Chapter 1 {The difficulties}
Back story:
Rudra was born into a world where trust means death .his father ruled cruelty , his mother was too weak to shield him. Betrayed come early_those he loved most turned on him, living scars etched deep into his soul . A sibling lost,a mentor murdered , every bound shattered by fate decide . Pain become his companies ; situation ,his aroma, he learned to strike, to first ,to anticipated treachery , to feel nothing, weakness invite ruins; emotion was a trap. Over the years, he mastered controlling_ over his body , his surroundings , and anyone who cross to dare him, attachment ended in betrayed, and rudra ruthless and untouchable endure alone.
•<{Presence}>•
The door click open and shut behind me, rudra was already there standing near the window and his tall frame learning against the wall. He didn't greet me , he didn't even look at me__he didn't even acknowledge her presence.
I was still in bridal lehenga, heavily with embroidery and gold thread the fabric stiff and constricting ,,a sharp of ceremony that had forced it to me this life.
Before I can catch my breath, he slid a sleek black folder across the table towards me. The leather cover made a soft deliberate thud against the wood.
I stand there frozen.
His grey eyes finally meet mine.his voice was low, emotionless, but each word cut sharpen than the knife;
*He says*
*"This is the contract for your and my marriage .Only for 1 year. After 1 year you will take your money one _million_ and we will say goodbye. understand?"*
I blinked my heart hammering searching for some hint of softness but there is none ,he turned away gazing out of the window,arms crossed , like I was an even there like I was invisible.
The room felt colder. Fear twiced inside me , minging with disbelief .this is not a husband, this was a man who made clear : their livejs were bound for one year and he has no intention of caring beyond that.
*I smile and say*
*"I understand mr.oberoi."*
Rudra turned from the window, his gaze sweeping over her. He walked slowly towards her, his presence dominating the room, each step deliberate. He stopped inches from her, close enough for her to feel the chill radiating off him. His eyes, the color of a winter storm, held hers captive.
*He says*
*"Good. Then we are clear on terms. My expectations are few but absolute. Do not cause a disturbance, do not seek intimacy, and do not expect companionship,"*
he stated, his voice a low, steady rumble, devoid of any warmth.
*He says*
*"Your role is to present a facade of a wife when required. Nothing more. Discretion is paramount. Any deviation will result in immediate termination of the agreement, and you will leave with nothing."*
He paused, letting his words sink in, then added,
*He says*
*"You will occupy the east wing of the house. Our paths will rarely cross. This marriage is a transaction, remember that always."*
*I adorablely say *
*"Ok. But do you have any requirements from me?"*
Rudra’s gaze remained fixed on her, calculating, assessing. He took a step back, breaking the intense proximity, and walked towards the grand, ornately carved desk in the center of the room. He picked up a slim, leather-bound planner and flipped it open.
*He says*
*“Your requirements are simple: maintain appearances when necessary, remain unseen when not,”*
he stated, his voice flat and precise
*He says*
*“You will attend specific family functions; my assistant will provide the schedule. Beyond that, your time is your own, within the confines of this estate. Do not, under any circumstances, interfere with my business or personal affairs. Do not invite guests without prior approval. Do not engage in any activity that could draw unwanted attention or scrutiny to this household or my name. Is that clear?”*
He looked up, his eyes holding a steely glint that dared her to challenge him.
*He says*
*“I expect complete adherence to these rules. There will be no second chances.”*
*I say*
*"Ok Mr. Oberoi."*
Rudra closed the planner with a soft thud, his attention already shifting. He turned his back to her, moving to a large map of the estate displayed on the wall, tracing a line with his finger.
*He says*
*"Your suite is already prepared. A member of the staff will show you to it. All your needs will be attended to. Do not wander into restricted areas; there are some parts of this house that are not for your eyes."*
He paused, his voice dropping to a lower, more chilling tone.
*He says*
* "Understand that this is not a suggestion. It is a directive. My property is my dominion, and its boundaries are absolute."*
He turned slightly, just enough for his sharp profile to be visible
*He says*
*"We will dine together once a week, Sunday evenings. My assistant will notify you of the time. Beyond that, consider yourself an independent resident."*
*I say really quietly and softly*
*"Ok mr.oberoi."*
Rudra turned fully, his light brown eyes scanning her from head to toe, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths before settling into their usual coldness.
