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She said no.

He leaned closer, towering over her, his voice dangerously low as he replied, “I wasn’t asking.”

Her bold gaze locked with his, unfazed, as she snapped back, “And I wasn’t stuttering.”

His jaw clenched, the sound of his teeth grinding audible in the charged silence. Then, as if amused by her defiance, he chuckled darkly. His hand shot to her nape, gripping it firmly, tilting her head just enough to remind her of his dominance. The smirk on his lips contrasted the warning in his eyes. Her confident expression faltered, and she glared at him, still holding onto her pride.

“Stop using your man-power all the time,” she said sharply, her voice slightly shaky but her intent firm.

His smirk deepened, his grip tightening ever so slightly as he leaned in. “Who said I’m using man-power? Do you even know how satisfying it is to feel someone’s pulse under your fingers?” His voice was calm, almost soothing, but his words carried a sinister undertone. “Especially when you know... it can stop at any moment.”

Her stomach dropped at his words. “You’re a creepy psycho,” she spat, pushing against his chest.

He rolled his eyes, releasing her but not stepping back. “Stop changing the topic,” he said sharply. “You’re moving into my room.”

“I won’t.” She crossed her arms, her chin held high. “What if you kill me in my sleep? My life is way more precious than this whole novel, so no. I’m not moving.”

A sarcastic grin stretched across his face. “Our room, sweetie,” he corrected with mock sweetness. “It’s our room. So, get your stuff packed and—”

She cut him off, her arms snaking around his neck as she mimicked his tone. “Our room, huh? Then tell me, my oh-so-thoughtful swarthi patidev,” she said, her sarcasm dripping, “what’s the grand reason behind this sudden decision?”

He stared down at her, unimpressed by her antics. “There’s a party being held to celebrate the success of a project. Guests and family will be here. So, unless you want unnecessary questions about why my wife isn’t in our room, you’ll do as I say. Understand?”

Before she could retort, his phone buzzed. He answered it with a cold, clipped tone. “Speak.”

A panicked voice stuttered on the other end. “B-Boss, the work is done, but... there’s a problem. We need you here immediately.”

His expression darkened further, his already simmering temper threatening to boil over. Without another word to her, he stormed out of the room, leaving her staring at the burning candles on the bedside table.

A realization struck her, and horror flickered across her features.

Meanwhile,

The car screeched to a halt in the middle of a desolate forest. An eerie silence blanketed the area, broken only by the rustle of leaves in the cold wind. Vayran stepped out, his towering form cutting through the shadows as he approached the dilapidated cottage ahead. The air around him seemed to grow colder with every step he took.

The cottage looked ancient, its walls covered in moss and decay, but as he stepped inside, the facade melted away. A hidden door led to a luxurious underground lair. Everything was spotless, organized, and gleaming—a stark contrast to the world above.

He strode down the hall, his footsteps echoing ominously, and pushed open a heavy metal door. Inside sat the prey—a man tied to a chair, his face bloodied, his breathing ragged.

Two men stood on either side—Arjuna Choudhary, his most trusted assassin, and Dharam, his loyal bodyguard. Both were visibly tense, though they tried to mask it. But Vayran’s sharp gaze missed nothing.

“What’s the issue?” His voice was calm, but the threat behind it was unmistakable.

Arjuna shifted uncomfortably. “Boss, the target has been neutralized, but... he wasn’t alone. There’s a witness.”

Vayran’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “A witness?”

Dharam quickly interjected. “We’ve contained the situation, but... the witness managed to record some footage before we got to him.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Vayran stepped closer to the tied man, his presence suffocating. His fingers traced the edge of the chair, his movements slow and deliberate.

“Do you know what happens,” he began, his voice soft, almost a whisper, “to people who think they can cross me?”

The man whimpered, his head jerking up. “I-I didn’t mean to—”

Vayran cut him off with a laugh—a low, menacing sound that sent shivers down their spines. “Didn’t mean to?” He crouched to the man’s level, his face mere inches away. “Your existence was a mistake. And I’m very good at erasing mistakes.”

The man sobbed, pleading for mercy, but Vayran straightened, his expression impassive. “Arjuna, deal with the footage. Dharam, ensure no one else breathes a word about this.”

“Yes, Boss,” they said in unison.

