⚜ ─── AADHYA ─── ⚜

I was just about to say something when-"Cough. Cough."

The sound cut through the thick tension from the entrance hall. I froze so hard that even my breathing seemed to stop dead in my chest. Slowly, painfully slowly, I turned my head toward the door. And there they all were. Dadi. Chacha. Chachi. Trisha. Ayan. Rajveer. All six pairs of eyes were locked straight on us, mouths hanging open in shock.

My gaze dropped instinctively. One knee was still pressed hard against his thigh, one hand braced beside him on the leather sofa, the other was still clutching his gun, held suspiciously close to his heart.

Oh. Oh, this was not good. I blinked once. Twice. Okay, Aadhya. Think.

I was the new daughter in law. I had been in this house for barely two hours. This was supposed to be the part where I smiled sweetly, touched Dadi's feet, acted shy and soft, made everyone think, "What a lovely sweet daughter-in-law she was." Instead, they walked in on me looking like I was seconds away from committing spousal homicide.

Excellent first impression.

This was apparently how I'd decided to introduce myself to the whole family. "Namaste, family. Congratulations on your son's wedding. By the way, I was just about to shoot him."

The dry joke looped through my head and I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying it out loud.

Aadhya, please. For once in your life, behave like a normal human being. Don't say the first stupid thing that pops into your head.

My eyes darted back to Dadi immediately. Her eyes were so wide I genuinely worried I'd just given the poor woman her first heart attack right there in the living room.

Chachi's mouth was hanging open, completely stunned. Chacha looked like he didn't know whether to look at me, at Mr. Rathore, or at the gun still in my hand. Trisha was staring at me like she had just discovered her new sister-in-law was secretly a professional hitman. Her eyes were huge, but there was something else there too-surprise, curiosity... and maybe the tiniest spark of amusement.

Please don't let her end up liking me for this.

Ayan was worse. He had that unmistakable look of a younger brother who had just stumbled on the funniest thing that's ever happened to his untouchable, terrifying elder brother. His lips were twitching so hard he could barely hold them in. If he laughed out loud right now, I swear I would throw this gun straight at his head.

And then my eyes landed on Rajveer. He wasn't shocked. He wasn't confused. He wasn't even trying to hide his amusement. He was grinning. Like this was exactly the outcome he'd been waiting for. Oh, you bastard.

I narrowed my eyes at him. He only raised one eyebrow. Don't. His smirk widened. I said don't. It widened even more. Rajveer, I will shoot you next.

Then reality hit me again. Wait. They all saw me. Like this. My face heated instantly. I slowly lowered the gun, suddenly feeling about a thousand times more conscious of my position.

I scrambled off Ayansh fast, smoothing down the creases in my silk saree with as much dignity as I could scrape together after being caught holding a gun on my husband. My dupatta had slipped lower on my shoulders, so I pulled it properly back over my head and tried to rearrange my face into the look of a perfectly respectable new bride, not a woman who'd just threatened to kill her husband with his own gun.

Smile, Aadhya. Just smile softly and everything will be fine.

I lifted my gaze to them and gave the smallest, most innocent smile I could manage.

"Hi..." The heavy silence that followed was somehow worse than all the staring.

Fantastic. What now? Should I add an introduction too? Why did I suddenly care so much what they thought of me?

I darted another quick glance at Dadi.

Please don't hate me. I'm actually very nice. Usually. When nobody annoys me. Which your grandson does, without fail, every thirty seconds. That part's not my fault.

My eyes flicked fast toward Mr. Rathore, and the second our eyes met, that bastard's lips curled into the most shameless little smirk I'd ever seen. I stared at him in sharp disbelief.

Oh, this man. How long had they all been standing there? And my esteemed husband didn't think it was necessary to warn me?

I narrowed my eyes at him, heat flooding my cheeks. He was enjoying this. Of course he was. Getting me disgraced in front of his whole family gave him a whole different kind of peace.

I wanted to kick him right in the shin. No-scratch that. I wanted to grab him by that stupid collar and shake him until he apologized. Why the hell hadn't he warned me? At least he could have given me a signal! A wink! A cough! Anything! But no. Mr. Ayansh Singh Rathore had apparently decided to sit back comfortable on his sofa and watch his new wife embarrass herself in front of his entire family.

I glared at him again, hard. He looked entirely too pleased with himself, like he'd just pulled off the best prank of his life. Shameless bastard, that's what he is.

I silently mouthed at him from across the sofa, my lips shaping the words sharp. "Didn't you think it was necessary to warn me?"

He only lifted one thick eyebrow, like he was genuinely confused about what I could possibly be complaining about. My mouth fell open slightly in disbelief.

Oh, now he is playing innocent?

I darted my eyes toward the group in the doorway, then back at him, mouthing again, urgent and angry. "How long have they been standing there?"

His shoulders shook with the faintest, silent laugh. He was laughing. He was actually laughing at me right now. My cheeks puffed out slightly with hot frustration. He married me, and the first thing he did was ruin my dignity in front of his whole family.

I quickly fixed my slipping dupatta and looked away, refusing to let him see my embarrassment. But curiosity won, and I peeked at him through my lashes. He was still watching me with that stupid, handsome smirk. I glared at him, silently promising murder later. His smirk only softened, almost fond-and annoyingly, my heart skipping a stupid beat against my chest that I hated.

Don't look at me like that. I'm angry with you. Very angry. Extremely angry. ...Okay, maybe a little less angry when you smiled like that. I immediately scolded myself harshly inside my head. No! Aadhya, control yourself. Don't let him see how that stupid smile makes your knees go weak.

I turned away fast before my stupid heart could betray me again. That's it. Tonight we're settling accounts with this man.

What a ridiculous family. What a ridiculous husband. And, unfortunately... what a ridiculous situation I'd somehow gotten myself tangled up in.

I looked away quickly, my cheeks still hot. Then Ayan finally couldn't contain himself any longer and let out a small, snorting laugh.

I turned toward him with a sharp glare. "What?"

He immediately straightened up, trying to school his face into innocent lines. "Nothing, bhabhi. Really, nothing."

Bhabhi. My heart skipped a stupid little beat for the stupidest reason. Oh. So this is real. I am actually their bhabhi now. I am actually this devil's wife.

The whole thing still felt like a crazy dream I hadn't woken up from yet.

I glanced over at Trisha, who was still staring at me with wide, amazed eyes. Then she looked at the gun still clutched in my hand. Then at Ayansh. Then back at me.

"Bhabhi..." she said slowly, a tiny glint of mischief in her voice, "do you always welcome people to the house like this?"

"Only special people."

Ayan burst out laughing loud, leaning against the doorframe. Trisha covered her mouth, trying not to smile, but it leaked through anyway. Even Chachi's lips twitched with a suppressed grin. I couldn't help the tiny smirk that spread across my own face.

Okay. Maybe I hadn't completely ruined my first impression after all.

Then I looked back at Dadi again. Her expression was still completely unreadable, no flicker of amusement or anger anywhere. My smirk vanished immediately.

Okay, maybe I had ruined it.

"Dadi... that was... I mean..." I glanced nervously at the gun still in my grip. What the hell exactly was I supposed to say to that?

Ayansh finally pushed himself up off the sofa and sauntered over to stand beside me, his shoulder brushing mine soft. I immediately extended the gun toward him, hoping he'd take it fast before I had to fumble through explaining why his new wife was holding a loaded gun on him in front of the whole family.

He glanced down at the gun, then up at my flushed face, and simply shook his head, casual as anything.

"You keep it, wife." he said, his low, rough voice carrying just enough for everyone to hear. "Besides, ever since you walked into my life, this gun has spent more time in your hands than mine. Consider it your first wedding gift from me."

I stared at him, wide-eyed. What kind of husband gives his wife a loaded handgun as a wedding gift on their very first day in the house?

Then I looked down at it again, the polished black steel cool under my fingers. Well... it is actually a really beautiful gun.

I pressed my lips together tight, trying not to let my tiny spark of pleasure show on my face. Fine. I wasn't going to argue with a gift. I lowered my hand, tucking it slightly against my side.

Ayansh gave me that knowing little smile, like he could read exactly what I was thinking, then turned toward the panther still curled by the sofa. "Lucifer."

The big panther immediately rose to his full height, silent as a shadow, and followed close behind him as Ayansh walked toward the doorway, stepping past the frozen family without a single word, disappearing down the marble hallway without even glancing back at me.

Wow. He'd already abandoned me, leaving me to deal with his entire family alone after everything that had just happened. That bastard. What was he going to be like for the rest of our lives?

I let out a tiny offended huff before turning back toward the group clustered in the doorway. Every single person was staring straight at me. I blinked. They blinked back.

Okay, Aadhya. Damage control time.

My eyes immediately locked on Dadi. "Dadi, that... that was actually..."

I looked down at the gun still clutched in my hand, then quickly set it down on the coffee table like I'd just suddenly remembered I was holding it.

"Mr. Rathore was just teaching me self-defense, that's all." I paused, then added with the most innocent, wide-eyed face I could pull off, "I don't even know how to hold a gun, honestly."

A beat of thick silence passed. Then-"Ahem."

I slowly turned my head toward the sound. Rajveer. Of course it was him. He was standing there with his fist pressed near his mouth, trying-and failing miserably-to hide his shaking shoulders of laughter. My eyes narrowed immediately.

Ugh...

He was my older brother, he'd been teaching me to shoot since I was sixteen. He'd seen me hit a target dead center at a hundred yards. He knew perfectly well that I could handle a gun better than most men.

I shot Rajveer a sharp warning look, my eyes narrowing into a silent threat: Don't you dare say a word. He lifted both of his hands up in front of him, the picture of innocent surrender. I swear, Rajveer... you're only alive because you're my brother.

"Rajveer!" He immediately lifted his gaze up toward the ceiling, like he was suddenly very interested in the chandelier. "Yes?"

"Aapko bahut khansi ho rahi hai aaj."

(You've been coughing quite a lot today.)

"Mausam hi aisa hai."

(It's just the weather.)

I stared at him, unimpressed. Liar. He knew exactly how much I was lying through my teeth, and he was enjoying every single second of my embarrassment. I folded my arms across my chest, trying to look properly offended while I secretly fought a smile of my own behind my poker face.

The whole family was going to think I was a sweet, innocent new daughter-in-law. And honestly... for tonight, I'd just let them. It'd be more fun to surprise them later when they found out the truth.

Before I could get a single word out, Dadi let out a small sigh and walked slowly toward me. "We came here because we were worried about you, beta."

I blinked, confused. "Worried... about me?"

Dadi nodded, her wrinkled face softening into a gentle smile. "We thought Ayansh brought you straight to his villa right after the wedding, who knew how he'd be treating you. We were just thinking our boy wasn't bothering you too much, is he?"

I stared at her, my chest softening a little. Oh. So they'd actually walked in on this whole mess because they were worried about me.

