Page 153 of One Hellish Love

Rudra was drenched in sweat, his T-shirt clinging to his toned muscles. Her gaze trailed over his chest, down to his flat, sculpted abdomen, the strength of him drawing her in like a magnet.

“You know what your stare does to me,” he called out, breaking her trance.

She flinched, caught off guard. He had seen her watching, and now he was wiping his face with a towel, grinning knowingly. She tried to suppress the playful smile tugging at her lips, but it was hard. He was every bit the man who could make a woman fall hopelessly in love. And then the nightmare flashed again in her mind. Any woman would be lucky to call him her husband, and here she was, preparing to leave him over a promise she had never truly accepted.

Before she realized it, he was standing right in front of her. His hand lifted her chin gently, and without warning, his lips brushed against hers. The soft kiss sent shivers down her spine, but the sharp bite that followed made her gasp. A wave of heat surged through her body, and her hand shot up to touch the spot, rubbing where it stung.

“Why did you do that?”

“That was your punishment,” he murmured.

“Punishment?” she repeated, incredulous. “For what?”

He turned and walked out of the gym, leaving her standing there, bewildered.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he called over his shoulder.

Kashish’s curiosity flared. What could he possibly be talking about? What did she do to deserve punishment?

“Rudra, wait!” she hurried after him, catching up as he strode toward his room. She blocked his path, her hands on her hips, determined to get answers.

“Tell me now!”

“Don’t be so impatient, Kashish.”

She could sense he was up to something.

“You’re going to love my surprise,” he added, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Fine. But what are we doing today? It’s Sunday, remember?”

“I booked a spa appointment for you this afternoon.”

“A spa? For me?” she asked, pleasantly surprised.

“Yes,” he smiled. “You’ve been stressed all week. I want you to relax, to take care of yourself.”

It was moments like these that reminded her why he was so different, so special—his care, his thoughtfulness, set him apart from everyone else.

She pouted slightly. “Are you joining me?”

He chuckled softly. “I wish I could, but I’ve got some important work to finish.”

Kashish frowned, disheartened by the thought of spending the day apart.

“But,” he leaned in, kissing her forehead tenderly, “we’ll see each other once you are back. I promise.”

His words were enough to lift her spirits again. She smiled, her heart swelling with the warmth of his love, and headed back to her room to prepare for the spa.

*******************

It was evening, and the spa had done wonders for Kashish, recharging both her mind and spirit. She felt radiant, refreshed, ready for anything. When she returned to her room, another surprise awaited her: a beautiful pink lehenga lying on the bed, along with a familiar note from Rudra. He wanted herto wear it and meet him on the terrace. The sequence of surprises—first the spa, now this lehenga—hinted at something special, something intensely romantic. Her heart quickened with excitement. She wanted to forget the painful promise she had made to Daadi, even if just for tonight, and lose herself in the moment with Rudra. She knew such a night might never come again. Determined, she began dressing.

Almost an hour later, standing before the mirror, Kashish looked like a bride. The lehenga was simple but beautiful, and though she hadn’t adorned herself elaborately, her reflection was undeniably stunning. She hoped the maids wouldn’t see her like this on her way up; she’d already overheard their gossip about her and Rudra, and she knew they suspected they were more than just colleagues. With one last glance at her reflection, she adjusted the dupatta (veil) over her shoulder and made her way to the terrace, anticipation coursing through her.

The terrace was softly lit, but instead of the candlelight dinner she had expected, Kashish’s eyes were drawn to the center, where a fire burned brightly. It wasn’t just any fire—it looked ceremonial, almost sacred. A sense of nervousness crept into her as she saw Rudra approaching, dressed simply in his regular suit, yet somehow looking more handsome than ever. His eyes roved over her appreciatively as he reached her. Gently, he removed the dupatta from her shoulder and draped it over her head like a bride’s veil. She stared at him in shock, her heart pounding as she noticed the garlands, Sindoor, and Mangalsutra laid out beside the fire.

“Rudra… what is all this?”

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