Chapter 1

“Visa approved.” Asha texted her husband, bursting with relief. “I’ll be there in a week.”

Outside the immigration office in Mumbai, the humid heat hit her. “Seven more days,” she thought. Her iPhone, wrapped in a cheap plastic cover, almost slipped in her palm. After a year of forms, interviews, and recommendation letters, America awaited. Arjun waited.

She imagined his arms around her again. The arranged marriage hadn’t begun with passion. Asha’s mother found Arjun through a matrimonial agent. He had a stable job in the US and came from a respectable family. Asha saw the promise of security and a way to escape from her mother’s pressure. He was handsome enough and kind enough. She accepted. They married when she was twenty-four and Arjun was two years older than her. Their brief honeymoon week felt like a dream. Mostly, they stayed in a hotel room. Arjun had been gentle. She was a virgin on her wedding night. When Arjun leaned in to touch her, she sensed he wasn’t new to this. That didn’t concern her. In fact, it made her smile. She was glad to have someone who knew what he was doing.

The next few days were wild. They explored each other. They were spontaneous. Arjun had a knack for keeping things fresh. Every moment was thrilling. She often found herself lost in the thrill of their intimacy. He promised swift immigration approval. He promised a life in California filled with comforts she couldn’t imagine in a city like Mumbai. Then, just like that, he was gone. He boarded a flight back to San Jose alone. His salary as a software engineer couldn’t cover months of unpaid leave. He explained it apologetically.

Her visa application process began immediately. It was a maze of paperwork and long waits. Now, twelve months later, she clutched the visa stamp in her passport. A genuine excitement surged as she was finally going to stay with him. For the past year, Asha kept herself tangled between two worlds. In Mumbai, she busied herself with applying for jobs in the US and attending classes. At nights, video calls became her lifeline. Through the screen, she saw Arjun’s sterile apartment and the green hills outside. In their daily updates, she shared everything, but he kept them vague. Sometimes, he sounded tired. Other times, he felt distant. Yet she always held hope.

Asha went home, feeling lighter than she had in months. In the modest apartment, her mother wept happy tears, hugging her tightly.

“My daughter is going to America!” she declared, emotion thick in her voice.

Next, she called Arjun’s parents. Her mother-in-law’s voice crackled with delight. Her in-laws’ relief was clear. The long separation was ending.

That night, Arjun’s video call came earlier than usual. His face filled the screen, grinning broadly.

“Asha! I saw your text! Congratulations!” He looked genuinely thrilled.

She held her passport up, tapping the page. “There it is. Official.”

Arjun laughed, eyes sparkling. He said, eyes sparkling. “I booked us a trip. Vegas, baby! A proper second honeymoon. Taking a week off as soon as you land.”

Asha packed two large suitcases over the next few days. Sarees were folded carefully next to new jeans. Spices sealed tight in Ziploc bags nestled beside her laptop. Her mother fretted, stuffing in extra packets of homemade snacks and whispering prayers. At the airport departure gate, their hugs were fierce and damp.

“Call us the minute you land,” her mother said, wiping her eyes. “Be happy, beta.”

Asha was impatient on and off during the fourteen-hour flight. When the plane finally landed in San Francisco, it was early dawn. She walked through immigration, holding her stamped passport like it was a lucky charm. As the automatic doors opened at the arrivals hall, she saw him. Arjun stood by a pillar, scanning the crowd. Even from a distance, she noticed the changes. His height was the same, a couple of inches taller than her. But he was different. The lean software engineer she’d married now had softness around his middle, around the belly. Video calls had hidden this new weight. She hadn’t realized.

All year, she had counted calories and pushed through tough yoga sessions. She feared that distance would dull his attraction to her. A slim waist, curvy hips with a round butt above strong legs, and the swell of her large C-cup breasts. She’d worked hard to maintain what he liked. She was disappointed; it wasn’t disgust, but it was a strange disconnect. The lively, fit man she married had turned into this softer version of himself. The promise of their Vegas honeymoon suddenly felt hollow. She pushed that thought away. She buried it under the ache of their long separation. This was her husband. This was her life. Ruining it over a few extra pounds? Unthinkable.

“Arjun!” she shouted, joy bursting out as she waved.

For a moment, she forgot her suitcase. He saw her right away. His face lit up with pure happiness. He rushed toward her, arms wide open.

“Asha!!” He wrapped her in a tight hug. He kissed her forehead and her cheeks. “God, I missed you. Look at you! You look amazing.”