My gaze drifted unconsciously toward the hallway door Ayansh had just disappeared through.

Bothering me? Dadi, your grandson has been annoying me nonstop since the moment I met him.

Before I could think of anything to say, Chachi smiled. "But it looks like we were worried about the wrong person. We should've been worried about Ayansh, not you."

I froze, my cheeks heating up. Ayan immediately snorted, doubling over with laughter right there in the doorway. Trisha covered her mouth, shaking with silent laughter.

Even Chacha's stern expression finally broke into a wide, amused smile. "We thought our Ayansh was over here scaring you."

Ayan immediately interrupted, leaning forward grinning, "Why would he scare bhabhi? Bhabhi was over here scaring my bhai."

"Ayan!" I glared at him, heat flooding my cheeks.

He raised both hands up innocently, grinning wider. "I'm just telling the truth, bhabhi."

Trisha giggled, nodding along. "I think bhai finally found someone who matches him exactly."

I stared at her, mouth half open. "Excuse me?"

She smiled sweetly, like she hadn't said a thing. "Nothing, bhabhi."

Chacha looked toward the hallway door and shook his head with quiet amusement. "We came here to tell Ayansh to treat his wife gently. But it looks like there's no need to tell him anything."

Chachi laughed softly, nodding along. "Exactly. Our daughter-in-law is more than capable of handling him herself."

My eyes widened, my heart settling into a soft, relieved rhythm. Wait... they weren't actually angry? They were just teasing me?

Dadi looked over at the gun on the coffee table and sighed dramatically, turning back to me with a glint of mischief in her old eyes.

"Just tell me one thing, bahu... it's your first night in this house, and you've already got a gun pointed at my precious grandson. How many times have you tried to kill him already?"

I froze completely, my mouth dropping open. "Dadi!"

Ayan immediately jumped in to answer, grinning like a fool. "Dadi, only Bhai can give you the exact count. But I'd say the night's still young... there's plenty more to come."

"AYAN!" I grabbed the nearest throw cushion off the sofa and threw it straight at his head. He ducked fast, doubling over with loud laughter.

Trisha clasped her hands together, her face lighting up. "Welcome to the family, bhabhi!"

I looked around at all of them, my heart beating softly against my ribs. Okay... maybe this wasn't going to be as terrible as I'd imagined.

Dadi stepped closer and gently rested her warm, wrinkled hand on my head. "Beta, you don't have to be scared of anyone here. This house is yours now, too."

Something deep inside me softened. Warmth slowly spread through my chest, so unexpected that I didn't know what to do with it. They were only simple words, yet somehow, they made my eyes sting.

I looked around the enormous marble hall again. A few minutes ago, the place had felt cold, vast, and completely unfamiliar. Now, somehow, it didn't seem quite so strange anymore. The emptiness had softened, replaced by something I couldn't quite name.

Maybe... just maybe, I could belong here after all.

Dadi spent some time walking me through everything-how the household was run, the little things I needed to look after, and all the wedding rituals we had to complete first thing tomorrow.

Later, Ayan, Trisha, and I sat in the main hall, talking and laughing until my sides hurt. Maybe I'd judged them too quickly when I first walked in. They really weren't that bad after all.

Rajveer had already left for his own house. Chacha and Chachi had retired to their room, and Dadi had gone to bed too.

It had been a long, exhausting day for everyone. Yet there was still no sign of one particularly infuriating person.

Where the hell had that devil gone? Did he seriously abandon me here and leave for somewhere else?

"Bhabhi?"

I looked up at Ayan, my cheek resting against my palm. "Hmm?"

"You're waiting for Bhai, aren't you?"

I immediately shook my head, heat creeping up my cheeks. "No, I'm not."

Trisha laughed softly. "Really? Because you've glanced at the front door at least five times in the last ten minutes."

"I was not checking the door."

Ayan grinned, leaning forward. "Of course not. You were just... looking at it. Totally different thing."

I narrowed my eyes at him, fighting a smile. "Exactly. Just looking at it."

"And you definitely haven't been wondering where Bhai ran off to."

"I haven't. Not even a little bit."

Trisha leaned closer, a teasing grin spreading across her face. "Then why do you look so disappointed that he's not here?"

"I do not look disappointed!"

They both burst out laughing, their laughter filling the hall.

"You two are so annoying."

Ayan wiped at the corner of his eye, still chuckling as he raised both hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. We'll stop. Promise."

"Good."

Trisha glanced at the large clock on the wall, her eyes widening. "Bhabhi, it's really late. We should all go to sleep. We have those early rituals tomorrow, remember?"

"Yeah. Good night, you two."

"Good night, Bhabhi."

They both waved before heading toward their rooms, and I finally rose from the sofa.

Then it hit me like a cold splash of water.

Wait. Where was I supposed to sleep?There was absolutely no way I was sleeping in devil's bed with him. No. Absolutely not.

I decided to go to Dadi and ask if I could sleep in a separate guest room. But when I reached her closed bedroom door, quiet voices stopped me in my tracks.

My hand hovered over the doorknob. Through the slight gap, I saw Dadi sitting against her pillows while Ayansh stood beside her, his usually relaxed shoulders tense.

"I thought after your marriage, you would finally come back home to stay, Ayansh," Dadi said quietly, her voice heavy with age and sadness. "I thought you would come back to us."

He said nothing.

"I know we made a mistake. We said things we never should have said in anger. We hurt you badly." Her eyes glistened with tears. "I'm sorry, Ansh. We all are."

He reached down and gently wrapped his large, warm hand around her thin, wrinkled one, giving it a soft squeeze. "Dadi, please. Don't say sorry to me. It's not your fault. None of this is on you."

"I know we can't take those cruel words back," she continued, wiping her cheeks with the edge of her cotton sari. "But it's been years. Please, just come back to the main mansion for good, beta."

He lifted his hand and gently wiped the remaining tears from her cheek.

"I can't go back, Dadi." She looked up at him. "That house isn't mine. This is my home. You can stay here for as long as you want. Just..." His voice softened. "Don't ask me to go back there."

Dadi lowered her eyes, her shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry, Ayansh. We were wrong."

He gently caressed her cheek, his thumb brushing softly over her skin. "No, Dadi. Don't say sorry and make me feel guilty. You're my Dadi. That's all that matters." His voice softened further. "I could never stay angry with you. Not for anything."

Dadi smiled through her tears and leaned up to kiss his forehead before glancing toward the door.

"We're only worried about Aadhya, beta. She's such a sweet, good-hearted girl. Promise me you'll always keep her happy, hmm? She has a lot of self-respect, and I never want her to feel that you don't value or respect the woman she is. Whatever happens between you two, never make her feel small."

He spoke with a quiet certainty that left no room for doubt.

"Woh meri hai, Dadi..." His eyes softened for a fleeting moment before he continued, "Uski izzat mujhe apni jaan se bhi zyada azeez hai. Uski khuddari par aanch aaye, usse pehle meri jaan chali jaaye-magar uska sar mere sabab kabhi nahi jhukega."

His eyes held an unwavering resolve, as though the words weren't merely a promise but a vow he would carry for the rest of his life.

"Yeh Ayansh Singh Rathore ka aapse waada hai."

[She is mine, Dadi. Her dignity is more precious to me than my own life. If her self-respect is ever threatened, let my life be taken first-but I will never let her bow her head because of me. This is a promise from Ayansh Singh Rathore to you.]

I stood frozen outside the door, his words sinking deeper than I wanted them to. I didn't know why my chest felt so warm all of a sudden. For the first time, I saw a side of Ayansh I hadn't expected and somehow, it left me speechless.

I quietly stepped back from the door, my chest still warm from the conversation I'd overheard. I could always ask about the separate room tomorrow, I decided.

I turned to slip away, but Dadi's soft voice stopped me. "Aadhya beta? Is that you outside?"

I paused and turned back. "Yes, Dadi?"

"You came here for something, beta?"

"Actually... yes. I wanted to ask you about-"

Before I could finish, Ayansh suddenly strode toward me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and lifted me clean off my feet.

I stared at him in shock. "Mr. Rathore!"

He didn't even look at me, simply turning back to Dadi with complete calm. "She's tired, Dadi. She needs to sleep."

I blinked, trying to wriggle free from his grip. "No, Dadi, actually I just-"

But Dadi was already smiling and nodding. "Yes, beta. Ayansh is right. You must be exhausted after such a long day. I've already told the maid to move all your things into Ayansh's room."

My mouth fell open. "Dadi-"

"Now go and rest. Tomorrow will be another long day with all the rituals."

Ayansh smiled and nodded at her. "Good night, Dadi."

"Good night, beta."

He carried me straight out of the room, the door clicking shut behind us.

The moment we were alone in the hallway, I glared up at him. "What exactly are you doing, Mr. Rathore?"

He looked down at me, that familiar wicked smirk tugging at his lips, clearly enjoying every second of this. "Jo karna chahiye tha, biwi... aapko hamare kamre tak le ja raha hoon."

(What I should've done, wife... I'm taking you to our room.)

"hamara?" (Our?)

"Ji haan, hamara. Itni hairaani kyun, Mrs. Rathore?"

(Yes, ours. Why so surprised, Mrs. Rathore?)

"Maine kab kaha main aapke saath rahungi?"

(When did I ever say I'd stay with you?)

"Kehne ki zarurat nahi, biwi. Yeh toh tay hai."

(There's no need to say it, wife. It's already decided.)

"Mr. Rathore. Put me down. Right now."

His smile only widened as he adjusted his grip, holding me tighter against his chest before continuing upstairs. "No."

I muttered under my breath, glaring at him. "Kitne ziddi hain aap..."

(You're so stubborn...)

His smirk deepened. "Aapse kam, biwi."

(Less stubborn than you, wife.)

I rolled my eyes, trying to hide the stupid smile threatening to betray me.

The warm scent of his cologne wrapped around me, spicy and sharp and unmistakably him, sinking into my senses until I could almost feel it beneath my bones. The soft golden glow of the wall lamps highlighted the sharp edge of his jaw, his dark hair falling slightly over his forehead. I had to bite down on my lower lip to stop myself from staring too long, from memorizing every line of his face.

I could feel the hard, solid strength of his chest beneath my palms, the steady, heavy thud of his heart beneath the hand as I held against him to keep myself steady.

He glanced down at me then, caught me looking, and his smirk deepened, wicked and knowing.

"Nazrein toh hata lijiye, biwi... warna mujhe ghalatfehmi ho jayegi."

(At least look away, wife... otherwise, I might get the wrong idea.)

I snapped my gaze away, my cheeks burning so hot I was sure they'd glow in the dark. "Shut up. Just walk faster. My arms are getting tired from holding onto you."

He chuckled low, the vibration rumbling through his chest. His grip tightened slightly around my legs and waist, pulling me closer against his chest. He leaned down near my ear, his warm breath brushing my skin, his voice rough with wicked amusement.

