Khushi's POV
The court wedding had been a cold, sterile affair. No flowers, no music, no laughter—just a few signatures on a piece of paper and the judgmental glares of Arnav’s family. To them, I was a charity case, a junior designer who had nothing of her own. They thought they were doing me a favour by forcing this marriage to hush up a scandal, never realising that the "scandal" was the most electric, forbidden pleasure of my life. They didn't know that every time Arnav looked at me in that courtroom, he wasn't seeing a burden; he was seeing the woman he had already claimed, the woman whose body he knew like the back of his hand.
I have started something I am not even sure anyone would read. Now here we are. Me—still writing. You—still here. I’m not backed by fame or algorithms, just pure passion… and you. So if you’re reading this, thank you. Your support doesn’t just help—it builds this journey. And every share, every comment, every cheer? It’s another “Keep going.” And I will. For you to read. Comment your darkest desires to read in the story.
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