Page 143 of Lawfully Yours

When she stepped out of the room, his breath had visibly caught. His eyes swept over her, lingering at her waist where the saree revealed just enough skin to stir something raw in him. Throughout, after that, she’d felt his gaze like a hot touch on her skin.

While helping her uncle with the arrangements, she had purposely let droplets from her wet hair fall onto Kushal’s face every time she passed near him. Their arms brushed as they moved about the room. His restraint was crumbling, and she could see it in the tightening of his jaw, the way his eyes darkened.

Finally, he sent her to fetch the jewellery for the Ganesh idol from the bedroom. She’d gone willingly, and seconds later, he followed.

He cornered her by the closet, bracing one hand beside her head. “What were you doing out there?” he asked, his voice low.

Feigning innocence, she tilted her head. “Helping my husband.”

“You weren’t helping,” he murmured, pressing her gently back against the closet door. “You were seducing your husband.”

His hand slid to her bare waist, fingers splaying possessively against her skin as he pulled her into him…every inch of her body now pressed flush against his, no space left between them. She drew in a sharp breath, her pulse racing, and just when his lips hovered dangerously close to hers, she tilted her head back slightly, teasing, “I didn’t hear a compliment yet… on how I look in this saree.”

A slow, wicked smirk tugged at his lips. His wife was no timid flower; she wouldn’t melt without making him work for it. And he would. His gaze dipped to her mouth, then back to her eyes as he tightened his hold.

“You,” he said, drawing her even closer until their mouths were a breath apart, “look devastating enough to ruin me.”

Before she could react, his lips claimed hers… a soft, lingering kiss. He pulled away just to return again, deeper this time. Her arms wrapped around his neck; his hands tightened at her waist. His thumb traced lazy, sensual strokes over the curve of her waist, sending shivers up her spine as the kiss grew hungry, unhurried but intense, until a loud knock broke through the haze.

“Aru? Kushal? The priest is here!” Raj Verma called out from the living room.

They pulled apart, breathless. That had been their first kiss…slow, intoxicating, and far too easy to get lost in.

Returning to the present, Arundhati’s fingers trembled as they traced the maroon saree. The ache in her chest deepened with every heartbeat. She couldn’t stay in this room. Not with the scent, the silence, and the ghosts of what they once were pressing in on her from all sides.

She placed the saree back on the bed. Her tears blurred the room as she turned away, wiping at them in haste, needing to escape before the walls closed in completely. Without a word to him, without so much as a glance toward the other room where she knew he was, she slipped out. The quiet thud of the door closing was the only sign she’d left.

It wasn’t until that sound reached him that Kushal stepped out, drawn by a sudden, inexplicable pull. He walked to the bedroom and stopped at the sight before him…the bed was scattered with her sarees and jewellery.

Not a single thing was missing.

She had left but she hadn’t taken anything.

She couldn’t.

Chapter 26

Arundhati’s Apartment

It had been over an hour since Arundhati returned from Kushal’s penthouse, yet the heaviness in her chest refused to fade. She hadn’t taken her belongings from his closet as he had asked, and a part of her knew he must already be wondering why. Alone now in her apartment, with the house help gone, her mind refused to rest. Tomorrow was their court trial where Kushal would finally agree to the divorce. Tomorrow, everything would change.

She tried to push the thoughts away, but they clung to her like shadows she couldn’t shake. Feeling restless and unable to sleep, she dimmed the bedside lamp and pulled her laptop onto the bed. Only work could hold her together tonight. That was the only escape she knew.

From her purse, she retrieved the pen drive her uncle had given her earlier that day, the one he said contained important files for Anant’s case. Their hearing was in two days, and she intended to review every detail once more.

But when she plugged it in, the screen didn’t open to the case files. Instead, it revealed something else entirely—her wedding videos. Hers and Kushal’s.

Her first thought was that it couldn’t be a mistake. This was deliberate. Her uncle must have handed her this pen drive on purpose, as if nudging her toward something she’d tried so hard to bury.

Still, her fingers trembled as she clicked on the first video. The soft strains of wedding music filled the room, and suddenly she was back there—in crimson silk, her bridal saree heavy on her shoulders, a smile on her lips as her uncle and cousins led her toward the mandap. And there Kushal was, dressed as a groom and waiting for her.

They hadn’t spoken much in private after she had agreed to the marriage. Everything had moved quickly; the wedding was planned and executed in a matter of weeks. And yet, in that video, she saw something she had missed noticing that day…the rawness in his gaze as he watched her walk toward him.A man ready to claim her as his own.A man already brimming with unspoken promises.

Her vision now blurred with tears as she clicked on the next video. She and Kushal sat side by side, before the sacred fire while the priest chanted the mantras. At one point, the priest instructed him to hold her hand. He did. But instead of letting go immediately, his hold lingered. She remembered it even now, the way his fingers brushed her wrist in a feather-light caress. He probably hadn’t even realised he was doing it, but to her it had felt… divine. Natural. As if his touch was something her body had been waiting for all along.

Arranged marriage or not, that moment was one of the best in her life. She clicked on the next clip, but in her haste, her finger slipped, and instead of one, theplay alloption lit up. The screen came alive with a flood of memories… hundreds of recordings, spanning minutes to hours, capturing nearly every detail of those seven or eight hours of wedding rituals.

Her breath caught when the familiar moment appeared. Of Kushal tying the mangalsutra around her neck. His face had been so close then, lips hovering just a whisper from her skin. She remembered the shiver that had raced down her spine, the sensation of his breath fanning across her collarbone. But now,watching it again, she realised he had done it on purpose. He had blown gently over her skin, teasing her, making her feel every inch alive in that sacred instant.