I'm not encouraging any kind of forced marriage scenarios or something like that. This is just fictional. I hope everyone takes fictional work as fiction only.
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She took another step back, breath uneven, eyes blazing. "Who the fvck do you think you are?!" The words came out sharp. Controlled but just barely.

He didn't react to the tone. Didn't flinch. Didn't look offended.

"Rishav Sehgal, hope you heard my name." He said. His eyes locked into hers.

Like that was enough. Like it should be And it was.

Because recognition didn't come slowly. It hit. All at once.

The name wasn't unfamiliar. It wasn't just another name thrown.

It carried weight.

Rishav Sehgal

Youngest in his field. A man who didn't just work in medicine he owned it. Hospitals. Supply chains. Systems that people depended on without even knowing his name.

A neurosurgeon people called when things were already beyond saving. But he doesn't save everyone. He chooses which lives were worth his time. And which weren't.

Billionaire but untouchable. Doctor but ruthless.

"A-Anjali aunty's son??" Ridhima whispered to herself.

Her fingers tightened unconsciously. Her gaze hardened. "So? You have the right!?" There was no confusion in her voice. Only clarity. Only anger.

Before he could answer "What the hell are you doing?!"

Dhruv's voice cut through everything. Loud. Furious. Uncontrolled.

He rushed forward, his presence crashing into the moment like a storm that had finally broken.

His hand grabbed Ridhima's arm instantly, pulling her behind him. Shielding.

"Who the fvck do you think you are?!" he demanded, stepping forward, his entire body tense with rage. "Have you lost your mind??"

Rishav didn't move. Didn't step back. "I've just done what was meant to happen." Calm. Too calm.

Dhruv's jaw tightened. "What did you just say?"

His grip on Ridhima tightened unconsciously before he turned to her.

"Ridhi..." his voice dropped, urgent now, searching her face, "tell me what he did."

"He tied the mangalsutra, right?" His voice shook, not with fear but with something worse. "Or did he do something more. Just tell me what he did."

Ridhima's throat tightened. Her voice didn't come out immediately. Because saying it made it real.

"Bhaiya..." she started, her voice unsteady for the first time.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she held his arm. "He-he did everything."

The words landed heavy. "He made me do everything." Her voice held but her face didn't. Tears kept slipping, silent, uncontrollable and she hated every second of it.

Something in Dhruv's face changed instantly. Not confusion. Not shock. Something darker.

His gaze snapped back to Rishav.

And the next second. His fist connected. Hard.

A sharp sound cut through the space. Rishav stumbled back a step.

Just one.

The corner of his lip split slightly, blood surfacing instantly.

None of them moved. For a fraction of a second. Then,

Rishav wiped the blood away with his thumb. Slow. Deliberate.

He looked at it. Then back at Dhruv. And smiled. Not wide. Not amused. Just enough to make it worse.

"Interesting." His voice was low. Almost thoughtful. "The way you're getting angry at me,"

A slight tilt of his head. "But didn't you want this?"

Dhruv's expression darkened further.

"Didn't you want to get rid of your responsibility?" Rishav continued, unfazed. "Marry her off. Hand her over. Move on."

"That's none of your business!" Dhruv snapped immediately. "And I never saw her as my responsibility.."

His voice sharpened. "She's my sister. Not my burden."

Rishav's gaze didn't shift. Didn't soften. "Really?" A pause. "So you decided to give your sister to a bastard?"

The word hit like a slap.

Dhruv stepped forward instantly. "Watch your mouth!"

Rishav didn't stop.

"Or was it just convenient?" he continued, voice steady, cutting through Dhruv's anger without effort. "Close your eyes. Ignore what you didn't want to see. As long as she was married, it didn't matter who she was handed to."

"That's enough!" Dhruv's voice rose again, fury spilling over.

"Bhaiya, wait."

Ridhima stepped forward this time. Her voice didn't tremble now. It held.

She moved past him. Stood in front of Rishav. Her eyes locked onto his.

"How dare you talk to my brother like that?" Each word was clear. Sharp.

Something shifted in his gaze. Not surprise. Not anger. Something quieter. More dangerous.

"Careful," he said, his voice dropping slightly. "You're talking to your husband."

The word hung between them.

