Asra stayed curled up in Ather’s lap for a while, her head resting against his chest. Her little lecture had left her emotionally drained, but she still had more to say.
She pulled back slightly so she could look at his face. Her eyes were still watery, but there was a determined pout on her lips.
“Sir…” she said softly, her voice sweet but serious, “You are not a good husband.”
Ather’s body tensed. He looked down at her with sharp, intense eyes, waiting for her to continue.
Asra took a deep breath and continued in her childish, honest way:
“A good husband doesn’t hurt his wife every time. A good husband doesn’t make her cry so much. You are very rich, very powerful, and very handsome… but you are not good to me. You only know how to be rough and scary. You buy me clothes, bangles, and makeup… but then you treat me like I’m something you can break.”
Her lower lip trembled as she added the final blow:
“I think… you are not a good husband at all.”
She said it so innocently, yet so directly, that the words hung heavy in the air.
Ather remained silent for a long moment. No one — absolutely no one — had ever dared to speak to him like this. But here was his 18-year-old wife, sitting naked in his lap, wrapped in a blanket, lecturing him with teary eyes and calling him a bad husband.
He cupped her face with both hands, forcing her to look at him. His thumbs gently wiped her fresh tears.
“You’re right,” he said in a low, rough voice. “I’m not a good husband.”
Asra blinked in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to agree so easily.
Ather leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers.
“But you’re stuck with this bad husband, meri bacchi,” he murmured darkly. “For the rest of your life. So you’ll have to teach me how to be better… even if I’m very bad at learning.”
He kissed her softly on the lips, then on both cheeks, and finally on her forehead — slow and gentle kisses, completely opposite to how rough he had been earlier.
Asra sniffled and hugged him tightly, her bangles jingling as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Then try to be better, Sir,” she whispered against his skin. “Please… for me.”
Ather held her close, his large hand stroking her back.
“I’ll try,” he promised quietly.
But deep down, the darkness inside him whispered that he would never be a “good” husband.
He would only ever be hers.
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