Author's PoV

Today, the entire village looked as if it had dressed itself for a grand festival.

Strings of golden lights hung from every rooftop, flickering like restless fireflies. The air was thick with the fragrance of fresh flowers—roses, marigolds, jasmine—so strong that it almost felt intoxicating. Every path, every courtyard, every doorway glowed with celebration.

But above all, the Sarpanch’s haveli stood unmatched.

It didn’t just shine—it blazed.

After all, it wasn’t an ordinary occasion. It was the wedding of Kailash Singh Chauhan's younger son—Rishabh Chauhan. And in a village like this, power didn’t celebrate quietly.

It celebrated loudly.

Lavishly.

Shamelessly.

Inside the haveli, the scent of rose perfume lingered heavily, clinging to every wall, every curtain, every breath. But behind the beauty, behind the glow… something darker brewed.

At the back of the mansion, a completely different world existed.

Loud music blasted through the night. Dhol beats mixed with cheap speakers, creating a rhythm that pulsed like a heartbeat. Men filled the area—villagers, friends, known faces—all sitting with chests puffed out, pride and liquor running equally through their veins.

And in the center—

Women danced.

Barely clothed.

Their bodies moving to the rhythm, hips swaying, eyes half-lidded, lips curved in practiced smiles. They weren’t dancing for joy.

They were performing.

For survival.

Money rained over them—notes thrown into the air, falling over their skin like confetti. Men shouted, laughed, whistled.

Some reached out.

Some succeeded.

Some didn’t.

But none of them stopped.

Among them stood Rishabh.

The groom.

On his wedding night.

A glass in one hand, arrogance in his posture, and hunger—raw, unapologetic hunger—in his eyes.

“Brother,” one of his friends nudged him, smirking, “you’re enjoying even on your wedding night.”

Another laughed, louder this time, “Double the fun today. First this… then the suhaag raat.”

The group burst into laughter.

Crude. Loud. Hollow.

The music changed. A new song blasted, heavier, dirtier.

The girls adjusted instantly, their movements turning more seductive, more inviting. One of them caught Rishabh’s attention.

A red blouse.

Shiny. Tight. Revealing more than it hid.

Her cleavage was exposed, rising and falling with every breath. A thin fabric wrapped around her lower body, barely enough to call it clothing. Her waist was bare, skin glistening under the lights. Her hair flowed freely as she moved, each sway deliberate.

Rishabh stared.

No—he devoured.

His gaze didn’t even try to hide where it lingered.

It was raw. Animalistic.

Hungry.

His friends noticed.

“Bhai… you’re married now. At least pretend to improve,” one said, half-joking, half-serious.

No response.

Another added, “Your poor bride must be sitting in the room waiting for you… and you’re here staring at other women like this?”

That made Rishabh look away—just for a second.

He turned to them, his expression unchanged.

“So what if I’m married?” he said flatly. “I’m not becoming anyone’s slave. And anyway… how would she even know?”

A few of them exchanged looks.

“That’s still wrong, yaar…”

“What’s wrong?” Rishabh cut in, irritation creeping into his tone. “She’s doing this for money. I’m not forcing her. And if something happens… will my ‘honor’ be lost?”

Silence.

One of them sighed, defeated. “No matter how much we say… you won’t change. Just go to your room soon.”

Rishabh smirked.

“Relax. Just a little while.”

And with that, he walked toward the girl.

The crowd swallowed him easily.

She didn’t even notice when he came up behind her.

Only when she turned—

And almost stumbled—

Did she see him.

Before she could fall, his hand shot out, gripping her waist.

“Careful,” he murmured, a smirk playing on his lips.

His fingers tightened slightly.

Then slowly… deliberately… his hand moved upward.

Sliding.

Lingering.

His thumb brushing against the side of her breast.

She let out a soft moan.

Then smiled.

“Won’t your new bride mind?” she teased, her voice dripping with amusement.

Rishabh chuckled, low and careless.

“We’ll think about her later,” he said. “The mood is set. Why ruin it now?”

And just like that—

The bride waiting upstairs stopped existing.

—

He led her away.

Hidden from the noise.

Hidden from the crowd.

Hidden from the celebration that was supposedly his wedding.

