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The grand haveli hummed with silence, an eerie contrast to the chaos of Aaravika’s racing thoughts. Her gaze darted toward the anklet in Vayran’s hand as he leaned casually against the pillar, the faint metallic jingle of the jewelry drawing her focus. She reached out to snatch it, but he moved it just out of her grasp, his smirk widening.

He tilted his head mockingly. "Already tired, little bird? We’ve just started this game," he drawled, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Her jaw clenched, anger bubbling under her skin. "Why are you making my life worse? Wasn’t it enough that you broke my AirPods? Or that you unexpectedly became my so-called husband for this ridiculous contract? And let’s not forget your charming challenge to make me regret this marriage! Now you’re withholding my anklet too?"

Vayran feigned a dramatic sigh. "I expected more from you. I thought you’d fight back. But what did I expect from someone who cried over AirPods? Of course, you’d throw tantrums for an anklet too."

Her eyes blazed, and she reached out again, but he moved it higher, taunting her further. "Little bird can’t reach it," he teased.

She narrowed her eyes, sarcasm sharp on her tongue. "It’s not the little bird’s fault. It’s just that this tree—aka Burj Khalifa—is abnormally tall. And not just tall—dangerous too. Poisonous, even. No wonder it needs extra protection."

He chuckled darkly at her words, a glint of amusement in his gaze. She leaned forward to grab the anklet, her movements bringing her closer than she intended. And that’s when it happened—his smirk faltered, and his eyes darkened, caught in a fleeting but forbidden emotion.

Before he could stop himself, he bent down to her height, and she instinctively backed away, trying to put distance between them. But he caught her by the waist, pulling her flush against him. Their breaths mingled, the air between them charged with tension. Aaravika froze, her heart pounding erratically as she looked up at him, his gaze unreadable yet intense.

He smirked again, but there was something different this time—a crack in his carefully maintained armor. But before he could speak, the sharp sound of breaking glass shattered the moment. They both turned to see a maid standing awkwardly near a broken vase.

"Sorry," the maid mumbled before hurrying away to fetch a broom. Aaravika let out a relieved sigh, quickly pulling her veil back over her face.

Vayran straightened, his expression guarded again, as he began walking away. "Follow me," he called over his shoulder. "Unless you want to get lost in this haveli."

Her frustration bubbled up again as she screamed internally, imagining herself strangling him—twice. She reluctantly followed, her migraine beginning to worsen. Vayran glanced back to ensure she was keeping up, only to see her holding her head, her steps unsteady.

He moved quickly, catching her just as she was about to walk into a pillar. His hand steadied her, resting lightly on her forehead to prevent the collision. Aaravika opened her eyes, startled, only to see him gazing at her with an unreadable expression.

Before she could say anything, another sharp pain shot through her head, making her wince. Vayran’s eyes flickered with something akin to concern—though he’d never admit it aloud. Without a word, he scooped her into his arms, ignoring her shocked protests.

"What are you doing? Put me down!" she demanded, glaring at him.

He remained unfazed, his voice calm. "Stop struggling. You’re weak. It’s not up for debate."

She huffed, crossing her arms as he carried her toward his room. After a moment of silence, she muttered, "Do you have double faces or something? First, you’re a heartless monster, and now you’re playing the caring hero. What are you, some weird creature?"

He shot her a glare that would have silenced most people, but Aaravika wasn’t most people. "What? I’m not scared of you!" she taunted, though her racing pulse betrayed her words.

Vayran rolled his eyes, knowing better. As they reached his room, he set her down, his sharp gaze locking with hers. "Ab kya? Grah pravesh ki tarah room pravesh karvane ka intezaar hai?" (What now? Waiting for me to perform a room entry ritual like a griha pravesh?)

She shot back with sarcasm, "Yes, I would love that, but I know you’re too heartless to do something like that. I’ll do it myself."

With that, she opened the door and stepped inside, her eyes landing on the bed. Exhausted, she moved toward it, but his voice stopped her.

"At least change first. Or are you planning to sleep like that?"

She looked down at herself, realizing she was still draped in heavy jewelry, makeup, and the ornate lehenga. Before she could respond, he added, "Your luggage is already in the wardrobe. You’ll find what you need there."

Grateful for the small mercy, she moved to the wardrobe, finding her belongings neatly placed alongside a note indicating that the rest of her luggage had been sent to his Bangalore mansion. She grabbed her comfort clothes and disappeared into the bathroom.

Vayran, meanwhile, reclined on the bed, scrolling through emails on his phone, his expression as unreadable as ever. Aaravika emerged a few minutes later, finally free of the suffocating attire, but completely unaware of what awaited her next.

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