Page 39 of Entangled Vows
Suraj had once shown her a photograph of their grandmother wearing it. It was a family heirloom, passed down through generations of Khurana women. And now… it sat in a box meant for her, Vikram’s temporary wife.
Her breath caught.
Why would Vikram give her such a valuable and personal item?
Before she could even react, Vikram pulled out the ring and reached for her hand. His touch was firm, his fingers were warm on her skin. He slipped the heirloom ring onto her ring finger without hesitation. There was no flicker of emotion on his face. It was, as usual, unreadable, as if this meant nothing, as if he hadn’t just offered her a piece of his family’s legacy.
Her heart racing, she then opened her own box and reached for Vikram’s outstretched hand and slipped the ring onto his finger, completing the quiet exchange.
“Now, you can tie the mangalsutra if you have it,” the man behind the desk said.
Gaurav handed Vikram a delicate gold chain threaded with black beads, with a small square diamond pendant at its centre. It glinted softly in his palm.
Mahika’s throat tightened as Vikram stepped closer and stood directly in front of her. He gently swept her hair aside and fastened the mangalsutra around her neck. His fingers brushed the skin at the nape of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. He stepped back, and the traditional symbol of their union now rested against her collarbone.
Then came the garlands. They were beautiful, and their floral scent filled the entire room. As the soft rustle of papers and murmurs surrounded them, Mahika realised that even if this was just a formality, a document signed out of obligation, it marked the beginning of a new chapter in her life. At least for a year.
Vikram gave her an intense, unreadable look. But she saw something softer under his controlled act. It wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cold either. The look stirred something uncertainwithin her. Then slowly, the tight knot of nerves in her chest loosened, like a clenched fist finally opening. It faded into a soft feeling, like a bit of hope she didn’t think she’d ever feel. She finally came to terms with being Mahika Khurana at this very moment.
People mumbled their congratulations and well wishes, and they both just nodded, saying thanks on autopilot. Mahika appeared calm, but inside, she was freaking out.
“Alright, let’s click a few photos,” someone said, gesturing to the photographer.
Before Mahika was ready, Vikram closed the gap between them, their arms brushing as he moved. His body heat slid under her skin like a current.
“Move closer,” the photographer urged. “Come on, you just got married.”
Before she could say anything, Vikram wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. The contact was startling. It felt overly intimate and familiar. She gasped, her body acting instinctively before she could think. It wasn’t a romantic touch, but it wasn’t completely platonic. He knew what he was doing to her, and he was doing it on purpose.
“Relax,” he murmured at her temple, his voice dark and velvety.
The photographer clicked a few pictures and spoke, “Now look at each other.”
Mahika slowly turned to Vikram to find him already looking at her.
His gaze wasn’t smug. It was even and focused. He watched her so intently, as if he were trying to read her mind.
She felt a brief flutter inside her tummy.
Click.
“Please, hold hands now.”
Vikram reached for her hand as if he’d done it a million times before. And she almost forgot how to breathe.
“One last pose. Bride’s hands on the groom’s chest, groom’s hands on her waist. Look at each other and smile.”
Mahika hesitated. Vikram’s eyebrow arched slightly in silent command.
She placed her palms on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat, a stark contrast to the frantic beat of her own. His hand settled on her waist again, his grip possessive as it spread across the curve of her back. His thumb grazed her exposed skin in a subtle gesture that burned through the fabric.
Her body stiffened, the tension palpable, and his lips curved up in amusement, indicating he was enjoying this way too much. Then, he reached up and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her knuckles briefly brushing against the soft edge of her jaw.
A gasp escaped her lips as she inhaled sharply.
“Relax, Mrs. Khurana,” he smirked. “We wouldn’t want this to look like a hostage situation, would we?”
She whispered, shooting him a sharp glare. “Unlike you, I skipped the class where they taught you how to fake it like a pro.”