"Tired already, baby? If you're this worn out just holding onto me, how are you going to handle everything else I have planned once we're behind closed doors, hmm?"

I felt my cheeks burn at his words, my embarrassment instantly turning into irritation. I pressed my palm against his chest and glared up at him through my lashes.

"You shameless creep! Do you ever think before you speak? I swear to God, I'll blow your stupid head off with that very gun you gave me as my first wedding gift. You'll be dead before we even make it to that stupid room."

I dug my fingers into his chest, my heart hammering despite my best efforts to stay angry.

"And I'll drag your stupid dead body straight to Dadi and tell her you deserved it. Don't test me, Mr.Rathore. Put me down. Now. I'm not in the mood for your nonsense."

The heavy wooden door swung open with a soft thud against the wall as he kicked it with his boot, his low chuckle rumbling against my skin as he stepped inside. He finally set me down on the thick rug by the door, my feet landing unsteadily beneath me.

Before I could step away, he planted one large hand against the wood beside my head, trapping me between the door and his broad frame. His shoulder blocked the hallway light, his warm breath brushing my neck as he leaned closer.

"You talk about killing me with that pretty mouth, wife... while your fingers are gripping my shirt like you're afraid I'll actually walk away."

He dipped his face toward mine, his stubbled jaw brushing softly against my cheek, his lips barely brushing the edge of my ear.

"Tell me, baby... are you really trying to get rid of me, or are you just looking for an excuse to keep your hands on me?"

I shoved hard against his chest with both palms, the force making my own shoulders shake. He didn't budge an inch. Instead, he let out a low, dark chuckle-that stupid, wicked sound that only made my blood boil hotter.

"Don't flatter yourself, Mr. Rathore. I wasn't holding onto you-I was holding onto your shirt so I could throw you away properly. Now move before that pretty mouth of yours gives me a reason to shut it myself. Permanently."

I brushed past his shoulder, my saree swishing sharply against his trousers, and walked straight toward the suitcase the maid had brought in earlier. I flipped open the brass latches, unzipped it, and pulled out my soft, worn cotton nightdress.

I folded it over my arm and started digging through the inner pocket where I'd packed my sleeping pills-the ones I'd depended on for years just to get some rest. I shifted through the clothes, checked every corner, then turned the pocket inside out.

Nothing. I froze, my chest tightening. Fuck.

I'd left them on my nightstand. How was I supposed to sleep without them tonight?

I snapped the suitcase shut, the click echoing through the quiet room. There was nothing I could do about it now. I tucked my nightdress tighter under my arm and turned toward the en-suite bathroom without looking at him.

I could feel his dark eyes following me the entire way. I ignored him, twisted the doorknob, and stepped inside, pulling the door shut behind me. I leaned against the cool wood for a moment and let out a slow breath.

Of course he'd just stood there staring.

That bastard never seemed to do anything else when I was around.

Couldn't he let me have even one minute of peace tonight?

I shook my head and turned toward the sink, splashing cold water over my burning cheeks, trying to wash away the flustered tension coiled through my shoulders.

One night. I just had to get through one night. That was all.

A while later, I stepped out of the bathroom in my soft nightdress, rubbing the ends of my still-damp hair between my fingertips. Ayansh was on a call, his broad back turned toward me as he spoke quietly into his phone, his voice too low for me to make out the words.

The moment he sensed me, his eyes flickered over me in one quick, heated glance before he abruptly ended the call and tossed his phone onto the bed.

I didn't look at him. Keeping my gaze fixed on the floor, I walked straight to the large oak dressing table and sat down on the velvet stool before the mirror, beginning my nighttime skincare routine in heavy silence.

A moment later, I heard the bathroom door click shut. He had gone into the bathroom.

I glanced at the mirror through my lashes. Ayansh had disappeared into the bathroom.

For a second, my own reflection stared back at me. And suddenly... I didn't recognize the girl with fresh sindoor in her hair parting, sitting in a stranger's bedroom.

I shook my head, forcing a bitter little smile. No. I wasn't going there tonight.

If I let myself remember everything that had brought me here, sleep would be impossible-and I was far too exhausted for another long, sleepless night.

So I pushed every wandering, painful thought away and focused on smoothing lotion into my skin.

I'd made up my mind to sleep on the big couch against the wall. It was huge anyway, more than enough to stretch out on, and this wasn't my house to start demanding his bed as if it already belonged to me.

I stood from the dressing-table stool and turned toward the couch, but my bare foot caught awkwardly against the stool's thick wooden leg. "Ah-shit!"

A sharp pain shot through my ankle, and I winced, grabbing the edge of the dressing table to steady myself. "Damn it... why does this always happen to me?"

I limped over to the couch and sat down, immediately lifting my foot onto the cushion. A dark bruise was already beginning to bloom across my ankle.

"Ah..."

Just then, the bathroom door clicked open. I looked up. Ayansh walked out wearing only fitted black pants and a tight black vest that showed off every hard line of his broad shoulders and muscular arms, a clean towel draped casually over one shoulder.

The moment his eyes landed on me, they dropped straight to my foot, and his lazy smirk faded into sharp, quiet concern.

He immediately tossed the towel onto the dressing table stool and crossed the room in three long, quick strides.

"What happened?"

"I'm fine. It's nothing."

He ignored me completely, dropping to one knee on the thick carpet right in front of me and reaching for my ankle. I immediately yanked my foot back against my thigh, my cheeks heating at how close he suddenly was.

"What are you doing? Leave my foot alone, Mr. Rathore. I said I'm okay."

His eyes snapped up to meet mine, dark and sharp, though the quiet worry in them was impossible to miss. "Can you sit still for five minutes without fighting me on everything?"

I glared at him, my jaw tightening. "Excuse me? I didn't ask you to come kneeling in front of me, did I?"

"Why are you so damn stubborn?" His voice was rough and sharp. "What happened to your foot?"

I looked away, picking at the hem of my nightdress, suddenly feeling a little stupid for making such a big deal out of a small bump. "I just... hit it against the stool."

He stared at me for a long moment before shaking his head, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "Of course."

I narrowed my eyes, my foot tapping impatiently against the cushion. "What's that supposed to mean? Are you making fun of me now? I didn't do it on purpose, you know!"

He reached for me again, this time wrapping his warm hand around my ankle and gently pulling my foot onto his thigh before I could move it away. His fingers brushed over the dark purple bruise forming on my skin, his touch careful as he checked for any sign of a sprain.

"I wasn't making fun of you." He glanced up at me, the corner of his mouth still tugged up in that soft, amused smirk. "I just know my wife. Clumsy as a baby cat, always tripping over something, and still too stubborn to let anyone help when you're hurt."

I glared at him, my cheeks burning, but I didn't pull my foot away this time. "I wasn't clumsy! It was just the stupid stool in the way. You left it there, it was your fault anyway."

He let out a low, warm laugh, his thumb resting lightly against my skin. "Of course, wife. How could you ever be wrong? It was my fault. My fault the stool was in the room, my fault you weren't looking where you were walking, all my fault."

He pressed his thumb a little deeper just above the bruise, and I flinched, sucking in a sharp breath as my fingers curled tightly into the couch cushion.

His head snapped up immediately, his dark eyes softening with concern. "Did that hurt?"

I bit my lip and avoided his gaze, picking at a loose thread on the hem of my nightdress. "It was fine. Not that bad."

He hummed quietly, clearly not believing me. Without another word, he reached into the nightstand drawer beside the couch and pulled out a small tube of muscle-relief ointment. Twisting off the cap, he carefully spread the cool gel over the bruise, his warm, calloused fingers massaging it gently into my skin.

I shifted awkwardly, my heart beating far too fast against my ribs. He glanced up and caught me staring. A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Sit still. If you keep moving, it'll ache worse tomorrow. Do you really want to limp through all the morning rituals in front of the whole family?"

"Don't laugh at me," I muttered, narrowing my eyes at him.

"I wasn't laughing."

"You were. I could see it."

He glanced up at me, his lips twitching as he tried-and failed-to hide his amusement. "I really wasn't, baby."

"You're literally smiling right now," I accused, pointing at his face.

His smirk finally broke through, his eyes gleaming with quiet amusement. "Couldn't help it. You were too cute when you got all huffy."

I huffed and turned my head away, glaring at the wall. "Ugh. I hate you."

His fingers continued massaging slow circles over my sore ankle, gentler than I'd expected. "No, you don't."

I looked back at him, narrowing my eyes. "Don't tell me what I feel."

"Then stop making it so obvious."

I opened my mouth to argue, but snapped it shut again. Because this bastard was still wearing that stupid, knowing smile that made my stomach flip. And worse... his hands were so warm, so gentle, so careful with me.

I hated that I noticed.

I hated even more that some small, stupid part of me liked being taken care of by him.

Don't be stupid, Aadhya. This doesn't mean anything. He's only helping because you're hurt. That's all.

"Stop. That's enough."

His hands immediately stilled, the warmth still lingering on my skin. "What was wrong?"

"You're fussing over me too much. I said it was fine."

He looked at me for a long, quiet moment, his dark eyes softening before he spoke, his voice low and steady. "Let me."

Just two words. And somehow, they made my chest tighten, like something was gently squeezing my heart. I quickly looked away, my throat suddenly dry, afraid I might say something I'd regret.

I watched him for a moment, my eyes tracing the sharp line of his jaw as he focused on rubbing the ointment into my ankle. Why was he being so careful with me? He was usually nothing but sharp edges and arrogant, biting words that left me reeling. And now... he was treating my bruised ankle like it was something fragile, something that might break if he pressed too hard.

"You didn't have to do this, you know," I muttered, picking at the couch cushion beside my thigh.

"I know."

"Then why are you doing it?"

"Because you're hurt."

"I've been hurt before. Lots of times."

He paused, his fingers stilling for half a second before continuing to massage the ointment into my skin. "And?"

"And I survived it. I'll survive this stupid little bruise too."

His gaze slowly lifted to meet mine, dark and steady, the teasing completely gone.

"I know you will. You're the strongest person I've ever met. You've survived a hundred things I never would've survived." His voice softened. "But that doesn't mean you have to do it alone anymore. Not when I'm right here."

Something about the quiet certainty in his voice tightened my chest, warm and unfamiliar, silencing every argument on my tongue.

I went quiet, my throat suddenly thick. I couldn't look away from him.

I opened my mouth to say something-anything to break the heavy silence-but no words came.

Before I could find them, he smoothly slid one arm beneath my knees and the other around my back, lifting me effortlessly from the couch.

I gasped, startled, my hand flying to his shoulder to steady myself. "What are you doing, Mr. Rathore?"

He looked down at me, his dark eyes warm and steady, his voice casual as though he hadn't just turned every expectation I had upside down. "Aap couch par soyengi aur hum bed par? Itne bhi be-reham nahi hain hum, jaan."

