The car slows, tires crunching softly against the gravel as the gates open in a slow, almost theatrical arc. Light spills inward from both sides, warm and deliberate, outlining the driveway like a path that has been waiting for this exact moment.
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•✿•✿• ᴛᴇʀɪ ᴍᴇʀɪ ᴋᴀʜᴀɴɪ ʜᴀɪ ʙᴀᴀʀɪꜱʜᴏɴ ᴋᴀ ᴘᴀᴀɴɪ ʙᴀɴᴋᴇ ᴊᴏ ɪꜱʜǫ ʙᴀʀꜱᴇ ᴛᴇʀɪ ᴍᴇʀɪ ᴋᴀʜᴀɴɪ •✿•✿•
•✿•✿• ᴀɢᴀʀ ʏᴇʜ ᴜsᴋᴏ ʙʜɪ ʜᴜᴀ ʜᴀɪ ᴘʜɪʀ ʙʜɪ ᴍᴜᴊʜᴋᴏ ᴢʏᴀᴅᴀ ʜᴜᴀ ɪsʜǫ ᴡᴀʟᴀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ... •✿•✿•
![The Wife I Never Chose [On pause]](https://sk0.blr1.cdn.digitaloceanspaces.com/sites/857170/posts/1394348/TWINKLE.png)
Niyati’s leaning against the railing, talking the way she does when she doesn’t want to think too hard. Yuvraj’s closer than necessary, listening instead of interrupting, which already makes her uneasy. She glances at him, catches that quiet focus in his eyes, and laughs to cover it. The words slip out easily, practiced and safe. “Careful,” she says lightly. “People might think you like me.” She expects the usual tease, the familiar deflection. Instead, he turns toward her, expression calm but serious, as if the joke never existed at all. “Let them.”
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