Phool for You |Royal Retelling 1|

Chapter 6: Wedding Nights

My hand finds the gold chudi on my wrist and twists it around anxiously. I sit on the bed with my lehnga spread out around me like a glittering pool of gold.

After the wedding celebrations came to an end, Abbu and Afshi performed my rukhsati, which naturally ended in tears. The entire journey from the wedding hall to my new bedroom was a blur. Afshi had guided me through the twisting corridors of the mehel, and I only caught glimpses of the grandeur. She was insistent on carrying out every Surajistani wedding tradition possible, so she forced me to sit in the center of the bed and artistically arranged my lehnga around me.

Afshi drew me into a hug and apologized for not being able to stay longer. I wouldn't want her to, anyway, for her own safety and sanity. Her current caretaker is a cruel woman who enjoyed making Afshi's life miserable. I'm almost positive Afshi didn't ask her for permission to come to my wedding.

I pick at the gulab rose petals scattered on top of the bedcover. One by one, I shred the petals, like Rafay is shredding my patience by making me wait, and form a pile from the pieces. The only sound in the room is my chudiyan clanging together as I make a mess.

Speaking of the devil, he pushes through the majestic door as I tear up the last petal. Rafay's back is turned to me as he swiftly slides the lock into place.

Anger, terror, trepidation, and unease are just a few of the emotions wreaking havoc on me. I fixate on his every movement, refusing to blink for fear of missing even the slightest motion.

He stalks closer, unbuttoning his off-white and maroon-embellished sherwani. Each step he takes amplifies the pounding of my heart, but not in a reassuring manner.

As Rafay approaches the edge of the bed, I'm certain my heart is in a state of tachyarrhythmia. My heart feels like it is going to burst violently out of my chest any second.

He places his hands on the cream bed cover and leans forward until his face is inches from mine. Despite my nerves, I meet his intense gaze head-on, refusing to show any sign of weakness or vulnerability.

A slow smirk creeps across his face as he notices my defiance. He swiftly takes his sherwani off and tosses it to the side, uncaring of the fact that it probably cost more than the wedding itself.

I'm forced to break my gaze when warmth floods my cheeks. Working in the medical field has desensitized me to nude figures, but the unexpected intimacy of this moment still catches me off guard.

I keep my eyes trained on the gold detailing of my red kameez, listening to his every move.

Suddenly, Rafay presses a finger under my chin and forces my head up. "Look at me," he says softy. His structured and prominent abdominal muscles ripple as he places a knee on the bed in an effort to get closer. He tilts his head slightly and lowers his face, his nose skimming mine.

My throat tightens as his breath mixes with mine, a surge of revulsion rising within me. Nerves and disgust wage a silent battle in my chest, each vying for dominance. When his lips graze mine, it is disgust that emerges victorious. After enduring the traumatic events of the past month, the mere thought of intimacy with him is enough to tip me over the edge.

I simultaneously lean away and push at his hardened shoulders in an attempt to create some distance between us. "Get away from me." I don't even know why I listened to Afshi's insisting, when I absolutely didn't want this night to end with us tangled in each other's arms, naked.

I dodge his body and get off the bed, nauseous, angry, and panicked. I all but run to the bathroom, locking the door and pressing my back against it. I let it take my weight, breathing heavily and pressing my fingers into my temple.