The story begins
She looked innocent, with soft eyes, a shy smile, and a heart that hadn't yet tasted desire. But this is the story of how her world shifted, how one by one, men began to want her, touch her, and awaken something deep inside her that she never knew existed.
The story begins in 2011, but before the heat starts, let's talk about Sanjana Sharma. Born in the small Ind**n town of "Manj*ri", she was the sweet, unexpected child her parents had in 1988. Her dad held a private job, her mom stayed home, and her older brother was already eight years ahead of her when she came along.
Being the youngest, Sanjana got all the love—and a lot of freedom. Her dad, while conservative with the world, let his daughter dress as she pleased. Skirts, crop tops, tight
jeans—she wore them all, even if it made her the talk of her extended family.
From childhood, Sanjana was irresistibly cute. And as she grew into her curves, she became the kind of girl heads turned for. After finishing school at a top-tier English-medium college, her life changed more when her brother married Anjali, a wise, confident woman only four years older. But the real twist? Anjali and Sanjana clicked instantly.
They didn't just bond—they became like shadows of each other. Anjali saw things in Sanjana that even Sanjana hadn't realised yet.
College life brought out the best in Sanjana. She performed in every event, and those tight dance outfits didn't go unnoticed. She was brilliant in academics too, earning a degree in commerce. She even tried for CA, but numbers weren't the only thing growing around her.
Boys were drawn to her like moths to flame. Some came close—too close—but Anjali kept her grounded. A stolen kiss here, a curious touch there—but no lines were ever fully crossed. At least not yet.
Marriage proposals started rolling in. The once-slender girl had filled out deliciously—plump cheeks, a rounded figure, the kind that made heads turn twice. Anjali teased her affectionately, calling her "Golu," and claimed men loved girls they could hold onto. Sanjana might have blushed, but deep down, she knew she wasn't "fat"—5'3" and 55 kilos of soft, irresistible flesh.
Her father kept turning down proposals, saying she was still too young. But once college ended, he even started talking about weddings. Anjali stepped in again, smart as ever, convincing them to wait. After all, she said, Sanjana was still too immature to "handle a household." Though Sanjana wondered—was her bhabhi protecting her, or teasing her?
"She's still so immature. How is she going to handle a husband, let alone a full household?" Anjali had said to the family one evening, sipping her tea and smirking knowingly. Sanjana overheard her from the hallway. She paused, unsure—was her sister-in-law teasing her, or protecting her in her twisted way? But then again, Anjali wasn't just family. She was her closest companion. The kind who could joke one minute and defend her the next.
Sanjana had long craved a sense of freedom—something beyond her well-behaved, conservative upbringing. She wanted to explore, earn, and feel powerful in her own right. After weeks of pestering her father—and with Anjali sweet-talking him behind the scenes—he finally relented.
He let her take a job at a Chartered Accountancy firm owned by one of his old friends. It wasn't glamorous, but it gave Sanjana something she hadn't expected—space. Space to grow. Space to breathe.
She already knew how to ride a scooty, and now, with a job
of her own, she was riding toward a newer, bolder version of herself. She began noticing how heads turned when she
walked into the office, how her voice carried more weight in conversations. She wasn't just the "cute daughter" anymore—she was becoming a woman who made her own choices.
Two years passed like that.
And while Sanjana was quietly evolving, her mother was getting restless. She worried constantly about marriage—about finding the right boy, the right family, the right future.
Sanjana's father, on the other hand, had a firm rule: no dowry, no discussion. Because of this, half the proposals didn't even make it through the front door. The other half usually had some unreasonable demand—appearance, salary, cooking skills, or other outdated nonsense. But Sanjana never stressed. She wasn't desperate. She wanted more than a husband. She wanted a connection.
Marriage Proposal
Then one afternoon, everything shifted. Her mother received a call from a relative on her side of the family. It was about a proposal—from a family in Ghatpu**r, her maternal hometown. They were familiar, respectable, and—most importantly—interested in Sanjana.
Anjali heard about it before Sanjana did.
And from that moment, the teasing… the planning… and the quiet fire between curiosity and caution had begun.
Sanjana's mother stepped into the room holding her phone and called out, "Anjali, come here. I want you to see this boy's photo."
Anjali walked over casually, took the phone from her hand, and studied the image with a sly grin. "Hmm… he's not bad. Who is he?"
"He's from Ghatpu**r," her mother replied. "I sent him Guddu's photo last week. They live nearby."
Anjali raised an eyebrow. "So you're ready to pack her off to Ghatpu**r now?"
"Not exactly," her mother smirked. "The boy works in Luckn**w—he's in a bank. She'd live here. His family is based in Ghatpu**r, that's all."
"Still, I hope they're not asking for dowry," Anjali said, rolling her eyes. "You know her father won't entertain that for even a second."
"They're not. They only want a happy, festive wedding."
Anjali grinned. "Now that's rare."
Her mother nodded. "Talk to Guddu, okay? She won't listen to anyone but you. They're coming in four days."
