Bed Of Betrayal
I moved toward the dressing table, my reflection staring back at me. Dressed in a delicate pink lehenga, my hair neatly adorned, my partition filled with sindoor-I looked exactly as I was meant to be: a newlywed. A wife. A small giggle escaped me, a mix of nervous excitement and joy.
Then, I heard him enter.
I turned, my heart racing as my gaze met my husband's. Heat rushed to my cheeks, deepening into a warm blush. He moved with slow, deliberate strides, his presence dominating the room. Without a word, he sprawled onto the couch, his arms resting lazily on the headrest as his dark, piercing eyes raked over me.
"Strip."
The word landed like a slap.
I blinked, confusion clouding my face.
"What?"
He let out an impatient sigh.
"Did you not hear me? I said strip. Come on, remove your clothes and give me a good show to enjoy."
Shock paralyzed me.
"Reyansh!"
I gasped.
"I don't like the way you're talking to me. I'm your wife, not some stripper!"
He smirked, tilting his head as if amused. Then he laughed-a low, cruel laugh that sent a chill down my spine.
"Wife?"
he sneered.
"Oh, sweetheart, do you really think that's what you are?"
He leaned forward, his gaze dripping with mockery.
"You're nothing more than A toy I dressed up just to break apart."
My breath hitched, my stomach twisting painfully.
He continued mercilessly.
"Did you really believe the lies I fed you? That I was in love with you? That you meant something to me?"
His voice dropped to a whisper, but the venom in his tone was unmistakable.
"God, you really are as pathetic as you were twelve years ago."
Twelve years ago?
What does he mean by that?
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