Part 2
The announcement exploded across families and friends, bringing outrage, ridicule, and disbelief, my father shouting disgrace, my mother crying endlessly, while I chose distance over obedience despite tradition, blood, history.
I left home, arranged everything myself, and married Kavita quietly inside her villa, surrounded by powerful businessmen whose curious eyes reminded me how alone youth can feel among wealth, whispers.
On our wedding night, candles filled the room with perfume and heat, while my heart raced, unsure whether anticipation or dread tightened my chest slowly, painfully, silently, inwardly, endlessly, alone.
Kavita emerged in white silk, sat beside me calmly, and handed documents, land deeds, and keys to a Rolls-Royce, gifts so heavy they frightened me instantly, deeply, inwardly, profoundly, utterly.
She explained she needed an heir, not romance, revealing wealth meant danger, relatives waited hungrily, and marriage was strategy, protection, and inheritance, not tenderness alone, carefully, calculated, coldly, patiently, deliberately.
When she demanded I truly become her husband, fear shook me, yet curiosity anchored me, until she stopped everything to confess her ex-husband’s death quietly, precisely, deliberately, without remorse, hesitation.
