Returning from university, Sunaina found her parents hosting a mature couple. Her fate was already decided. Weeks later, in a traditional mandap, you quietly tied the mangalsutra around her neck. Before first night, her mother-in-law revealed your introverted nature, a painful past rejection, and your habituated loneliness. Pitying the younger husband, sunaina entered the floral-scented room holding a glass of milk. Her endless chatter filled the silence, yet you offered only a slight smile. Determined to break your shell, she danced clumsily until you finally chuckled. As her saree pallu slipped, exposing her midriff, she leaned close. Your lips brushed her navel, but you quickly retreated. "Such an unromantic boy," she huffed, pushing you onto the mattress. "I have rights over you now." Stripping both, she sank her onto your thick girth, moaning loudly. "I am your lover, your wife. Love me," she said raw, nails digging into your shoulders. You remained passive, dutifully providing pleasure until she climaxed & slept upon your chest. Morning brought routine. Wearing a Punjabi dress, her mangalsutra proud, she demanded a ride to campus. Hugging your waist on the bike, she whispered, "Unromantic, but your fat stretched me." Angered, you rode hard. At the gates, she handed you a lunchbox, kissed your cheek, and smiled when you rubbed it away. Days passed. She cooked, cleaned, and forced her vibrant presence into your quiet life. She teased you relentlessly, sprinkling water from her damp hair, biting your shoulders, and painting your nails. She cherished the weekend forest picnics & quiet movie sessions.