OUR UNWILLING ALLIANCE
π¨πππ π΄πππππππ ΰ¨ΰ§ π¨ππππππ πΊππππππππ π π’π¨π₯ π¨π‘πͺπππππ‘π ππππππ‘ππ ββΰ¨ΰ§ββββββββΰ¨ΰ§ββββββββΰ¨ΰ§ββ πππππ ππππ Suddenly, I felt a wave of hot shame rush to my face. My cheeks burned. I was officially tied to this man, this handsome stranger standing right in front of me, and yet I still didn't know who he was. I knew I had to ask. I forced myself to speak, even though my heart was pounding. "Excuse me," I said softly. He turned toward me, waiting for me to continue. I couldn't look him in the eye. I kept my gaze fixed on the shiny marble floor, my head bowed in total embarrassment. "What is your name?" I finally managed to say. My voice was so quiet I could barely hear it myself. The silence that followed was agonizing. It felt like an eternity. I was sure he was judging me. What kind of wife doesn't even know her husband's name? I thought, feeling more humiliated by the second. Then, I heard a low, deep chuckle. It wasn't a mean laugh; he sounded genuinely amused. When he finally spoke, his voice was smooth and calm. "Agastya. Agastya Singhania, Anya." ββΰ¨ΰ§ββββββββΰ¨ΰ§ββββββββΰ¨ΰ§ββ Copyright Β© 2025 Our Unwilling Alliance All rights reserved