*"There's one more thing,"*
*he said, his voice flat, his gaze lingering briefly on the curve of her hip.*
*He says*
* "Given the nature of our arrangement, certain assumptions might be made by outsiders. To maintain credibility, we will, on occasion, present a united front. This might involve public displays of affection—brief, discreet, and strictly performative. You will follow my lead in such instances without question or hesitation. Your compliance will ensure the success of this arrangement for both of us."*
He paused, his expression unchanging.
*He says*
*"Is that understood?"*
*I say*
*"I understand.mr. Oberoi."*
Rudra nodded, a subtle, almost imperceptible dip of his head. He walked to the imposing mahogany desk, his movements economical and precise.
He picked up a slim, silver pen, his long fingers effortlessly twisting it between them.
*He says*
*"Good,"*. .. he said, his voice retaining its measured tone.
*He says*
*"Now, if there are no further questions regarding your responsibilities, you may settle in. My assistant will be with you shortly to guide you. I have matters to attend to."*
He did not look at her again, his attention already fixed on a stack of documents on his desk, effectively dismissing her from his presence.
The subtle scent of his expensive cologne, faint yet distinct, seemed to linger in the air long after he had turned his focus away.
*I ask*
*"Can I ask you one thing? Are our rooms separate or we have to share one room?"*
Rudra paused, the silver pen still between his fingers, and finally looked up, his eyes meeting hers. A hint of annoyance, fleeting but present, crossed his features.
*"I believe I already stated that your suite is in the east wing,"*
*he said, his voice flat, edged with a cold precision that left no room for misinterpretation.*
*"My chambers are in the west. We will not be sharing a room. As I said, our paths will rarely cross. This arrangement is purely transactional; there is no expectation of intimacy, nor will there be any. I am not interested in blurring the lines of our agreement."*
He set the pen down with a soft click, his gaze returning to the documents before him, clearly indicating the conversation was over.
Rudra didn't lift his head, his focus remaining on the papers before him.
*He says*
* "The east wing is expansive. You will find all necessary amenities. Staff will be available to assist with anything you require,"*
*he stated, his voice a low, even cadence, dismissive yet informative.*
*"Your privacy will be respected, as will mine. Maintain the distance established. There will be no shared spaces beyond the rare necessity for public appearances. This arrangement is purely contractual, remember that."*
He finally looked up, his gaze cutting directly to hers, piercing and unwavering.
*He says*
* "Understand this clearly: I do not tolerate disruptions to my routine or my privacy. Your cooperation in this matter is not optional."*
*I ask very sweety.*
*"May I leave now?"*
Rudra finally lifted his gaze from the documents, his light brown eyes sweeping over her, a faint, almost imperceptible narrowing of them. His voice was low, cutting, and devoid of any warmth.
*He says *
*"You are free to go. There is nothing further that requires your presence here."*
He gestured vaguely towards the door with a tilt of his head, a silent dismissal.
*He says*
*"Ensure you familiarize yourself with the house rules. My staff will provide them to you. Do not test the boundaries"*
His attention was already drifting back to the papers, the brief interaction clearly concluded in his mind.
*I walk towards the door and before opening it I say.*
*"Have a good day."*
And then I get out of the room.
Rudra didn't respond to my parting words, his eyes already re-engrossed in the detailed reports spread across his desk.
The subtle click of the door closing was the only sound in the room, confirming her exit.
He barely registered her absence, his mind already calculating the next moves in the complex financial chess game he was playing.
His day had just begun, and sentimentality had no place in his schedule. The silence returned, heavy and familiar, allowing him to concentrate fully.
He picked up his pen, making a swift, decisive mark on one of the documents, his focus absolute.
Hours later, the soft chime of the intercom broke the sterile quiet my of study. My voice was clipped,
*I say*
*"Yes?"*
*"Sir, the staff has informed me that Mrs. Oberoi has settled into the East Wing,"*
his assistant's voice relayed.
*"She has requested a selection of books for her private library."*
I paused, my gaze fixed on the panoramic city view outside my window.
A flicker of something unreadable crossed his features.
*I say*
*"Are there any other requests?"* I am inquired, my tone flat, devoid of curiosity.
"Only the books, sir. And she asked for the schedule for the mandatory family functions you mentioned earlier,"
*the assistant replied.*
*I say*
*"Very well. Have a list of acceptable publications delivered to her suite. And send over the family calendar as soon as it's updated for the quarter. Emphasize the mandatory events,"*
My instructed, my voice as unyielding as ever. I ran a hand over my jaw, my eyes narrowing slightly.