Anjali laughed mischievously. "What do I get if I convince her?"
"I'll get you whatever you want. Just make sure she doesn't do what she did last time—showing up in jeans in front of the family."
Anjali smirked. "That guy wasn't even worth a glance. She'll say yes this time. I'll take care of it."
That evening, Sanjana burst into the house, calling out loudly.
"Bhabhi! Oh my sweet, sexy Bhabhi! Where are you hiding?"
"I'm right here," Anjali said, walking out with a knowing smile. "Someone's glowing today. What's the secret?"
"Nothing much," Sanjana said, grinning. "Just a good day."
"Oh really?" Anjali teased. "Or maybe a certain photo leaked?"
Sanjana froze. "Photo? Whose photo?"
"Yours," Anjali said playfully. "And your mystery man's."
Sanjana crossed her arms, pretending to be upset. "Even you've joined them? I expected better from you."
"Shut up and look." Anjali handed her the phone.
Sanjana peeked at the screen. "Okay… and?"
Anjali stepped closer. "He's coming Sunday. Four days from now. And this time, no drama, no attitude. Just be your gorgeous self."
"But why so soon?" Sanjana mumbled, her voice suddenly quieter.
"Because, Golu…" Anjali said, brushing Sanjana's hair gently over her shoulder, "You're not a kid anymore. And this guy... I have a good feeling about him."
Sanjana looked down, her cheeks flushed with uncertainty.
Anjali leaned in, her tone playful. "And when he touches
you here…" she traced a finger lightly down Sanjana's arm, "and maybe here too…" she teased, nudging Sanjana's waist gently, "don't forget who gave you the heads-up."
Sanjana blushed deeper. "Bhaabhi! Stop it."
Anjali laughed, grabbed her hand, and pulled her into a hug. "I'm just preparing you. You have to meet him properly. I promise, we'll figure out the rest later. You trust me, don't you?"
Sanjana didn't speak. But her eyes were soft. Her hands stayed wrapped around Anjali. Somewhere between nerves and hope, she felt something shift.
And Anjali, ever the playful protector, kissed her cheek and whispered, "Good girls blush now... smart girls enjoy later."
Sunday morning arrived, and Sanjana woke up with a scowl on her face. For the past three days, Anjali hadn't
shown her the boy's photo even once. Sanjana, out of pure pride, hadn't asked either. She knew her sister-in-law too well—Anjali was playing the game of teasing, delaying, and letting curiosity turn into delicious frustration.
At this point, Sanjana couldn't even remember what the boy looked like anymore. His name? Ajay. Yes... she thought so.
Her mother came briskly into the room, pulling open the curtains. "Guddu, wake up! The boy's family will be here soon. They're expected at ten."
Ten? Who even shows up so early? Sanjana groaned internally and pretended to be asleep, keeping her back turned.
Moments later, Anjali entered, her tone amused but firm. "Golu, up now. Go take a bath and don't even think about acting lazy."
Sanjana opened one eye and shot her a look full of mock
annoyance, but said nothing. She wasn't ready to lose the battle just yet.
Then the doorbell rang. Sanjana jumped out of bed and tiptoed to the hallway, peeking from behind the curtain to see who had come.
There were five visitors. She began mentally sorting them.
Two older adults—probably the boy's parents.
One young woman, on the heavier side, was dressed in a flashy golden saree. A sister? A sister-in-law?
And then, two young men.
Both looked to be around their late twenties. One of them was tall—about 5'10"—fair-skinned, dressed sharply, with an athletic build and a subtle, irresistible confidence. The kind of man you'd notice the second he entered a room.
The other was shorter—maybe 5'7"—not as fair, but clean-
shaven, with thin glasses and a mild, intellectual air. Slim. Quiet. The kind of man who might surprise you slowly.
Sanjana's heart beat a little faster as she stared, wondering, Which one is Ajay? She couldn't remember the face from the old photo anymore. Did he even wear glasses? she questioned herself.
Just then, Anjali entered Sanjana's room with the energy of a thunderstorm.
"Sanjana!" she barked. "You're not ready yet?"
Sanjana flinched. Oh no. No pet names. Not Golu. Not Cutu. Not Sweetie. When Anjali used her full name, it meant she was furious.
"Just ten minutes!" Sanjana pleaded, then darted into the bathroom before another word could be spoken.
Meanwhile, the living room had come alive with polite conversation and warm introductions. Tea and snacks were
flowing. Sanjana's elder brother was grilling the visitors quietly—this was his baby sister after all. Her father, meanwhile, had already launched into political discussions, as usual.
Her mother whispered to Anjali, "Go check if Guddu is ready."
Then, turning to the guests, she added, "I call her Guddu, though everyone in the family has a different nickname for her."
"I'll go see," Anjali said, walking off.
When Anjali saw Sanjana again, her smile turned soft. Sanjana looked like a dream in a pale blue kurti. Her cheeks were already blushing with a pink hue, whether from nerves or something deeper, Anjali couldn't tell.