Dhruv stepped in immediately. "Husband?!" he snapped. "Just walking in here and forcing my sister into this doesn't make you her husband!"

For a second. Then Rishav looked at him. Properly this time.

And when he spoke... There was no hesitation. "No." A faint tilt of his head.

"What makes me her husband is that I didn't stand there watching while she was being handed to someone unworthy." A pause. "I ended it."

"Shut up!! Whatever this is-" Dhruv's voice cut through, still burning with anger, "this doesn't count."

He didn't even look at Rishav when he said it. His focus was on her. Firm. Protective. "She's not accepting this marriage. Not now. Not ever."

He turned, already pulling her with him. "Let's go, Ridhi."

His fingers closed around her hand but before she could move.

Rishav's grip locked around her other wrist. Immediate. Unyielding.

"She's not going anywhere." His voice wasn't loud. But it stopped everything. "She's coming with me."

Ridhima's breath snapped. Her eyes flashed as she tried to pull free from his side.

"Leave me!" she hissed, anger cutting through every word.

"What is happening?" Anjali's voice entered not loud, but it carried enough authority to cut through the chaos.

"What's happening!? Your son just forced a marriage onto my sister!" Dhruv snapped immediately.

She stepped forward, eyes moving quickly between them and then stopping on Ridhima.

The mangalsutra. The sindoor.

The truth.

It didn't need explanation. Her expression changed. Shock. And something deeper.

She looked at him. "Rishi..." Just his name. But it held weight.

"Is it-" Her voice dropped, disbelief threading through it

A step closer.

"Is that your decision to make?!" Her voice trembled slightly now, not with weakness but with hurt.

"Yeh kya kiya tumne?" Her eyes searched his face.

"Ridhima ki zindagi tum aise kaise decide kar sakte ho, Rishi?"

For a moment he didn't answer. Then he turned to her.

"Mom," he said, calm as ever, like nothing here was out of control, "we'll talk after getting home."

That was it. No explanation. Just that.

"Kya!? This is not something we can discuss later! it's her life!!!" She snapped.

"Why did you!? Tell me!" she looked at him now. Like she almost didn't recognise her son.

"Do you even understand what you've done?" she continued, her eyes burning into his.

"We didn't come here as guests."

A pause.

"We came here because this is our family."

Her gaze shifted briefly to Ridhima. And something in her expression broke.

"Rudhransh aur Madhavi..." her voice softened for a second, but it didn't lose strength, "they trusted us for years."

A breath.

"They're not here today." Her eyes flickered again, grief, memory, responsibility all at once.

"So we stood here," she continued, firmer now, "not as outsiders but as people who were supposed to be with her."

"And this?" her hand gestured between them, "this is what you do?"

Rishav didn't move. Didn't speak.

"Tell me," she said, quieter now but far more dangerous, "what made you think you had that right?"

"Mom, Calm down... You'll know everything." Rishav spoke again. Firm.

She shook her head immediately. "No. Not 'later.' Not 'somewhere else.' You don't get to do this!"

"It's not safe here for us now." The words cut in. Flat. Certain.

That slowed her. Just a fraction.

His gaze didn't move from hers. "Look around mom," he added, quieter. "We have to go first."

Her eyes flickered finally taking in the edges of the space, the tension that hadn't settled, the air that hadn't calmed.

Rishav spoke again, "I know exactly what I've done." No raise in voice. No aggression. Just finality.

That didn't calm her.

But it stopped the escalation.

A long second passed.

Her breath steadied barely. Her anger didn't disappear.

It compressed.

Her gaze stayed on him. Searching. Demanding. Getting nothing more..

Her gaze lingered on him for a second longer. Then shifted back to Ridhima.

Slowly, she stepped forward. Her hands reached out.gently holding Ridhima's. Warm. Steady.

"Ridhima beta... I won't lie to you." her voice softened completely now. "I know what he's done is not something I can justify."

She let that sit.

"This is the kind of mistake that can't be undone." There was no denial in her words. No justification. Just truth.

"But if you step into our house..." Her grip tightened slightly. "I will always stand by you."

Her eyes held hers. "You won't be alone." Another pause. "You'll have a family."

Something in Ridhima's chest shifted. Small. But real.

"And until Madhavi recovers," Anjali continued gently, "you won't miss her at all. I promise."

Madhavi. Her mom.

