Chapter 33 - 28. Forbidden Love

By 8 pm, I will publish Chapter 29 on STCK.

Y'all have been asking why the previous two chapters were so short and whether they will remain that way.

The answer is: No, it won't. 😌

Both chapters had strong cliffhangers, and I didn't want to spoil either of their impact by merging them. That's why I published them separately.

But on STCK, I released both chapters together, so you don't get charged twice.

Since the minimum pricing starts at ₹10, I set it at ₹15 for both chapters combined, instead of ₹20 if they were uploaded separately.

Both chapters were short (under 1k words), so I didn't want you to overpay.

(Usually, I charge ₹10–₹12 per chapter depending on word count, and for smut or intense scenes, it can go up to ₹15–₹20.)

Also, I don't let word count dictate my chapter structure. It limits my creativity. If a chapter feels complete at under 1k words, I won't stretch it unnecessarily. And if it takes 10k words to tell it right, I'll go for it.

Also, I price them on STCK accordingly, based on the content and depth, not just numbers.

This chapter has 2.1 k words for your kind information.

Hope that clears things up!

Happy reading! 💗

CHHAVI'S POV

Straightening the pallu hanging on my shoulder, I briskly walked into the kitchen. My mother was preparing the snacks. I quickly turned off the stove on which the tea was boiling and began arranging the cups.

Placing the hot, crispy fritters on a large ceramic plate and stacking a few smaller plates beside it on the tray, I paused for a moment to breathe. Turning to my mother, who was busy frying onions and potatoes dipped in batter, I asked.

"Thik to lag rahi hoon na, mummy?"

(Am I looking alright, mother?)

She stopped stirring and glanced at me once- head to toe, before returning back to her job. 

"Haan. Bas unke saamne zyada kuch mat bolna. Pehle damaad ji ko chai dena, phir sasurji aur apne papa ko, aur phir apni saas ko."

(Yes. Just don't speak much in front of them. First serve the tea to your husband-to-be, then your father-in-law, your father, and then your mother-in-law.)

"Aap nahi aaogi?"

(Won't you come?)

"Meri kya jarurat?"

(Why am I needed there?)

She brushed it off casually and returned to the pan, focusing on frying the fritters.

I sighed. It hurt how distant she was from this whole thing. I felt bad seeing my mom not participate in the discussion of my marriage. But I pushed the thought aside, fixed my expression and carried the tray to the living room.

I could hear laughter from the corridor as I approached. Just before stepping in, I paused at the corner, taking a second to collect myself.

I hadn't slept a wink last night. My heart had been thudding in my chest, refusing to calm down. And now, the anxiety was worse than ever.

Even though Vinesh ji and I had spoken a couple of weeks ago and he stated how much this marriage means to him, I...I still couldn't bring myself to feel anything more than an acceptance that seemed dull...

No excitement. No thrill of getting married like I used to be when I was just a teen. 

I feel like everything is happening very fast. My grip tightened on the tray.

I stepped in, finally, forcing a smile to climb up my lips.

Vinesh ji was sitting at the center, laughing along with Papa and others.

Noticing me enter the room, my soon to be mother- in- law nodded with mild amusement which kind of unsettled me. I saw her steal glances at my bangles and then quickly cover up

"Namaste." 

I greeted softly.

They all turned to look at me.

And for the briefest second, all the air left my lungs.

"Tumhe to dekh kar lagta hai, shaadi se pehle hi grihasthi sambhalna seekh gayi ho."

(Looking at you, seems like you've already learned how to manage the household even before marriage.)

Vinesh ji's father commented, standing up with a courteous smile to take the tray from me. 

Polite chuckles filled the room, only to add to my unsettlement.

I smiled again because that's what I was supposed to do but my heart was high on frenzy.

When Joshi ji finally lowered the tray carefully on the center table, I served the tea- exactly in the order Mummy told me.

My hand trembled slightly while offering the cup to Vinesh ji but I masked it well behind my smile until he placed his palm under mine to hold the cup. I looked up instinctively but instead of feeling anything like my friends said when their husbands came to meet them, I only felt...weird and cold.

It was as if I was doing everything right, yet something deep within me was screaming wrong.

But what could possibly be wrong?

My father has taken matters into his hands. And whatever decisions he's made for me so far have worked out well. 

He told me to pursue mathematics, I did. Now I'm an assistant professor in a prestigious college, earning a decent salary and making him proud.

He told me it's time to marry, so here I am. Doing it.

Even though...I never truly liked the idea of getting married.

I wanted to live with my parents. Serve them. Be the daughter who stayed. The one who never left. But, Baba made me understand that a woman carries the burden of responsibilities heavier than her dreams. That I was sent into this world to carry forward a family's lineage- the one that I must marry into. That I, as a woman, am the epitome of dignity, the bearer of my father's honor and that my compliance is my virtue.

He said a good woman doesn't question what's decided for her good.

And he's never been wrong, has he?

Since childhood, I've seen my mother run the house perfectly- ensuring everyone's tea was served on time, that lunch was hot, that every sock and every shirt was in its place. She never raised her voice, never demanded more. She smiled, even when she was exhausted. She stayed silent, even when she was hurt.

I really admire her- her power, her resilience. I aspire to be like her.

Maybe that's what I'm meant to become too.

A woman who follows the path carved for her. Without detours. Without desire.

So why does something inside me feel like it's...not right...?

Why did a mere boy's gaze make me feel more alive than my fiancé's touch?