(You'll sleep on the couch while I sleep on the bed? I'm not that heartless, jaan.)

He carried me to the large king-sized bed and gently set me down on the soft cotton sheets, pulling the heavy wool blanket over my shoulders and tucking it around me. "But this is your bed, Rathore Sahab... I was fine on the couch, honestly."

He brushed a loose strand of hair away from my forehead, his calloused thumb grazing softly over my cheek. "Bistar humara hai, jaan... magar aap humari biwi hain. Aapko zameen ya couch par sula kar hum khud aaraam se kaise so sakte hain?"

(The bed is ours, jaan... but you're my wife. How could I sleep comfortably knowing I've made you sleep on the floor or the couch?)

I stared at him, my chest tangled with too many conflicting emotions. Fuck this man.

I couldn't figure him out at all. I had walked into this marriage expecting the worst, and here he was being... soft.

What the hell was this?

Was this just another game he was playing?

Aadhya, stop overthinking.

I didn't know how long I sat there staring at him before he tilted his head, his gaze dropping to the hand I had unknowingly clenched around his wrist.

I froze.

His eyes met mine again, amusement slowly flickering in them.

"Aise mat dekhiye, biwi... humari niyat waise hi aapke ilzaam se badnaam hai."

I snatched my hand back, my cheeks burning. He chuckled softly, his eyes still gleaming with quiet amusement.

I didn't know why, but my heart refused to slow down. I looked away, pulling the blanket a little higher.

This man was impossible. Yet somewhere beneath all my irritation, one question refused to leave my mind.

If this was another one of his games... why did it feel so genuine?

He finally stood up straight, switched off every light in the room one by one, and walked slowly toward the big couch against the wall as though the entire conversation was done and over with. I watched his broad silhouette blur and disappear into the thick darkness, the only light being the faint silver glow of the moon seeping through the curtains.

This man actually slept with all the lights off?

I turned my head toward the dark ceiling, my fingers twisting restlessly into the soft sheets.

I couldn't sleep like this. I'd never been able to sleep comfortably when it was pitch black all around me.

And, as if that wasn't enough to keep me up, I suddenly remembered my sleeping pills. Great.

I hadn't taken them tonight either, not when I'd left the whole bottle back home.

Should I call out to him? Should I ask him to turn the small table lamp back on for me?

My eyes slowly shifted toward the dark shape of the couch across the room. No, Aadhya.

He had already given up his bed for me. I didn't need to ask for anything more. It was only one night. Tomorrow, I'd talk to Dadi and ask her to arrange a separate room.

Simple. Problem solved.

At least, that was what I kept telling myself as I stared into the darkness, wide awake.

I pulled the soft blanket closer to my chest and squeezed my eyes shut, forcing every thought to the back of my mind.

Stop thinking about him. Stop replaying the way he had carried me, the gentle warmth of his hands around my injured ankle, the softness in his voice when he spoke to Dadi. Stop noticing that none of it matched the cold, cruel man I had prepared myself to marry.

I needed sleep. Desperately. After the longest, most chaotic day of my life, I needed nothing more than to close my eyes and let everything disappear for a few hours.

But somehow, the moment my lids closed, every thought I'd pushed away grew louder, banging against the inside of my skull.

Sleep was right there, just beyond my reach, but my mind refused to let me have it.

Life has a cruel way of changing without asking permission. Sometimes, all it takes is one night to make a stranger feel strangely familiar, and a single unexpected moment to make you question everything you think you know.

The cruelest part is realizing that not everything you fear is meant to hurt you.

And not everything you trust is meant to save you. Sometimes, the lines blur until you can't tell the difference anymore.

You spend so long preparing yourself for a monster that when that monster offers you softness instead of a blade, you don't know what to do with it. And then you're left with the cruelest question of all-

Do I trust the softness he is showing me... or fear what might be hiding behind it?

I lay there in the darkness, the question circling endlessly through my mind. And for the first time, I had no idea which answer scared me more.

༺❀༻

The walls pressed in around me, thick, cold, and airless. The darkness was so absolute that it swallowed every sound I tried to make.

I stumbled toward the door, my bare feet slipping against something sticky beneath me. I grabbed the brass handle and twisted until my wrist ached.

Nothing. It wouldn't open. It was locked.

"Is anyone there? Please... open the door! Someone, please help me!"

I screamed until my throat burned raw, but no voice came out. Not even a whisper.

Panic clawed up my throat, sharp as broken glass. I clawed at my neck, convinced something was blocking my airway, but there was nothing there.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't make a sound. "Mahadev... please help me..."

I pounded my fists against the door until my knuckles split, warm blood trickling down the wood. The door didn't even shake.

Then, a thin strip of silver moonlight cut through the darkness, slipping beneath the curtain at the far end of the room.

It illuminated a metal medical bed sitting in the middle of the room. A white sheet was pulled tightly over a shape that looked unmistakably human. Beside it, a heart monitor beeped slowly. Beep. Beep. Each sound seemed weaker than the last.

The body beneath the sheet suddenly jerked Once. Hard. The sheet slipped just enough to reveal a familiar hand.

I froze.

My legs began trembling so violently I could barely stand. "Please... please don't be..."

I forced myself forward, each step heavier than the last. Cold dread coiled tightly in my gut as hot tears slipped down my cheeks.

The closer I got, the more the moonlight carved out the terrible details-blood-soaked bandages wrapped around his chest, purple bruises bloomed across his sunken face, dried blood crusted dark across the white sheets, his fingers trembled so badly they couldn't stay still.

And then I saw his face.

"Dadu..." A raw, guttural scream ripped out of my throat. "DADU!"

I stumbled the last few steps and threw myself beside the bed, grabbing his freezing hand between both of mine as my entire body shook.

"No, no, no... please." My voice broke. "This can't be real."

His eyelids fluttered open slowly, heavily, and for one terrible second, his cloudy eyes found mine.

"My little star..." he rasped, the words barely audible.

That was enough to shatter me completely. I collapsed beside the bed, sobbing as I pressed his cold hand against my wet cheek.

"Dadu, I'm scared... please don't leave me. Please. I have no one left except you."

Suddenly, the heart monitor beside the bed erupted into frantic beeping, the sharp sound slicing through the silence. His chest jerked violently, his breathing turning into horrible, wet, broken gasps that barely seemed to reach his lungs.

"No!" I screamed, twisted around to look for anyone, anything, desperate for help. "SOMEONE HELP! PLEASE, ANYONE HELP HIM!"

I ran back to the door and slammed my bleeding fists against it over and over, until my injured knuckles left dark, bloody handprints all over the pale wood. "PLEASE OPEN THE DOOR! HE'S DYING, PLEASE, SOMEONE OPEN THE DOOR!"

Nothing. Not a single sound came from the other side. No footsteps. No voices. Not even the slightest movement of the handle. Only the frantic beeping of the monitor and the ragged sound of my own breathing.

Then I heard his faint, trembling voice behind me. "Aadhya..."

I spun around so quickly I nearly stumbled, then rushed back to the bed, collapsing hard on my knees beside it. "I'm here, Dadu. I'm right here!"

I grabbed his cold hand again, sobbing uncontrollably, my whole body shaking so violently I could barely hold on. "How did this happen? Who did this to you? Please, tell me! Who hurt you like this?"

His lips trembled as he struggled to form the words, but nothing came out. He fought for a single breath, his chest barely rising, and his eyes held something that terrified me more than the blood staining the sheets.

Fear.

He tried again, his voice barely more than a ragged whisper. "Rathore..."

I froze. My blood turned to ice. What? I don't understand. What about Rathore?

I leaned closer, my ear almost brushing his lips. "Rathore...?"

His breathing grew harsh and broken, his fingers tightening around mine for one last, desperate second. "A... Ayansh..."

The heart monitor suddenly screamed one long, unbroken tone.

BEEEEEEEEEP.

I stared at him, my mind going completely blank. "Dadu?"

Nothing.

"Dadu..." I shook his hand, sobbing so hard I could barely breathe. "Dadu, please. Wake up. Talk to me."

His fingers slowly slipped from mine, falling limp against the mattress. "No."

I touched his cheek with trembling fingers. It was already cold. "No, no, no, no..."

I grabbed his shoulder and shook him harder, my voice breaking as I screamed his name. "Dadu! Wake up! Please, just wake up!"

Nothing.

The room fell completely silent, except for the sound of my broken sobs echoing against the walls.

Then I noticed something moving in the deep shadow beneath the hospital bed.

I froze completely, every muscle locking in place. Slowly-so slowly my neck began to ache-I lowered my gaze.

A dark, glistening trail of fresh blood was seeping from beneath the bed frame, slowly winding its way toward my feet.

My breath caught in my throat. "Who's there?"

Silence. No answer.

The blood continued dripping from the edge of the bed onto the cold concrete floor.

Drop. Drop. Drop.

Each sound echoed through the room, loud enough to split my skull. I stumbled backward, my eyes locked on the pitch-black space beneath the bed.

Then, without warning, a pale, blood-slick hand shot out from the darkness and clamped around my bare ankle.

I screamed and crashed onto the floor, kicking wildly at the hand, but those freezing fingers only tightened, cutting painfully into my skin.

"LET ME GO!" I screamed until my lungs burned, my throat raw from all the shouting.

Then the overhead lights flickered. Once. Twice. The hand vanished beneath the bed.

I scrambled backward on my elbows, sobbing so hard my vision blurred, until my back slammed against the cold plaster wall.

When I finally forced myself to look toward the bed again- Dadu was gone.

The white sheets lay rumpled and empty, still stained with his blood. The heart monitor continued its flat, endless beep.

But Dadu was gone.

"Dadu...?" My voice barely existed-a broken whisper swallowed by the darkness.

I spun around desperately, my eyes darting across every dark corner of the locked room.

"Dadu?"

Then I felt it.

Warm, slow, heavy breathing brushed against the back of my ear. The familiar scent of cigar smoke and cologne reached me before the voice did.

My entire body went rigid, ice flooding through my veins. A warm, rough whisper brushed against the sensitive skin of my neck, sending a violent shiver down my spine.

"Aadhya..."

I stopped breathing. I knew that voice. I would recognize that low, rough timbre anywhere.

"A... Ayansh?" I whispered, the name barely escaping my trembling lips.

The room fell into complete silence. No monitor. No dripping blood. Nothing.

Then something ice-cold pressed against my bare shoulder through the thin cotton of my nightdress.

I screamed and spun around, my hands flying out to grab whoever was behind me-Nothing. Only empty air.

I ran blindly toward the locked door, sobbing so hard I could barely breathe, choking on my own tears as I clawed desperately at the handle.

"Please! Please, open the door! I can't breathe!" I clawed at the stiff wooden handle until my nails cracked and split, warm blood trickling down my wrists. "Mahadev, please..."