That... That landed deeper than anything else. Ridhima's fingers stilled in her hold.

And Dhruv saw it. His expression flickered. Conflicted.

"But aunty-" he started, unsure, tension still clear in his voice.

But Anjali turned to him before he could finish. "I know, Dhruv."

Her tone didn't dismiss him. It understood him. "But isn't the reason you wanted her to get married to give her a family?"

He didn't answer. Because he didn't need to.

"You know us, you know what your parents were to us. You know what you both were, to us." she continued, softer now.

A beat.

"But I also know..." her gaze flicked briefly toward Rishav, then back to him, "you won't trust him. Not after this."

Honest. Completely.

"That's why," she added, "this decision is hers."

"She can stay. She can leave. And he won't stop you. Not when I'm here." She glanced at Rishav briefly.

Her voice didn't waver. "But come with us today." A small breath. "The rituals need to be completed otherwise it's not good for either of them."

Not pressure. Not force. Just a request wrapped in care. Silence settled again. But this time, it wasn't chaotic. It was heavy.

Ridhima didn't realize when her resistance had slowed. Didn't realize when her breathing had steadied. Or when the anger had softened just a little at the edges. Not gone. Just quieter.

Dhruv looked at her. Really looked. Searching for hesitation. For fear. For anything that told him to pull her away right now.

But what he saw wasn't that simple. And that made it harder.

After a long second he stepped forward. Pulled her into him. Tight. Protective. Familiar.

"If he does anything..." his voice dropped, right beside her ear, still edged with warning, "you call me immediately." No hesitation. No doubt. "I'll be there."

Ridhima closed her eyes for a second. Then nodded.

A small movement. But it meant everything.

He pulled back, hands still on her shoulders for a moment longer than necessary. Then slowly he let go. And stepped away.

A storm was waiting to break again. For a brief second Ridhima and Rishav's eyes met.

And there it was. Not comfort. Something far more dangerous. An understanding neither of them said out loud.

This wasn't the beginning of something soft. This was the start of something complicated. Unwanted. And impossible to walk away from.

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SEHGAL MANSION, 8:38PM

── .✦ RIDHIMA ✦. ──

The gates of Sehgal Mansion opened slowly. Not just gates. Something else.

Something that felt like once I stepped in, there was no going back.

I didn't move.

My fingers tightened in the folds of my lehenga, gripping it harder than necessary. The sound of shehnai floated somewhere in the distance soft, celebratory.

It didn't belong to me. Not today. Not like this.

Beside me, he looked normal. Too normal. As if he didn't just walk into my life and change it in a matter of minutes.

The car stopped. Before I could think, really think the door opened.

Lights. Flowers. People.

Everything looked perfect. Like nothing had gone wrong. I stepped out slowly.

His mother stood at the entrance, aarti thali in her hands, her face warm welcoming.

It didn't feel real.

"Bring her in."

I heard it. I felt it. I walked forward anyway.

The kalash was placed right at the entrance. Rice filled to the top.

A ritual. A test. I paused. Just for a second. Then I pushed it. The grains spilled forward as my foot crossed the threshold.

And just like that. I was inside. A new beginning. Or something that looked like one. Everything after that blurred.

Hands guiding me. Voices. Smiles I couldn't read.

"Bhabhi, this way-"

I didn't even realize when she took my hand. Up the stairs. Down a long corridor.

And then, the door opened.

And for the first time that entire day, I stopped. Not in shock but in disbelief.

The room. It looked like something out of a dream. Soft lights. Roses. Curtains moving with the wind. Perfect. Too perfect.

A dream I never chose.

"What the fvck!?" I muttered under my breath.

I turned immediately. He was already there. Watching me. And smiling. Just a little. That made it worse.

"Did you-" I stopped, then tried again, sharper, "Did you plan all of this?"

"No."

A pause.

"Mom did."

I frowned. "What?"

"On the way," he said, like it was nothing, "she called the staff. Said handle everything."

That's it? That's all?

I let out a quiet breath, shaking my head. Everything is just happening. Like I'm not even a part of it.

My eyes lifted again. Straight to him. "Why did you marry me like that? How could you drag me into everything? Do you even realise that I'm a human or did you just think I'm a doll you can just operate?"