* "Also, ensure the security protocols for the east wing are reinforced. No unauthorized access, no exceptions. Her presence must be known to the household but not felt, unless absolutely necessary. And inform the head chef that Mrs. Oberoi's dietary preferences should be noted, in preparation for the Sunday dinners."*
Rudra stood before the large bay window in his study, the city lights a distant, shimmering tapestry below.
The silence of the vast house was a familiar comfort, broken only by the hum of the climate control system.
He rarely thought about his wife, the woman confined to the east wing, unless prompted by the necessities of their arrangement.
His assistant had just informed him of her request for books and the family schedule. It was a minor detail, easily managed.
He’d given the instructions, ensured her 'needs' were met, all within the confines of their transactional agreement. Yet, a subtle, almost imperceptible shift occurred within him.
Not curiosity, not concern, but a strategic calculation.
Her quiet compliance was noted, an unexpected variable that presented neither threat nor opportunity. For now.
He moved to his meticulously organized bookshelf, his fingers gliding over the spines of various tomes—ancient histories, economic treatises, military strategies.
He paused at a collection of rare, first-edition poetry. It was an indulgence, a carefully guarded secret in a life built on impenetrable walls. He hadn’t touched it in years.
He allowed himself a moment of abstract thought, a flicker of a forgotten memory, before shaking it off.
Emotions were liabilities. He pulled a thick financial report from the shelf, its pages filled with numbers and projections, a more fitting companion for his thoughts.
Later that evening, a soft knock at his study door interrupted his work.
*"Enter,"* *he commanded, not looking up.*
His head of security, a hulking man named Vikram, stepped in.
*"Sir, a slight… incident. Mrs. Oberoi inadvertently wandered into the restricted north garden this afternoon. She was quickly redirected, no harm done, but she seemed… curious."*
Rudra's pen stilled, though his eyes remained fixed on the document.
*I says*.
*"Curious?"*
*I repeated, my voice low, a dangerous undercurrent to the single word.*
*"Was she informed of the restricted areas?"*
*"Yes, sir. As per your instructions, the entire estate map, with marked restricted zones, was provided to her,"*
Vikram replied, his voice firm but cautious.
*I say*
*"Ensure it does not happen again. Increase patrols in those zones. Emphasize the consequences of non-compliance. My boundaries are not to be tested,"*
I stated, my tone chillingly calm. I finally looked up, my gaze meeting Vikram's.
*"Understand this, Vikram. My instructions are absolute. There is no room for 'inadvertently' when it comes to my security."*
Rudra dismissed Vikram with a curt nod, his thoughts already dissecting the"incident." *Curious*, Vikram had said.
A potential challenge, perhaps. Or merely a lapse in judgment. Either way, it demanded a firm response. Rules were not suggestions; they were absolute.
The next morning, a heavy, leather-bound volume lay on the antique desk in the east wing suite. It wasn't one of the requested novels, but a detailed, meticulously annotated map of the entire Oberoi estate, the restricted areas highlighted in a stark, uncompromising red. Attached was a brief, typewritten note:
*"Boundaries are not for testing. — R.O."*
No signature, no pleasantries, just the cold, hard reminder.
That evening, as the first stars pricked the twilight sky, Rudra found himself in the west wing's private gym, the rhythmic thud of his boxing gloves against the heavy bag a controlled symphony of power. Each punch was precise, calculated, mirroring his approach to life. He was pushing his limits, a silent ritual of mastery and discipline.
Suddenly, the gym door opened. It was Mrs. Oberoi, dressed in a simple, elegant gown, clearly on her way to dinner.
She hesitated at the threshold, her eyes wide, taking in the raw intensity of my workout. The air was thick with the scent of leather and exertion.
I paused, my chest heaving slightly, my bare torso glistening with sweat.my eyes, sharp and direct, met hers.
*I say*
*"Sunday dinner is at eight,"*
*I stated, my voice a low growl, devoid of any discernible emotion.*
*"Punctuality is expected." *
I didn't offer an explanation for my presence there, nor did he invite conversation. I simply waited, my imposing figure a silent command for her to leave.
*She smile with a blush and quickly say.*
Ok bye.
And she get out of the gym.