My vision blurred at the edges, turning spotty and dark. My chest tightened so painfully that I couldn't drag a full breath into my lungs.

"Ayansh..." I whispered desperately, not even understanding why his name was the only one my mind could reach for. "Ayansh... I can't breathe... please, open the door. It's so dark... it's too dark..."

And from somewhere deep within the thick, swallowing darkness behind me, a soft, familiar voice answered.

"Aadhya."

The voice cut through the darkness, faint at first, then closer, filled with a desperate worry that pulled me toward it despite myself. "Aadhya... look at me. Please."

Warm, familiar hands suddenly cupped my cold face, calloused thumbs brushing gently over the tears streaking my cheeks.

I froze, my entire body still trembling so violently I could barely keep myself upright. I couldn't see him. I couldn't see anything. The darkness still swallowed everything, even the shape of the man standing right in front of me.

"No... no, it's all dark... please, I can't see anything. Please open the door. I need to get out..." My voice broke into a ragged sob. His hands tightened gently around my jaw, holding me steady.

"Aadhya, listen to me. The door is open. The lights are on. You're not trapped anywhere. You're in our room, jaan... I'm right here with you. It was just a nightmare."

I shook my head frantically, my lungs still struggling to draw in enough air. "I can't breathe..."

"Hey... hey, look at me, jaan. You're safe. Just breathe with me, okay? Forget the darkness. Forget the nightmare. Just listen to my voice, okay? Breathe with me, jaan... that's it. You're not alone anymore. I'm right here, and I'm not fucking leaving you."

His voice trembled despite how hard he tried to keep it steady, the worry bleeding through every word.

I shook my head again, fresh tears slipping down my face and onto his warm hands. "I-I can't... please... let me out... please open the door... it's so dark... I can't stay here..."

"Shhh... I know. I know it feels real. I know you're scared, but you're here with me. Nothing is going to happen to you. I swear on everything I have... I'll get you through this. Just hold onto me."

His forehead pressed gently against mine, his warm breath fanning steadily over my trembling skin, grounding me when everything else felt like it was spinning. "You're not alone. I'm right here... right here with you. You're safe with me. I won't let anything hurt you."

I clutched the fabric of his vest with trembling fingers, my nails digging into the soft cotton as tears spilled freely onto his chest. "I'm so scared..."

He pulled me tightly against his chest, wrapping both arms around me as though he could physically hold the nightmare back, as though he could shield me from every terrible thing that had ever frightened me.

"I know, bacha. I know you're scared. But you don't have to be brave right now. Nothing gets to you when you're in my arms. Not the darkness. Not your nightmares. Nothing. You're mine to protect, jaan... and I swear, I'll fight every damn thing that ever makes you afraid."

I buried my face deeper against his warm chest, my whole body still shaking violently. "Please don't leave me alone in the dark..."

"Never." The answer came instantly. No hesitation. No pause.

"Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not when you're scared, not when you're angry, not even when you hate me. You can push me away a hundred times, Aadhya... I'll still come back and hold you every single time."

His palm settled gently against the back of my head, his fingers slipping slowly through my damp hair, rubbing soothing circles against my scalp. "Now just breathe for me, yeah? I've got you, bacha. Stay with me. Just let me hold you."

I squeezed my eyes shut, desperately trying to anchor myself to the warmth of his body, the steady thud of his heart beneath my ear, and the rough timbre of his voice cutting through the remnants of the nightmare.

"Listen to me carefully, Aadhya. Whatever you saw lurking in that darkness... it was never stronger than you. You've survived things that were meant to destroy you, and yet here you are. Still breathing. Still fighting."

His hold tightened around me, his arms wrapping securely around my trembling body. "You're stronger than every nightmare, every fear, every damn thing that ever tried to break you. Don't you ever for get that, bacha. You're my strong girl."

He held me even closer, his voice softening into a rough, trembling whisper. "I was right here, holding you through every bit of it. You were safe in my arms. And if you ever fall, I'll catch you before the darkness gets anywhere near you. You don't have to fight alone anymore, Aadhya. You have me."

His voice dropped into a quiet, almost pleading whisper. He pressed his lips softly against my forehead, holding them there for a long moment, his warm breath brushing through my hair. "Please... come back to me, angel."

Angel. Angel. Angel.

The name echoed through my foggy mind again and again, slow and steady, until it gradually drowned out every terrible fragment of the nightmare-the suffocating darkness, the locked door, Dadu's cold, lifeless hand, the monitor's endless screaming beep.

My eyes snapped open, my chest heaving. For a few frozen seconds, I had no idea where I was. The room slowly returned in soft, blurry fragments-the warm glow of the nightlight he had turned on, the familiar cream walls of his bedroom, the solid warmth wrapped tightly around my trembling body.

Then my vision cleared. And I found him. Ayansh. He was right there, holding me, his dark hair messy from sleep, his jaw tense with raw worry, his voice low and desperate as he tried to pull me back to reality.

"Angel, listen to my voice. Don't go back there... stay here with me. You're safe, jaan. I've got you. I'm not letting you go."

I didn't even think about what I was doing. My body moved before my mind could catch up, before I could remember that I was supposed to be afraid of him.

I grabbed him tightly, my fingers curling desperately into the soft fabric of his shirt, and buried myself deeper against his chest as though some instinctive part of me already knew he was the safest thing in the room.

His arms immediately tightened around me. One hand cradled the back of my head while the other held me firmly against his chest, his thumb moving in slow, steady circles over my shoulder blade.

My breathing came in broken, shallow gasps, each one scraping painfully through my raw throat as I struggled to pull enough air into my lungs.

"Oh fuck... Meri jaan nikal gayi thi aapko yun dekh kar..." he murmured, his voice softer than I'd ever heard it, every trace of his usual roughness gone.

My head grew heavy against his warm shoulder, my whole body still trembling with the lingering terror of the nightmare.

After a few long moments, I pulled back just enough to look at him. His deep, ocean-dark eyes held mine, and for once, there was no arrogance, no teasing smirk, no wicked amusement-only raw, unmasked worry.

My breathing was still uneven, my chest rising and falling too quickly. He leaned forward until his forehead rested gently against mine, his warm breath brushing my trembling lips.

"Shhh... bacha, main hoon na aapke saath. Kuch nahi hoga aapko," he whispered, so softly that only I could hear him.

His fingers found my cold hand and gently guided it to his chest, pressing my palm over his heartbeat.

I froze.

His heart was racing beneath my palm-fast, hard, almost as frantic as mine. He gave me a faint, wobbly smile that didn't quite reach his worried eyes.

"Feel that?" His voice dropped even softer, rough with an emotion he wasn't trying to hide.

I swallowed hard, forcing a slow, shaky breath into my burning lungs. "Good... that's it, angel. You're doing so good. I'm right here with you."

Slowly, so painfully slowly, my breathing began to steady. The deep trembling in my bones eased, and the crushing pressure around my chest loosened enough for me to finally draw a full, proper breath.

And then the fog cleared. I realized exactly what I was doing.

My hand was still pressed flat against his chest, right over his heart. My fingers were still twisted tightly into the fabric of his vest.

I was sitting curled up in the arms of Ayansh Singh Rathore.

The man I had hated from the deepest, darkest corner of my heart. The man whose name had meant nothing but fear and ruin to me for months.

I pulled away so quickly that my head spun, black spots dancing across my vision.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" I whispered, staring at him as though I had just woken up from another, even worse nightmare.

I couldn't believe I had let myself become that vulnerable.

I shoved hard against his chest with both palms, scrambling backward off the bed so quickly I nearly lost my balance. My trembling legs barely held me when my feet hit the floor.

I stumbled. He stepped forward instinctively, his hand reaching out to steady me. "Aadhya-"

"Stay away from me." My voice came out sharper than I intended. I meant every word.

He stopped immediately. Not another step forward. Not another attempt to reach for me.

I grabbed the back of the armchair to steady myself, refusing to meet his eyes as I stumbled across the room, putting as much distance between us as I could.

Every step felt unsteady, my body still drained from the panic attack, but I forced myself forward until I dropped heavily onto the couch, pulling my knees tightly against my chest.

When I finally looked up at him, he was still standing exactly where I had left him beside the bed. His eyes remained fixed on me, silent and unreadable.

Whatever soft, fragile warmth had existed between us a moment ago, I buried it beneath the one thing I had always allowed myself to feel for him.

Hate.

My eyes held nothing but hate as I stared at Ayansh Singh Rathore-the man who had destroyed the only family I had left, the man I had sworn to make pay one day, the man I should never have reached for in my weakest moment.

He was the last person in this world I wanted my stupid, trembling heart to seek comfort in. The last person I wanted to remember as warmth instead of a threat, or his voice as something that could calm me instead of break me.

But for one fragile moment, when the nightmare had been choking the life out of me, I had forgotten everything. I had forgotten who he was. Forgotten what he had done.

All I had known was that he was there-solid, real, holding me through the darkness.

And now that the fog had lifted, I hated myself almost as much as I hated him for that tiny, unforgivable weakness. I hated that he had seen me break. I hated that he had been the one to put me back together, even if only for a moment.

He just stood there, silent, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. He didn't push. He didn't move. He simply watched me. I could see the hurt flicker across his face for half a second before he masked it again.

He didn't say a word. He simply turned and walked back to the other side of the room, slow and quiet, respecting the distance I had demanded.

I forced my breathing to stay steady, pressing my head back against the couch cushion and staring up at the plain white ceiling, but the heavy lead weight in my chest only grew heavier, pressing down on my ribs until I could barely breathe.

I wanted to cry. God, I wanted to cry so badly I could barely stand it. I wanted to scream, throw something, punch a hole in the wall, do anything that could drown out the messy, screaming chaos inside my head for even five seconds.

There were too many terrible things trapped inside me, too many rotten memories I'd buried so deep that sometimes even I forgot they were there-until a night like this came along and ripped every single one of them wide open-raw, bleeding, Impossible to ignore.

That was why I had always hated sleeping. Ever since Dadu died, nightmares had begun haunting me every time I closed my eyes. Sleep had stopped feeling like rest and started feeling like a punishment I had to endure every night.

That was why I had gone back to the sleeping pills I had managed to stop taking almost a year ago. I had stupidly convinced myself that I was finally getting better.

Apparently, I had only gotten better at pretending. Good enough to fool everyone. Even myself.

I couldn't let anyone I cared about get too close anymore-not when some broken, splintered part of me was always terrified I would hurt them, drag them into my mess, or make them carry burdens that were never theirs to bear.

So I had taught myself to live behind walls. Distance was safer. Silence was easier than explaining the screaming inside my head.

And tonight, more than ever, I needed those walls back.

I finally lifted my head and looked straight at him. "I need space."

His dark gaze stayed locked on me, impossible to read, his face still tight with the leftover worry from my panic attack. He didn't move an inch.

"No." One single word. Calm. Absolute. No room for argument.