—

Meanwhile…

Tara.

She sat curled up on the bed, her knees pulled close, her chin resting against them. The heavy red bridal lehenga weighed down on her, but she didn’t move.

Her face remained hidden behind the veil.

Waiting.

That’s what she had been told.

The groom would come.

He would lift the veil.

That moment… would begin everything.

Her eyes shifted to the glass of milk placed beside her.

Her cousins’ voices echoed in her head—

“Drink it… you’ll need strength for tonight.”

A blush crept across her cheeks.

She lowered her gaze, her fingers nervously playing with the edge of her dupatta.

“It’s my first time…” she whispered to herself. “What if… he doesn’t like me?”

Her thoughts spiraled instantly.

What if she did something wrong?

What if she wasn’t enough?

What if—

She lightly hit her own head.

“Silly… it’s his first time too.”

That thought made her blush even deeper.

Nervousness.

Shyness.

A strange, trembling anticipation wrapped around her heart.

Her eyes moved to the clock.

1:00 a.m.

The noise outside had dimmed.

The world was slowly settling.

But he still hadn’t come.

Her lips pouted slightly.

“Why hasn’t he come yet…” she murmured.

Her voice carried a quiet longing.

An innocent wait.

A hopeful heart.

Completely unaware…

That the man she was waiting for—

Was in another room.

With another woman.

—

In that room, the air was thick.

Heavy.

Breaths collided with moans, skin against skin, movement against movement.

Rishabh didn’t hold back.

Didn’t think.

Didn’t care.

He moved like a man driven purely by desire, by impulse, by something that had nothing to do with love.

The woman beneath him responded just as fiercely, her voice breaking into gasps, her body arching with every motion.

A notification flashed on his phone.

Ignored.

Another.

Ignored.

Then a call.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

“Fuck…” he muttered, irritated.

He grabbed the phone, answering it roughly.

“WHAT?”

A voice spoke from the other end.

Something urgent.

Something serious.

Something that made his expression shift.

Slowly.

His eyes moved to his phone screen.

And in that second—

Everything changed.

His face drained of color.

The hunger in his eyes vanished.

Replaced by something else.

Shock.

Fear.

He pulled away abruptly.

The sudden movement caused the woman to wince in pain.

“What the hell—?” she snapped, sitting up, glaring at him. “What happened? Why did you stop?”

But he didn’t answer.

Didn’t even look at her.

He just stared at his phone.

Frozen.

“Baby…” she tried again, softer now, crawling closer. “Come on… you said you’d go all night…”

No response.

Frustration flickered across her face.

So she leaned in.

Took matters into her own hands.

The moment her lips touched him, his eyes shut instinctively.

A reflex.

But then—

Reality hit.

Hard.

He jerked back immediately.

And the next second—

SLAP.

The sound cracked through the room.

Her head snapped to the side.

Silence followed.

Heavy. Dangerous.

“How dare you—” she started, fury rising.

But before she could finish—

He grabbed her clothes from the floor and threw them at her.

“Put them on,” he snapped. “And get out. Now.”

She stared at him, stunned.

Then laughed bitterly.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” she shot back. “If I tell your family what happened here—”

That made him look at her properly.

For the first time since the call.

And he understood.

This wasn’t over.

Not unless he ended it.

He walked to the cupboard.

Pulled out a bundle of cash.

Threw it in front of her.

“Take it. And forget tonight.”

The anger in her eyes flickered—

Then shifted.

Money had a way of doing that.

She smirked.

“Oh? If its like that so..tonight is quite  special,dulheraja… I won’t forget so easily.”

His jaw tightened.

He cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

Then went back.

Pulled out more money.

A bigger bundle.

Dropped it in front of her.

“Now… GO.”

She laughed softly.

“Okay… okay. I’m leaving.”

Slowly, she got dressed—deliberately taking her time, throwing glances at him, trying to seduce him again.

But he didn’t react.

Didn’t even look.

His mind was elsewhere now.

Far away.

Broken.

Disconnected.

She picked up the money.

And left.

The door clicked shut.

And just like that—

The room fell silent.

But inside Rishabh’s head—

Something had snapped.

Completely.