Mrs. Arora

Veer had barely taken a few steps away when Ridhima's voice rang from behind him.

"It's not going to happen again!"

Veer stopped in his tracks. Slowly, he turned around, his signature smirk playing on his lips. His dark eyes held an undeniable challenge.

"We'll see, sweetheart," he said in a teasing tone.

Before Ridhima could react, Veer extended his hand toward her.

"Come, I need to introduce you to some important business partners. It's a big night."

Ridhima sighed but composed herself. This was all part of the deal. She reminded herself that she had to play the role of Mrs. Arora in front of everyone.

With that, Veer led her across the room to where Rajesh Thakur, his wife, and their son, Yash Thakur, stood.

The moment Ridhima laid eyes on Yash, her entire body froze.

A series of dark, painful flashbacks from her college days hit her all at once.

His smirk. His words. The humiliation. The betrayal.

But she pushed it all down, swallowing the emotions that threatened to rise.

Yash, on the other hand, looked completely mesmerized. His eyes scanned her from head to toe, taking in the way the blood-red saree hugged her curves, the way her sindoor and mangalsutra glowed under the lights.

Yet, behind his admiration, there was something else—a wicked amusement.

Veer, unaware of the tension, introduced them.

"Ridhima, this is Yash Thakur. Yash, meet my wife, Mrs. Ridhima Arora."

Yash extended his hand, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Arora," he said, emphasizing her new last name.

Ridhima didn't shake his hand. She simply nodded.

Just then, Veer's phone buzzed. "Excuse me, I need to take this." He stepped away, leaving Ridhima alone with Yash.

The moment Veer was gone, Yash chuckled darkly.

"You look gorgeous," he said, his voice laced with old familiarity. "I never thought I'd meet you like this."

Ridhima stayed silent, gripping her clutch tightly.

Yash took a step closer.

"Come on, say something, babes." His voice was smooth, like he still had power over her. Like nothing had changed.

Ridhima's eyes flashed with anger.

"Mind your language, Yash Thakur." Her voice was sharp, unwavering.

Yash raised an eyebrow in amusement, clearly enjoying her fire.

Ridhima took a step closer this time, her confidence unshaken.

"I am Mrs. Arora. Veer Arora's wife." She emphasized each word. "If he finds out what you're trying to do, he will not take it lightly. So... beware."

For the first time, Yash's smirk faltered just a little.

Before he could say anything else, Ridhima turned on her heel and walked away without looking back.

Devika marched straight to Karan, her fists clenched. She didn't care about the grand reception, the flashing cameras, or the hundreds of guests around.

She wanted answers.

"You!" she snapped, grabbing his wrist and pulling him toward a less crowded hallway.

Karan jerked his hand away, glaring at her. "Are you out of your damn mind, Devika?"

"Don't act innocent, Karan. Did you send those reporters to ask about Veer and Ridhima's marriage?"

Karan crossed his arms, his sharp gaze fixed on her. "And if I did?"

Devika stepped closer, her anger boiling.

"What the hell is your problem with my family?!"

Karan's expression darkened instantly. The usual arrogance in his eyes was replaced by something far colder.

Before she could react, he grabbed her wrist and turned her around, pushing her against the cold wall. His grip was firm, his posture unyielding.

"Firstly," he said in a low, threatening voice, "don't ever think you can question me, Devika Rajawat."

Devika gritted her teeth, her breathing sharp, but she refused to look away.

"And secondly," Karan's voice was filled with resentment, "what Veer did to my sister—I will never forget. And neither will I forgive."

Devika felt the weight of his words, but she refused to let it shake her.

She pushed him away, breaking his grip.

"I don't give a damn about your grudges, Karan," she spat, her eyes blazing. "But if you try to mess with my family again, you'll regret it."

Karan narrowed his eyes, his jaw clenching.

"Then try and stop me."

Their hatred burned between them, thick and suffocating.

Without another word, Devika turned on her heels and stormed off, leaving Karan standing there, his fingers twitching with rage.

As the grand reception started winding down, Veer stood beside Ridhima, his hand resting lightly on her lower back. She wasn't saying much—her expressions were distant, lost somewhere else entirely.

Veer leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so only she could hear.

"What's wrong? You've been quiet for a while."

Ridhima blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. She forced a small smile, shaking her head.

"Nothing... just tired."

Veer didn't believe her.

Something had changed the moment she saw Yash Thakur. He had noticed the tension in her body, the flicker of uneasiness in her eyes. But if she wasn't ready to talk, he wasn't going to push her.

"Hmm," Veer said, his sharp gaze still studying her. "Go rest after this. It's been a long night."

Before Ridhima could respond, her family approached them.

Kusum Rajawat smiled warmly at her daughter, placing a gentle hand on her cheek. "We should get going now, beta. Take care of yourself."

Devika, who had just returned from her heated encounter with Karan, gave Ridhima a reassuring nod before glancing at Veer with a serious expression. She didn't trust him, but for now, she kept her thoughts to herself.

Mahendra Arora and the rest of the guests also began taking their leave.

Veer and Ridhima stood together, watching as the crowd slowly disappeared.

The night had been chaotic. The unexpected media drama, the kiss, Yash's presence, Karan's interference—it was all too much.

Ridhima let out a slow breath, mentally preparing for the battles ahead.

As soon as Ridhima and Veer entered their room, the air between them felt heavy. The events of the night still lingered—the forced kiss, the questions, the way Veer had taken control of the situation without asking her.

Ridhima grabbed her nightwear and went straight to the bathroom, avoiding any eye contact.

Meanwhile, Veer casually unbuttoned his shirt, changing into a comfortable black T-shirt and track pants. His mind was replaying everything—the way Ridhima froze when the reporters asked about their marriage, the way she felt under his touch.

A few minutes later, Ridhima stepped out, her hair slightly damp, dressed in a soft satin night suit.

She stopped near the bed, taking a deep breath before speaking.

"Veer, I don't want any physical connection between us. So please, don't do that again."

Veer, who had been adjusting his watch, paused mid-motion. His sharp gaze lifted to meet hers, searching for something. This time, there was no teasing smirk, no sarcastic comeback.

For the first time, he realized she truly didn't want this.

There was something in her tone—not just anger, but a mix of discomfort and fear.

Veer exhaled, running a hand through his hair before nodding. "Okay."

Ridhima looked at him, slightly surprised at how easily he agreed.

"I just did it for the media," Veer added, his voice neutral. "There was no other way to control them."

Ridhima looked away, clutching the edge of her dupatta. "Next time, find another way."

Veer's jaw clenched slightly, but he didn't argue. He simply nodded again, picking up a pillow from the bed and placing it on the couch.

"You sleep on the bed. I'll take the couch."

Ridhima stared at him for a second, then silently climbed onto the bed, turning her back towards him.

For the first time, their room felt like a battlefield.

VOTE AND COMNENT AND FOLLOW.....