My jaw tightened until my teeth ached. "I wasn't asking for permission, Rathore Sahab."

"And I wasn't negotiating, Aadhya." His voice wasn't gentle, but it wasn't cruel either-just that maddening, unshakable certainty he always carried. "I'm not leaving you alone tonight."

I shot up off the couch so fast my bruised ankle twinged sharp, hot anger surging through me faster than the panic had minutes before.

"Can't you just get it through your stubborn thick skull? I need to be alone. I don't need you standing there gawking at me like I'm some broken mess you get to glue back together to feed your damn ego."

His dark eyebrows drew together slightly, his eyes narrowing as he stepped forward one slow step toward me.

"Then be angry. Break whatever you want. Scream until your throat hurts. Hit me if that helps. But don't ask me to walk out that door and leave you sitting here barely holding yourself together."

"I said I need space!"

"I heard you loud and clear." His voice dropped low, rough with unshakable conviction. "I just don't agree."

I stared at him, stunned by how unapologetic he was, like he had every right to be here when I didn't want him. "You are fucking unbelievable."

"I've been called a lot worse than that."

"Move out of my way."

"No."

My hands curled into tight fists, nails digging into my palms until they ached. "I swear, I'll slap you so hard your head spins."

A faint, bitter, unamused smirk tugged at his mouth. He didn't step back. "Go ahead. I won't even stop you."

I stepped closer, heat blazing up my neck. "You really think I'm joking?"

"No." His dark eyes held mine steady, no give at all. "That's why I'm saying this straight-you can hit me, curse me, blame me for every bad fucking thing that ever ruined your life. I'll take every bit of it. But I'm not walking out that door and leaving you alone to fall apart tonight."

I shoved his chest as hard as I could, my whole body shaking. "Who the hell asked you to stay?"

He didn't budge an inch. He only looked down at me. "No one asked."

I shoved him again, harder, my arms trembling with rage. "Then get the hell out! Leave me the fuck alone like I asked!"

"No."

"I hate you! I hate you so much I can't even breathe when you're in the same room!"

"I know."

"I don't need you here!"

"Maybe you don't." His voice remained maddeningly steady, without bite or retreat, that same unshakable calm making my anger burn hotter. "But right now, you needed someone who wouldn't disappear the second you told him to. That's all I'm giving you."

Something raw and frayed inside me finally snapped. I fisted the front of his vest and struck his chest again and again, every blow carrying months of anger I had never known where to put.

"I hate you. I fucking hate you, Ayansh. Why can't you just leave me alone? Why do you always have to-"

My voice cracked, hot tears spilling over before I could stop them. I hit him harder, my knuckles stinging against the solid muscle beneath his vest.

"You destroyed everything. You walked into my life and turned everything I had upside down and broke it!"

He let me. He simply stood there and took every blow, every screamed word, every desperate tug on his shirt.

He didn't try to stop me until I finally went limp and attempted to pull away. Even then, his grip was firm rather than cruel, holding me steady instead of hurting me.

"Let go of me!"

"No."

"I hate you! I hate you more than I've ever hated anyone in my whole life!"

"I know."

I bit down hard on the hand around my wrist, my teeth sinking deep enough for the metallic taste of blood to coat my tongue. His jaw tightened, the muscle jumping beneath his skin, but not a single sound escaped him.

My nails dug into his forearm when he pulled me closer, leaving red crescent marks across his skin. He didn't push me away. Didn't retaliate. Didn't even pull back from the pain.

He simply held me against his chest while I sobbed and fought, all the anger and grief I had buried for so long finally spilling out of me.

"Let it out," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Get every fucking thing you've been holding in out. All of it. I'm not going anywhere."

"Don't you dare tell me what to do!" I screamed, hot tears finally spilling over and blurring my vision until he became nothing more than a dark, indistinct shape in front of me.

"I don't want anyone near me! I don't want you! I don't want this stupid fucking marriage! I don't want this big, empty house! I don't want to wake up every day and pretend I'm not still waiting for Dadu to walk through that door! I don't want to be this broken thing that can't even sleep without a nightmare tearing me apart!"

My voice cracked completely. "I don't want to be here!"

A sob tore through my chest. "I don't want you!"

The last words cracked something open inside me, and all the fight drained out of my body like air from a punctured tire.

My knees gave way. I barely had time to realize I was falling before he caught me, his arms wrapping around me and keeping me from hitting the floor.

He lowered himself onto the couch and pulled me tightly against his chest, holding me as though I might shatter if he loosened his grip.

I pushed weakly against his chest once, my arms trembling so badly I could barely lift them.

Then again. Weaker this time. My fists eventually fell limp against his shoulders, every ounce of strength drained out of me.

"I hate you..." I whispered through ragged sobs, my face buried against his shoulder. "I hate you, Ayansh Singh Rathore..."

My fingers curled tightly into his vest, clinging to him even as I hated myself for needing the support.

"I hate you so much." My voice broke. "You took him from me. You took everything. I have nothing left."

A broken sob escaped me. "Everything hurts so bad, and it's all your fault. I don't know how to fix this. I don't know how to stop hurting..."

My grip tightened desperately in his shirt. "I just want my Dadu back."

He didn't tell me it would be okay. He didn't argue that it wasn't his fault. He didn't try to fix the mess spilling out of me. He didn't tell me he understood when he couldn't possibly. He didn't offer some empty promise that time would heal everything.

He simply tightened his arms around me, one hand firm against the back of my head, holding me close to his shoulder as my tears soaked through his vest.

I broke completely against the chest of the man I had spent months convincing myself was my enemy. The man I had told myself a hundred times I could never trust. The last person in the world I should have ever felt safe with. The man I had sworn I would never let close enough to see how broken I really was.

Every terrible thing I had buried for the past year, every scream I had swallowed, every night I had cried silently into my pillow so no one would hear-all of it came pouring out against his chest.

And he didn't move. He simply held me, his thumb tracing slow, steady circles over my shoulder, letting me spill every ounce of grief I had carried alone for so long.

And for the first time since Dadu died, I didn't feel like I was drowning alone.

After a while, my ragged breathing finally evened out. The tears stopped flowing, but Ayansh didn't loosen his hold on me even a little. He stayed right there on the couch, one arm wrapped securely around my waist, keeping me close, while the other moved slowly through my messy hair in a strangely soothing rhythm-as though holding me like this after I had screamed, bitten, and fought him was the most natural thing in the world.

My cheek remained pressed against his chest, and the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath my ear had become the only sound I wanted to hear.

Steady. Warm. Unmistakably real.

Then he spoke quietly, almost as though he was afraid of disturbing the fragile silence that had settled between us. "Want to get out of here for a while? Wanna Go for a drive?"

I lifted my face slightly, my puffy eyes blinking up at him in confusion. "Outside? At this hour? Why would we go out now?"

His fingers kept combing gently through the tangles in my hair, never stopping."Because I know you're not going to sleep anytime soon."

His dark eyes held mine steadily, without judgment or pressure. "Your head is still too loud. And after that nightmare, this room probably feels suffocating. Maybe even with me in it."

Something soft and tight pulled in my chest, as if he had somehow read every thought I had been too exhausted to put into words. He paused, his thumb brushing lightly over my throbbing temple.

"And I don't want to leave you sitting here alone with all that noise. So we'll go. Get some fresh air. You don't have to talk. You don't have to explain anything." His voice softened. "Whatever you need to feel a little better... I'll be there. That's all."

I stared at him, my throat still tight from all the sobbing, completely thrown off.

How did he know? How could this man-someone I still couldn't make sense of, even after everything he had just sat through with me tonight-somehow read me so easily?

Whenever the walls of whatever room I was in started closing in, whenever the thoughts inside my head became too loud to outrun, I always escaped into open spaces. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere no one could find me.

That was how I had always dealt with the suffocating weight of everything. Run until my lungs could breathe again.

But how did he know that?

Did he do the same thing when the noise inside his own head became too loud?

My eyes dropped to his hand resting on my waist, and I noticed the faint red half-moon marks my nails had left across his forearm earlier-the same arm I had bitten.

I had hit him. Screamed every horrible thing I could think of at him. Told him I hated him more than I had ever hated anyone.

And instead of snapping back or walking away like I had demanded, he had simply held me through every second of my breakdown as though I were something worth protecting.

And now he wanted to take me driving because he could tell I couldn't breathe in here anymore.

What kind of man did that?

I looked back up at him, completely bewildered, the question echoing through my mind.

Will I ever actually understand this man?

"Out for a drive?" I asked quietly, my voice still rough from crying. "Now? It's almost half past two in the morning."

A faint, lazy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "So what? The roads don't close after midnight. The night still has plenty of time."

I hesitated, my fingers still loosely twisted in the hem of my nightdress. "You're serious about this? You really want to take me out? Just because I couldn't sleep?"

His eyebrows lifted slightly, as though the question almost offended him. "If I don't take you, who else will? You're not too much, Aadhya. And if I didn't want to do it, I wouldn't have asked."

He shifted closer, his thumb brushing lightly over my cheek. I studied his face for a long moment, the faint yellow lamplight falling softly across his features, before finally giving a small nod.

He gently helped me off his lap and steadied me on my feet. "Give me one minute to change. I'll be right back."

He disappeared into the wardrobe and returned a minute later wearing a plain dark T-shirt, his familiar shawl folded loosely over one arm. He picked up the car keys from the table, then extended his hand toward me, palm up.

"Come."

I stared at his outstretched hand for a second. Then at his face. Then back at his hand.

Why did he keep doing this? Why did he keep chipping away at the walls I had built around my heart, making it harder and harder to hold on to the hatred I had carried for him for so long?

I finally placed my shaky hand in his. His fingers closed firmly around mine, warm and steady, and together we walked slowly out of the room.

When we reached the main entry hall, he suddenly stopped.

"Wait here for me, yeah? Don't move."

"Where are you going?"

"Two minutes. I'll be right back."

Before I could ask anything else, he slipped his hand from mine and disappeared down the hallway toward the kitchen.

I sank onto the sofa and stared after him, still half-convinced I was somehow trapped inside the nightmare.

A moment later, he returned carrying a small ceramic bowl, a metal spoon resting inside it. He held it out toward me. "Here."

I blinked, still heavy from crying, and stared at the bowl. "For me?"

One dark eyebrow lifted, a faint glint of teasing appearing in his eyes. "No, for Lucifer. Obviously."

I stared at him, far too exhausted to react to the joke. He bit the inside of his cheek, clearly fighting a smile.

I rolled my eyes and took the bowl from his hand. "You're so annoying."

I ignored his quiet laugh and scooped up the first spoonful, lifting it to my mouth.

I froze.

Butterscotch. Creamy and sweet, exactly the way I liked it. My favorite.

My eyes widened before I could stop them, and of course, he noticed.

A small, satisfied smile tugged at his lips. He reached out and gently brushed his thumb across my cheek, wiping away a stray tear I hadn't even felt fall. "Better?"

