed my forehead with her palms-so lovingly that for a second... just a second... I forgot I was a stranger here.
I forgot I didn't belong.
"Kyun re dusht! Itni der kyun laga di meri bahu ko ghar lane mein?"
(Why, you scoundrel! What took you so long to bring my daughter-in-law home?)
She didn't wait for him to answer. Instead, she grabbed his ear playfully.
"Ahh! Nani maa! Dard ho raha hai, chhodo mujhe!"
(Ow! Nani Maa! That hurts, let me go!)
He winced, faking pain like a five-year-old caught stealing sweets.
"Chal chal, dramebaaz. Itne zor se toh pakda bhi nahi maine."
(Oh stop it, drama king. I didn't even grab that hard.)
Before I could process the scene, another voice-female and full of mischief-piped up from the side.
"Aur devar ji... lagta hai suhaagrat mana ke aaye hain. Tabhi toh itni der se aaye ho!"
(And dear brother-in-law, looks like you celebrated your wedding night first-that's why you're this late!)
Everyone broke into laughter.
My breath hitched. My gaze dropped instantly to the ground.
Blood rushed to my ears. I wanted to vanish into the earth.
Out of sheer nervousness, I risked a side glance at him.
And what I saw...
Oh. My. God.
He was blushing.
Pink. Actual pink had bloomed on the sharp cheeks of that stone-hearted man.
He's blushing?!
Is this a dream?
His eyes lowered, his lips twitched, and I swear-if someone told me this man once held a gun to a priest, I would have laughed.
"Kya bhai, hum sab kaunsa aapko disturb kar dete?"
(What, brother? It's not like we stop you from anything.)
A girl teased from behind, biting back her giggles.
"Arey yaar, aap sab bhi na... maine kuch nahi kiya ab tak!"
(Oh come on, I didn't do anything yet!)
He defended himself-hands raised, eyes wide like a boy wrongly blamed for sneaking out at night.
"Haan haan, jaante hain. Aapse kuch hoga bhi nahi."
(Yeah, yeah. As if you could do anything anyway.)
More laughter erupted. I covered my mouth, fighting back a gasp. These people had no filter.
"Koi baat nahi, Bhabhi. Aap hain na, aap sikha dijiye ga."
(No worries, sister-in-law. You'll teach him, right?)
"Hatt! Besharam!"
(Shut up! Shameless!)
My cheeks burned. My heart wanted to flee.
"Chup karo tame badha! Sharam karo thodi! Navi navi bahu chhe... shu vicharse e?"
(Enough, all of you! Have some shame! She's the new bride... what must she be thinking?)
Nani maa's voice sliced through the teasing chaos, and everyone instantly hushed like guilty schoolchildren. But I was not able to understand what she said as it's their local language,
But the damage was done.
My eyes refused to lift from the floor. My face flushed like a full-bloomed rose. I clutched the edge of my dupatta as if it could shield me from their words.
Yet... they weren't cruel.
They weren't mocking.
They were... joyful.
Happy.
This family... they laughed with ease. They welcomed with warmth.
They were so different from what I imagined.
And this man...
This man with a thousand shadows in his eyes,
This man who once aimed a gun without blinking,
Who married a broken, abandoned girl like she was nothing but a momentary rebellion...
Now stood here-grinning, blushing, laughing among his family as if none of it ever happened.
How can someone be so dual-faced?
A storm in one world.
And soft rain in another.
And yet... something about this side of him,
Felt strangely familiar.
Strangely safe.
As soon as the teasing and laughter faded, Nani Maa looked at me with affectionate eyes, her face instantly transforming into serenity and pride.
"Chalo, shubh samay thai rahyo chhe. Bahu ne andar lai chaliye."" she said, her voice steady,
(Let's go, it's an auspicious time. Time to welcome the bride.)
The others stepped aside respectfully, and suddenly the air around me shifted.
From light laughter to sacred silence.
From jokes to tradition.
One of the maids brought a kalash filled with rice, a small silver plate with turmeric water, a red kumkum thali, a deepam, and a shankh. All were placed near the threshold.
The entrance of Pratap Manor-now felt less like a doorway, and more like a gateway between two lives.
Nani Maa stood beside me, holding the aarti thali, the diya's flame flickering gently as the wind played in the daisy garden behind us.
He was still beside me. I could feel the warmth of his presence. But now, he didn't speak.
This wasn't his moment.
This was mine.
Nani Maa circled the thali in front of me three times, chanting softly under her breath.
"Om Shubham karoti kalyanam..."
(Invoking auspicious beginnings...)
The diya's light danced in her eyes. She placed a dot of kumkum on my forehead.
Her hands shook just slightly. Maybe out of age.
Or maybe because she, too, was welcoming someone new into the story of this house.
" kalash ko apne dahine pair se dheere se girana hai, beti," she instructed softly.
(Now, gently topple the kalash with your foot.)
My heart pounded like a festival drum.
With trembling feet, I lifted my right leg and softly nudged the copper kalash.
It tipped slowly... and the uncooked rice spilled out, rolling over the marble like scattered blessings.
A symbol of prosperity.
A new woman bringing abundance into the home.
My eyes welled up. Not because of the ritual-
But because I was doing this.
Me.
An unwanted girl. An abandoned bride.
Someone who had only ever been thrown out of homes...
And now-being welcomed into one.
Nani Maa then pointed to a red alta tray, with a white cloth dipped in turmeric.
"ab ispar kadam rakho , aur andar aao, beti."
(Step into the tray and walk inside, leaving your footprints.)
