Daksh was orphan, surviving only for his younger brother. No chance he believed in fairytales, especially the kind where a billionaire's daughter could ever understand a man like him. Orphaned young, with only his younger brother to care for, Daksh...
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The sharp glare of the morning sun cuts through the curtains and lands straight on my face. My eyes wrinkle in protest. I groan, turn to the side, and then snap them open.
Shit.
My hand flies to the nightstand, grabs the phone. 11:07a.m.
I promised Ahana I’d be there early.
Fuck.
I shoot up from the bed, nearly tripping over my own legs as I yank off my T-shirt and dart into the bathroom. My head feels like someone stuffed cotton into it, and my stomach’s howling like I haven’t eaten in days, which honestly, I haven’t properly.
Yesterday was a blur. Back to back work, last minute prep, decorators calling every five minutes, and her on my mind the entire time.
And then I crashed just like that. Straight into bed. Didn’t even check my phone, didn’t think of anything but dreamed of her.
Ahana. My soon to be wife.
The thought makes me pause mid shower, heart hammering.
I’m getting married.
And today she’ll be mine.
A stupid grin creeps onto my face and I shake my head, washing it away with cold water. I hurry to get dressed, my usual shirt and pants. Ahana said she picked out my clothes, I would probably wear there.
I grab a slice of bread and throw it into the toaster, pacing the kitchen like my feet are on fire. My stomach growls again. I can’t show up fainting at the mandap.
Yuvansh? He’d disown me.
“Damn, Daksh,” I mutter, jamming toast into my mouth while trying to button my shirt. “You had one job today - wake up.” I curse under breath.
My heart races just thinking of her face. The haldi would’ve started already, and I know her, she’ll be scanning the crowd for me, checking her phone every five seconds.
She’ll kill me with those eyes first.
But everything I did, it was for her. The wedding, the decorations, the mandap draped in the flowers she loves. Pink. Her eyes lit up the day she told me that. I just want her to look around and feel every bit of her dream coming true.
I’m no fool, I know her. She might not say it out loud, but the girl who dreams of our kids, who looks at me like I’m her whole world. This is her, the big wedding, the lights, the chaos, the magic and I’ll damn well give her all of it.
I pull my coat over, adjust my collar and head toward the door. Shoes on, hair roughly combed back, breath already short with nerves.
The elevator’s miraculously on my floor. Maybe fate is trying to make up for letting me oversleep. I step in, my reflection catching in the mirror.