"If I were Ajay," Anjali said playfully, "I'd marry you right now."
Sanjana smiled shyly and followed her out into the courtyard.
As soon as she stepped outside, the air seemed to change. Every eye turned to her. She looked gorgeous, glowing in a simple, untouched way. Anjali held her hand like a proud sister and led her to where the guests were seated, placing her beside the young woman in the golden saree—Ajay's sister, Arpita.
"She's even prettier than in the picture," Pooja said aloud. "Brother, are you even paying attention?"
Sanjana smiled faintly, lowering her eyes—but her cheeks burned with heat. She kept trying to steal glances to figure out who Ajay was.
Soon, Ajay's mother, Sarita, came and sat beside her, gently taking Sanjana's hand into hers as if she were feeling for some kind of hidden truth. Sanjana sat silently,
her heart racing. She couldn't hear anything. Couldn't even focus.
Then, from the corner of her eye, she saw the tall boy—boy-the one who looked like he belonged on a magazine cover—smiling at her softly. It must be him, she thought. It has to be him.
Anjali's voice broke the moment. "If everyone agrees, maybe Ajay and Sanjana can have a little time to talk alone?"
Everyone nodded politely.
Anjali looked toward Sanjana and added, "Come on, Ajayji."
And then… the shorter boy with the glasses stood up.
Sanjana's stomach dropped for half a second. Oh. That's Ajay? Not the one I imagined... She didn't let her face betray the thought, but a slight flicker passed her eyes.
Anjali smiled to herself, almost as if she had predicted this exact reaction.
She led the two of them to a quiet guest room and said with a teasing grin, "Talk comfortably. Sanjana, try not to scare Ajayji too much, okay?"
Sanjana gave her sister-in-law a long, side glance, to which Anjali only winked and slipped out of the room.
Now, alone in the room, the silence stretched between them like a fresh bedsheet—clean, awkward, waiting to wrinkle.
Sanjana shot her sister-in-law a sharp glance as Anjali left the room with a mischievous smirk, closing the door behind her. The silence between Sanjana and Ajay suddenly felt heavy, intimate in a way neither of them had expected.
They both sat awkwardly, hands folded in their laps, barely making eye contact.
Ajay finally spoke. "Your sister-in-law is... quite funny. And sweet."
The words slipped out more casually than he intended. And instantly, he panicked inside. God, I hope she doesn't think I'm into my Bhabhi.
Sanjana laughed softly, easing the tension a bit. "She is. She's also my best friend. Way more than my mother, to be honest."
That opened the floodgates.
Sanjana began speaking animatedly about Anjali, her family, how she grew up, her job, her college memories, and even about the times she'd nearly said no to other proposals. Her voice carried a rhythm, and her expressive eyes glowed with innocence and suppressed excitement.
Ajay watched her. Listened. Took in her fast-paced words and her flustered energy. She was beautiful—far prettier than her photo—but she was also overwhelming. He
wasn't a talkative guy, and all of this felt like too much, too soon.
Still, he said nothing. He let her speak. And somewhere in that river of words, he asked the one thing he'd been sent to find out.
"So… will you continue working after marriage?"
Sanjana didn't flinch. "Yes. Definitely. I want to continue."
Ajay leaned back slightly, testing her. "You know, you don't need to. I work as a senior loan officer. I earn well enough to take care of us both."
She looked him in the eye. "That's good to hear. But my job isn't just about money. It's about me."
Ajay paused. She was stronger than he expected.
"Fine," he said simply. "We'll figure it out. But from my side… this match? I'm saying yes."
Sanjana didn't know what to say to that. Her first thought wasn't romance. It was frustration—That's it? We're done already? She hadn't even asked him about his habits, his thoughts, his actual desires. It all felt… mechanical.
Right then, Anjali came in to collect her, her eyes flicking knowingly between them.
As she led Sanjana away, she pulled her into a side corridor and asked softly, "Well?"
"I don't know, Bhabhi. Can anyone decide something so big in just a few minutes?" Sanjana whispered.
Anjali shrugged. "That's all the time you get. Look, your mom's going to say yes. If you want me to stop this, say it now. Otherwise, you know I'll disappear when the drama begins."
Sanjana hesitated. "He's okay. Not someone I'd say no to.
Not someone I'd run toward either. But you all know better."
She didn't say it out loud, but her mind repeated it: He doesn't excite me... but maybe that comes later.
Anjali grinned. "Good enough. It's settled then."
Without hesitation, she wrapped Sanjana tightly in her arms, squeezed her, and pressed a kiss onto her cheek. "Welcome to adulthood, baby girl," she whispered with a smirk.
After the short private meeting, Anjali walked back into the living room with a sparkle in her eyes and a certain pride in her step. She leaned into Sanjana's mother's ear and whispered something, and in just minutes, the room was buzzing with approval.
The roka ceremony was done almost immediately, unplanned but welcomed.