He didn't answer immediately. He just looked at me. Properly. "A doll?" He repeated his voice dropping "No, I don't waste my time on things that don't have a pulse."

My brows pulled together.

"And I don't let things I want slip away that easily."

My eyes snapped to him. "What?"

He didn't move. He didn't even blink. He just stood there, letting the silence stretch between us until the only sound was my own uneven breathing.

He didn't look like the cold surgeon people feared. He just looked steady

Then a faint smile. "Nothing you need to figure out tonight." That didn't help.

"Rishav?" I shot back.

"Hmm," he stepped closer. Too close. "Calm down, sweetheart."

Sweetheart?

I went still.

What...? Why is he talking like that? Why isn't he defensive or anything I could understand? Why isn't he explaining anything? Who even is he? How can he call me sweetheart?

Before I could respond he spoke again.

"You don't need answers right now," he said quietly. "You need rest."

I almost laughed. "Rest? After all this?"

"Yes, otherwise you'll collapse." That did it.

"Excuse me?" I stepped closer. "You don't get to control everything just because you- " I didn't even finish.

One second I was standing.

The next I wasn't. The ground was gone. And I was in his arms.

"RISHAV!?" My hands immediately pressed against his chest. "What the hell are you doing? Put me down!"

"You're tired," he said calmly. "It's time to sleep, sweetheart."

"Stop calling me that!" I snapped. "And I'm not sleeping with you, what do you think of yourself? Fvck!!"

A smirk. "Careful with that word..."

My jaw tightened.

"And we're not doing that," he added, voice lower now. "Not like this, not when you're tired and not when you don't know what you're asking for."

My eyes widened instantly. My head snapped toward him.

"What!?"

The audacity...

"You just met me and you talk like that? Don't twist my words to suit yourself."

No reply. He just kept walking.

"Rishav, I swear put me down!"

"I will." Calm. Too calm.

I clenched my jaw, frustration spilling over. "Why don't you listen to me?" I snapped. "I'm not your puppet, okay?"

For a second he just looked at me.

And then he turned. Not toward the bed. Toward the couch.

I blinked.

Wait...

Before I could even react, he reached it and lowered me down carefully, like I weighed nothing, like there was no chaos between us at all.

My lehenga spread around me. Heavy on the cushion.

I pushed myself up slightly, glaring at him. "What are you doing??"

"I said I'm not your puppet," I snapped again, sharper this time. "Stop controlling me like this."

That made him pause. Just for a second.

Then he looked at me properly. And something about his expression shifted. Certainty again.

"I know you're not a puppet, sweetheart." The word hit me again. I went still for a fraction of a second.

"And I'm not controlling you." A step closer. "I'm making sure you sleep."

My brows pulled together.

"What?"

"By nine," he added calmly, like that explained everything.

My breath strangled.

"And this," his gaze flicked briefly on the couch, then back to me, "is more comfortable than the one you're forcing yourself to sleep, at your place."

What..?

That made me go completely still.

Because... How does he...

My thoughts stalled. For a moment, I couldn't even form a question.

He didn't wait for one.

He picked up a blanket. Covered me. Carefully. "Sleep now."

Not a request. Not an order. Something in between. Something that didn't give me space to argue.

And before I could gather myself enough to respond he left.

I stared at the ceiling. Nothing made sense. Not him. Not this house. Not this marriage.

My thoughts wouldn't stop. But my body gave up. At some point I slept. Not because I wanted to. But because I couldn't stay awake anymore.

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SHARMA VILLAS, 10:34PM

── .✦ THIRD PERSON ✦. ──

Dhruv stood alone near the study window, his phone pressed to his ear. His jaw was tight. His voice low, controlled but not calm. Not tonight.

"No."

"I already told you no matter what happens, Ridhima should not know."

His tone dropped further. Firmer now.

"I don't care how the reports look. You do not tell her anything."

He turned slightly, "Even if she calls you directly," he continued, slower now, each word deliberate, "you stick to what we discussed."

Another pause. His grip on the phone tightened. "You tell mom's condition is stable"

Then "No complications. No risks. Nothing serious. Just routine treatment."

His breathing wasn't uneven. But something about it wasn't steady either. Like he was forcing himself to stay composed.

"I know what I'm doing," he said quietly. This time there was a hint of irritation. "I'm not hiding it for no reason."

