4

"Some eyes touch you more than hands ever could"

Tara pov

I was in the kitchen, helping Daksh Ji's mom prepare dinner. She is such a kind woman. At first, I thought she might not accept me or our marriage, but I was wrong. She treats me like her own daughter. Even his father has been nothing but polite and welcoming. His sister doesn't talk much, but we exchange pleasantries now and then. It felt heartwarming to be surrounded by such love and acceptance, but it also made me think of my own family. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. Not wanting anyone to notice, I quickly wiped them away before Daksh Ji's mom could see.

Once the work in the kitchen was done, I decided to head to our room since Daksh Ji mentioned he would take me to business party tonight. As I opened the door, I froze in my tracks. He had just stepped out of the washroom, a towel wrapped loosely around his torso. The sight caught me off guard. Priya was right when she said he had a great body. His broad shoulders, toned chest, and those veins on his hands... I had never noticed anything like that before. My stomach fluttered in a way I couldn't explain. What is wrong with me? Why am I suddenly noticing all this about him?

Just then, he turned around and caught me staring. His face lit up with a smile, making my heart skip a beat.

"What are you looking at?" he asked.

I quickly shook my head, trying to act normal, but he wasn't convinced.

He raised an eyebrow and asked again, "Tara, what are you looking at?"

Embarrassed, I motioned towards the towel wrapped around him. Realizing what I meant, his eyes widened. "Shit!" he said before going back into the washroom, leaving me standing at the door, unable to stop laughing.

From inside, he called out, "Tara, will you please stop laughing and give me my clothes? They're on the bed."

I stifled my laughter and replied, "Ji," before grabbing his clothes and passing them to him.

A few minutes later, he came out wearing a crisp white shirt. He looked effortlessly handsome, and for some reason, my stomach did that strange fluttering thing again. I cleared my throat and turned away, hoping he wouldn't notice how flustered I was.

I went into the washroom to get ready and decided to wear a saree. When I stepped out, adjusting the pleats of my saree, I felt his eyes on me. I looked up, and there he was, staring at me as if he had forgotten how to blink.

His phone slipped from his hand and hit the floor, but he didn't even seem to notice. My cheeks flushed under his intense stare, and I couldn't help but smile.

Bending down, I picked up his phone and handed it to him. "Here," I said softly, trying to meet his gaze without letting my nervousness show.

He took the phone absentmindedly, still looking at me. His silence said everything his words couldn't. I wasn't sure why, but at that moment, the butterflies in my stomach were more alive than ever.

We both got ready and got into his car. The atmosphere between us was quiet, but my mind was anything but. While he was driving, his hand brushed against my leg when he reached for the gear rod. It was accidental, but the touch sent an unexpected wave of emotions through me. I didn't flinch, but inside, I was a mess. How could something so simple feel so significant? His touch stirred something deep within me was it attraction, longing, or something I couldn't even name? Does he feel the same about me, or am I just imagining things? Is this infatuation, or could it be something more? And yet, a nagging thought kept creeping in: is he still thinking about divorcing me? The uncertainty gnawed at my heart, leaving me confused and vulnerable.

When we arrived at the party, I couldn't help but feel out of place. This was my first time attending such an event, and the dazzling crowd dressed in modern attire only made me feel more out of sorts. Everyone looked so sophisticated and confident, while I stood there in my saree, feeling small and insignificant. Doubts began to cloud my mind, did I belong here? Was I embarrassing him?

Just as my insecurities threatened to take over, Daksh ji took my hand, his warm fingers steadying my trembling ones. His voice was calm and reassuring as he said, "Don't compare yourself to others. You look beautiful in this saree." How did he always know exactly what I was feeling, even before I said anything? It was as though he could see right through me, understanding the emotions I tried so hard to hide.

I looked up at him, trying to gauge his expression, but his face was calm and composed, giving nothing away. For a moment, I wondered what does he feel about me? Does he notice the way my heart races whenever he's near, or am I just another obligation to him? His kindness, his care, and his ability to read me so well it confused me, made me hope for something more.

As we walked into the party, Daksh ji suddenly told me to wrap my hand around his arm. I hesitated for a moment but eventually did as he said. It felt strange, yet comforting, to hold onto him like that. We walked together, and I tried to match his pace, though my mind was still a whirlwind of emotions. He mingled with a few people, exchanging polite smiles and casual conversations. Meanwhile, I stood silently by his side, trying to make sense of everything happening around me.

After a while, his phone buzzed, and he excused himself to take the call. For the first time that evening, I was left standing alone. As I glanced around, I noticed a group of young men standing nearby, smiling at me. Their stares and smirks made me feel uncomfortable, stirring memories I wished I could forget.