Ajay's mother stepped forward and gently placed a sleek gold chain around Sanjana's neck, then slid a pair of elegant bangles over her wrists. The subtle weight of the jewellery felt both beautiful and heavy, like a promise she hadn't entirely wrapped her head around yet.
Sanjana's father applied a tilak to Ajay's forehead and handed him an envelope with ₹5,001—a traditional blessing and silent approval.
The two were made to sit side by side on a wide cushion. When Ajay's fingers brushed hers while offering a piece of laddu, a tiny current ran through Sanjana's hand. She fed him back with trembling fingers, avoiding eye contact.
Was this happening? she wondered.
She stood up afterwards, quietly bowing to take blessings from everyone—her heart pounding, skin warm, her mind clouded with one overwhelming question: Is he the one I'll sleep beside for the rest of my life?
After lunch, the guests left one by one. The room slowly fell quiet again. Sanjana walked back to her room, removed the bangles carefully, and sat cross-legged on her bed. Her little niece Anuwas was crawling around the room, humming and giggling, unaware of how Sanjana's world had just changed.
Sanjana lay back on the bed, her thoughts messy and electric.
His hands felt warm. His eyes were calm. But… is it calm enough? Will there be passion? Will there be a fire?
She rolled to one side and caught her reflection in the mirror. For the first time, she didn't see a college girl or a daughter. She saw a bride-to-be. A woman. And her heart skipped a beat.
By Monday, she returned to work, but she was no longer the same. Her body moved differently. Her mind
You know—the real part of marriage.
Wandered. She'd find herself zoning out mid-conversation, thinking about what her wedding night might be like. Her colleagues noticed her distant look and asked if everything was okay. She just smiled.
Two days later, the wedding date was fixed. Three months.
Three months until she'd sleep in another man's bed. That thought stayed with her longer than she expected.
The house exploded into preparations. Tailors, decorators, guest lists, jewellery shopping—it never stopped. But in between all that, Anjali took full control.
From choosing Sanjana's bridal lingerie to booking salon appointments, Anjali ran the show. And when they were alone, she started dropping more... intimate hints.
"Golu," Anjali said one evening, "now that you're officially engaged, it's time we talk. About the other stuff.
You know—the real part of marriage."
Sanjana blinked at her, heart racing slightly.
And Anjali just smiled. A smile that said, You've entered a new world now. And I'll guide you through every corner of it.
Two days after the engagement, Anjali walked into Sanjana's room while she was folding new bridal wear. Anjali sat on the edge of the bed and said with a smirk, "Alright. It's time we stop pretending."
Sanjana looked up. "Pretending what?"
"That you don't know what's coming your way—literally."
Sanjana dropped the kurti in her hand. "Bhaabhi!"
"You're about to marry a man. You're about to sleep with him. And you think you'll just show up in a red lehenga, lie down, and magic will happen?"
Sanjana flushed hard. "Ajay will do what he wants. I'll… respond."
"Oh really?" Anjali teased. "And what will you do when he kisses you down your neck… slides his hand up your waist… takes off your blouse and starts teasing your nipples with his tongue?"
Sanjana's jaw dropped. "Bhaabhi!"
"You're not a teenager anymore, Golu. I'm not telling you this to tease you. I'm telling you so you don't freeze up or feel guilty when your body reacts."
Sanjana sat still, heart pounding. "I've seen… a little. Online. But never like this."
"Good," Anjali said. "But don't just learn from videos. Talk. Tell him what you like. What feels good? It's not about being wild. It's about being open."
Sanjana whispered, "What if I'm too shy?"
"You will be," Anjali smiled. "But the best part? Shyness in bed can be sexy too. Just don't fake anything. Don't be quiet if it hurts. Don't hold back if it feels amazing."
Sanjana looked down at her hands. "Do you think he'll be… gentle?"
"I think he'll be whatever you guide him to be," Anjali said. "Men want to please. Let him."
Sanjana nodded slowly, cheeks glowing. The nervousness didn't vanish—but it turned into something else.
Something warm. Tingly.
Excited.
After Anjali's bold advice session, Sanjana's mind was anything but calm. She laughed it off in front of her bhabhi, but inside, something had shifted.
She tried to focus on her shopping lists and outfits, but now.
And then, Anjali's words echoed in her head.
"When he touches you… when his lips find your chest…"
It made Sanjana's face flush every single time she remembered it. Her bhabhi had said it so casually. So openly. Like it was just as normal as picking bridal bangles.
But to Sanjana, it still felt like entering a different world.
Later that night, after everyone had gone to bed, Sanjana lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling. The ceiling fan spun above her, but her thoughts were spinning faster.
What would Ajaydo? What would it feel like to be kissed for real? To have someone undress her with trembling fingers—not just by accident, but intentionally?
Her body responded before her mind could stop it. A slight shiver. A warm feeling in her stomach. The tips of her fingers brushing her arm... slowly, curiously.
She reached for her phone. Maybe a little conversation would distract her.
