Riya stood before the grand mirror, her reflection unrecognizable. The scarlet lehenga swirled around her slim frame, embroidered with delicate golden vines that caught the flickering light of the diya. Her lips, painted a deep crimson, quivered as she adjusted the heavy dupatta over her perfectly styled hair.
Behind her, Aarav’s voice broke the silence, low and teasing. "You look... breathtaking."
Riya’s heart raced, not from shyness, but from the weight of the transformation. Once Ravi, now Riya, she had been guided—no, coaxed—into this role by Aarav, who had insisted she’d make the most beautiful bride. His hands came to rest lightly on her shoulders, his touch firm yet reverent.
"Why do you keep looking away?" he murmured, leaning in closer, his breath warm against her exposed neck.
"I—this doesn’t feel real," she stammered, her voice softer, higher than it once was, betraying the woman she had become.
Aarav’s lips curved into a smile as he gently turned her to face him. "It’s real, Riya. And tonight, you’re mine."
His fingers traced the line of her jaw, down her neck, to the delicate curve of her waist, pulling her into him. In his arms, the lingering doubts dissolved, replaced by the undeniable pull of desire. As their lips met, Riya felt the weight of her transformation shift, no longer a burden but a promise of who she was meant to be.
No comments:
Post a Comment