ISHAN'S POV

"You don't get to dominate me," he said, voice low but shaking. "Not tonight. Not ever."

Shubman stared at him.

Not furious.

Stunned.

Ishan pointed at the door.

"Out."

"Ishan-"

"OUT."

The authority in his voice this time wasn't playful.

It wasn't teasing.

It was real.

After a long second, Shubman walked to the door.

Paused.

Looked back once.

Then left.

The decorated room suddenly felt too big.

Ishan sat on the edge of the bed.

Hands trembling.

This wasn't how first nights were supposed to go.

Next Morning

The house woke early.

Traditional households always did.

Ishan was already in the kitchen before sunrise.

Hair tied back.

Simple kurta.

No wedding glow.

Just focus.

He kneaded dough quietly.

Cooked sabzi.

Made tea.

He wasn't avoiding anything.

He was grounding himself.

The smell of fresh rotis filled the house.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Shubman's parents entered first - surprised to see him there.

"You're cooking?" his mother asked gently.

Ishan smiled respectfully. "First morning. I thought I should."

His father nodded approvingly.

Shubman entered last.

Calm.

Unreadable.

They didn't look at each other.

Not yet.

---

The doorbell rang.

Shubman frowned.

Ishan wiped his hands and walked out.

At the door stood Abhishek Sharma - holding sweets and grinning.

"You invited him?" Shubman asked flatly.

"Yes," Ishan replied. "He's my family."

Abhishek sensed tension immediately but kept quiet.

Breakfast was served.

Everyone sat in the hall.

Ishan personally placed a plate in front of Shubman.

"Eat."

"I'm not hungry."

Silence.

His parents glanced between them.

Ishan's jaw tightened.

"Eat."

"I said I'm not."

And something snapped.

The roti in Ishan's hand folded roughly around sabzi.

He stepped forward.

"Tu kya tera baap bhi khayega."

Before anyone could react-

He stuffed the roti and sabzi into Shubman's mouth.

The hall went silent.

Utterly.

Even the ceiling fan sounded loud.

Shubman stared at him, stunned, chewing purely out of reflex.

His mother gasped softly.

Abhishek froze.

Ishan's anger drained as fast as it had risen.

The words replayed in his head.

What he said.

In front of his father.

In front of everyone.

His eyes widened slightly.

Realization hit.

He stepped back.

The weight of the moment crushing down.

The playful chaos from Goa?

Gone.

This wasn't teasing anymore.

This was marriage.

And pride.

And ego.

And lines that, once crossed, didn't di

sappear.

Shubman slowly swallowed.

Wiped his mouth.

And finally looked at Ishan.

Not furious.

Not shouting.

Just deeply hurt.

And that silence?

Was louder than the slap.