She opened her chat with Ajay. Their conversations had always been plain—textbook safe. Never romantic. Never suggestive. But now, her fingers hovered over the screen a little longer.
Sanjana:
Did you have a long day again?
Ajay:
Yeah. Reports, reviews, and my manager's lovely 4 p.m. drama. You?
Sanjana:
Wedding shopping. Jewellery. Saree. Nightwear.
She hesitated.
Sanjana (typing, then deleting): Then she retyped.
Sanjana:
Bhabhi told me I should be prepared… for everything.
A long pause.
Ajay:
She's not wrong.
Sanjana:
She says the first night is awkward… but beautiful.
Ajay:
It will be. For both of us.
There was a stillness in her chest—a moment that felt heavier than it should. But it wasn't fear. It was a mix of nervousness... and heat.
Sanjana:
Will you be nervous too?
Ajay:
I already am.
She smiled, held the phone to her chest, and closed her eyes.
For the first time, she wasn't thinking of wedding outfits or honeymoon spots.
She was thinking of hands, lips, eyes, and breath.
Of touch. And how it might change her forever.
Bought something for the first night too.
The wedding day arrived
Three months passed faster than anyone expected, and soon, the wedding day arrived. Sanjana's wedding was set in a modest banquet hall—nothing extravagant, because her family couldn't afford grand luxury.
Some relatives from the groom's side murmured among themselves that Ajay's wedding felt a bit too simple, not up to their imagined standards.
But the moment Sanjana stepped into the mandap wearing her deep red bridal lehenga, everything changed.
The hall seemed to go silent.
Every eye turned to her.
Even Ajay, standing on the stage, stared in disbelief—his bride looked like something out of a dream. He couldn't believe that this radiant woman, with her confident walk and glowing face, was now his.
Next to her, Ajay seemed... smaller. Softer. Ordinary.
A few guests even whispered the same under their breath—or at least thought it.
Ajay's sister, Pooja, and her husband, Vijay, had taken
responsibility for most of the arrangements from their side. Throughout the evening, Vijay made sure Sanjana was comfortable, handing her water or juice now and then while she sat nervously on stage.
Sanjana hadn't known him very well before, but his thoughtful and warm behaviour touched her deeply.
As the night stretched on, the exhaustion began to show. She was visibly tired—her face glowing with sweat, her back slightly aching—but the rituals weren't over yet.
Before the pheras, dinner was served. Ajay and Sanjana sat side by side while family members gathered around. Anjali fed Sanjana small bites with a teasing smile. Even Pooja and Vijay lovingly offered her spoonfuls, treating her already like one of their own.
Eventually, the sacred pheras were completed. Ajay tied the Man**lsutra around her neck and filled the parting of
her hair with vermilion. Just like that, Sanjana had stepped into a new phase of life.
Then came the moment Sanjana had been dreading—the Vid**i.
She cried uncontrollably. It wasn't just the emotion of leaving her home; it was the reality of stepping into the unknown, with strangers who would now be her family. It was the end of a chapter, and the beginning of something that felt as terrifying as it was beautiful.
Anjali, her sister-in-law—her best friend—also had tears in her eyes but kept herself composed. She hugged Sanjana tightly and whispered, "You'll be fine. You're stronger than you think."
Sanjana sat in the back of the decorated SUV, red bangles clinking softly as she wiped her eyes. Ajaysat beside her, silent but attentive. Pooja joined them too, while Vijay took the front passenger seat.
As the car began to move, Sanjana continued to cry quietly, tears tracing lines down her already faded makeup. Vijayhanded her a tissue from the front seat and joked, "Hey now, we're not that bad. We're not kidnapping you, you know."
That made Sanjana smile through her tears, just a little.
Ajay gently took her hand, holding it with a kind of quiet assurance. She didn't pull away. She didn't need to.
She checked her phone. No new messages. Probably everyone at home was still busy seeing off guests, she thought.
As the journey continued, they began talking lightly, carefully. Pooja made jokes, Vijay added to them, and slowly Sanjana started to feel more at ease. She found herself laughing—just a little. Her laughter was soft, still cautious, but it was there.
Eventually, sleep took over. She leaned sideways and
rested her head on Ajay's shoulder. Her heavy lehenga, the tight jewellery, the long rituals—all of it had worn her out.
The two-hour drive from Manj*ri to Ghatpu**r passed in quiet comfort. Her tears had dried, her breath had slowed, and for the first time that night, her face wore a small smile again.
The new bride had arrived in her new city.
She was still tired, still anxious—but now, another thought began to float through her mind...
"What will happen tonight?"
As soon as Sanjana and Ajay arrived at the house, she was instantly surrounded by warmth, noise, and dozens of unfamiliar eyes. Everyone was looking at her—not just with curiosity, but with eager expectation. She could feel it on her skin.
Ajay's mother, Sarita, stood at the doorway with a shimmering Anjali plate.
