I am married.

Never out of millions of thoughts have I ever thought I would get married, that too with the guy who was once my biggest nemesis.

Arranged marriage with a nemesis sounds as good as drinking a glass of chocolate smoothie until you realize that it was a bitter gourd in disguise.

Yes, I thought it would be like all the hundreds of romance novels that I have fed to my soul in the past years.

No, he was not an underworld boss, nor was I daughter of his enemy mafia group.

I was just another girl who was once again pawned by the mastermind of scheming- desi parents.

Before you all come at me, let me clear this up. I absolutely love my parents. I could actually sell my kidney to see them smile but that won’t stop me from stating a fact that I am truer than time.

They have a way of putting you in the marriage market even before you realize it. First, it is subtle by taking you to wedding functions of relatives or maybe relatives of relatives and then it get to whitemailing by cooking you your favourite food and giving emotional speech at the dinner table about how they finally wish to see you settle-it only happens in case your parents are mine.

And if they are like mine, then all the best – you might just find yourself getting married to your biggest nemesis.

Now, I know what you all are thinking. I could have said no – but it only would have done little to no good to the family drama that my ma, the mother of all Ekta Kapoor has scripted. Now don’t ask me how I came to know about her plan, because I won’t tell you. Don’t want my mother dearest to find out about my secret source.

Now here I was, sitting in my nemesis bed waiting for his highness to grace this room with his presence.

If he tries to act funny tonight I will impale his smartass nose with my pinky figure. All the years of reading fighter romance gotta work some way.

I heard the door being open and shut softly, pulling me out of my murderess thought. Steady footsteps made their way near the bed which was decorated in white flowers and scarlet roses, appropriate for the first night. Ew.

“Hey,” His deep voice vibrated across the room, making me a little scared and a little breathless. Smartass do have a voice that could put any of my favourite audio narrators to shame.

Hey yourself you pasta stealing thief from fifth grade!

I definitely didn’t voice out my thoughts because he cleared his throat.

Once.

Twice.

Thri-

Before I could count and fill my sadist mind with the satisfaction of torturing him, I was pulled up by my arms in a swift moment.

No hi and hellos anymore? Okay.

He stared at me dead in the eyes, looking intimidating as he leaned closer, almost invading my personal space. His face serious as he tilts his head to the left assessing me before his other arm rose to move around my neck tracing the base of my throat. My breath hitched as his breath teased my face.

If you’re wondering that he pulled me in his arms and pinned me against the wall and kissed me like I was his only source to survive like one of those romance novels, you're absolutely wrong.

And I would suggest you get your mind out of the gutter, sweetstuffs.

Instead, this son of my mother-in-law’s serious s face- which I absolutely hate- turned into a lopsided smirk, his one hand held both of mine together , while his other wrapped loosely around my next as he asked, “Did you lose your vocal cord after wailing like a whale during your vidaai, tink?”

“You won’t be saying that after tonight, peter pan,”

Someone please duct tape my mouth immediately. Thank you.

His eyes widened and his cheeks flushed darker than tomatoes. Adorable.

Okay. I need to get my brain checked. Because the last time I checked, Harshvardan Singh Rajawat is anything but adorable. He is annoying, obnoxious, irritating and has an annoyingly cute smile with two dimples.

Where is my duck tape?

Flabbergasted, he looked at me dumbfounded as if I had said something scandalous, but then again knowing our history, I could bet on my left toe that by the end of the night we will be indulging in a vocabulary match. Finally finding his voice, he narrowed his eyes at me while trying to cover the front of his kurta by holding the two front corners, “I knew I couldn’t trust you with me,” he paused for dramatic effect before adding, “alone.”

This little piece of cheesecake with caramel-

“You-” Before I could finish my monologue of being chivalrous, he grabbed my cheeks resulting in me looking like fluffy fish from finding Nemo. Not a very sexy face for the occasion of the first night, if you ask me.

“Save your comebacks for some other day, I-you dear pati parmeshwar is tired- so,” he slowly removed his hand from my face-which was very distracting not that I will ever admit it to him-pushed his hair from his forehead before giving me a smirk as if he knew what I was thinking as he continued, “I shall be taking the bed for my beauty sleep.” And just like that he-with the speed that can put flash to shame- jumped on bed and covered himself with the cover head to toe like a mummy.

That little-

“Close your mouth if you don’t want to spend the night sheltering the mosquitoes; it’s quite a good use of that mouth of yours if you ask me.” His voice sounded muffled behind the sheets and he definitely didn’t do a good job at hiding his laugh.

He did not just make an absolutely disgusting joke about my pretty mouth that I flossed five times!

