Angad guided Bhoomi down the grand staircase, carefully keeping her steady as she skipped slightly, humming and giggling to herself, lost in her own world. When her gaze landed on Kiara, her face lit up with childlike delight.
"Kiara!" she squealed, rushing forward. "What… what are you doing here?"
Before Kiara could react, Bhoomi threw her arms around her in a tight, enthusiastic hug, nearly knocking her off balance. Kiara stumbled, caught off guard by the unexpected affection.
Yuvaan stepped forward, calm and composed as ever, his dark eyes flicking between them. "She's going to stay here now," he said firmly. "She's my wife."
Bhoomi froze for a second, then her face broke into a wide, radiant smile. "Wife? Oh! That means she's my new daughter! And my friend!" she declared, holding Kiara's hands and bouncing slightly on her heels.
Kiara's anger at Yuvaan's audacity softened just a little at Bhoomi's excitement. With a gentle smile, she leaned forward and sought the mother's blessings.
Bhoomi's expression suddenly turned serious, though still tinged with her childlike eccentricity. "Wait! Friends first! Only hugs for now… no touching feet!"
Kiara laughed softly, letting go of her own apprehensions, and embraced Bhoomi properly. The warmth of Bhoomi's joy and the innocence of her reaction made Kiara feel, even briefly, that she could belong in this strange, new world.
Yuvaan watched silently, a faint, approving smile tugging at his lips. Even amidst the chaos of his family and their reactions, this small moment of connection gave him satisfaction.
Bhoomi clapped her hands, her excitement infectious. "Now, now! We cannot have a proper griha pravesh without the ring searching game! Kiara, you have to find the ring hidden in this bowl of milk and rose petals. Tradition demands it!"
Kiara's lips pressed into a thin line, her mind clouded with the memory of their forceful wedding. She hesitated, glancing at the floating rose petals, then at the milky water where the ring lay hidden. "Fine… I'll play," she murmured, though her voice was reluctant.
Yuvaan strolled casually beside her, his dark eyes observing her every move. He could see the tension in her shoulders, the conflict in her gaze, and decided to make the ritual… interesting.
As Kiara dipped her hand into the bowl, the cool milk and soft rose petals brushing against her fingers, she instinctively recoiled at first. Yuvaan leaned closer, his fingers almost brushing hers. "Relax," he murmured, his voice low, dark, and teasing.
She searched slowly, deliberately ignoring the way his gaze lingered on her hand. But of course, Yuvaan's hand was never far — he subtly guided her movements without her noticing.
Finally, her fingers closed around the smooth, metallic ring. Yuvaan's crimson eyes glinted as he allowed her to lift it triumphantly. "Well done, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice just above the ambient noise. "Seems you're learning to play along with me."
Kiara's cheeks warmed, though she quickly turned her face away, gripping the ring tightly. She didn't want to admit the flutter in her heart, the strange pull she still felt despite everything.
Bhoomi cheered, clapping loudly. "Hurray! My daughter-in-law wins! Perfect, perfect, perfect!" she exclaimed, entirely oblivious to the storm of emotions simmering between the newlyweds.
Meanwhile, Angad had quietly slipped away to decorate the couple's room, ensuring that when they retired for the night, a subtle, romantic setup awaited — a stark contrast to the tension lingering between Yuvaan and Kiara.
Yuvaan's eyes followed Kiara as she returned to Bhoomi, a slow, knowing smirk spreading across his face. "This… is going to be interesting," he murmured, the possessiveness in his tone unmistakable.
Angad returned quietly, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. "Brother," he said softly to Yuvaan, "Sister-in-law must be tired from all the rituals. Take her upstairs."
Yuvaan nodded and lifted Kiara effortlessly into his arms. She stiffened immediately, her resentment practically radiating off her. She refused to meet his gaze, staring instead at the ornate hallway ceiling as he carried her.
When they entered his room, Kiara froze. The soft golden glow of lamps, rose petals scattered across the bed, and subtle silk drapes made it unmistakably clear—the room had been prepared for their nuptial night. Her breath caught, a mix of disbelief and rising anger constricting her chest.
A sharp, bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Ha! Seriously?" she hissed, the laughter turning painful as her emotions bubbled over. She set her hands on the first vase of petals she could reach and flung it across the room, shattering it against the wall.
Yuvaan stepped closer, his voice calm yet steady, "Kiara, stop. Don't ruin this. Just—"
But she pushed him back fiercely, the fire in her eyes blazing. "Don't touch me! You may have married me," she spat, her words dripping venom, "but you will never have the rights of a husband! Never! I hate you, Yuvaan! And don't you dare think I'll ever—ever—give in to you!"
Yuvaan paused, his gaze normal but intense, watching her flushed, defiant face. A small smirk curved his lips. "Wise words, sweetheart," he murmured, voice low and steady. "But just so you know… I like a little resistance."
Kiara, unaware of the subtle shift in his tone, continued her furious destruction of the romantic setup, each ripped decoration a small rebellion, a testament to the fire she refused to let die.
Yuvaan let her rage flow, standing silently, his eyes following her every move, calm, calculating, and infinitely possessive.