The camphor flame flickered between them, lighting Ajay's calm eyes and Sanjana's nervous blush. After the Anjali, Suman asked Sanjana to knock over a small rice-filled pot with her right foot — a symbol of prosperity entering the home.
The sound of the pot gently toppling echoed in Sanjana's ears louder than it should have. Then came the red-water footprint ritual. She dipped her bare feet into the colored water and stepped onto white cloth laid across the floor,
leaving behind delicate stains that almost looked like petals blooming beneath her steps.
Every step forward felt like walking deeper into someone else's world — but also closer to her husband.
Inside the house, it was buzzing.
Ajay's cousins hovered around, stealing glances, cracking jokes, whispering just loud enough for her to hear.
"She's too pretty for him, no?" "Look how shy she is. Ajay's in trouble tonight."
Sanjana kept her head lowered, but a smile flickered at the corner of her lips.
She was taken to the home temple with Ajay, where they lit a small lamp together. His fingers brushed hers as they reached for the wick — and her breath caught, just a little. It was innocent. Brief. But it felt like the first real touch that meant something.
Soon after, the muh dikhayi began. One by one, women from the family sat around her, unveiling her face, admiring her features, and handing her jewellery, silks, and gifts. She heard whispers like "Her skin is like milk" and "Ajay got lucky."
Their compliments made her blush, but somewhere deep inside, they also stirred something unexpected.
A kind of pride.
A kind of... anticipation.
When Sanjana was asked to sit beside Ajay for the kangana ritual, the crowd leaned in. Their wrists were tied with red threads, and now the challenge was to untie each other, without breaking eye contact.
They sat facing one another, knees nearly touching, wrists bound.
He looked into her eyes. She looked down.
"Ready?" someone called.
Sanjana's fingers fumbled on his wrist, grazing his veins, his knuckles. He was warm. Steady. And close.
Too close.
Their wrists were undone, but something else between them tightened.
Everyone clapped. Laughed.
But Sanjana's thoughts had already wandered. Not to her sari. Not to the guests.
To the moment when the door would close... and it would be just the two of them.
Her fingers still tingled.
And night hadn't even begun.
After the kangana ritual, Pooja stood beside the couple, holding a thread tied with red and gold.
"You both have to untie this cloth knot. But Bhai, you can only use one hand. Sanjana, you may use both."
Sanjana smirked and replied, "No need, Didi. I'll do it with one hand, too."
Everyone around clapped and laughed.
"Oh ho!" Pooja exclaimed. "That's confidence! Bhai, you don't stand a chance."
Ajay struggled a bit with the knot, his single hand fumbling. Then Sanjana gave it a try, and with a few careful tugs, she untied the knot effortlessly. The whole room burst into applause, cheering for the new bride.
Next came the angoothi game. A silver ring was dropped into a wide brass plate filled with flower petals and colored water. Sanjana and Ajay had three chances to find the ring,
and the one who won the most rounds would be declared the winner.
Sanjana found the ring on all three tries.
"Bhai, it's official now," Pooja teased. "She's going to run the household."
More laughter followed as everyone showered Sanjana with praises and playful comments. The atmosphere was light, filled with songs, games, and warm laughter.
After dinner, the final family members filtered away, leaving only close relatives.
Pooja led Sanjana upstairs to a quiet, beautifully decorated room. Rose petals were scattered over the bed in the shape of a heart, and delicate lights glowed along the ceiling.
Sanjana knew—this was it—her wedding night room.
For now, the room was still buzzing with women and children who were teasing her relentlessly.
"You won't be sleeping tonight," Taiji said with a smirk. "Tonight's your real wrestling match!"
"She doesn't look sleepy at all," Chachi chimed in. "I think she's just waiting for Ajayto to come and all of us to leave."
"Are, look how nervous she is!" Taiji added. "Not everyone's as shameless as you. On your wedding night, the whole house stayed awake from the noise."
Chachi laughed. "It wasn't my fault! Your brother-in-law couldn't control himself."
Even Pooja blushed hearing her elders joke so freely.
"Okay enough," she interrupted, "Sanjana, don't worry. Your jiju will explain everything to Bhai."
Finally, Jijaji brought Ajay into the room, surrounded by
giggling cousins who refused to leave. They demanded a big gift from the groom.
After a little drama and negotiation, Pooja handed them ₹10,001 and got them out of the room.
On her way out, she leaned into Sanjana's ear and whispered, "There's milk on the side table. Give it to Bhai. And there's Vaseline in the drawer… just in case. All the best!"
Then, with a wink and a final giggle, she shut the door and locked it from outside.
Inside, it was finally just the two of them.
Ajay locked the door from the inside, too. Sanjana sat quietly at the corner of the bed, her eyes lowered.
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The night... had truly begun
Ajay wore a white designer kurta-pyjama.
She was still fully dressed—heavy saree, jewellery, and nervous energy.
Neither of them said anything at first.
But the room was quiet now.
And the night... had truly begun.
Ajay closed the door, his gaze locking on Sanjana in the dim glow. "Hi," he whispered, voice thick with anticipation.
