19. "Wear this dress!"

When they got home, Shweta and Anita were sitting in the living room, sipping tea and chatting about the upcoming events for their NGO. As soon as they saw the group enter, Anita perked up.

“Oh, you’re back!” Anita said warmly. “How was the shopping trip?”

Before Niharika could answer, Riya piped up with a mischievous grin. “It was fun, Chachi, but do you know what Bhabhi got?”

“What?” Shweta asked curiously, leaning forward.

“A pair of earrings,” Riya said, barely holding back her laughter. “And guess what? They were for just 99 rupees!”

Anita’s eyes widened, and she raised an eyebrow at Niharika. “Just earrings? And for 99 rupees? What about all the beautiful things you must have seen?”

Niharika flushed slightly, feeling all eyes on her. “I… I didn’t really find anything I needed,” she said softly. “And these earrings were simple and elegant, so I thought they’d be enough.”

Shweta shook her head with a gentle smile. “Beta, you’re a Ranawat now. There’s no need to hold back, especially when shopping. We’re happy to provide you with whatever you like.”

“But, Ma,” Riya interrupted, “that’s the beauty of Bhabhi. She’s so different. While most people would be drawn to the expensive things, she genuinely liked something small and simple.”

Anita nodded thoughtfully. “That’s admirable, Niharika, but don’t hesitate to indulge yourself a little. You deserve it.”

Ivaan grinned, jumping into the conversation. “Bhabhi was overwhelmed with all the options, but trust me, next time, we’ll make sure she gets something worthy of her royal status.”

Niharika gave him a small, grateful smile but remained quiet, unsure how to respond. Deep down, she appreciated their concern but wasn’t ready to fully embrace the luxuries that came with being a Ranawat.

“Anyway,” Riya said, clapping her hands, “we’ll make sure to drag her out again soon. Bhabhi will get used to it eventually.”

Everyone chuckled, and the conversation shifted to other topics, but Niharika’s mind lingered on the day’s events. Her simplicity might have made an impression, but she wondered if she would ever truly fit into this world of opulence and grandeur.

Niharika entered the kitchen, tying her apron, and began gathering the ingredients for litti chokha. She was focused, her hands moving with precision as she prepared the filling.

Ishaan walked in, curious about the activity. "Bhabhi, what are you making?" he asked, leaning casually against the counter.

"Litti chokha," she replied with a soft smile, continuing her work.

A wide grin spread across Ishaan's face. "Seriously? That's my favorite!"

Seeing his excitement, Niharika couldn't help but chuckle. "I know. That's why I'm making it for dinner."

"You're the best, Bhabhi!" Ishaan exclaimed, already anticipating the meal. His happiness brought a sense of fulfillment to her, and she resumed cooking with renewed enthusiasm.

As Niharika arranged the tray with glasses of water, she heard the familiar sound of the front door opening. Indra, Anand, and Shivaay entered the house, their footsteps firm and heavy. She noticed Shivaay’s expression—it was dark, his brows furrowed, and his usual composed demeanor replaced by something more unsettling.

Deciding to greet them properly, she carried the tray and walked towards the living room. One by one, she offered water to Indra and Anand, who accepted it with a nod and a smile. But as she stepped in front of Shivaay, she immediately felt the tension radiating from him.

His sharp, angry gaze locked onto her, freezing her in place. She hesitated, unsure of what had caused his foul mood. Before she could utter a word, Shivaay’s hand suddenly lashed out, striking the tray.

The glasses tumbled and crashed to the floor, shattering loudly. Water splashed across the polished floor as shards of glass scattered everywhere. The sound echoed through the house, drawing everyone's attention.

Niharika flinched, stepping back in shock. Her eyes darted from the broken glass to Shivaay’s furious expression. His gaze pierced through her, filled with anger she couldn’t comprehend. Her heart raced, but she held back her words, her lips parting slightly in confusion.

The silence in the room was deafening as everyone looked between them, unsure of what had just happened.

Shweta, startled by the sudden chaos, immediately asked, "Shivaay, what’s going on?"

But Shivaay raised his hand sharply to silence her without even sparing a glance. His fiery eyes remained fixed on Niharika, and before anyone could intervene, he grabbed her wrist tightly.

"Shivaay!" Indra called out in a warning tone, but Shivaay was already leading Niharika to the staircase entrance with a grip that made her wince in pain.

As they reached the base of the stairs, Shivaay stopped abruptly, his gaze falling on her wrists adorned with delicate gold bangles. His jaw tightened as realization struck him—they were his mother's.

"Ah," he said, his voice laced with bitter sarcasm. "You’ve started claiming everything, haven’t you? My mother’s jewelry too?"

Niharika looked up at him, her brows knitted in confusion and pain. "Shivaay ji," she began softly, wincing as his grip tightened further. "It’s not what you think... Maa gave these to me on my first Rasoi."

Her explanation seemed to fall on deaf ears as Shivaay’s anger only intensified. Without another word, he pulled her roughly up the stairs, ignoring her protests and the murmurs of the family behind them.

"Shivaay, let her go!" Shweta called after them, but he didn’t stop.

The pain in her wrist grew unbearable, but Niharika remained silent, biting back her discomfort as he dragged her towards their room. The air was thick with tension, and she could feel the storm brewing within him. As the door slammed shut behind them, her heart sank, knowing this confrontation was far from over.

As soon as they entered the room, Shivaay slammed the door shut, the sound echoing in the large space. Without a moment’s hesitation, he threw her onto the bed, making her gasp in shock and clutch her wrist, which was red from his grip.

Breathing heavily, he strode to the nearby dresser, pulling out a paper bag. From it, he retrieved a dress and held it up in front of her. Her eyes widened in horror as she realized what it was—a revealing, deep-slit green dress, far removed from anything she would ever wear.

