Chapter 59: chapter 58

As Aarohi and Vihaan descended the stairs, the scent of freshly brewed chai and marigold flowers filled the air. The living room was buzzing with excitement—family members were gathered, waiting for the newlyweds.

Aarohi felt a rush of nervousness as all eyes turned toward them. Vihaan, on the other hand, remained as composed as ever, his usual smirk firmly in place.

“There they are!” Karan announced dramatically, grinning. “Our newlyweds, finally making an appearance.”

Aarohi shot him a glare, but before she could respond, an older aunt spoke up. “You two took your sweet time, didn’t you?” She nudged another relative, whispering something that made them giggle.

Aarohi’s cheeks flamed.

Vihaan leaned in slightly, whispering near her ear, “Blushing again, biwi?”

She elbowed him subtly, making him chuckle.

“Come, beta,” Vihaan’s dad said, motioning for them to sit. “It’s time for the rasam.”

Aarohi sat beside Vihaan as a silver tray was placed in front of them, carrying a glass of milk and a bowl of sweets.

One of the older women explained, “Aarohi, you must make your husband drink the milk first.”

Vihaan’s smirk widened. “Oh? I like this tradition.”

Aarohi shot him a look but took the glass nonetheless, bringing it up to his lips.

Vihaan, being Vihaan, took his time, holding her gaze as he sipped, making sure to brush his fingers against hers.

Aarohi swallowed, trying to ignore the knowing glances around them.

“Now, your turn,” Vihaan murmured, tilting the glass toward her.

She hesitated, but with everyone watching, she had no choice. She took a small sip, aware of Vihaan’s amused expression the whole time.

Karan leaned in. “Bhabhi, I think you should make vihaan drink the whole glass. He might need the energy.”

Aarohi choked on the sip she had just taken, coughing. Laughter erupted around them.

Vihaan, instead of helping, simply patted her back with an innocent look. “Careful, biwi.”

Aarohi glared at him, but before she could retort, another rasam was introduced.

This time, it involved finding a ring in a bowl of milk and rose petals.

“The one who finds it first will rule the marriage,” someone declared.

Aarohi set her jaw. She wasn’t about to let Vihaan win.

As their hands dipped into the bowl, their fingers brushed. Aarohi focused on feeling for the ring, but Vihaan was making things difficult—his fingers deliberately tangled with hers, distracting her.

She gasped when she felt him grab her wrist under the water.

“Vihaan!” she hissed.

He smirked, tightening his hold. “Yes, biwi?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Let go.”

“Make me,” he challenged.

Aarohi gritted her teeth.

Just then, she felt the cool metal of the ring and closed her fingers around it—only for Vihaan to swiftly steal it from her grasp at the last moment.

He raised his hand, the ring between his fingers, smirking victoriously.

“Looks like I win,” he announced.

Aarohi gasped. “You cheated!”

Vihaan feigned innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The family laughed as Aarohi fumed.

But when Vihaan leaned in, his voice just for her, “Don’t worry, biwi. You’ll always have control over me… in some ways.”

Her breath hitched.

And just like that, she realized—

Vihaan Malhotra was going to be impossible to handle.

And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t mind.

After the playful banter of the rasam, Aarohi found herself surrounded by women from Vihaan’s family, who pulled her aside for more post-wedding traditions. She barely had a moment to breathe before they draped a red dupatta over her head and handed her a tray filled with gifts—gold bangles, silk sarees, and jewelry—all meant for the new bride.

“This is your pehli rasoi,” one of the aunts announced. “You have to make something sweet for the family.”

Aarohi blinked. “Now?”

Another woman chuckled. “Of course! It’s tradition.”

She turned to glance at Vihaan, who was lounging comfortably on the couch, watching her with amusement.

When their eyes met, he smirked. “Need help, biwi?”

Aarohi rolled her eyes. “From you? No thanks.”

Vihaan chuckled, lifting his hands in surrender. “Suit yourself.”

With a sigh, she was led to the large, modern kitchen. The maids stood ready to assist, but the older women insisted she cook on her own.

Aarohi stared at the ingredients laid out before her. Kheer seemed to be the safest option. She wasn’t an expert cook, but she knew the basics. Taking a deep breath, she got to work, stirring the milk, adding sugar and cardamom, and hoping she wouldn’t embarrass herself in front of the whole family.

A few minutes later, a familiar voice spoke from behind.

“You sure you don’t need help?”

Aarohi turned to find Vihaan leaning against the counter, watching her with an irritatingly smug expression.

“I said I’m fine,” she replied, stirring the pot.

Vihaan stepped closer, peering into the vessel. “Hmm… it doesn’t smell burnt. That’s a good start.”

Aarohi shot him a glare. “Very funny.”

Vihaan smirked. “I think you missed something.”

She frowned. “What?”

Instead of answering, he reached past her, grabbing a small bowl of saffron strands. His hand brushed hers as he dropped a few into the kheer, his fingers grazing her wrist lightly.

Aarohi stiffened.

Vihaan’s voice dropped to a murmur. “There. Now it’s perfect.”

Her breath caught in her throat. The way he was looking at her—intense, teasing, yet something else she couldn’t quite place—made her heart skip a beat.

Before she could react, one of the aunts walked in.

“Oh, Vihaan, let her work! Stop distracting her,” she scolded playfully.

Aarohi stepped away quickly, focusing back on the kheer, her cheeks burning.

Vihaan chuckled, but he didn’t leave. Instead, he leaned in closer and whispered, “I’ll be waiting for my special serving, Mrs. Malhotra.”

Aarohi swallowed, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

Once the kheer was ready, she carefully ladled it into small bowls and carried them out to the family. The elders took the first bites, nodding in approval.

“It’s delicious,” one of the aunts praised.

Aarohi exhaled in relief.

Vihaan took his bowl and dipped the spoon in. “Let’s see if my wife is as good at cooking as she is at throwing pillows at me.”

Aarohi shot him a warning look. “Vihaan…”

He smirked but took a bite. His brows lifted slightly, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything.

Aarohi frowned. “What?”

Vihaan leaned in and murmured, “Tastes sweet. Just like you.”

Aarohi gasped, nearly dropping her bowl.

Before she could respond, the elders continued their conversation, talking about more traditions and upcoming wedding receptions. Aarohi, however, was too focused on the man beside her—her husband—who was smirking like he had won yet another victory.

And she realized something important:

Vihaan Malhotra was absolutely impossible.

And her new life as Mrs. Malhotra was going to be anything but ordinary.