I sat quietly after serving everyone with my hands folded on my lap, not forgetting to paste the smile on my mouth.

But even as I nodded to the words floating around me, part of my mind, heart, soul...was somewhere else.

Or rather...on someone else.

Dark smoky eyes. That teasing smirk. That maddening confidence.

I shook the thought away immediately.

No, no, no. Not today. Not now.

But God, why did the image of a boy- barely twenty- keep clouding the moment I was supposed to be focusing on the man I was going to marry?

A few days ago, right after the end of the semester exams, he had walked into my chamber, demanding extra classes from me.

I remember the way he leaned against the door, with arms crossed and a mocking smile.

"Maths isn't even your main subject. Why are you so much interested in it?"

"Who said maths is my main interest? You're my main interest."

"Tsk!"

I shook my head as if the thought would drop down and never return. I was very irritated by the way my brain kept flashing him and his nuisance in front of my eyes when my marriage alliance is being fixed.

Flashback

I was scribbling on the paper when he didn't hesitate to drop that statement.

I paused, pen mid-air and looked up to see him give me a lopsided grin.

I laughed it off with a nervous, awkward chuckle that sounded more like a cough.

"You really want me to report your behavior to the Discipline committee, hmm?" 

I tried to sound stern even though I could feel my heart resume its frenzy dance. Never had a student made me feel so. 

He didn't even blink.

"Then why haven't you, Miss Rosy?"

I was caught off guard.

I had no defense while he continued fixing his eyes on me.

Walking straight up, he pulled the chair opposite me, sat down and leaned forward just slightly. The proximity gave him power. 

"I've been doing this for more than a months now, haven't I?" 

He leaned in in further, raising his eyebrows.

I had no answer. Because he was right. I could've. I should've. But I didn't.

"I'm just a nineteen-year-old boy. One of the thousands of students you teach and tackle all day. You could've easily shut me down. Kicked me out. Reported me. Ignored me. You have the power here, Miss Rosy."

He leaned back, eyes still locked on me. A lazy smirk formed on his lips again. 

"You know that. Yet...you haven't done a thing to push me away."

This boy. This infuriating, unapologetic boy with smoke in his eyes and confidence far too big for his age.

I wanted to roll my eyes but I didn't to not let him know the effect he had on me.

His heavy voice fell into an octave when he whispered.

"What does that mean?"

I shook my head, trying to bury my flushed cheeks in the textbook. Heat crawled up my neck. 

He didn't move.

"Does my report-worthy behavior... excite you?" His voice dripped with a slow and deliberate insinuation now. "Do I make your lectures a little harder to teach?

His gaze was predatory.

"Do I interest you, Professor?"

I swallowed hard. My tongue felt dry. My throat had parched. And still! Still, I fired back with what little composure I had left.

"Keep flirting like that and I might actually fail you." 

My murmur was shaky yet a little sharp. Thank god!

His smile dropped and I fell like I was winning a war! Until...

His smoky eyes darkened, trailing over my face like they were tracing territories.

"Then I'll come for re-evaluation." He whispered, finally locking his incandescent eyes on mine. "Privately."

And just like that something inside me snapped. No, not snapped!

It lit on fire.

No. No. This can't happen. He's a student. I'm his professor. This is unethical. Dangerous. Insane. Forbidden!

I pushed my chair back, standing up with just enough force to make it clear this conversation was over. My palms were clammy, but I fisted them by my side.

"You've had enough fun." I said, keeping my voice firm even though my pulse throbbed at my throat. "But not anymore."

I took a moment to breathe.

"You will leave this chamber now and if you truly care about your grades and your academic future, you'll stop playing these little games with me, Drishye."

I expected him to smirk again and throw a witty comment at me like always, but he didn't. Neither did he move.

Something in his face cracked and his smile faltered. And for the first time in all these weeks of his childishness, I saw him serious. It gave me a feeling that this is not the end of it- my outburst is not the end of this whatever we had had going on. It had only made it worse.

"I'm not playing." 

He said quietly. 

I frowned. 

"What?" 

He stood up from the chair and repeated, boring his eyes onto mine.

"I'm not playing games with you, Miss Rosy. Never have I. Since, the very beginning."

My breath caught. My nails dug into the wooden desk in front of me, whitening the knuckles.

"What- what do you want!?"

I whispered. Tsk! I shouldn't have asked. 

"I want you to stop pretending like you're not affected like I'm. Like you don't shift in your seat when I sit in the front row just to look at you. I want you to admit that when you go home, alone, I stay in your mind all the time. I want you to admit-" He paused as I watched him swallow as if...as if something was aching him. "Admit that whenever you don't see me sitting on the middle front bench, your eyes search for me in the entire classroom- the moment you step in."

My spine stiffened. He wasn't guessing. He knew.

My lips parted in silent denial...or maybe guilt. 

"I see the way your eyes flick to the door...even when I'm late by two minutes. I also see the relief when I finally walk in."

I faked a chuckle, rolling my eyes.

"Delusional."

"Say that again...while looking me in the eye."

I couldn't.

I wouldn't.

"You probably think I'm just some stupid kid with a crush on his pretty professor. Maybe I am. Maybe I started out that way. But-"

"You're! This is an infatuation! You and I are nothing beyond a student and a professor, Drishye!"

I didn't let him complete. I just couldn't.

"You can keep hiding behind rules and titles, Miss Rosy." He said, smoothing the cuffs of his shirt. "But someday, the 'professor' mask will slip. And when it does..."

His eyes flicked to my lips.

"I'll be there. Waiting."

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