The evening reception party had already begun, with everyone busy attending to the guests. A short while ago, the bride's family had arrived with the traditional wedding gifts—an extravagant collection of over a hundred trays, requiring an entire vehicle just to transport them!
Shrirupa's family was affluent and well-respected in society. They had spared no expense in their only daughter's wedding, spending lavishly beyond their means.
As her father, Moloy Babu, engaged in conversation with his new in-laws, her mother, Tonima Devi, sat beside her, concern evident in her eyes. She asked, "Are you doing well? I've been calling you since yesterday, but you neither answered nor called back. What's wrong?"
Shrirupa's gaze remained fixed on the man standing a little distance away, engrossed in conversation with his friends. Without looking at her mother, she replied, "What does it matter to you how I am? You're all finally free of your biggest responsibility. What else is there to worry about? Just be happy!"
Her words carried the weight of lingering resentment, making it clear that she still hadn't forgiven her parents.
Tonima Devi felt a pang of sadness at her daughter's response. She sighed and said, "Still the same bitterness? You were never this unreasonable, Titi. Why are you acting like this?
A wonderful family, a good man—yet you refuse to let go of your stubbornness. Why?
We didn't force this marriage upon you. We asked for your consent, didn't we?"
Shrirupa finally turned to look at her mother, her voice laced with frustration. "My consent? What part of this was my choice?!"
Lowering her voice, she continued, "Right after my results came out, I told you I wanted to prepare for the Civil Services. I wanted to stand on my own feet. I only asked for a year—just one!
But you didn't even give me that chance. Instead, you sent me into a family where women do nothing but manage the household.
I spent years studying so I could build my own identity, and you destroyed it in an instant!
If marriage was inevitable, why bring me so far away? You could've just married me off in Benaras that day itself—after all, no one bothered asking for my opinion back then either, and clearly, no one cares now."
Her anger and frustration were evident—understandable, given that academics had been her entire world. She had never been particularly social, with just two close friends and two schoolmates she had stayed in touch with over the years.
Her lifelong dream was to become an IAS officer. She had devoted herself to her studies, determined to sit for the exam after completing her master's. Yet, barely two months after graduation, she found herself married.
She had never been in love, never entertained proposals. Her family's reputation had kept people at a distance, and her ever-present bodyguards had only reinforced the wall around her.
Outside of academics, her interests were limited—occasional outings, a few get-togethers, and her painting. That was all.
She hadn't been against marriage itself. What she couldn't accept was how suddenly it had been thrust upon her, without so much as a discussion.
Seeing the tears welling up in her daughter's eyes, Tonima Devi gently took her hand and tried to explain, "Titi, do you think getting a job is everything? Building a home, managing a family—it's much harder than any job.
Besides, you've known since childhood that our family's daughters and daughters-in-law don't work outside. You are not the first.
You are the eldest daughter of the Mukherjee family. Don't forget the immense prestige and respect our family name holds in society. Our women don't step out to work!
You should also remember whose granddaughter you are. Education wasn't given to you for employment but to enrich your mind. Knowledge is meant for self-improvement, not for earning a living.
Look at your life—not everyone is so fortunate. Instead of focusing on what you didn't get, learn to cherish what you have.
Besides, it's not like you don't have your own identity. You're an exceptional artist, well-recognized, and respected for your work. What more do you need? Continue your work from home if you must.
Just give this a chance, from your heart. A home is the most beautiful thing one can build. This is a big family. Love them, and try to find happiness in them.
I brought you this far to keep you safe from all the troubles back home. You have everything here—just give it one sincere try."
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The reception had finally ended, and by the time all the guests had left, it was almost 1 AM.
Ritwik entered the room, loosening his tie as he walked in. The door was only partially closed.
The air was filled with the scent of fresh flowers, but instead of evoking a smile, the fragrance irritated him.
Switching on the lights, he removed his suit jacket and placed it on the sofa. His eyes then landed on the bed—decorated with flowers, meticulously arranged for the occasion.
And there, leaning against the headboard, fast asleep, was his new wife. She had probably been waiting for him but had dozed off.
For a brief moment, he recalled the compliments he had received earlier in the evening. Friends and relatives had showered him with praise, saying he was incredibly fortunate to have such a stunning wife.
Hah! Ritwik Chatterjee, relying on luck? He had built his own fortune, shaped his own destiny. And now, people were telling him he was 'lucky' to have her?
Did this girl even realize who he was? Did she know the extent of his power? If anyone was lucky here, it was her—landing a husband like him without having to lift a finger.
No, wait. That was incorrect. She hadn't 'gotten' him. She never would.
If she thought she could just marry into his life and enjoy his world, she was mistaken. Responsibilities? My foot!
She was nothing more than a pretty face. His aunt was right—what did he even need with a half-educated girl like her?
His entire family had pushed this marriage onto him for the sake of their so-called honor and social status, completely disregarding his wishes.
And now, he was expected to live with her? Build a life with her? The very thought made his blood boil.
This girl—his wife? The idea itself was infuriating. He had always envisioned someone else in this role. She was the one who was supposed to be here tonight. But instead, this stranger had taken her place.
Unacceptable. This marriage was unacceptable to him.
To be his wife required a certain level of worth—something she completely lacked.
How had his father and uncle forced him into this? They hadn't even considered his desires.
The thought of sharing a room, a bed, with her—impossible. Seeing her every day, tolerating her presence—it was unbearable.
A ten-year age gap. How was this supposed to work?
She was just a child to him, someone with whom he had nothing in common. The idea of sleeping beside her was unthinkable. Tomorrow, he would make it clear—she could sleep on the sofa. The bed was his.
So, she wanted to marry him? She'd soon realize what that meant. He would make sure of it—every single day.
Taking his clothes, he changed and picked up a pillow, laying it on the sofa. That's where he would sleep.
Deliberately, he grabbed the AC remote and lowered the temperature even further. He noticed her shiver in her sleep, curling up against the cold—but he didn't care. Not one bit.
His wife? No, she would never truly be his wife.
She was just the daughter-in-law of the Chatterjee family—nothing more.
He had already given her a place in this house, but that was all. Nothing beyond that.
Pulling the blanket over himself, he turned off the lights and shut his eyes. He needed to find a way out of this situation soon.