"Hi," she replied softly, fingers tracing her heavy bangles, a nervous thrill pulsing through her.
"They're finally gone. Long day, right?" He lingered by the door, eyes warm, testing the air between them.
"Yeah," she nodded, her breath catching, the wedding's weight settling in.
"You look worn out. Need help with your jewellery? Might feel good to shed it," he offered, his smile easing her tension. Sanjana's heart raced—he's moving fast—but his warmth steadied her.
"Okay," she agreed, slipping off her earrings. The necklace clasp stuck, and she glanced back. "Ajay, can you get this?"
He moved to the bed, sitting behind her, fingers brushing her neck. Her skin was smooth, radiant in the moonlight, and his cool touch sparked a shiver. The necklace fell away, and he paused, waiting for her cue.
"Thanks," she murmured, bolder now. "Hairpins too?"
"Absolutely," he said, freeing each pin. Her silky hair tumbled free, its jasmine scent pulling him closer.
He marvelled at its softness, a quiet thrill stirring—this is mine now. Sanjana felt lighter, shedding her bangles and forehead ornament, scooting back to face him.
Ajay's eyes roamed—her full cheeks, curves that ignited his pulse. She was stunning, beyond any photo he'd seen. She caught his stare, teasing, "What's got you so hooked?"
He grinned, blushing. "You're my wife. Hard to believe."
She laughed, soft but vibrant. "Feels like a dream, doesn't it?"
She'd made him promise before the wedding to call her by name-no no ji or suno, too old-fashioned for her twenty-three years. At twenty-eight, he adored her spark, five years younger but bold in her way.
As they sat, the air thick with promise, Sanjana's thoughts swirled. She craved more than this night's rush—a deeper connection, a spark to match the fire she'd imagined.
Her heart flickered with longing, hoping their first night would kindle something lasting.
Sanjana caught Ajay's intense stare, her lips curving into a teasing smile. "What's got you so hooked?"
He grinned, a flush creeping up his face. "Just… can't believe you're my wife now."
Her laugh was soft, but her mind raced, unsure how to reply. "I can't believe I'm married either. I mean, we're married," she corrected, her voice tinged with nervous excitement.
Ajay leaned closer, his voice a low murmur. "You know what tonight's for, right? What are we meant to do?" His eyes held hers, warm but searching.
Her cheeks burned, and she played innocent, batting her lashes. "No clue. Enlighten me." A giggle betrayed her nerves.
"Don't lie," he teased, his grin widening. "Your bhabhi must've spilt everything."
She shot him a mock glare. "Calling me a liar already?"
Ajay's eyes widened, flustered. "No, I didn't mean—!"
Her laughter rang out, cutting him off. "I'm teasing, relax. You're probably just as clued in." She nodded toward a glass of milk on the table. "Your sister left that. Drink it if you want."
Sanjana's heart skipped—did I sound too eager? She worried he'd think she was pushing for more. Ajay's pulse
Quickened—I want this, I've waited—but he kept it cool. "Yeah, I'll take it," he said, grabbing the glass.
After a couple of sips, he paused, offering it. "Sure, you don't want some?"
"Nope, all yours," she said, waving it off.
He downed the milk, its warmth fuelling the fire in his
chest, and turned to her, his gaze burning. The room felt alive, electric with anticipation. He'd never been this close to anyone, and the weight of the night—his desires, the expectations of those outside—pressed heavy ascites.
Sanjana broke the silence, her voice soft but steady. "We could just talk tonight, you know."
"Definitely," he said, sliding closer, his heart pounding. Her words were gentle, but her eyes held a spark of longing, a craving for a connection deeper than the night's
Rush. She wanted more than tradition—she wanted a fire that would linger.
Ajay slid beside Sanjana, his pulse quickening as her voice filled the room. She dove into wedding stories, her words vibrant, spilling out like a river despite the late hour. He summoned his nerve, taking her hand, its softness igniting a thrill as he traced slow, deliberate patterns.
He couldn't pull away, though her tales stretched on, endless.
A yawn slipped through, her eyes heavy in the chilly air. Ajay stood, draping a quilt over the bed, then flicked off the light, leaving only moonlight to cradle them. He slipped beneath the covers, their feet grazing, a spark that jolted Sanjana awake, her drowsiness scattering.
In the dark, Ajay's boldness stirred. He pressed closer, his toes nudging hers, a silent claim. Perhaps the milk, laced with tradition's warmth, fueled his courage. He pulled her
Into his arms, his lips grazing her cheek in a soft kiss, drawing her close. His leg slid over hers, easing her beneath him in a swift, fluid motion that left Sanjana breathless, her mind reeling, sleep long gone.
His kisses drifted to her lips, hungry yet careful, his hand gliding over her waist. Her skin was impossibly soft, fanning his desire. Sanjana closed her eyes, kissing him back with a tentative heat, her pulse racing.
Her fingers clutched the sheets, anchoring her in the whirlwind of his touch.
