Marrying Mr Unpredictable (COMPLETED✅️)

Ishaan supporting Arya

Arya:

In the bustling kitchen, I labored over breakfast preparations, my hands moving swiftly to meet the morning deadline. Ishaan's mother had forbidden the maid from assisting me, leaving me to fend for myself. The air crackled with tension, and I could hear Ishaan's raised voice echoing from the dining hall.

"What's the delay? Why is breakfast late?" Ishaan's frustration reverberated through the housekeeping staff. Panic surged within me as I faced him.

"Sir, it was Arya madam who prepared breakfast today," the head of housekeeping explained in hushed tones. Ishaan gazed at me, and I stammered, "I apologize. I'm new here, unfamiliar with the timings. Tomorrow, I promise to cook the food in time."

His eyes narrowed, but he didn't shout—at least not in front of everyone. The family disapproved of our marriage, and I was keenly aware of their disdain.

"Is it ready now?" Ishaan's impatience cut through the room.

"Yes," I replied, my heart racing. "I'll bring it."

But Ishaan halted me. "Wait. The servants will handle it." The dishes appeared on the table within minutes, and the family gathered for their first meal of the day.

Their reactions were swift and merciless.

-"Horrible chapati! I've never tasted anything like this," Ishaan's cousin Srusti said.

"This hashbrown is inedible," his another cousin Abhishek said.

"The pancake? A disaster," His aunt criticised.

"And this radish paratha—unbelievably awful," his mother joined them.

Ishaan's stern gaze bore into me, and I felt my heart tighten. The confession had slipped out, raw and unfiltered. "I...was...I...made," I stammered, but he merely washed his hands in the plate, dismissing my words without a second thought.

"Come to the room," Ishaan's voice was low, commanding. I followed him, my pulse racing. The room felt smaller, suffocating, as he turned to face me.

"Why did you meddle in things you know nothing about?" His anger was palpable. "Can't you even prepare a simple meal? Two hours wasted on that... garbage!" His finger jabbed the air, punctuating each word. "If you don't know something, stay away from it. Got it?"

"But I tried my best," I protested.

"Shut up!" His voice rose, and I flinched. "Don't you dare speak against me."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my eyes stinging.

"Enough!" Ishaan's rage was a tempest. "Stop irritating me, or I'll toss you out of this house, without Eira. She's all that matters to me." His words sliced through me, leaving me hollow. Tears welled up, but I blinked them away. My tears held no value here.

As he turned to leave, Eira appeared in the doorway. "Dad, did you both fight?" Her innocent eyes darted between us.

"No, sweetheart," I forced a smile. "Just a family discussion."

"Okay, Dad, can you please drop me at school today? My friends always tease me, saying that I don't have a dad. I want to show you to all of them and prove them wrong," she said, her little pout tugging at Ishaan's heartstrings.

"Eira," Ishaan's voice softened, "you don't need to request anything. Not just me, but anyone—your wish is an order. You're my princess." He leaned down, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"From today, I'll be the one dropping you off at school," he declared, lifting Eira into his arms. She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck.

As they left, I stood there, invisible—a mere witness to their bond. The sudden marriage to Ishaan had upended my life. Why had he asked, or perhaps ordered me to marry him? There was no room for questions; he'd whisked me to the marriage registration office, and I'd signed, desperate to secure Eira's safety.

Leaving this family tensions aside, taking my certificates, I dashed to an interview at a modeling company. The hunger gnawed at my stomach; I hadn't eaten since morning. They grilled me, scrutinizing my every word. "We'll call you if you're selected," they said, leaving me anxious and famished.

Returning home, I found the living room abuzz. Ishaan's mother glared at me. "Where did you go without my permission?"

"Reckless daughter-in-law," his aunt chimed in, her disapproval scorching.

Tears welled up, and I faced their judgment. In this fractured family, I was an outsider—a fragile thread holding on, desperate not to unravel.

"Answer me; Where did you roam until now?" Ishaan's mom shouted at me, and my tears flowed uncontrollably.

"Enough," Ishaan intervened, silencing the room. His gaze held authority, and for the first time, someone stood up for me.

"She returned home safely. That's enough. Besides, she's my wife, and no one else has the right to question her. As my wife, she needn't seek permission from anyone, but everyone else requires hers. So let's end this nonsense," Ishaan declared, astonishing me. Did he just acknowledge me as his wife? He took my side. I stared at him, gratitude swelling within me.

"But Ishaan, isn't it wrong for her to go out without informing us?" his mother persisted.

"That's not the issue here. The real topic is treating her with respect and kindness. This morning, everyone criticized her cooking. She's not a servant. If you dislike her meals, cook your own. I'll dismiss the cooks and maids, so you'll learn firsthand how challenging it is to prepare those dishes.

And why this obsession with multiple breakfast options? Can't you all settle for one? Starting tomorrow, everyone gets the same breakfast. Either eat it or make it yourselves," Ishaan's words resonated, calming the room.

"And you, Mrs. Arya Ishaan," he turned to me, "I never want to see you doing household chores here. We have staff for that. Understand your position and behave accordingly. Being my wife doesn't mean serving everyone in this house. Got it?"

"Yes," I replied.

He gestured for me to follow him to our room. As I entered, he slammed the door shut, his eyes ablaze with intensity. Fear gripped me. What awaited me behind that closed door?

Hi friends, how is the episode? Why did he support her?