She held onto him tightly, burying her face in his shoulder. “I missed you so much,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his shirt.

As he went to kiss her on the lips, she pulled back. Forcing a bright smile, she said, “Not in public.”

Arjun laughed, a powerful sound that surprised her. “That’s because this is not India. American customs take some getting used to, huh?” He reached for her suitcase handle and headed towards the domestic terminal. “Ready for Vegas?” he asked, his grin growing even wider.

Asha blinked with surprise. “Vegas? Now?” Her eyes darted to her luggage. “We’re not going to your apartment first?” The question slipped out, sharper than she meant.

She assumed she would unpack first, have a long shower, and finally collapse in a real bed after the long flight.

Arjun laughed, squeezing her waist. “Nope! Straight to Harry Reid Airport. Our flight boards in ninety minutes.” He pointed to the departures board flashing gate numbers. “I packed your essentials in my carry-on—toothbrush, fresh clothes. We’ll buy anything else you need there.”

Asha felt the ache in her shoulders from the long flight. Her eyelids had turned red. Every part of her begged for a shower and a moment of quiet. But then there was Arjun, her husband, bubbling with excitement. She pushed aside her weariness. She didn’t want to argue. Not today. Not on her first day back after a year apart.

This trip needed to be special. She craved a fresh start. A chance to leave the past behind.

“Okay,” she said, forcing a cheerful tone. “Vegas sounds perfect.”

She leaned into him. He rushed her forward, guiding her toward the domestic terminal.

They landed in Las Vegas in the early afternoon. Asha rested her forehead against the window and slept through the short flight. Arjun gripped her hand, jolting her awake.

“Welcome to Sin City,” he whispered, grinning wide.

They got into their Uber, and the car quickly pulled out onto the highway. Asha looked out the window—couples along the sidewalks, a group of young men spilling beer onto the pavement, and women in tiny skirts and glittering tops.

Arjun nudged her, still grinning. “See? Anything goes here.”

She forced a smile, leaning her head on him.

The taxi rolled up to the Grand Phoenix Hotel & Casino. Arjun jumped out, handing cash to the driver while Asha struggled with her suitcase. Valets in crisp burgundy uniforms rushed over. Inside, the polished marble-floored lobby filled with the sounds of slot machines, distant cheers, and a steady murmur of chatter. Arjun checked in; soon they were on the twentieth floor. He swiped the keycard and opened the door. Arjun flipped a switch, causing the room to burst into brightness. Asha followed and dropped her small bag.

“Whoa,” he breathed.

It wasn’t fancy, but it had a cool, modern vibe. Clean lines. Chrome accents. A deep purple wall added a nice touch. The windows offered a view of the Strip below. Cars moved slowly down below. In the distance, the Luxor pyramid shot a bright beam into the pale afternoon sky.

He put his arm around Asha’s waist. “So?” he asked. “Impressed?” as his hands slid upwards slightly, possessively.

Asha nodded slowly, eyes glued to the hypnotic scene below. “It’s different,” she said softly.

Arjun chuckled and pulled her closer. His hand moved higher, fingers pressing into her waist where her blouse had ridden up. “Different good, I hope?”

His breath was warm against her ear. She stiffened for a moment, then forced herself to relax. The closeness felt strange after a year of screens and static-filled whispers.

“I’m ... tired,” she said softly, pulling away to look at him. “Can I just shower and rest for a bit?” Her fingers brushed against the wrinkled fabric of her travel clothes. “The flight was so long.”

Arjun’s smile faded, and his hands fell to his sides. “Sure, yeah. Of course.” He pointed toward the sleek bathroom door.

“Fine,” he added, his voice tightening. “Tonight, we celebrate.”

He turned away, walking to the window. The view of the glittering Strip below was mesmerizing. But the silence weighed heavy between them. They both felt it.

In the evening, Arjun announced they were going out for dinner. Asha wanted to make up for earlier. She slipped into the sari he loved. It hugged her curves perfectly. A sleeveless, backless blouse showed off her brown skin and highlighted the tiny mole on her shoulder. The low drape of the sari revealed her navel, while the black sari glittered around her ankles. Her hair fell in loose waves, dark as ink, framing her face. She applied her makeup carefully. Deep plum lips, gold-dusted eyelids, and just enough kohl to create a smoky effect. Standing at the bathroom mirror, she adjusted the pallu over her shoulder.

When she emerged, Arjun looked at her from the bed. He said nothing.