Her scent, her warmth, drove Ajaywild. He lifted her gently, tugging her saree free, letting it pool aside. His lips returned, fiercer now, trailing her cheeks, her mouth, a fire building between them. Sanjana's breath hitched, her grip tightening on the sheets, a rush of heat mingling with a quiet longing. She craved more—a spark to match the fire she'd dreamed of—her heart yearning for a deeper dance as their bodies pressed closer.
Ajay's lips pressed against Sanjana's, his voice a husky whisper. "Sanjana… your lips are so soft." His kisses surged, her mouth yielding, soft moans escaping as her senses swirled.
His hands roamed her body, hungry yet careful, unfastening her blouse and petticoat. In only her bra and panties, Sanjana lay beneath him, his lips trailing her throat, grazing the edge of her bra, igniting sparks.
Gentle gasps broke from her, her voice trembling with desire. Ajay stripped off his kurta and pyjama, pulling her into his arms, his desire blazing. He fought to slow himself, his excitement threatening to overtake him.
Sanjana's heart thundered, stirred by Ajay's sudden fervour, the quiet man now a storm of need. Her breaths came fast, a quiet moan escaping, her thoughts tangled with anticipation and a craving for a deeper flame to match her dreams.
Ajay gently eased away the last of their garments, their bodies drawing close in the moonlight's tender embrace. Sanjana's heart raced, her senses overwhelmed by the swiftness of his touch, the once-quiet Ajay now a tide of longing. Her breaths came fast, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty swirling within her.
He guided her gently, his movements tentative in the soft shadows. Sanjana's pulse quickened, her hands finding his, offering a quiet reassurance to guide him.
A soft sigh escaped her lips, her body trembling under the weight of the moment. As they moved closer, a fleeting sting caught her breath, a sharp gasp breaking free, quickly softening into warmth. Her grip tightened, anchoring her to him, a flicker of nervousness giving way to trust.
Their connection deepened, a tender dance of closeness and discovery. Sanjana's heart pounded, her thoughts adrift, hoping for a spark to match the night's promise, yet sensing the rush of the moment might leave it unfulfilled.
Ajay tugged Sanjana's panties down, shedding his own, their bare skin pressed tight in a fevered tangle. Sanjana's heart thundered, stunned by his sudden fervour, the quiet Ajay now a storm of need. Her breaths came fast, sweat beading despite the chill, her mind reeling at the swiftness of their intimacy.
He parted her thighs gently, seeking her in the dark, his movements uncertain. She felt him, warm and eager, brushing against her, drawing a soft moan from her lips.
Her bhabhi's words echoed—sometimes men need guidance—and with a trembling hand, she guided him, noting his arousal, modest yet fervent, barely longer than her palm.
His touch pressed closer, teasing her entrance, her moans mingling with tension. Her hands gripped his tightly, anchoring her. With a gentle thrust, he entered her, a sharp gasp breaking free as a fleeting pain flared. Her bhabhi's warning—first times could bring blood—stirred a pang of
Fear, tears welling briefly as a faint warmth spread. Sanjana clung to him, her body trembling, the sting softening, but her heart yearning for a deeper flame to kindle beyond the rush.
In the dark, Ajay pressed deeper, unaware of Sanjana's fleeting distress, his rhythm driven by fervour. A sharp pain gripped her, her gasp turning to a soft moan as she clung to him, her legs lifting to wrap around him, seeking solace in their closeness. Her hands gripped his tightly, her body tense, the sting lingering as tears pricked her eyes.
The moment surged forward, Ajay's breaths growing ragged. With a final, fervent thrust, he shuddered, collapsing against her, spent. Sanjana felt a warm rush within, his release clear, but her desire remained unkindled, a faint warmth only just beginning to stir. Her mind reeled—was this all? The pleasure she'd dreamed of slipped away, leaving her unsatisfied, though the intensity had sparked a fleeting thrill.
Their breaths slowed, the air settling. Ajayrose, slipping to the bathroom, startled by traces of blood but reassured by his sister-in-law's words—it was normal, a sign of her purity. He cleaned himself, dressed, and returned, changing the sheet and spreading a fresh quilt. Sanjana followed, tending to herself, a dull ache lingering below. She slid beside him, the covers warm.
Ajay's heart soared, proud of their union. He took her hand, voice tender. "Sanjana, we're one now. I hope it was good for you."
She smiled faintly, hiding her face in his chest, her thoughts adrift. The night had been intense, but too swift, leaving her craving a deeper flame. She wondered if more might come later. Ajay held her close, and soon, sleep claimed them, their embrace a spark for nights to come.
If my stories made your heart race…
If you blushed, bit your lip, or couldn't stop reading till the end…
Then show a little love ❤️
Your support helps me write more bold, sensual, emotionally charged tales — just for readers like you.
👉 buymeacoffee.com/just_like_you
A small tip. A big smile. And many, many more stories to come.
Thank you for being here. 🔥