I removed my slippers.
And placed my feet into the red-soaked alta mixture.
It was cold. Wet. Sacred.
Then, I stepped forward.
One foot. Then the other.
With each step, I left footprints behind me-red imprints blooming on the white marble floor like soft declarations:
I entered Pratap Manor.
My new home.
I turned slightly to see him walking beside me.
But what made my breath catch-
He was already looking at me.
Not speaking.
Not teasing.
Just smiling.
A soft, subtle smile that reached his eyes.
Those eyes...
They weren't mocking today.
They weren't cold.
They weren't dangerous.
They were... proud.
And just then, some cheerful voice broke the silence:
"Ghar ma apnum swagat chhe, Bhabhi!"
(Welcome home, sister-in-law!)
That adult aged girl and boy cheered showering rose petals on me,
And the little boy between them clapped his hands and shouted excitedly,
"Bhabhi aagayi! Yayyy!"
"Budhhu vo teri bhabhi nahin hai, vo teri chachi hai",
A small smile came up on my lips while everyone laughed,
My hands trembled.
My heart ached-in the most beautiful way.
Tears welled up in my eyes.
Not out of sadness. Not guilt.
But because this... all of this-
I never thought I'd be worthy of something so pure.
And yet, here I was...
Welcomed.
Accepted.
They led me inside and made me sit on a plush, golden-beige sofa in the heart of the hall.
The same house that seemed modest from the outside...
Now looked nothing short of royal from within.
Elegant archways, marble inlays, golden chandeliers, and wooden carvings that whispered stories of generations.
I sat quietly, clutching my dupatta, still overwhelmed.
The girl and boy came up to me as soon as I settled.
"Hey Bhabhi! I'm Dhritya."
"And I'm Dakshit," the boy chimed in with a grin.
Before I could reply, the little one ran forward.
"Aul main... Laghav hoon!"
(And I'm... Laghav!)
He announced his name like a superhero revealing his true identity. I couldn't help but smile, my nervousness melting just a bit.
"Hi... I'm Devika," I said softly, finally finding my voice.
"We know, Bhabhi!"
They said in perfect unison, giggling at my reaction.
And then-
Something furry snuggled against my feet.
Startled, I looked down.
Two beautiful Labrador dogs were leaning into me-one big, one small. The bigger one had wise, loving eyes, while the smaller pup was all clumsy tail-wagging and excitement.
I stumbled for a moment, caught completely off guard.
"Aley, inse toh milwana hi bhool gaya!"
(Oh! I forgot to introduce them!)
Raghav said from behind, rubbing the back of his neck.
He walked over and bent near the dogs.
"Yeh Lily hai... aur yeh-yeh iska beta Lauki."
(This is Lily... and this is her son, Lauki.)
"Babu! Vo Lauki nahi, Rocky hai!"
Dakshit burst out laughing, clutching his stomach.
"Babu! Vo Lauki nahi, Rocky hai!"
Dakshit doubled over in laughter, clutching his stomach like he'd just heard the joke of the year.
"Maine bhi toh wahi kaha... Lauki," Raghav replied, pretending to be serious, his voice deadpan.
"Okay, okay-you're right, Raghav!" Dakshit teased, rolling his eyes with playful exaggeration.
Everyone chuckled, even Nani Maa shook her head lovingly as if she was used to these antics.
And then Dhritya leaned closer to me, a warm familiarity in her voice.
"Bhabhi, dekho..."
She gestured gently toward the cluster of people near the front seating area.
"Woh jo dadi ji hain... vo aapke liye Nani Maa hain. She's the head of the house-our anchor."
I nodded softly, my gaze following her finger.
"Aur unke peeche jo khadi hain-that's our elder Bhabhi, Revati Bhabhi. She's the eldest daughter-in-law. Very sweet... you'll like her."
I offered a nervous smile, already overwhelmed by the titles and relationships forming around me like constellations I had never known.
"Our parents-your Mama and Mami-they aren't home today. Some urgent work came up. But you'll meet them soon," she added with a smile, almost sensing my worry.
Then she pointed subtly to a plush sofa set where two men were seated.
"And him who is talking with your husband he is aryan bhai, revati bhabhi's husabnd and raghav's father
I followed her gesture and looked toward them-
But as my gaze shifted and my skipped a beat,
it met with his, who were already looking at me,
His brother was saying something but he wasn't listning him as if he didn't cared at all
Directly.
With a steady, unblinking gaze that pinned me where I sat.
One leg was carelessly hanging over the edge of the sofa, his tall frame slightly leaned back.
His arms rested lazily on the carved wooden edge of the seat, fingers curled loose.
His cheek pressed into his palm, elbow on the armrest-casual, almost bored.
But those eyes?
Those deep, dark eyes... full of something raw and unreadable.
They weren't casual.
They weren't bored.
They were hungry. Curious. Intense.
As if watching me wasn't something he meant to do... but something he couldn't help.
I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks like fire licking against paper.
I immediately dropped my gaze back to the floor, embarrassed.
The smile I wore for his siblings faltered.
Why does he look at me like that?
As if I'm a riddle.
As if he knows more than I do about myself.
And yet... he says nothing.
Just watches.,
**********************************
Current update from my life...
Bhayii it's middle of june and mere yahan badh ane wala hai badh...
๏ฟผ
Anyways, but please try to complete the vote target and why you all didn't do comments, I dies to read them,,,,
I am not forcing you all but please ๐๐I like the comments and the reviews...
radhe radhe beautiful people
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