Back in my village, there is a man named Gulshan. He and his gang used to tease and harass girls. Because of him, my brother never allowed me to go to college. Instead, he arranged for professors to come to our home to teach me. My interactions with men were minimal, almost nonexistent. And now, here I am, suddenly married to a man like Daksh ji, who made me feel safe in ways I couldn't explain. Perhaps not all men are the same after all. Daksh ji was different, kind, and always putting effort into understanding me. He saw my emotions even before I voiced them, something I wasn't used to.

The boys continued to talk amongst themselves while glancing in my direction. Their behavior made me uneasy, and I instinctively turned my head away, wishing Daksh ji would come back. It was as if he could sense my discomfort because, just then, he appeared by my side. His eyes darted toward the group of boys, and his expression darkened.

"Guys, can you please come here?" he called out firmly.

The boys hesitated but eventually walked over, their heads lowered under his authoritative gaze.

"What were you talking about?" Daksh ji asked, his tone calm but unmistakably sharp.

One of them, pointed at me and said, "Sir, we were just talking about this girl."

Daksh ji's jaw tightened, and without missing a beat, he said, "Tara, come here."

I hesitantly moved to his side, unsure of what he was about to do. To my surprise, he placed his arm protectively around me and said, "She is not just any other girl. She is Tara Rajvanshi, my wife. Your boss's wife."

The color drained from their faces. One of them even dropped his glass in shock. They stammered out apologies, bowing their heads. "Sorry, mam. We're really sorry."

I nodded slightly, managing a small smile.

Daksh ji's tone grew colder as he added, "Next time, if anything like this happens again, consider your lives ruined. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," they mumbled before scurrying away.

As they disappeared into the crowd, I felt a strange mix of pride and warmth. Daksh ji's words and actions made me feel valued and protected in a way I hadn't felt before. Maybe, just maybe, this marriage wasn't as daunting as I once thought.

■

At the party, Daksh ji introduced me to almost everyone he met, always using the words "my wife." I lost count of how many times he said it, it was more frequent than his breaths. Every time he referred to me as his wife, something warm bloomed inside me, a feeling I couldn't quite name but enjoyed nonetheless.

After spending a few hours there, we finally got into the car to head back home. At the party, I couldn't help but notice how the girls looked at him, admiring, almost longing. It stirred something inside me that I hadn't felt before, a strange discomfort. I didn't like it. They shouldn't look at him like that, as if he were theirs to admire. He wasn't. He was my husband, and the thought of anyone else seeing him that way made me uneasy.

As the evening went on, I realized just how popular he was. People approached him constantly, asking for selfies, shaking his hand. Everyone spoke so highly of him, praising his success, his demeanor, and his character.

It was then that I truly understood what a well-known and respected man Daksh ji is. He wasn't just my husband; he was someone admired by many. While that filled me with pride, it also made me feel small in comparison. How could a simple girl like me ever measure up to a man like him?

As he drove, he glanced at me and said, "You looked so gorgeous in that saree tonight, it's like it was made just for you."

His words caught me off guard, and my cheeks flushed pink, but I turned my face so he wouldn't notice. I didn't know how to respond, so I just sat there, letting his compliment linger in the air.

"Can I ask you something?" he said after a while.

"Ji," I replied softly.

"When those boys were commenting on you at the party, why didn't you say anything to them?"

I hesitated before answering, "Dev Bhaiya always says that girls shouldn't talk to strangers or yell at them."

He simply hummed in response, as if absorbing my words.

"And besides," I added hesitantly, "I've kind of gotten used to it."

He frowned and glanced at me. "What do you mean by that?"

"Getting teased by boys," I said quietly, feeling a lump rise in my throat.

He immediately stopped the car over and turned to face me, his expression serious. "What do you mean, Tara?" he asked again.

I took a deep breath and explained, "Back in our village, there was this gang of boys, Gulshan and his friends. They used to tease me a lot, and not just me, but many other girls too. Dev Bhaiya scolded them and even hit them a few times, but Gulshan didn't stop. He used to follow me everywhere and kept asking me to marry him."

His jaw tightened. "Did he ever lay a hand on you?" he asked, his tone laced with anger.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "But that's why Bhaiya didn't let me leave the house much. He arranged for professors to come home to teach me. My school, college, everything happened within the four walls of our home."

Daksh ji sighed deeply, taking my hand gently in his. "You don't have to face anything like that anymore. I'm here with you now."

His words, so simple yet so reassuring, made my heart swell. I smiled at him and, without thinking, placed my other hand over his. This was the first time I had willingly touched a man. It felt unfamiliar, yet comforting.