Brave of him to assume  would sleep on the couch. If he thought I was someone to easily sever victory on a silver platter  then he couldn’t be any more wrong than he already is.  And just like that I jumped on him again. An evil smirk that could scare kids away made its way to my lips as I heard him groan, but if there is one thing that we share in common it is our mutual competitive  nature. Especially with each other.

Seething, I twisted my neck and rolled my shoulder with an exaggerated flare that almost could put WWE fighters to shame and did what you most definitely shouldn’t be doing on your wedding- I leaped and jumped on the bed like I had read and seen many gymnasts do on books and television. The only problem was, my calculation of force and velocity went south.

That's why you failed all your science classes. A very annoying voice inside my head reminded me as I landed on him as gracefully as a cockroach would once it loses its wings. And my lovely dearest husband aka pati parmeshwar, reacted the exact way I thought he would.  A very satisfying oomph and shriek washed over my sadist heart which loved to make him scream.

In pain, you nasty people!  Stop reading those smutty novels and try non-fiction. It helps.

Despite the shooting pain on my butt given the impact of my landing, I twisted in such a way that I straddled him, and with the way this man sleeps like a mummy with his quilt from head to toe , it would definitely refrain from him for a moment. Imagine the surprised look on his colleagues' faces when they have to read the news. Insert the burning houses in the background while sipping tea gif. 

A smile that looked similar to the joker made its way to my face. While I was too busy planning the demise of my new husband , my grip loosened – and with one swift moment he twisted me under him. His hand on either side of me , caging me in while his warm breath teases my face. His brown whiskey eyes twinkled with mischief.

He looks so hot—

I need to find the voodoo doll he is hiding in his basement because no way on earth I could ever call him-Harshvardhan Singh Rajawat aka my enemy husband - hot.

“Too eager to celebrate our first night by mapping me, Tinker Bell?” His drawls breaking the voodoo spell or whatever shit I was under.

“You—”

“I know you are eager, but no need to dive on me like I am most anticipated favourite last book on the bookstore, all you have to do is,” He pauses before leaning dangerously close to my face and whispers, “scream daddy—”

Because he could finish his sentence, I dived on him like an Olympic swimmer with an angry grunt that almost sounds too animalistic and wrong if not known by the context.

That condescending son of my mother-in-law! Fun and games are okay but no one gets to make fun of my love for reading. Not even my husband. And just like one of my favourite fighter romance female leads, I jump on him and wrestle with the intention of knocking that perfectly smug smile out of his face. Given that of our competitive nature, he tries his best to tame me.

The bed creaked violently under the pressure of both of us rolling around like two disgruntled pandas trying to settle a territorial dispute. It was like an awkward nature documentary, minus the bamboo with the setting of a couple celebrating the first night.
“I am not a wild beast you buffoon!” I grunt as he rolls me around on bed like a drunken octopus trying to salsa dance.

Responsible adults they said.

“Then stop acting like a beast and let me sleep,” He pushes me against the edge of the bed like the ungrateful husband he is he has the audacity to mock me and continue, “I don’t want to look like a panda depraved of sleep on my wedding album.”

“Stop acting like you even care about our wedding, let alone our album,” I spat and when he freezes for a moment, I take the opportunity to jump on him like a toddler on trampoline pushing the bed against the wall in the process with a thump.

“I don’t, but my feature grand-children’s will be so disappointed to see me look so less sparkly.” Recovering quicker than expected, he had the audacity to grin as I cage him by straddling him. To exaggerated his point he grin and winks at me as he gestures between us, “and given our current position , I defiantly know you don’t mind producing little army Harvadhans.”

“Don’t even think about it,” I hold his hand and push him against the mattress again, “ I will chop your-”

“Degradation and pain is not my kink, tink, but I am will to experiment.”The sheer audacity of this man to laugh at my expense is the proof why I have hated him for the last twenty-three years, I was almost tempted to choke him with the pillow but remembering how black white was not my colour when I did the Korean analysis, I was more of a pastel girl and jail doesn’t provide my colour pallet. So, I did what I could was the best way of getting revenge, I pushed him out bed, or atleast tried to given the fact that the man in question was six something inch tall with a body that could put gq model to shame- it was more like rat fighting an elephant.

A very hot elephant with abs if the hard panels that have been pressing under me is correct observation.

I should slap myself for thinking that way. And to prove my thinking he pulled me against him that I smacked against his chest with oomph and the bed creak so violently that it craked taking us both down.

Silent followed as we both looked at eachother in horror.

And just like one of the horror movies a hard thumping of our door was the proof of what was to come next.

What have I gotten myself into?

Welcome to the world of Sameeksha and Harshvardhan. I hope you guys will give this book a try. I am trying to experiment with this book and trying new style that I have never really tried before, so , please, please, please let me know your thoughts and views. And don't forget to hit the star bottom, voting keeps me motivated.

Yours truly
Sitaraaaa