Page 20 of Substitute Bride

HER CONFIDENCE

Jhankar had spread out all her books across the bed, none of which were even remotely related to her actual work, leaving no space for anyone else to sleep.

As a result, Vikrant, without saying a word, quietly moved to the couch and tried to make himself comfortable.

He faced considerable discomfort due to the limited space and stiffness of the couch, but eventually, sleep overcame him.

When he woke up the next morning, the first thing he noticed was that Jhankar wasn’t fully lying down, nor was she sitting upright.

She had propped herself up against the headboard, likely intending to rest for a while, and must have dozed off in that very position.

Her posture looked awkward, and yet she seemed completely unaware, lost in her deep sleep.

Vikrant gazed at the disorganized mess on the bed and felt a wave of frustration rising in him.

But then his eyes settled on Jhankar’s sleeping face—calm, serene, and utterly exhausted.

Something within him softened. After everything he had learned about her the previous day, he couldn’t bring himself to be angry with her.

He knew very well that it was because of him that Jhankar had lost a major opportunity, an important milestone in her life.

Now, instead of pursuing her dream job, she was desperately working hard just to find a job.

Even in her sleep, the exhaustion was clearly visible on her face. Yet, despite this, she kept going. Without saying a word, Vikrant stood up quietly and looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he turned around and walked out of the room without making a sound.

An hour later, Jhankar abruptly woke up from her deep sleep and glanced around the room in confusion, only to realize that Vikrant was nowhere to be seen.

Last night, she had been so engrossed in her preparations that she hadn’t spared much thought for Vikrant, who had ended up sleeping on the couch without complaint.

She had stayed up late, meticulously reviewing details, determined not to make any errors in the rush of her job hunt.

As she checked the time, she noticed it was already 8:00 a.m. She didn’t know where Vikrant had gone, and frankly, she didn’t care.

What mattered to her was that she had received Sharda’s permission the day before to focus on her own decisions. That was all the validation she needed.

Wasting no time, she ran to the closet, pulled out an extra dress from her bag, got ready swiftly, and prepared herself to visit a few companies for interviews.

She double-checked everything from her resume to her appearance and descended the stairs with quiet determination.

As she reached the hallway, she noticed all the staff members bustling with their morning duties.

Some of them were throwing curious glances around, perhaps looking for someone or checking the morning protocols.

“I have to leave as soon as possible. Can you please get me some tea and biscuits?”

She asked quickly, scanning the space as if measuring how long it would take.

“Breakfast is ready, ma’am. If you’d like, I can serve you now. Everyone will be coming for breakfast shortly. Would you prefer to wait for them?”

One of the staff members politely offered this suggestion. Jhankar replied firmly.

“Not at all…. I don't want to wait. If breakfast is served on time here, could you please bring me some tea? Are there any rules about eating alone?”

“There are no such rules, ma’am,” the staff member assured her with a smile.

“Only Vikrant Sir has a fixed routine—he insists on breakfast strictly at 9:00 a.m., lunch at exactly 1:30 p.m., regardless of where he is, and dinner must be served by 8:30 p.m. Apart from him, no one here follows such rigid rules. I’ll bring your breakfast right away. ”

“Psycho,”

She muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes. Moments later, her breakfast arrived. Without wasting any time, Jhankar began eating quickly, almost shoveling the food in. She had no time to savor it; she was running late, and her mind was entirely focused on the day ahead.

Just then, Vikrant emerged from his private gym, sweat glistening on his forehead, a towel slung over his shoulder.

His eyes immediately fell on her, seated alone and eating in a hurry.

He halted abruptly and focused his attention on her.

There was something different about her today, an urgency, a sense of purpose.

She was clearly preparing to go somewhere important.

Before he could utter a word, Jhankar finished her breakfast in haste and stood up abruptly, ready to leave.

She needed to reach the office by 10:00 a.m., and the time was already 8:30.

The location was far, requiring her to switch between two buses, a journey that would easily take an hour and a half.

She couldn’t afford to waste a single moment.

As she stood up quickly, she accidentally bumped straight into Vikrant, who had been walking toward her silently.

Startled, she stepped back reflexively and collided with a chair behind her.

The chair had a pointed decorative edge that poked into her back, making her wince in pain and lurch forward.

Vikrant, standing so close, immediately reached out and placed his hand on her back to steady her.

Her hands, in turn, landed on his chest.

Startled by the sudden contact, she instinctively tried to push him away, pressing her palms against his chest with force. But Vikrant didn’t move an inch. He stood rooted in place, silently staring into her eyes, searching for something unspoken.

“So, is Her Highness going somewhere this early in the morning?” He asked in a low voice, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m going to find a job for myself,” she replied curtly, her voice sharp with defiance. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Look, I want to talk to you about this,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “It would be better if we sat down and had a proper conversation like two human beings instead of constantly snapping at each other like cats and dogs.”

“I don’t have time for you,” she shot back, stepping away from him with finality. I need to go.”

She immediately retracts her hand from his chest, removes his hand from her waist with determination, and steps outside without uttering another word.

Watching her departure, Vikrant silently slips his hands into his pockets and begins to follow her at a steady pace, fully aware that the guards stationed at the gate won’t let her leave the premises without his express permission.

Jhankar, completely unfazed, walks briskly toward the main gate. As she nears it, she grabs hold of the heavy metal doors and tries to push them open. But they don’t budge. She frowns and looks over at the nearest guard, her voice tinged with urgency.

"I have to go out. Open the gate."

The guard stands firm and replies apologetically.

"Madam, without Sir's permission, no one is allowed to leave the premises."

Her eyes narrow in frustration, and she immediately turns to see Vikrant approaching slowly. Fixing him with an angry glare, she calls out before he can say anything.