"Dev Bhaiya always says the same thing," I said with a small laugh, breaking the silence.

"Four times," he muttered.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"You've mentioned your Dev Bhaiya's name four times since we left the party," he said, raising an eyebrow.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "So? Do you have a problem with that? He's my brother."

"Yeah, I do," he replied, rolling his eyes dramatically.

I sat up straighter. "You have no right to talk about Dev Bhaiya like that. He's a good man."

"He may be good," Daksh ji said, smirking, "but not with me. The day we got married, he looked at me like I was a ghost."

I couldn't help but laugh. "That's probably because of your sharp tongue and your way with words."

He chuckled and shook his head, restarting the car. The tension from earlier had dissolved into lighthearted banter, and I found myself smiling. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad with him after all.

We reached home, and as we stepped out of the car, I couldn't hold back the question that had been lingering in my mind all evening. "Daksh ji, are you still thinking about our divorce?" I asked.

He stopped in his tracks and looked at me, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he said firmly, "No."

That one word felt like a weight lifting off my chest. A wave of relief washed over me, and for the first time, I allowed myself to hope. If he wasn't thinking about divorce anymore, maybe this marriage had a chance.

Daksh ji had been so understanding, always putting in the effort to make me feel safe and comfortable. I decided, in that moment, that I would do the same. I would give everything I had to make this marriage work.

Daksh ji is a good man, and if he is willing to try, then so am I.

■

In the village, Devendra sat on the porch, lost in his thoughts, his brows furrowed with worry. The air was still, save for the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. A man approached him, breaking the silence.

"Did you do what I asked for?" Devendra asked, his voice firm.

"Yes, Sarpanch ji," the man replied, pulling out his phone. "Daksh Rajvanshi is the CEO of big companies. He's highly respected in the business world."

He scrolled through his phone as he continued, "He donates most of his profits to charity, keeping only a small portion for himself."

Devendra's mother, who had been listening nearby, spoke up. "They seem like a good family," she said.

But Devendra wasn't convinced. He scoffed, his expression hardening. "These rich people can pretend to be saints with their charity work. It's all a facade," he muttered.

His father, seated beside him, shook his head. "Dev, I think you're judging Daksh and his family too harshly. Maybe they are genuinely good people."

Devendra's jaw tightened, his worry spilling over into his words. "I don't know how they're treating my sister there," he said, his voice tinged with frustration. "I don't even know if they're keeping her happy or not."

■

Daksh entered his room quietly, careful not to disturb Tara. His eyes immediately fell on her, curled up on the bed, hugging a pillow tightly. Her hair was slightly messy, and her expression was peaceful, like she had finally found some comfort after a long day. His lips curved into a small smile. For a moment, he imagined himself in place of that pillow, being the one she held onto so dearly. The thought made him chuckle under his breath, surprising even himself.

What are you even thinking, Daksh? he scolded himself, shaking his head at the absurdity of it. Still smiling, he gently closed the door behind him and stepped out into the quiet hallway. But the smile faded as his mind wandered back to what she had told him earlier about Gulshan and his gang. His jaw clenched, and his protective instincts surged forward.

Pulling out his phone, he dialed his personal assistant. The call connected on the first ring.

"Listen carefully," Daksh said, his tone sharp and commanding. "I need full information about a man named Gulshan and his gang from Tara's village. I want to know everything, who they are, where they live, and what they've been up to. I want this on my desk by tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir," came the immediate response from the other end.

"Good," Daksh replied curtly and hung up the call. He stood there for a moment, the anger bubbling inside him. How dare someone tease her? He couldn't imagine anyone tormenting her, following her, or making her life difficult. The thought of Tara feeling unsafe or vulnerable because of some worthless goons ignited a fire in him.

Walking down the hallway, his fists clenched tightly. He didn't care who this Gulshan was or how big his gang might be. He dared to trouble Tara. That's his biggest mistake.

"I'll make sure Gulshan regrets the day he even thought of looking at her," Daksh muttered under his breath, his tone low but deadly. He wouldn't just warn Gulshan; he'd ensure the man understood the consequences of his actions in a way he'd never forget.

As Daksh stood there, his thoughts slowly softened as they returned to Tara. She was so innocent, so pure. She didn't deserve any of this. He thought of the life she must have lived, confined to her home, deprived of the experiences she should have had because of fear and harassment. She had endured so much, yet she carried herself with grace. That made him even more determined to shield her from any harm.

With a deep breath, Daksh straightened his shoulders. He would protect her at all costs. Tara deserved to feel safe, to feel cherished, and as long as she was with him, he would make sure she had both.

To be continued

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