Ekansh stormed into the room, his presence suffocating. I trembled, my heart racing.
"You're enjoying the luxuries, aren't you?" he sneered, his eyes scanning the room. "The mansion, the servants, the tea... You're reveling in it all."
His accusation cut deep. If only he knew.
"You're just like all the others," he spat. "A gold digger, using your beauty to snare a wealthy husband."
I felt a sting from his words, but I remained silent, unable to reveal the truth.
"You're in this house as my wife, but don't think for a moment you'll ever have my love," he hissed. "You're a means to an end, a convenient arrangement."
His words sliced through me like a razor, but I hid my pain behind a mask.
Ekansh turned to leave, but not before casting a disdainful glance. "You're nothing but a transaction to me."
The door slammed shut behind him, leaving me shattered.
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Ekansh slammed the door behind him, his anger still simmering. He paced across the room, trying to shake off the frustration.
Why did he even bother? He stopped in front of the mirror, gazing at his reflection.
A marriage of convenience. That's all it was. He thought of Samyuktika, her beauty and innocence a facade.
A gold digger, using her charms to secure a wealthy husband. He scoffed, disgust etched on his face.
But as he turned away, his gaze caught the faint scent of tea and something else... vulnerability.
For a fleeting moment, he wondered if he had misjudged her. No, he shook his head. She's just like all the others.
Ekansh's reflection stared back, his eyes blazing with resentment.
Trapped.
He felt trapped in this marriage, bound to a woman he didn't love.
Why did his father have to manipulate him?"Secure the family's future," Mahendra had said.
But at what cost? Ekansh's freedom, his choices, his life.
He clenched his fists, anger coursing through his veins. He didn't want a wife, especially not someone of his father's choice.
Her gentle smile, her quiet strength, only infuriated him. Reminders of his captivity. He paced, his mind racing.
How could his father do this to him?
Why did Samyuktika agree to this farce?
Didn't she want love, passion, happiness?
Or was she truly just a gold digger? Ekansh's thoughts swirled, a vortex of anger and frustration.
Ekansh's gaze drifted to the old wooden dresser, where a familiar frame beckoned. He opened the drawer, revealing his mother's cherished photograph.
Nalini.
A warm smile spread across his face as memories flooded back.
Childhood laughter, bedtime stories, and comforting hugs. His mother's love had been his sanctuary.
Ekansh's fingers traced the contours of her gentle face. "Ma," he whispered, his voice cracking. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he remembered:
Summer afternoons spent playing hide-and-seek in the garden. Her soothing lullabies on stormy nights.
The sweet scent of her cooking wafting from the kitchen. His mother's passing had left a void, a gaping hole in his heart.
Ekansh's thoughts turned bitter. If only she were here, his life would be different.
No arranged marriage, no suffocating expectations. He'd be free to choose his own path.
The photograph seemed to radiate warmth, comforting him. For a moment, Ekansh forgot his anger, his resentment.
Ekansh's gaze lingered on his mother's photograph, memories of her soft punishment flooding back. "Nalini's gentle reprimands," he thought, a faint smile on his lips.
She'd take his hand, her eyes filled with love and concern. "Ekansh, beta, what have you done now?" Her soft voice, a gentle scolding, never harsh.
She'd make him apologize, then hug him tight. "Promise me you'll be more careful next time."
He recalled the time he'd accidentally broken her favorite vase. Tears streaming down his face, fearing her anger.
But instead, she'd knelt beside him, wiping away his tears. "Accidents happen, beta. Let's clean up together."
Her patience, understanding, and unwavering love. Ekansh's heart swelled, longing for those carefree days.
His mother's absence felt like a fresh wound. He missed her guidance, her warmth. The photograph seemed to whisper: "Forgive, Ekansh. Let go."
Ekansh's voice cracked as he whispered, "Ma, I promise... I'll never let anything happen to your legacy. All these memories, our moments... they're all I have left of you."
He gazed at his mother's photograph, his heart aching. "You were the only one who truly understood me, Ma. The only one who loved me unconditionally."
His thoughts turned bitter. "Not like Papa. He never cared. Only about his business, his reputation."
Ekansh's eyes narrowed. "He's the reason I'm stuck in this loveless marriage. He's the reason I've lost my freedom."
His mother's photograph seemed to shimmer, as if she listened. "Ma, I wish you were here. You'd know what to do. You'd make everything right."
Tears streamed down his face. "I miss you so much, Ma. Why did you have to leave me with him?"
The silence that followed was oppressive, but Ekansh felt a spark of determination. For his mother's memory, he'd endure. For her love, he'd find a way out.
Ekansh's exhaustion finally consumed him, and he collapsed onto his bed, the photograph still clutched in his hand.
As he drifted off to sleep, his mother's gentle face lingered in his mind.
For a fleeting moment, he forgot about his loveless marriage, his father's manipulation, and the weight of his family's legacy.
In his dreams, he was a child again, safe in his mother's embrace.
But as the night wore on, his subconscious began to stir.
Fragmented images flashed: Samyuktika's quiet strength, his father's calculating gaze, and the crushing pressure of his responsibilities.
Ekansh's restlessness grew, his dreams reflecting his inner turmoil.
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Samyuktika's curiosity got the better of her. She sought out Netra, who was busy in the garden.
"Netra, may I ask you something?" Samyuktika approached her.
"Of course, ma'am," Netra replied, her hands gently pruning the flowers.
"Why does Ekansh live separately from his father and mother?" Samyuktika inquired.
Netra's hands paused, her expression guarded.
"I...I don't know, ma'am," Netra stammered, avoiding eye contact.
Samyuktika sensed Netra's hesitation.
"Is everything alright, Netra? You can trust me," she reassured.
Netra's gaze darted around, ensuring they were alone.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. I'm sworn to secrecy. Please don't press me," Netra whispered, her voice trembling.
Samyuktika's cu
riosity deepened.
What secrets lay hidden?
Why the silence?
She decided to drop the inquiry, but her mind whirled with possibilities.
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