Morning light filtered in through the sheer ivory curtains, casting delicate gold patterns across the silk sheets. Kashish blinked slowly, the heaviness of last night still pressing gently on her chest. Her eyes were dry now, but swollen. The ache in her chest hadn’t left — it had simply settled into something quieter.

She sat up, the bedsheet sliding down her arms. Her room, large and elegant, felt like a museum of her curated life — high ceilings, antique mirrors, carved wooden furniture from Jaipur artisans. Every piece had a history. Every corner whispered of legacy.

Kashish sighed softly and pulled the sheet aside, placing her feet on the cool marble floor.

Her own family, the Aswar, held as much power and history as the Chandravanshis. Their alliance had been more than just a marriage — it had been a statement, a merging of dynasties. But inside these walls, the politics didn't always match the emotions.

She reached for her robe and walked to the tall mirror. Her eyes looked older this morning. Or perhaps just more honest.

Downstairs, in the central drawing room with its ornate chandeliers and walls adorned with centuries-old paintings, Malini Devi sat like a queen on her carved rosewood divan. Surrounding her were open boxes filled with luxurious sarees — Banarasi, Kanjeevaram, Paithani — folded like treasure, glowing under the soft light.

As she walked out from her room to downstair.

“Kashish beta, come down! I want your opinion on the sarees and jewellery for Yash’s wedding!”

It was Malini Devi Chandravanshi — her mother-in-law. The Rani Sa of Jaisalmer. Regal. Astute. Iron-clad grace in a silk sari.

Two attendants were unpacking heirloom jewellery: uncut diamond sets, emerald chokers, Kundan necklaces, each piece gleaming with history.

“Come, Kashish,” Malini said without looking up. “Help me decide. This is for your brother’s wedding, after all. Yash must have nothing less than perfection.”

Kashish walked slowly to the table, trying to steady her breath. “Of course, Maa sa.”

“I’m torn between this emerald set or the navratna. And this pink-gold silk would suit Pariniti Goyenka beautifully for the pheras. Don’t you think?”

Kashish gave a small smile. “The emerald one, Maasa. It carries more weight. Dignity.”

Malini turned, her kohl-rimmed eyes sharp, but approving. “Exactly my thought.”

Kashish nodded, but her mind was far. 

She never meet her soon to be sister in law, her own brother didn’t care to see her once on her in laws house.

He didn’t even call her.

The water hissed down from the old pipe overhead, sending warm steam curling around the edges of the cracked tiles and fogging the mirrors already smudged with years of use. In the communal bathing room, the women stood in clusters, scrubbing skin and scalp, gossiping louder than the water could drown out.

Shree stood slightly apart, her posture graceful even here, even bare. Her long black hair clung wet to her back, and a quiet calm hung about her — the kind that didn’t belong to a place like this. She wasn’t talking. She never did much. Her silence made the others itch.

She had just bent to rinse off the soap when the towel on her shoulder slipped, revealing a faint reddish mark across her upper arm. It was still fresh — an angry line caused by a wooden shelf that had collapsed earlier that morning in her room. A bruise that looked like something else.

“Oye... look at that,” one of the girls sneered, eyes narrowing as she stepped closer.

Another one snickered behind her. “So... Mr. Chandravanshi..!was a bit too passionate last night, wasn’t he?”

Shree looked up slowly, her brows tightening.

“Tanishk Chandravanshi himself,” the first one went on with mock drama. “What did you do to catch him, Shree? Whisper poetry in his ear? Or massage his back with your warm hands ? or just sit pretty like you always do?”

“I heard sounds coming from there, as i was passing by..,” another spat with jealousy thinly veiled as curiosity. “Must be nice- one night and she thinks she’s outgrown the rest of us.”

Shree’s lips parted to speak — to explain, to correct them. That nothing happened. That the man barely said a word. That he just left after destroying the room, he made her cry and left..

But she saw the glint in their eyes — not real interest, just envy.

Anything she said would feed the fire.

So instead, she turned away, lifting the towel around her and walking with quiet dignity across the room.

Their laughter followed her — sharp, brittle, cracking like cheap bangles.

“Running back to her savior,” one of them muttered loud enough to be heard. “Maybe she thinks she’s his princess now.”

But Shree didn’t respond. She walked out, dripping and silent, head held high — even as her stomach twisted.

In the privacy of her small room, she shut the door gently behind her, the sound a soft click that felt like armor being fastened. She stood for a moment, letting the quiet settle.

The truth didn’t matter here.

Only the illusion did — and the cost of envy was always paid in whispers.

She touched the bruise on her arm absently, exhaling slowly.

Tanishk Chandravanshi hadn’t touched her.

But his name had.

Sneak peek- chapter 11

“Don’t come near me,” she whispered, voice trembling.

He smiled, a predator’s smile. “Don’t be scared. Just one night. You’ll be fine.”

When she tried to move past him, he blocked her path.

“Stay still,” he said, stepping closer. His hand reached out, and instinctively, Shree pushed him back.