Ravi’s jaw tightened as the words echoed in his head.

For Saru.

The room felt too small. Too tight. Like the walls were pressing in on him, mocking him.

Kamla’s smile widened, greedy and sharp. “Sarpanch ji, hamari Saru to kismatwali nikli,” she said, already imagining silk sarees and respect whispered behind her back. “Aap jaise aadmi ke ghar jaana… kaun mana karega?”

Saru stood frozen near the chulha, the spoon slipping slightly in her trembling hand. Her ears rang. Marriage. Sarpanch. Her name spoken like a decision already made.

She dared to look up—just once.

Arvind Singh Rathore was watching her.

This gaze was heavier. Slower. As if he were measuring her silence, her fear, her stillness.

“You don’t have to answer now,” Arvind said, his voice calm, almost gentle. “But I don’t like delays.”

Kamla nodded eagerly. “Arre bas do din ka waqt dijiye. Gaon ke riwaaz bhi to hote hain.”

“Two days,” Arvind agreed.

His eyes lingered on Saru for a heartbeat longer—long enough to make her fingers curl into her dupatta.

Then he turned and left.

The jeep’s engine roared. Dust rose. And just like that, the house felt… different.

That night, Saru lay on the thin mattress near the kitchen, staring at the ceiling. Sleep refused to come.

Marriage meant leaving this house. Leaving Kamla’s sharp words. Leaving Ramcharan’s silence.

But it also meant leaving Ravi.

The thought confused her.

She didn’t know why her chest felt tight when she remembered the way Ravi made her feel earlier—his smile crooked, his eyes dark when no one else was around.

A soft sound made her stiffen.

Footsteps.

The door creaked open.

“Saru,” Ravi whispered.

She sat up instantly. “Bhaiya…?”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Moonlight cut across his face, turning his expression unfamiliar. Dangerous.

“So,” he said quietly, “Sarpanch banega tera pati?”

She hugged her knees. “Mujhe nahi pata… chachi jo bolegi—”

Ravi laughed softly. There was no warmth in it.

“Tumhe sach mein lagta hai tumhari marzi ka kuch hota hai?” He stepped closer. Too close.

He bent slightly, lowering his voice. “Tum samajhti hi nahi ho, na?”

His fingers brushed her wrist—light, almost accidental—but Saru flinched.

Something inside her whispered that this was wrong.

Ravi noticed.

A slow smile spread across his lips. “Lagta hai sarpanch ji ka asar pehle hi shuru ho gaya.”

He straightened, masking his expression. “Soch lena, Saru. Bade ghar ki bahu banna aasaan nahi hota.”

Before she could reply, he turned and left.

Saru lay back down, heart racing.

Outside, somewhere far away, Rathore Haveli stood silent—waiting.

And in the darkness of the village, three desires had begun to collide.

Rathore Haveli stood at the edge of the village like a quiet authority—high walls, carved doors darkened by age, and silence that commanded respect. Saru had passed it many times, always with her head bowed, her steps quick.

Today, she stood at its gate.

Her chachi adjusted the edge of Saru’s dupatta sharply. “Seedhi nazar neeche rakhna. Zyada bolna nahi. Sarpanch ji hain.”

Saru nodded, fingers curling nervously into the cotton of her salwar.

The doors opened.

Inside, the haveli was cool and dim, smelling faintly of sandalwood and old books. A long corridor led to the inner courtyard where sunlight fell in soft squares on the floor.

Arvind Singh Rathore stood near the pillar.

Not in his white kurta of authority, but in a simple cotton shirt, sleeves folded, spectacles resting low on his nose. A file lay open in his hand—but it closed the moment he saw her.

Saru felt it then.

Not fear.

Awareness.

She lowered her gaze instantly.

Kamla spoke too loudly, filling the silence with unnecessary words. “Saru zara sharmili hai, par kaam-kaj sab jaanti hai. Gaon ki ladki hai.”

Arvind listened, nodded politely—but his attention never truly left Saru.

“Kamla ji,” he said calmly, “aap bahar baithiye. Mujhe ladki se do shabd baat karni hai.”

Kamla hesitated. This was not how things usually went.

But one look at Arvind’s face—and she obeyed.

The courtyard fell quiet.

Saru stood alone with him, heart hammering against her ribs.

“Baitho… ghabrane ki koi baat nahi hai ,” Arvind said, gesturing to the stone bench.

She did.

He did not sit beside her. He remained standing—distance intact, propriety preserved.

“Do you know why you are here?” he asked.

She shook her head slightly. “Chachi ne kaha… aap se milna hai.”

He studied her profile—the lowered lashes, the tension in her shoulders, the way she folded herself inward as if trying to take less space.

“You are not being sold Saru ,” he said suddenly.

Her head lifted in shock.

“In my house,” he continued, voice firm but controlled, “no woman is bought. No one is touched without consent. No one is forced.”

Her lips parted, breath uneven.

“I will not promise you softness,” he added. “Life with me will not be easy. People will watch you. Judge you. You will carry my name.”

He paused, then said quietly, “But you will be safe.”

For the first time, Saru looked at him fully.

Something in his eyes unsettled her—not hunger, not cruelty—but restraint. The kind that held something back with effort.

He stepped closer. Just one step.

Close enough that she could smell clean soap and faint tobacco.

Instinctively, Saru’s breath hitched.

Arvind noticed.

His jaw tightened—not with desire unrestrained, but with control.

He reached out—not to touch her skin—but to adjust the edge of her dupatta that had slipped slightly from her shoulder.

His fingers brushed the fabric, never her.

Yet the nearness sent a strange warmth through her body.

“You are very young,” he said softly, almost to himself. “And the world has not been kind to you.”

His hand dropped back to his side immediately.

Silence stretched.

Then he turned away, reclaiming distance like armor.

“Ghar jao ,” he said. “Think. If you say no, I will accept it.”

Saru stood on unsteady feet.

No one had ever asked her to think before.

As she walked out of Rathore Haveli, her heart was no longer racing with fear—

But with something far more dangerous.

Expectation.

Author :-

How's the chapter?? Next chapter will be a little bit 🌶🌶