"Here," he commanded coldly, his voice devoid of any warmth. "Wear this."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she sat up, her voice trembling. "What... what are you saying, Shivaay ji? I can't..."

His lips curled into a mocking smirk, though his eyes burned with anger. "You can’t? Why not? I’m your husband, right?" he said, his tone dripping with venom. He threw the dress onto the bed beside her. "Then wear it. When you can parade around in dresses like this in front of my brothers, why not for me?"

Her heart sank as she realized what he was talking about. Before she could defend herself, he took out his phone and thrust it toward her face. On the screen was the photo Ivaan had taken of her in the mall, trying on the dress while Riya and Ivaan teased her.

"Explain this," he demanded, his voice low but dangerous.

Her hands trembled as she looked at the photo. "I-I didn’t buy it. They insisted I try it on, and it was all in fun. I had no idea Ivaan..." She stopped, her tears threatening to spill.

"In fun?" he interrupted, his voice rising. "You call this fun? Parading yourself like this? Flaunting yourself before my brothers? And you expect me to just sit back and watch?"

Her tears finally spilled over as she shook her head. "No, Shivaay ji, it’s not what you think! I didn’t mean for this to happen. Ivaan and Riya were just teasing—"

"Enough!" he snapped, cutting her off. He pointed at the dress on the bed. "I don’t care about your excuses. Put this on now."

Niharika looked at him, her tears streaming down her face, her voice breaking as she said, "I won’t. I won’t wear something like this."

His eyes darkened, and he leaned closer, his presence overwhelming. "You will. Or do you need me to remind you who’s in charge here?"

The room fell into a suffocating silence as Niharika sat frozen, clutching her saree, her tears falling unchecked.

Niharika wiped her tears, summoning all the courage she could muster. She looked up at him, her voice trembling at first but growing stronger.

"I didn’t know you could stoop so low, Shivaay ji," she said, her eyes blazing with hurt and defiance. "I didn’t know you’re this much dirty!"

Shivaay flinched slightly, her words hitting him harder than he expected, but his expression quickly hardened.

"And I will not wear this dress!" she declared, raising her voice as she stood from the bed, clutching her saree tightly around her.

Her sudden defiance caught him off guard. For a moment, he was silent, his sharp eyes narrowing at her as he processed her resistance. The tension in the room was palpable, the air charged with unspoken emotions.

Shivaay took a step closer, his towering figure looming over her, his voice dangerously low. "Do you really want to test my patience, Niharika?"

Her heart pounded in her chest, but she didn’t back down. "Test your patience? You’re testing my dignity, Shivaay ji! I am your wife, not someone you can humiliate like this. If you have a problem with me, say it, but don’t expect me to obey such filthy commands!"

His jaw tightened, his fists clenching by his sides as her words cut through his anger. She wasn’t the meek girl he thought she was; she had a fire within her, and in this moment, that fire was burning brightly.

Their gazes locked in a battle of wills, neither willing to back down. The room was silent except for the sound of their heavy breaths, the storm brewing between them refusing to settle.

Shivaay's face darkened further as he stared at her unwavering gaze. Without saying another word, he grabbed the dress from his hand and threw it into the corner of the room with force.

"Before doing something like this again," he said coldly, his voice dripping with warning, "think a lot."

His piercing eyes lingered on her for a moment longer, as though daring her to respond. But Niharika stood her ground, her silence louder than any words.

Without another glance, Shivaay turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The echo of the door reverberated through the air, leaving behind a heavy silence.

Niharika stood rooted to the spot, her hands trembling as she tried to calm the storm within her. Her heart raced, her breaths shallow, but despite the turmoil, she felt a strange sense of triumph.

For the first time, she had stood up to Shivaay Singh Ranawat.

Ivaan paced back and forth in the living room, his face pale with guilt. "It was my fault," he whispered to Ishaan, his voice barely audible but heavy with remorse. "I shouldn't have sent that photo to Bhai. I... I didn't think it would turn into this."

Ishaan placed a hand on his shoulder. "We need to fix this, Ivaan. But right now, Shivaay is furious. You know how he gets—"

Before Ishaan could finish, the doors to the mansion opened with a loud creak. Shivaay strode in, his face hard as stone, his demeanor radiating icy anger.

Shweta and Indra, who had been standing nearby, stepped forward. "Shivaay, what is wrong with you?" Shweta asked, her voice a mixture of concern and reprimand. "How could you—"

"Not now, Maa," Shivaay interrupted, his voice sharp but void of any explanation. Without stopping, he walked straight past them, heading for the main doors and out of the mansion.

"Shivaay!" Indra called after him, but he was already gone.

Riya, Ivaan, and Ishaan exchanged worried glances before bolting up the stairs to Shivaay’s room. They pushed the door open and froze.

Niharika sat on the edge of the bed, her face buried in her hands, sobbing softly. Her trembling shoulders made their hearts sink.

Riya rushed to her side, kneeling down. "Bhabhi, what happened? Please tell me."

Niharika wiped her tears hastily, trying to compose herself, but her swollen eyes spoke volumes.

Ivaan stood frozen near the doorway, his gaze landing on the discarded dress lying crumpled in the corner of the room. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. The dress, the photo, Shivaay's anger—it was all because of him.

Guilt clawed at him, suffocating. "This... this is my fault," Ivaan admitted, his voice cracking. "I shouldn't have sent that photo to Bhai. I... I didn't know it would hurt you like this."

Niharika looked up at him, her teary eyes filled with pain and disbelief. She didn’t say anything, but her silence was enough to amplify Ivaan's regret. He felt the weight of his actions crushing him entirely.