Towel drop
Author pov...
The heavy wooden door creaked open, and Karm stepped into his bedroom, the faint scent of sandalwood incense from the living room still clinging to his skin. At 31, he carried the quiet confidence of a man who had built his life on numbers and control.
As a chartered accountant working from home, his days were spent in spreadsheets and audits, not in the chaos of emotions. But today, control had been ripped away from him.
Yesterday, in a cold courthouse, he had signed papers that bound him legally to Vahi22 years old, sharp-tongued, and the last woman on earth he wanted as his wife.
Their parents had arranged it all. No love. No choice. Just two families deciding it was "time" and "suitable." Karm had known Vahi since childhood. She had lived in their neighborhood from ages 18 to 20, a college girl with too much attitude and eyes that always seemed to challenge him. He had disliked her then, and three years later, nothing had changed. She was too independent, too quick to roll her eyes at tradition, too... everything he didn't need.
He shut the door behind him with a soft click.
Vahi was already there, standing near the window in a thin black night shorts suit that barely reached mid-thigh. The soft fabric clung to her curves full breasts straining against the cropped top, smooth legs that looked even longer in the dim light. Her dark hair fell loosely over one shoulder. She turned at the sound of the door, and the moment her eyes landed on him, she rolled them dramatically.
Karm stood there in nothing but a white towel wrapped low around his hips, water droplets still tracing paths down his broad chest and toned abdomen from the shower. His muscles were defined from years of disciplined workouts, his skin a warm golden tone. He ignored her completely, walking past her as if she were part of the furniture.
Vahi shifted to the side, making space near the wardrobe, her lips pressed into a thin line. She hated this. Hated him. Hated the way their parents had forced this sham of a marriage on them. She was an assistant professor smart, respected, used to commanding lecture halls full of students. Now she was trapped in this house with a man who looked at her like she was an inconvenience.
Without a word, Karm dropped the towel.
Vahi's breath hitched for a split second before she forced herself to look away, cheeks burning. His body was powerful thick thighs, a firm ass, and the heavy, semi-hard cock that hung between his legs, thick even at rest. She quickly climbed onto the king-sized bed, pulling the sheet over herself, heart pounding despite her anger.
Karm slid in beside her, the mattress dipping under his weight. The silence between them was thick, suffocating. No goodnight. No touch. Just the heavy awareness that this stranger her legal husband was lying inches away, naked under the same sheet.
Both were exhausted from the long, stressful day of pretending in front of relatives. Within minutes, sleep claimed them, the tension lingering in the air like smoke.
---
Morning light filtered through the curtains.
Vahi stirred, a dull ache blooming across her chest and lower back. She winced, pressing a hand to her breasts. They felt strangely tender, swollen. Her back throbbed too, as if she had slept in an awkward position. She blinked, turning her head.
The bed was empty. Karm was already gone.
She ignored the discomfort, attributing it to stress and the unfamiliar bed. Pushing herself up, she smoothed down her night suit and stepped out of the room.
Downstairs, her father-in-law Jay and mother-in-law Raisha were at the breakfast table. Jay was a stern but fair man in his late fifties, while Raisha had a warm smile that didn't quite hide her traditional expectations.
"Good morning, Papa. Good morning, Maa," Vahi greeted politely, folding her hands.
Raisha nodded approvingly. "Good morning, beta. Sleep well?"
Vahi forced a small smile and nodded before heading to the kitchen. A middle-aged maid was already busy at the stove, humming softly.
Vahi smiled at her. "Good morning, aunty." She rolled up her sleeves and helped chop a few vegetables, the simple domestic task grounding her a little. After a few minutes, she excused herself and went back upstairs to get ready for college.
In the bedroom, Karm was already there, standing in front of the mirror in a crisp white shirt and formal trousers, adjusting his collar. His hair was neatly combed, the same black comb lying on the dresser.
Vahi walked over, reached for her own comb identical in color to his and accidentally brushed his hand while picking it up.
Karm turned sharply. "What?"
"My comb," she said flatly, holding it up.
"So what?" he replied, voice cold.
"Don't touch it again," Vahi snapped, anger flashing in her eyes.
Karm's lips curled into a mocking smirk. He stepped closer, towering over her. His voice dropped low, dark with irritation and something sharper. "I will touch it. Not only the comb... but the most itching part of your body."
Vahi's eyes widened. "What?"
He leaned in just enough for his breath to brush her ear. "What? What? You are dirty-minded. For your kind information, this comb is mine. We have the same colour comb."
Vahi felt heat rush to her face half embarrassment, half fury. She rolled her eyes hard, shoving past him. "Whatever."
She quickly finished getting ready slipping into a simple yet elegant salwar kameez suitable for an assistant professor grabbed her bag, and headed out for work without another word.
Karm watched her leave, jaw tight. This marriage was a cage for both of them. But he couldn't deny the unwelcome spark that had flared when she stood so close, her scent lingering in the air.
Neither of them knew how long they could keep ignoring the
fire slowly building beneath the forced silence.
To be continued...