She looked to him and asked softly, “Is this okay?”

He didn’t smile. “It’s fine.” He grabbed his wallet and added, “Let’s go.”

They walked back to the ground floor. Arjun headed straight for the bar, weaving past groups of laughing tourists. He ordered two whiskeys. He pushed one glass toward her. She hesitated.

He raised an eyebrow. “Come on. Just one drink. You’re in Vegas.”

She shook her head. “You know I don’t drink.”

“Why not just give it a try?” he pressed.

His voice had that familiar insistence. Not angry. Just firm. It was the voice of someone who thought he was teaching something. She shook her head again, but this time, she did it gently.

He shrugged. He downed both glasses quickly and slapped cash on the counter. “Suit yourself.”

The sharp scent of liquor lingered on his breath. They turned toward the casino floor. Arjun moved on, his shoulders relaxing. Neon lights pulsed—green, red, and gold—across his face. As they walked past the tables, Arjun’s excitement grew, and he laughed loudly. He talked about doubling their money tonight. Asha followed him. She felt overwhelmed but stayed quiet. They reached a crowded roulette table.

Then it happened. At the roulette table, Arjun pushed forward, eager to bet. His elbow bumped a tall man nearby. The man’s nearly full glass tipped. It splattered across his crisp white shirt, creating a dark stain.

“Shit!” The man jumped back, startled.

Towering a foot over Asha, he stood at 6’5”. He was in his mid-30s, with broad shoulders filled out in a dark tailored suit. He had a calm demeanor, like someone who didn’t need to raise his voice. His dark skin shone under the bright casino lights. He glared down at Arjun. Two men, likely his security, moved in closer on instinct.

Asha stepped forward immediately, hands pressed together. “I’m really sorry, sir. It was an accident. I promise. Please forgive us.” Her voice trembled a bit. She knew this was serious.

The man’s expression softened, just a little. He could see the sincerity in her eyes. “Accidents happen,” he replied, his tone less harsh.

Asha nodded vigorously. “Absolutely. We’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

The man’s gaze shifted from Arjun to Asha. He studied her face closely. His dark eyes held hers for a moment. Something changed in his expression. He was amused at her sincere apology. He waved his men back with a slight, dismissive gesture.

Then he nodded. “It’s alright,” he said, his voice low and smooth.

One of his security team handed him a folded handkerchief. He pressed it against the stain.

Arjun let out a shaky breath, with relief all over his face. “Thank you, man. Really, thank you—” His voice cracked as he instinctively went for a handshake.

The man looked down at Arjun’s hand, then back to Arjun’s flushed, grateful face. A small, polite smile appeared on his lips. “It’s nothing,” he murmured. He extended a hand, not rudely, but with a quiet authority.

“First time in Vegas?” he asked. His voice was low, cutting through the casino’s noise easily. He studied Asha’s sari, the gold embroidery sparkling in the lights, then shifted his gaze to Arjun. There was no judgment, just a calm look. “On a honeymoon from India, I believe.”

“Yes,” Asha replied quickly, before Arjun could say anything.

The man smiled, just a small one. “Then enjoy it. No harm done.” He called the casino manager, a nervous man clutching a radio. “Give them the best treatment tonight. VIP access. Drinks on the house. And arrange a suite upgrade.”

The manager nodded quickly, whispering into his radio. Arjun’s mouth dropped open.

“Sir, thank you—we don’t ... I mean...” Arjun stammered.

“Sir, that’s really not necessary,” Asha added, flustered.

But the man just buttoned his jacket. “It is. Young couples should enjoy their holidays. Life is too short.” He nodded slightly and walked away, his presence parting the crowd effortlessly.

The manager led them away from the roulette wheel. He handed Arjun two laminated passes and keycards. “VIP lounge access,” he explained. “Your new suite is on the 42nd floor. Penthouse view.”

Arjun stared at the keys, his embarrassment fading. A grin spread across his face. “Penthouse?” he repeated, squeezing Asha’s arm.

She forced a smile, the sari suddenly feeling heavy against her skin. Asha leaned toward the manager as he turned to leave. “Excuse me?” Her voice was low and urgent. “That gentleman ... who was he?”

The manager paused. His expression changed, becoming guarded. He looked quickly toward the elevators where the man had vanished. “Mr. Adebayo,” he murmured, barely heard over the slot machines. “He owns this hotel.” He gave a tight smile. “Enjoy your evening.” Then he slipped away into the crowd.