Chapter 3: Sparks in the Silence

The wedding was over.

The rituals, the tears, the endless family photos — done.

Now, silence.

Uncomfortable. Heavy. Charged.

Veeresh stood at the window of their new apartment bedroom, shirt slightly unbuttoned, sleeves rolled, cigarette between his fingers. The glow of the city flickered behind him, his face half-lit by the dying ember.

He took a slow drag, exhaled, and watched the smoke curl in the air.

Behind him, the bathroom door clicked.

Poornima walked out, freshly changed into a pale blue cotton saree, her wet hair resting against her back, her eyes heavy with exhaustion — and rage.

She saw the smoke.

> “Seriously? You’re smoking inside the room?”

Veeresh glanced at her in the mirror. “It’s my room too now, remember?”

> “Not by choice,” she muttered, grabbing a pillow to divide the bed.

He chuckled. “Don’t bother. I’m sleeping on the couch.”

> “Good.”

She dropped the pillow and turned toward the kitchen. As she passed him, he spoke — casually.

> “Make me a coffee.”

Poornima stopped mid-step. Slowly turned back.

> “What did you just say?”

He turned, taking another drag. “Coffee. Strong. No sugar.”

She crossed her arms.

> “Make it yourself, husband.”

Veeresh raised an eyebrow, tossed the cigarette into a tray, and walked toward her. Slowly. Calmly.

> “You know…” he murmured as he came closer, “…you’ve got quite the attitude.”

> “Try living with you,” she fired back.

He stepped even closer, so close she could feel the heat off his skin.

> “I warned you,” he whispered, his voice low and deliberate. “Agreements can be modified.”

Before she could reply, he grabbed her waist firmly and pulled her in — crashing his lips against hers.

The kiss was deep. Intense. Unexpected.

Poornima’s eyes widened in shock, her hands stiff against his chest. She was frozen, lips caught in the storm of his hunger, his frustration, his challenge.

And then, just as suddenly… he pulled away.

She gasped for breath, lips trembling, heart racing.

> “Wh-what the hell was that?” she managed to say, shocked, furious, confused.

Veeresh leaned closer, his breath against her ear.

> “Modified clause one: I kiss when I want. Coffee?”

She blinked, cheeks flushed, caught between wanting to slap him and losing balance from the aftershock of that kiss.

> “Ohh really?” she finally said, recovering her sass. “Let’s see how long you survive this marriage, Mr. Agreement Modifier.”

She turned on her heel, muttering something under her breath.

Veeresh smirked as he watched her storm into the kitchen.

> “No sugar,” he called out.

> “You’ll get poison,” she yelled back.