I nodded before my brain could remind me not to.

His smile softened. "Good. I'll pull the car around front. Be out in a minute."

He turned and walked out through the door. I remained there on the sofa, holding my little bowl of butterscotch ice cream, staring at the oak door he had just disappeared through.

My chest felt strangely tight. And for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why.

How could someone be this gentle after I'd torn into him like a feral thing?

If anyone else had been on the receiving end of everything I'd thrown at him tonight, they would've lost their temper by now. They would've walked away and left me to deal with my own mess. They would've hated me for it.

But he hadn't done any of that.

Instead, he had remembered that I liked butterscotch ice cream.

What the hell was actually wrong with this man?

Why couldn't he just be the villain I needed him to be?

A moment later, I heard the low rumble of his car approaching the porch outside. I quickly finished another spoonful, licking the sweetness from my lips before standing to follow him out.

He was already waiting beside the car, holding the passenger door open for me, one hand resting lightly against the top of the frame so I wouldn't hit my head.

He always did that.

I climbed inside, clutching my little bowl of ice cream to my chest like it was something precious I was afraid to drop, while he quietly walked around to the driver's side.

I had absolutely no idea where we were going. Strangely, I didn't ask.

For the first time all night, I didn't feel that desperate need to control every little thing.

The car eased onto the empty road, the city outside almost completely asleep, with only the streetlights casting soft golden pools across the darkness.

For several long minutes, neither of us spoke. It wasn't awkward, exactly. Just a strange, quiet stillness between us-heavy, but not suffocating.

I ate my ice cream slowly, watching the golden streetlights slip past the tinted window, stretching into blurred streaks against the dark.

Finally, I glanced over at him, my spoon hovering halfway to my mouth. "Can I put some music on?"

He looked at me briefly, one hand resting loosely on the steering wheel, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Go ahead, bacha. You never have to ask me for permission. If it's mine, it's yours too."

The word wrapped around something deep inside me, warm and unexpected.

For one tiny, painful second, I thought of Dadu. His deep laugh. The way he used to ruffle my hair and call me that same word whenever I was upset.

My chest tightened, so I quickly pushed the memory away before it could drag the tears back out.

I reached for the touchscreen and tapped the first saved playlist I saw. An old, soft, familiar song filled the quiet car, slow and warm.

I blinked in surprise. He listened to this? That tiny, unexpected discovery loosened something inside my chest, making it feel just a little lighter.

Well, look at that. Even after everything, we actually had one stupid little thing in common.

He caught the surprised lift of my eyebrows and let out a low, warm chuckle, his large hand resting loosely on the steering wheel as he kept his eyes on the empty road ahead.

"If you don't like it, just tell me. I'll have Anshuman put together a whole new playlist with whatever you listen to. No trouble."

I shook my head quickly, scraping the last bit of melted ice cream from the side of the bowl. "No, this is good. I love old songs anyway."

I leaned my temple against the cool window, slowly turning the empty bowl in my lap as I let the soft lyrics fill the quiet car.

For some reason, I didn't want anything else right then.

No awkward small talk. No big explanations. No attempts to fix what was broken.

Just this empty, quiet road stretching endlessly ahead, soft music filling the car, the lingering sweetness of ice cream on my tongue, and this strange, ruthless man driving beside me who somehow seemed to know exactly what I needed before I ever said a word.

I'd always eaten ice cream to dull the ache whenever I felt low, ever since I was a kid.

I slowly turned my head and glanced at his profile again, the passing streetlights briefly illuminating his features.

How did he know that? My brows furrowed slightly. Had he been noticing these stupid little things about me even before we married?

I quickly shook the thought away, silently scolding myself. Stop it, Aadhya. Don't start overthinking every little thing he does. It doesn't mean anything.

Yet I couldn't stop the wobbly, confused little smile that tugged at the corner of my mouth, soft and unplanned, before I could bite it back.

A few minutes later, the car slowed and rolled to a soft stop at the edge of the overgrown gravel lot. I pushed the door open and stepped out onto the cool, dewy dirt-and for a full second, I completely forgot how to breathe.

My eyes widened as I slowly turned, taking in the view.

The city was miles behind us. No honking traffic. No bright streetlights. No constant hum of people.

Just the vast, open darkness of the night, the faint silver glow of the half-moon spilling across the endless sea far below, and the quiet cliff edge stretching out before us.

I knew this place. I knew it in my bones.

This was the cliff point I had driven to a hundred times whenever the noise in my head became too loud to outrun-where I came to breathe, to find silence, to search for some version of myself I could still recognize after everything had fallen apart.

I stood there completely frozen, staring out at the familiar view as a thousand old memories rushed through me so quickly they made my head spin.

How did he know about this place? How could he possibly know?

I didn't even realize how long I'd been standing there until something warm and soft settled around my shoulders, shielding me from the cool night air.

I looked down. The extra shawl he'd grabbed from the house. Then I lifted my head to look at him.

He stood beside me, watching quietly, saying nothing-as though he already knew exactly what this place meant to me.

"Aapko is jagah ka pata kaise chala?" I asked, my voice barely more than a breath, carried away by the wind.

(How did you find out about this place?)

A faint, knowing smile touched the corner of his mouth. "Ussi tarah... jis tarah aapko pata chala."

(The same way you found out about it.)

My heart dropped straight into my stomach, heavy with old grief, when the realization hit me.

Dadu was the one who had brought me here for the first time, when I was sixteen. He had shown me this quiet little spot where no one could find me or ask how I was feeling.

I had come here alone a hundred times after that... and only a handful of times with him.

So if Ayansh knew about this place, Dadu must have brought him here too-long before we ever got married.

Somehow, that thought made the familiar air feel softer tonight, less sharp with loneliness.

I looked away quickly before the ache in my chest could grow heavy enough to break me again, then walked slowly toward the weathered wooden bench overlooking the sea.

The wind brushed gently through my hair, carrying the sharp, clean scent of wet earth and the faint promise of rain.

I sat down, pulling the shawl tighter around my shoulders against the chill.

A moment later, Ayansh sat beside me.

He didn't pry into my thoughts. He didn't ask me to smile, tell me to stop being sad, or push me to explain everything I still kept buried somewhere deep inside me. He didn't try to fill the silence with meaningless words just because neither of us was speaking.

He simply stayed. Quiet. Steady.

His shoulder barely brushed against mine, close enough to remind me I wasn't alone, yet careful enough to give me the space I needed.

My gaze remained fixed on the dark sea stretching endlessly beneath the silver glow of the moon. Tiny waves rolled lazily against the rocks far below, their soft, rhythmic sound blending with the quiet whisper of the night.

And somehow, for the first time all night, the silence didn't feel suffocating.

It felt safe. Almost comforting. Like I could finally breathe without having to explain why.

Sitting there beside the very man I had spent months convincing myself to hate, to fear, to stay away from, I found myself wondering-slowly, reluctantly-how someone I had tried so desperately to keep at a distance could feel so strangely familiar.

Like a place I had never been before... yet somehow, my heart already knew the way back to it.

I kept my eyes fixed on the sea, watching the waves crash against the rocks before dissolving back into the darkness.

Every thought collided with another. Every memory dragged another behind it. I couldn't tell which hurt more-the things I already knew or the things I was still desperately trying to understand.

The waves kept crashing below, steady and endless. But inside my head, nothing was quiet. It was just another storm I didn't know how to escape.

"Kuch sach samandar ki tarah hote hain... jitna gehra utro, utna hi khud mein doobte chale jaate ho.

Sawaal itne hain ke ab kisi jawaab par yaqeen nahi hota, aur yaqeen itna kam hai ke har jawaab ek naya sawaal lagta hai.

Har cheez ka jawaab mil jaaye toh zindagi aasaan ho jaaye... magar phir shayad zindagi, zindagi na rahe.

Haqeeqat aur fareb mein farq karte-karte, ek din yeh bhi samajh nahi aaya ke hum khud kis kahani ka hissa hain.

Khud ko samajhne nikle the... raaste mein itne logon ko samajhna pada ke khud hi kahin peeche reh gaye. Kuch uljhanein sulajhti nahi... insaan bas unke saath jeena seekh leta hai, aur phir log usey sabr ka naam de dete hain.

Shayad zindagi kisi ko pehle se nahi batati ke kaun apna hai aur kaun farebi... woh bas waqt ko gawah banati hai.

Jinhein hum apni hifazat samajhte rahe, waqt ne unhein hi humari sabse badi aazmaish bana diya.

Aitbaar bhi kya ajeeb fitrat rakhta hai-ek dafa toot jaaye toh phir sach bhi safai deta phirta hai.

Kisi par yaqeen karna khata nahi... magar us yaqeen ko apni poori duniya bana lena, khud se ki gayi sabse badi na-insaafi hai.

Shayad isi ko zindagi kehte hain... galat logon se sabak lena, sahi logon ko pehchanne mein der karna, aur phir dono ki qeemat umr bhar ada karna.

Zindagi ka bhi ajeeb mazaaq hai-jab humare paas waqt hota hai, hum jeena nahi jaante; aur jab jeena seekhte hain, waqt kam pad jaata hai.

Humse behtar kaun jaane tanhaai ka hunar... humne mehfilon mein bhi apna janaza tanha uthaya hai.

Tanhaai ko itna odh liya hai ke ab kisi ki qurbat bhi bojh si lagti hai. Apne zakhmon ke bhi itne aadi ho gaye hain ke ab marham mile toh dard hone lagta hai.

Ajeeb qism ki khuddaari hai hum mein-dil toot jaaye toh bhi kisi ke saamne bikharne ki ijaazat nahi dete.

Humein kisi ke chale jaane ka khauf nahi... khauf toh yeh hai ke koi ruk kar humari aadat ban jaaye."

[Some truths are like the ocean... the deeper you dive, the further you find yourself drowning within them.

There are so many questions that I no longer believe in any answer, and so little certainty that every answer feels like another question. If we could find an answer to everything, life would become easier... but perhaps then, life would no longer be life.

While trying to tell the difference between reality and deception, one day we no longer even understood which story we ourselves were a part of. We set out to understand ourselves... but along the way, we had to understand so many people that somehow, we left ourselves behind.

Some knots simply cannot be untangled... a person merely learns to live with them, and then people call it patience.

Perhaps life never tells us beforehand who truly belongs to us and who is deceiving us... it simply lets time become the witness. The very people we once believed were our protection, time turned into our greatest test.

Trust has such a strange nature-once it breaks, even the truth has to keep proving its innocence.

Trusting someone is not a mistake... but making that trust your entire world is the greatest injustice you can do to yourself.

Perhaps that is what life is... learning lessons from the wrong people, taking too long to recognize the right ones, and then paying the price for both for the rest of your life.

Life has a strange sense of irony-when we have time, we do not know how to live; and when we finally learn how to live, we run out of time.

