Inheritance Of You

HUBBY DEAREST

I hesitated, my finger tracing the invisible lines of a design on the cool glass of the tablet. "He... apologized. For being gone. Said he didn't know I'd want to hear from him, and that he wouldn't do it again."

Ezra arched a perfectly sculpted brow, his expression one of profound skepticism. "Wow. A full, verbal apology? I'm shocked. Truly."

"I know! But then he immediately pivoted back to business. Brought up the gala. Said it was important. I told him no, and he-" I exhaled sharply, the memory of his hands on my hips flashing behind my eyes. "He told me not to be difficult."

Ezra's mouth fell open in theatrical outrage. "Oh, hell no. He did not-"

His tirade was cut short as the studio's front door swung open, the buzzer letting out a cheerful chime. A delivery man stood there, dwarfed by the massive bouquet in his arms. It was an explosion of deep red roses, at least three dozen, nestled in lush greenery and wrapped in elegant, stark white paper.

"Delivery for Mrs. Aisha Malhotra," the man announced, his voice echoing in the sudden lull that had fallen over the studio.

The room went dead quiet. The sewing machines stopped. The music seemed to fade into the background.

Ezra slowly turned his head toward me, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Ohhh, Mrs. Malhotra, is it now?" one of the junior designers, Dani, whispered, not even bothering to hide her gleeful smile.

I felt a hot flush creep up my neck. I wanted the concrete floor to swallow me whole. "Everyone, eyes on your own work," I commanded, but it was useless. All attention was fixed on the floral spectacle.

The delivery man, looking slightly overwhelmed, instinctively handed the colossal bouquet to Ezra-who accepted it with the reverent grace of a pageant winner holding her roses.

"Okay, spill," Ezra demanded, peering at me over the blooms. "Did you two finally fuck? Because these are not 'I'm sorry I ignored you' flowers. These are 'I'm sorry I rocked your world so hard you forgot your own name' flowers."

"Don't be disgusting," I snapped, my cheeks burning. I strode over and plucked the small, cream-colored envelope nestled precariously between the thorny stems.

The card inside was thick, expensive stock. The handwriting was neat, precise, and painfully familiar-each stroke deliberate, each letter perfectly formed. It was the handwriting of a man who never did anything without thinking it through.

Please reconsider coming to the gala tonight.
It's important. For both of us.
-Naveen

My heart gave a treacherous, complicated twist in my chest. It wasn't a demand. It was a request. And the 'for both of us' felt like a carefully placed key, trying to fit a lock I kept tightly sealed.

"Okay, hand it over," Ezra demanded, leaning in and trying to snatch the card. "What does the great Naveen Malhotra have to say for himself?"

"Nothing," I said, my voice a little too tight as I slipped the card back into its envelope and tucked it into the pocket of my bag. "Just... a reminder about the event. Family stuff."

He looked utterly unconvinced. "Unless he's sending two-hundred-dollar roses because his guilty, I'm calling bullshit."

I ignored him, taking the heavy bouquet from his arms and setting it on the corner of my desk. The rich, velvety scent of the roses immediately began to permeate the air, a cloying, romantic fragrance that clashed violently with the scent of raw silk and ambition.

Ezra studied me for a long moment, his head tilted. Then, a slow, knowing smirk spread across his face. "You're thinking about it now, aren't you? He's gotten under your skin with his brooding, British, flower-sending nonsense."

"No," I lied, my gaze flickering involuntarily to the deep red petals.

"Yes, you are," he sang, clapping his hands together softly. "I can see the gears turning. And you know what? I fully support this. It's about time. Because, my dear, you desperately need to get laid, and who better than the faux husband you insist on being so loyal to?"

I rolled my eyes, but the traitorous corner of my mouth twitched upward. "Can we please stop conducting a seminar on my hypothetical sex life? And for the record, I'm not going. But..." I sighed, the fight draining out of me. "I'll think about it."

Ezra clapped his hands, a triumphant sparkle in his eyes. "Now we're talking! That's all I wanted to hear. The first step is admission." He winked. "Now, let's find you something to wear that will make him regret every single one of those two silent months."

++++

Okay that's chapter one. This story came to me in a dream after I watched Jodhaa Akbar. Literally in love with that movie, like one of my favs definitely❤️.

But anyways I hoped you enjoyed it and please comment and vote 💗💗. Song is Peals By Sade.

This is the story's theme song. I feel it perfectly sums up how it feels for both Naveen and Aisha to be trapped in this awkward marriage. And this is sort of an resentment to lovers ish, but it's more one sided from Aisha's side as she resents Naveen for his silence and absence and also is kinda taking out her anger that she has towards her father on him. And out of the both of them, the only person who benefits from their marriage is Naveen, but we'll get into that later.