Chapter 177: A wife

He knew what she was upset about.

His previous assertion of taking her again upon reaching home. She had been rocking with

tremors since then, yet tried her best to look normal on her exterior. He noticed how she

would glance at him every now and then, her hands shaking, her body shivering. But she

tried her best to maintain herself without showing fear. Her face had turned white, and her

lips shook, but she bit them to control her trembling.

He bore his eyes on her face. She was looking at him, and as soon as she noticed his eyes on

her, she looked away. She was on the verge of crying. His words had been playing in her

mind continuously. She really wanted to escape this situation. She didn't want to spend a

night with him alone. She was already sore as an aftermath of what had occurred in the car.

Her body was not strong enough to endure another round. But she knew she could not deny

him, especially on their wedding night. She could not disobey him. She had to do what he

ordered her to do, even if that order included opening her legs for him, no matter how sore

she was, how much she wanted to escape, or how fearful she felt. What mattered was his

order. Her feelings did not matter.

As they reached their room, he put her onto her feet and opened the door for her. She

entered inside, and he followed behind.

Sheharzaad's eyes connected with the interior decoration of the room: the king-sized bed

adorned with flowers, the dim yellow lights creating a warm and romantic ambiance. The

atmosphere was cozy and welcoming. But observing the room was the last thing on her

mind as it was preoccupied with the events that were about to happen.

The options available to her ran through her mind as it calculated how to delay the

inevitable.

She couldn't outright deny him.

First, she didn't have the courage.

Second, now he had a right to her.

In the car, he hadn't even given her a chance to resist, and she had done as he asked. Her

mind had been boggled and jammed; she couldn't decipher what was exactly happening. He

was fast. Really fast with his ministrations.

So fast that he hadn't even let them reach home.

She slightly tilted her head towards him as he turned around to close the door.

Thetickof the lock made her flinch, weakening her knees.

Reality was seeping in now.

Then he turned around, and as soon as she noticed through her peripheral vision, she

quickly tilted her head straight. In front of her eyes came the mirror.

In the mirror, she saw him leaning against the door and staring at her through the

reflection. Their eyes collided.

His orbs were so intense.

The stare he subjected her to was so acute that it made her knees buckle, increasing the

uneasiness within her.

His eyes weren't even blinking, his one hand in his pocket while his back leaned against the

door.

The tension in her mind was evident on her face.

Her chest visibly lifted up and down as she held her hands together, her fingers playing with

each other nervously. She didn't realize she was breathing heavily, the silent room

reverberating with her breaths.

Slowly, she flashed her eyes toward the floor. She couldn't sustain those ardent orbs.

And as she felt movement by his side, her eyes moved up to the mirror again as he

straightened up and loosened his tie.

Terror overtook her, especially due to the look in his eyes. Her shoulders hunched

impulsively as she clenched her lehnga.

She felt like she was standing in a lion's den as he took a step toward her, removing the tie

and throwing it on the bed. Striking her eyes with his and capturing them, he removed his

coat, folded it, and placed it on the sofa, followed by his waistcoat.

He walked toward her, each step widening her eyes. As he moved past her, he suddenly

snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. She looked at his neck

instead of his eyes.

He flushed her body against him, forcing her to look up.

"Sheh...Shehryaar," she uttered nervously, her breath stuck in her throat. Tears stung her

eyes.

Overwhelmed.

She felt so overwhelmed and nervous.

His thumb moved to her chin, tilting her head up as the pad of his thumb played with her

chin.

"I liked it when you called me Sherry," he whispered in a low, husky tone.

His ears had liked the way her lips moaned out his short name when he took her. Took her

by surprise, rather.

She blinked, looking up at him.

"Sherry?" she uttered in a questioning tone, and he smiled in affirmation, nodding.

"Sherry it is... for you," he told her and kissed her little chin, making her gulp lightly.

Her toes curled inward.

She hoped, prayed, things wouldn't escalate.

But what she feared more was unintentionally backing away from him out of instinct. It

would send the wrong message, and she couldn't bear to end up on his bad side.

She didn't want to end up in that cell again.

He took a step back before holding her hand and leading her to the dressing table. Pulling

the seat back, he made her sit on the chair as they both faced the mirror. Her eyes stared at

his reflection in the mirror. Their eyes connected. He arrested her gaze. She wanted to look

away but his handsome features didn't let her move her eyes away from him. She found hin

staring at her. Observing her body. That's when she begin to observe herself in the mirror.

She stared at herself in the mirror.

Dressed as a beautiful bride.

She looked so different from other days.

A few hours ago, when she was looking at the same girl in the mirror, her name wasn't

associated with anyone.

But now it was.

She wasn't someone's wife.

But now she was.

A wife...