Who could understand the art of loneliness better than us... we have carried our own funeral through crowded gatherings, all alone.

We have worn loneliness for so long that even someone's closeness now feels like a burden. We have grown so accustomed to our own wounds that when someone offers us a balm, even that begins to hurt.

There is a strange kind of pride in us-we do not allow ourselves to fall apart in front of anyone, even when our hearts are breaking.

We are not afraid of someone leaving... what we fear is that someone might stay long enough to become a habit.]

Then I finally looked at him.

He was already watching me, his gaze fixed on mine as though he had been waiting for me to look up for far longer than I realized.

I didn't know how much time had passed or how long we had been sitting there without saying a single word. The waves kept crashing against the rocks below. The wind kept moving softly around us. And yet, everything between us felt strangely still.

My mind was still tangled in a mess of unanswered questions, but somehow, it was his eyes that unsettled me the most.

There was something in them. Something quiet. Unreadable. Almost painfully familiar.

Something that reached a place inside me I had spent years keeping locked away.

And perhaps that was the most dangerous part of all.

For the first time, I wasn't afraid of him. I was afraid that everything I had believed about him might be wrong.

"Ek taraf samandar tha, jo mujhse sawaal kar raha tha... aur doosri taraf uski aankhein, jinmein mujhse bhi zyada sawaal the. Farq bas itna tha-samandar ke sawaalon ka koi jawaab dena zaroori nahi tha... magar uski aankhon ko yun nazarandaaz karna mushkil tha.

Main usey samajh nahi paa rahi thi... aur isse bhi zyada hairat is baat par thi ke main usey samajhna chahti kyun thi. Jis shakhs ko saza sunaane aayi thi, uske liye daleelein kyun dhoondh rahi thi? Aakhir mujhe uski safai kyun sunni thi... jab faisla toh main kab ka suna chuki thi?"

[On one side was the sea, asking me questions... and on the other were his eyes, holding more questions than even mine. The only difference was-the sea's questions didn't demand answers... but his eyes were impossible to ignore.

I couldn't understand him... and what bewildered me even more was why I wanted to understand him at all.

Why was I searching for reasons for the very man I had come here to punish? Why did I suddenly want to hear his side of the story... when I had already passed my judgment on him long ago?]

I quickly covered the vulnerability on my face with my familiar mask of arrogance. He had already seen far more of me tonight than I had ever intended to show him, and I wasn't about to let him see anything more.

I turned my gaze back toward the waves, pretending their restless rhythm was suddenly far more interesting than the man sitting beside me. "Kya itni buri lag rahi hoon ke taras aa raha hai mujh par?"

(Do I look so miserable that you feel sorry for me?)

For a moment, there was only the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below.

Then his voice came, quiet and unwavering. "Taras? Aap par? Nahi, jaan... aapki bebasi ne humara guroor tod diya."

(Pity? For you? No, jaan... your helplessness shattered my pride.)

For a few seconds, I couldn't say anything. I couldn't understand what kind of man could say something like that with such certainty.

I stared at him, trying to make sense of the man sitting beside me-the man I had spent so long believing I understood, only to realize that perhaps I had never understood him at all.

There was no mockery in his voice. No satisfaction in seeing me vulnerable.

Somehow, that unsettled me more.

I shook my head faintly, as if I could shake off whatever his words had stirred inside me, and turned back toward the sea.

"Kya ajeeb fitrat-e-dil hai... jise adaalat-e-dil mein mujrim thehraya, aaj usi ke rubaru apne hi faisle par sawaal ban kar khade hain."

A warm hand gently brushed over my hair, pulling me out of my thoughts. I turned toward him. He was watching me quietly, his expression unreadable again.

"Ghar chalein?" he asked softly.

(Shall we go home?)

For a moment, I simply looked at him. Then I nodded.

I adjusted the shawl around my shoulders and slowly stood up. He got to his feet as well and started walking toward the car. I followed him without saying anything, my fingers finding his hand almost unconsciously. His hand closed around mine, steady and warm, and neither of us mentioned it.

He reached the car and opened the passenger door for me. I slipped inside, holding the shawl close around myself as he closed the door and walked around to the driver's side.

As the engine came to life, I glanced once more at the quiet cliff behind us.

And just like that, I was leaving my little piece of peace behind. Going back to the house. Going back to reality. Going back to the life I had been trying so desperately to escape from.

And once again, I found myself walking back into the very life I had spent so long trying to run away from.

⚜ ─── AYANSH ─── ⚜

When we finally pulled up the long driveway to the villa, she was already asleep, her head lolled gently against the passenger window, the empty ice cream bowl resting loosely in her lap.

I cut the engine quietly, stepped out, and walked around to her side. I opened the door slowly and carefully, making sure not to jolt her awake.

My eyes fell on the faint streaks of dried tears still clinging to her cheeks. Her eyelashes were dark and slightly clumped together even in sleep, and something deep inside my chest twisted painfully tight, hard enough to steal the breath from my lungs.

Her tears have always been the one weakness I could never afford to let myself have.

I shook my head, dragged a rough palm over my stubbled jaw, and let out a quiet, bitter huff of laughter-almost amused by the cruel irony of it.

How easily this woman-the one I had waited years to call mine-had become the only person in this entire world capable of undoing me completely.

I looked at her sleeping face for a long moment.

"Aapke ashkon ne woh haal kiya hai mera, jo kisi dushman ki talwar bhi na kar saki."

(Your tears have done to me what even an enemy's sword could never do.)

I slid one arm beneath her bent knees and the other around her soft back, lifting her gently into my arms like she was something made of glass.

She stirred faintly, a small, sleepy sound slipping past her lips, but instead of jolting awake, she simply curled closer against my chest, her face nuzzling into the warmth of my shoulder, like she trusted the arms carrying her even when her waking mind still hated the man they belonged to.

I nudged the car door shut with my foot and carried her inside, up the stairs and into our room.

I lowered her onto the bed with the same care I had carried her, pulled the blanket up to her shoulders, and stood there for a moment, simply looking at her.

After everything that had happened tonight, she looked impossibly peaceful in sleep.

As if she hadn't spent hours fighting me. Hating me. Running from me. As if I wasn't the man she looked at like I was the worst thing that had ever happened to her.

My gaze lingered on her sleeping face, and something bitter settled quietly in my chest.

"Aapki nafrat mein itna yaqeen hai... ke kabhi kabhi apni hi haqeeqat par shaq hone lagta hai."

(Your hatred carries such conviction... that sometimes, I begin to doubt my own truth.)

I reached for the edge of the blanket one last time before turning away.

I had barely taken a step when her fingers suddenly curled around mine.

I stopped breathing.

For a moment, I simply stood there, staring at our joined hands as though my mind had forgotten what to do with them.

Slowly, almost afraid to disturb the moment, I turned back.

She hadn't woken.

Instead, she had pulled my hand closer, tucking it against herself until her cheek rested softly against my palm. Her lashes remained still against her cheeks, her breathing slow and even, completely unaware of what she was doing to me.

I stared at her. Fuck. Now I couldn't move.

How was I supposed to pull my hand away when she looked this peaceful? One wrong movement and she might wake up. And for some reason, the thought of disturbing this fragile little moment felt impossible.

So I surrendered.

Slowly, I lowered myself to the floor beside the bed, careful not to jostle her. My back came to rest against the nightstand as I let out a long, quiet breath.

My eyes found her again.

She slept like a child-completely unaware of the world around her, completely unaware that she was still holding me captive even in her sleep.

But there was a faint crease between her brows.

That tiny line shouldn't have bothered me. Yet it did.

I leaned closer and gently blew against her forehead.

The crease slowly disappeared. And for some fucking reason, the sight made my chest ache.

As if making her hurt less-even for a second-had suddenly become more important than anything else.

My fingers lifted hesitantly, brushing over her cheek with barely enough pressure to feel her warmth beneath my fingertips.

She didn't stir. Her fingers remained wrapped around mine.

And I realized something I didn't want to admit.

She didn't know she was holding me. But I knew. And maybe that was the cruelest part. Because she could let go of me without ever knowing she had held on in the first place. I couldn't. Not anymore.

"I'm sorry, angel," I whispered.

The words felt strange leaving my mouth.

It had been years-so many fucking years-since I'd last said those words and actually meant them. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd apologized to someone without pride choking the words before they ever reached my lips.

But tonight, looking at her, sorry didn't feel like weakness. It felt like the only honest thing I had left.

She had cried so much today. And somewhere between watching her break down and holding her while she struggled to breathe, I'd realized something I hadn't wanted to admit.

I cared. More than I should. More than was safe.

My gaze dropped to our hands again. Her fingers were still wrapped around mine, even in sleep.

What the hell had I done to make her this afraid of me?

What the hell had happened to her?

What had I done to make her look at me with that much hatred?

That hatred in her eyes wasn't ordinary anger. It wasn't the kind that disappeared after an argument or faded with time.

It was deeper. Older. The kind of hatred that carried history.

And the worst part?

I didn't even know what history I was supposed to be guilty of.

And that hatred dragged a memory back from somewhere I had buried it so deep that, for a moment, I almost wished I hadn't remembered.

My mother.

The last time I'd seen that kind of hatred in someone's eyes, it had been hers.

She had looked at me as though I had ruined her life. As though I had taken everything from her. As though I was the reason she had lost herself.

Those words had followed me for years, even when I pretended they didn't.

And now this girl was looking at me with that same kind of hatred-except hers carried something else. Fear. Pain. And something I couldn't fucking name.

I swallowed hard and looked at her sleeping face again.

If she hated me this much... if being near me hurt her this badly... then why had she married me?

Why had she said yes?

Why had she walked toward me willingly when every instinct inside her seemed to scream at her to run?

What did she know that I didn't?

For the first time in my life, not having the answer fucking bothered me.

My jaw tightened. I looked at her for a long moment, then down at the hand she still refused to let go of.

"I'll find out," I whispered, my voice barely audible in the quiet room. "Whatever the hell happened to you... whatever I did, whatever you believe I did-I'll find the truth."

I stayed there in silence, watching her sleep, while one thought settled heavily in my mind.

I didn't need her forgiveness. Not yet. I needed the truth. And whatever that truth was-no matter how ugly it turned out to be-I was going to find it.

My gaze returned to her sleeping face, my thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles, careful not to wake her.

Something inside my chest tightened.

I had seen her hatred tonight. I had felt it in every word, every shove, every tear she had tried so desperately to hide.

But what stayed with me wasn't the anger. It was the helplessness beneath it.

The way she had looked at me as though I was the answer to a pain I didn't even remember causing.

I lowered my gaze and let out a slow, quiet breath.

"Humse khata poochhte ho? Humein toh khabar bhi nahi... woh kis baat par khafa hain, aur hum kis gunaah ke mujrim hain."

⚜ ─── TO BE CONTINUED ─── ⚜