Isha had just stepped into the bathroom of her new room, ready to shower after a long, exhausting day. As the water flowed down her body, a sudden realization hit her like a thunderbolt—she didn't bring a change of clothes.
Not even one.
And to top it off, she was wearing the same heavy lehenga she had worn at the engagement. Beautiful, yes—but definitely not something she could wear casually around the house.
She froze, standing there dripping wet, wondering what to do. The house was empty, right? At least, she thought so.
"Maybe I'll just wrap myself in a towel and run to the room, call Meera, and ask her to help with some clothes," she whispered to herself, heart pounding at the thought.
She quickly grabbed the only towel available—it was small, barely covering her mid-thighs. Tight and uncomfortably snug, but it would have to do.
Wrapping herself up as best as she could, she carefully opened the bathroom door, only to come face-to-face with someone she least expected.
Harsh.
Standing right there.
His eyes instantly darted downward—straight to her long, smooth, slender legs.
His throat went dry. He looked away instantly, trying to control himself. But the damage was already done.
Isha gasped, horrified. She took two quick steps back in panic—and that's when it happened.
The corner of her towel got caught on the table by the door.
And in one swift motion… it fell.
For a moment, time stopped.
Harsh's eyes widened in complete shock. Heaven itself seemed to flash before his eyes.
Isha froze, her back to him, stunned in disbelief.
Then, as reality hit, she quickly turned, picked up the towel with trembling hands, and bolted into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.
Harsh was still standing there, like a ghost. His mind couldn't register what had just happened.
"Did I just... see her... completely?" he murmured to himself, his ears red and heart thudding.
His body felt strange, unfamiliar, almost as if it wasn't under his control anymore.
Without another thought, he left the room.
Inside the bathroom, Isha stood against the wall, mortified. Her face was burning red with embarrassment.
"Shit… shit… shit!" she whispered, holding her head.
"He saw everything… Oh my God, what do I even do now? Why the hell did he walk into my room like that? Ugh—but this is his house… still! Couldn't he at least knock before entering?!"
She wanted to disappear, to hide forever. Facing Harsh again felt impossible.
She stayed in the bathroom for over half an hour, trying to calm herself.
Finally, when she felt a little composed, she stepped out again.
Meanwhile, Harsh was pacing, realizing a huge mistake.
He hadn't arranged any clothes for Isha.
How could he forget something so basic?
Feeling guilty, he sent one of his own shirts and a pair of loose pants through Meera for Isha to wear temporarily.
Meera knocked gently at the door.
"Who is it?" Isha asked from inside.
"It's Meera, beta. I've got some clothes for you," she replied softly.
Isha just pushed one hand out through the slightly open door, grabbed the clothes, and quickly changed.
That whole day, Harsh couldn't shake the image from his mind.
It was the first time he'd ever seen a girl like that—vulnerable, bare, and utterly real.
Isha was already making his heart beat faster, and now… after seeing her like that… it wasn't just his heart, but his entire body that was reacting.
He tried to distract himself.
It was only the first day.
He didn't even feel like eating dinner, so he asked Meera to prepare something light and call Isha for dinner too.
But when Meera returned, she told him gently,
"Isha said she's not feeling well. She'll eat in her room."
Harsh simply nodded.
He knew.
She needed space.
In her room, Isha sat quietly with the dinner tray.
Her mind wouldn't stop replaying that moment—his eyes… the way he looked at her. It wasn't just shock.
It was something else. Something intense.
It made her skin tingle and her heart race.
She stood in the balcony for a while after dinner, letting the night air calm her down.
Eventually, she fell asleep, thoughts still tangled in embarrassment and something else she couldn't name.
The next morning, she woke up and was stunned to see her wardrobe completely filled.
Beautiful kurtas. Casual wear. Formals. Nightwear.
Everything neatly arranged—each piece chosen thoughtfully.
"Did Harsh… really do all this?"
Her cheeks turned red again—not from shame, but something softer this time. She smiled a little, touched by the gesture.
She picked a simple shirt and loose pants, tied her hair back, and went downstairs.
She knew she had to help with breakfast today. For Harsh.
As she entered the kitchen, the staff greeted her warmly.
She smiled and greeted them back politely.
"What does Harsh like for breakfast?" she asked.
"Sandwich and chicken soup, mostly," one replied.
Isha nodded.
She turned to Meera, "Can you show me just once how to make it? I'll remember everything. I have a good memory."
Meera smiled, already fond of her.
Something about Isha reminded her of someone from her past—someone she deeply respected.
So she agreed, guiding her like a mother teaching her daughter.
For Isha, it felt like the first time someone truly cared, truly guided her.
She felt… safe.
They both finished making the breakfast, set the table nicely, and just then—Harsh came downstairs, freshly dressed.
The moment Isha saw him, her heart skipped again.
She blushed, quickly looking away.
But she knew one thing—she couldn't stay silent forever.
This was just the beginning.