A beat. His eyes lowered. Just for a second.

"She just got married. And that was not done properly too. It was a complete mess!" The words came out slower than the rest. Not an excuse. Not fully. But something close. "She's already dealing with enough. I'm not adding this on top of it."

The other end spoke something. "NO!!" His tone hardened again instantly. "Don't try to convince me! Do as I said!!!"

A step back. His voice dropped to a near whisper. "If she finds out right now she will break again."

That line hung heavier than the rest. Not loud. But loaded. "And I can't bear to see it."

He sighed. Longer this time. "Just do your job, doctor."

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SEHGAL MANSION, 7:12AM

── .✦ RIDHIMA ✦. ──

The faint sunlight slipped through the curtains, brushing softly across the room.

I stirred. For a moment everything felt still. Then it hit. My eyes opened.

The room. The roses. The unfamiliar ceiling.

Last night.

Everything came rushing back at once.

I sat up abruptly, my breath uneven, my fingers tightening over the fabric beside me.

The couch. My gaze flickered around the room. I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair, trying to steady myself.

Without wasting another second, I stood up, grabbed my clothes, and moved toward the bathroom.

A few minutes later, I stepped out.

Draped in a saree, still adjusting the pallu over my shoulder, my fingers working quickly slightly irritated as the fabric refused to sit the way I wanted.

"Why is this not... ugh!!"

The dressing room door clicked open.

I froze.

Rishav stepped out, casually drying his hair with a towel.

And then he saw me. His gaze stayed on me slow, unreadable but not indifferent.

I immediately looked away, pretending to stay focused on fixing my saree.

My fingers paused. And then I felt it.

His presence. Closer. A step. Then another. My breath hitched just slightly. But I didn't turn. Didn't give him that.

"Rishav?? "

"Relax." His voice came low, right behind me. Closer than expected.

Before I could react, his hand reached past me, lightly catching the edge of my pallu that had slipped.

His fingers brushed against my arm. He adjusted the fabric with ease, fixing it properly over my shoulder. Slow. Unhurried.

My grip tightened. I hated every second of this.

He didn't move away. He leaned in just a little more. Close enough that I could feel his breath near my ear.

"Struggling this much with a saree, sweetheart?" The word landed softly. But it hit hard.

I turned instantly, stepping back just enough to put space between us, my eyes sharp. "Shut it!"

Rishav looked at me, completely unfazed. "What?" he asked, almost innocently.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"That." I pointed at him, clearly annoyed now. "This whole whatever this is."

He raised an eyebrow slightly. "You'll have to be more specific."

"Calling me sweetheart," I shot back. "Getting all close like that. Acting like this is normal."

Rishav tilted his head, studying my reaction. "And what is normal supposed to look like?"

"Not this!" I spat.

A faint smile appeared on his lips. Just amused. "You're my wife," he said simply.

"That doesn't make me your sweetheart." The words came out faster than I expected. Sharpened by something deeper.

Rishav just stepped closer again. Deliberately. Closing the distance I had just created.

I didn't step back this time. I held my ground.

"Then what should I call you?" he asked quietly.

My jaw tightened. "Ridhima."

"Hmm."

He wasn't learning it.

Then leaned slightly closer. Just enough to mess with my space again.

A faint, dangerous tilt appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"Names are for the rest of the world, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice dropping to that low, silken register that made my skin prickle. "But for me? You're exactly what I called you. And I don't use words I don't mean."

I blinked, my mind racing to find a comeback that wasn't there. I didn't understand why he was doing this and why he was looking at me like this.

The silence stretched between us, heavy and unreadable, until he simply stepped back, Just like that. Giving me space again. Like he hadn't just invaded it seconds ago.

"You'll get used to it," he said casually, picking up his watch from the table.

My eyes narrowed. "I'm not planning to."

He glanced at me, fastening his watch. "We'll see."

That confidence. It annoyed me. More than it should have.

I shook my head, turning away from him again, adjusting my saree once more this time more aggressively than necessary.

But my fingers weren't as steady anymore. Because despite everything. His voice. That word. The way he said it. It lingered. And I hated the fact that it did.

And the worst part was he never once raised his voice to make me obey.

Behind me, his voice came again calm, certain.

"Sweetheart..." A pause.

"this is only day one."

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