"I am running late for my interview. Tell your guards to open the gate."

Vikrant, unhurried and composed, stops a few steps away and responds calmly, "And I told you something too. At least listen to me first, then you can do whatever you want. But hear me out properly."

Jhankar strides up to him and plants herself firmly in front of him, arms folded across her chest, her gaze piercing.

She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t waver, and her posture radiates confidence and defiance.

Vikrant looks around momentarily, and noticing the presence of staff nearby, signals to the guards with a slight nod.

Understanding the need for privacy, they quietly disperse and give them space.

Then, in a measured tone, Vikrant begins.

“I know very well that you want to support your parents. But as long as you’re with me means as long as we’re bound by this fake marriage, I’m willing to cover all your parents’ expenses.

You have everything you need here, every facility, so I don’t see why you’re still trying to get a job.

My mother wants to spend time with you, and I want you to stay close to her. That’s all I ask.”

Jhankar lets out a soft, mocking laugh and tilts her head slightly, flashing a sharp smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Vikrant is caught off guard for a moment by her reaction, but before he can speak, she answers with unflinching intensity.

“You have a lot of money; why don’t you just donate it to someone?

Maybe that’ll cleanse a fraction of your bad karma.

I don’t need your help or your charity, Vikrant.

I am more than capable of helping myself.

I’m not someone who folds under pressure.

You probably think you're some kind of savior who’s walked into my life, and I should sit quietly and listen to your decisions, like everyone else around you.

But do you even realize how hard I worked to get that job? ”

Her voice rises slightly, not in volume but in conviction.

“My dream wasn’t about luxuries. It was about dignity. A decent job that allowed me to support my parents and take care of even their smallest needs. And I lost all of it… because of you. So if there’s a villain in my life story, it’s not fate, it’s you.”

Vikrant stands still, absorbing each word, his expression unreadable. She continues.

“I don’t want your help. That’s my clear and final stance.

And yes, I’m going to say something that will probably hurt your ego, but frankly, I don’t care anymore.

The bride ran away from the wedding pavilion because she didn’t love you.

That’s the truth. It’s good she left before the wedding.

Imagine what your life would’ve been like with someone who didn’t love you, who cared for another man, and who stayed with you only in name.

But no, you didn’t think of any of that, did you? ”

She steps closer, her voice low but razor-sharp.

“You were so consumed by your pride, you married me instead, just to save face. To show the world that your bride didn’t run away.

And in doing so, you destroyed two years of my hard work for the sake of two minutes of your so-called reputation.

You didn’t lose anything, Vikrant. I did.

You could’ve let it go right there at the mandap.

You’re such a big name, people would’ve stopped talking in a day or two, a month at most. But you couldn’t handle it.

You needed to control the narrative. And in that process, you wrecked everything I built. ”

Her voice cracks slightly with emotion, but she doesn’t stop.

“Maybe you won’t lose anything even now.

Maybe you never will. Because you don’t have anything truly at stake.

But people like us—middle-class people—only have our hard work.

And when that is taken from us, it feels like our entire life is slipping away.

You ruined my dreams, and now you think you can buy them back with your money by pretending to be the good guy? "

She straightens her spine and declares, “You’re wrong… very wrong.”

There is a brief silence. Vikrant doesn’t interrupt. He just watches her. She smiles and says it quickly.

“Let’s keep this relationship exactly what it is: a fake marriage.

You do what you have to do to keep your mother happy.

I will do what I need to protect my brother.

Nothing more. You said that once your mother’s health improves in six months, we’ll get divorced.

Fine. However, I refuse to waste these six months simply to appease your ego.

I’m going to find a job and support my parents.

That’s the only thing that matters to me. Now open the gate.”

She meets his eyes squarely, her tone unwavering, her gaze burning with resolve. Vikrant doesn’t blink. He sees it all —her strength, her pain, her conviction—and is momentarily speechless. Then, after a beat of silence, he turns to the guard and gives his order.

“Guard, let Madam go wherever she wants to go. Prepare a car for her with two guards, and make sure she gets there safely.”

Jhankar responds instantly, voice sharp and cold.

“Keep your car and your guards to yourself. I’m used to traveling by bus. I’m fine that way. I just want to go out. Let me go.”

Vikrant continues to look at her for another two minutes, silent. But he knows she isn’t going to listen to him. He finally gives a small signal with his hand, and the guard opens the gate.

Jhankar doesn’t waste a moment. She walks out, her head held high, her steps quick and decisive.

Vikrant watches her disappear through the gate, a storm brewing in his heart.

And then, almost as if he could feel her presence behind him, he senses Sharda.

Without turning around, he knows she’s there; she must have arrived quietly, wheeled in by her maid.

She didn’t hear anything, but he could feel her observing him silently.

Vikrant calls a nearby guard and speaks in a low but firm tone.

“Make sure Madam never faces any kind of problem. There should always be at least five to ten guards around her. If there’s even the smallest issue, I want to be informed first. I want a full report of her entire day, where she goes, who she meets, everything.”

Vikrant notices Sharda's faint smile through the reflection in the security chief's black sunglasses, just before they wheel her back inside. The guard quickly gets to work, mobilizing the team, and Vikrant turns around and heads back to his room.

Once inside, he throws his gym t-shirt into the laundry basket and walks straight to the bathroom, but something tugs at his mind, Jhankar’s words echoing like a constant loop.

As he passes the drying rack, his eyes fall on her freshly washed clothes, neatly folded.

He pauses. His hand brushes one of her dupattas, and he closes his eyes.

Inhaling deeply, he mutters to himself, barely above a whisper.

“Why am I only thinking about you? ... Suddenly, you're changing everything. And I’m not used to it.”