Double update as an apology for making you guys wait.

Pranati’s POV

The morning after the proposal dawned with cruel normalcy.

A rooster crowed before the sky had even thought of lightening, its shrill cry slicing through the damp air. The scent of wet earth and last night’s incense clung to everything, thick as guilt. Padma Akka was already in the front yard, her fingers moving deftly through the curry leaf plant, plucking tender greens for the day’s papu charu. She hummed a lullaby under her breath—the same one she always abandoned midway, as if she’d forgotten how it ended.

Somewhere near the well, Mahesh and Sai were bickering over last night’s ladoos, their voices rising and falling like unruly tides.

"You took the bigger one!"

"Liar! Yours had more ghee!"

Life went on.

But for me, the world had cracked open.

---

"Buji."

Amma’s voice was soft, tentative, from the kitchen doorway. She stood there, her saree pleats neatly folded at her waist, the pallu tucked securely over her shoulder.

I looked up from the chai I wasn’t drinking.

"They’re coming tomorrow again," she said, wiping her hands on the edge of her saree. A nervous habit.

I didn’t pretend to misunderstand.

Shravan’s parents. For pelli chupulu.

The formal engagement ceremony. The first step toward a wedding. Toward a life I wasn’t sure I wanted anymore.

My fingers tightened around the teacup. The porcelain was warm, almost too hot, but I didn’t pull away. The pain grounded me.

"Okay," I said.

It wasn’t a word. It was a surrender.

Amma blinked, her dark eyes searching mine. "You’re saying yes?"

I nodded.

Not because my heart leapt at the thought of being Shravan’s wife. Not because I could picture our future together with any clarity. But because it was easier. Because love had left me bruised, and lust had left me confused, and Shravan—Shravan was safe. Known. A childhood dream I could crawl back into, even if it no longer fit.

"Good girl," Amma murmured, her palm resting briefly on my head, a blessing and a benediction. "He’ll keep you happy."

The weight of her expectation settled on my shoulders.

---

Later, I sat on the old wooden swing in the backyard, my fingers working mechanically through a pile of jasmine flowers. The scent was heady, cloying, sticking to my skin like a second layer.

Anu appeared out of nowhere, biting into a guava with relish. Juice dripped down her wrist, but she didn’t seem to care.

"Looking like a bride already," she teased, nudging the swing with her hip.

I forced a smile, my fingers still threading blossoms into a half-hearted malli pulu.

She smirked, leaning closer. "Do you know Siddharth Anna’s been stomping around like a bull who lost a fight?"

My hands stilled.

"Oh?" I kept my voice light. Too light.

Anu’s grin widened. "He was in the storeroom earlier. Nearly broke the lock trying to yank it open. Face all dark, like he’d swallowed a lemon." She took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. "Not angry-mad, you know? Jealous-mad."

The jasmine stem snapped between my fingers.

Jealous.

The word slithered through me, hot and dangerous.

Was it jealousy? Or just possessiveness? The difference mattered. One meant he cared. The other meant he just didn’t want someone else to have me.

---

Siddharth cornered me near the tulsi plant later that evening.

Not with words. Not with hands.

Just with his presence.

He stood there, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. The fading sunlight caught the sharp angles of his face, turning his eyes into molten gold. He didn’t speak as I walked past, a plate of murukku balanced precariously in my hands.

But his gaze—his gaze—was a brand.

One step. Two.

Then—

"Why are you punishing me?"

His voice was low, rough, like gravel dragged over skin.

I stopped. My pulse roared in my ears.

Slowly, I turned. "This isn’t about you."

He laughed, sharp and humorless. "You think marrying Shravan will erase everything we did?"

The plate trembled in my hands. "You made it meaningless."

His expression darkened. "No." A step closer. "I made it complicated. You made it real."

The air between us crackled.

"He loves me, Siddharth," I whispered. "And you don't. Not when you keep giving me just your body and hiding your heart."

For a second, he looked wounded. Raw.

Then his mask slammed back into place.

I walked away, my legs unsteady.

But fate had a cruel sense of timing.

Behind the neem tree, half-hidden in shadows, stood Shravan.

Watching.

Listening.

His face was unreadable.

---

That evening, I found myself on the worn stone steps of the village temple, the last rays of sunset painting everything in gold. The scent of marigolds and camphor clung to the air, mixing with the distant sound of the priest’s chanting.

Shravan sat beside me, his hands clasped loosely between his knees.

"I still want to marry you," he said, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. "Even after seeing you with him. Even knowing you’re torn."

I swallowed. The admission hung between us, fragile as a spider’s web.

"Because I love you," he continued, staring at the horizon. "I don’t care what happened before. All I care about is tomorrow."

The words were beautiful. Perfect.

And they made me feel nothing.

I didn’t answer.

He took my silence as hope.

---

That night, another message lit up my phone.

Siddharth: Come to the rooftop. Now.

The screen glowed in the dark, accusatory. Outside, the wind rustled through the mango trees, their leaves whispering secrets I couldn’t decipher.

My fingers hovered.

Me: Why?

His reply was instant.

Siddharth: Because I’m done pretending I don’t want you. And I’m done letting him win.

Glipmse of next chapter

“I can’t think straight when I see you with him,” he confessed, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I want to break something. Someone.”  

The possessiveness in his tone should have angered me. Instead, it sent a shiver down my spine.  

“You don’t love me,” I said, eyes still shut, as if blocking out his face could shield me from the truth. “You desire me. That’s different.”  

Hello everyone be ready for the next chp where Siddharth confesses to Pranati.