Vayran turned to leave but paused at the door. “And Dharam?”

“Y-Yes, Boss?”

“Burn this place to the ground when you’re done. I don’t want a single trace left.”

As he walked away, the man’s screams echoed behind him, but Vayran didn’t flinch. His mind was already on the next move. In his world, hesitation was death, and he had no intention of losing.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

It had been two days since Vayran left, and the emptiness of the house was unnerving. Aaravika sighed, her hands brushing the heavy medical book she had placed on the dining table. Picking up a red pen, she started summarizing a chapter, her neat handwriting filling the page. Red ink had always helped her focus—a strange trick that worked to imprint knowledge into her mind.

She stretched, deciding to head upstairs for a break. As she ascended the staircase, a loud crash echoed through the house. Aaravika froze mid-step, her heart racing inexplicably. Turning toward the sound, she saw a shattered vase lying on the marble floor, shards glinting in the sunlight streaming through the windows.

Mrs. Murali, the housekeeper, appeared from the hallway, rushing to her side. “Stay back, beti. You’ll hurt yourself,” she said gently, moving toward the broken pieces.

Before Aaravika could respond, a sharp, haughty voice cut through the air. “Stop!”

Both Aaravika and Mrs. Murali turned around, startled. Standing at the entrance of the room was Lavanya, Vayran’s obsessive stepsister, her face twisted in disdain. She folded her arms and sneered. “Let her clean up the mess she created. She should take responsibility for her actions.”

Mrs. Murali frowned, clearly displeased. “This is unnecessary, Lavanya. It’s just a vase. I’ll—”

“Enough, Mrs. Murali.” The cold voice of Sandhya, Aaravika’s stepmother-in-law and Lavanya’s mother, silenced her. Sandhya’s expression mirrored her daughter’s. “Lavanya is right. Let her clean it up. It’s her mess, after all.”

Mrs. Murali stood her ground. “She could hurt herself—”

“I said enough!” Sandhya snapped.

Aaravika took a deep breath, her unease growing. Wanting to end the argument, she knelt to pick up the broken shards. Her fingers hovered over a jagged piece when a firm hand grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

She looked up, startled, and her gaze met Vayran’s piercing eyes. His face was unreadable, but his grip on her wrist was steady, almost protective. He pulled her to her feet and stepped between her and the mess.

“She is my wife,” he said, his voice low and lethal, “not a servant to take orders from you.” His eyes burned into Sandhya and Lavanya, daring them to speak. “Mind your tongue when addressing her, or you won’t have one left to speak your bitter words.”

The weight of his threat hung in the air, suffocating and heavy. Sandhya flinched, her lips pressing into a thin line, unwilling to provoke him further. Lavanya, however, wasn’t so easily cowed.

“But that vase—” Lavanya began, her voice rising. “It was expensive! At least she should—”

Vayran rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply as if bored by her complaints. Without a word, he dragged Aaravika to a nearby table where another vase sat. He grabbed her hand, his grip gentle yet firm, and smashed the vase against the edge of the table.

The vase shattered into pieces, but he positioned her hand carefully, ensuring she wasn’t harmed. He turned to Lavanya, his gaze sharp enough to cut glass. “She has every right to do whatever she wants in this house,” he said, his voice laced with venom. “So, keep your nose out of her business, or I’ll make sure you’ll never have the chance to meddle again. Remember,” he added, his tone dropping to a chilling whisper, “I still have my gun. And I don’t hesitate to use it.”

Lavanya paled, her protests dying in her throat.

Before the tension could escalate further, the sound of voices came from the entrance hall. Vayran’s father, Prithviraj, entered first, followed by his Dadasa, cousins Shrivanya, Saksham, and Neel, and their parents, Kanika and Madhav. Bringing up the rear was Vayran’s best friend, Tanvik, his easygoing demeanor contrasting with the charged atmosphere.

Both Dadasa and Tanvik spoke at once. “What’s going on here?”

Vayran straightened, his hand still resting lightly on Aaravika’s wrist. He turned to them with an air of nonchalance, his lips curling into a smirk. “Nothing much,” he said smoothly. “Just some people trying to poke their noses into a happy married life.”

Aaravika’s eyes widened, a mixture of shock and disbelief flashing across her face. Her heart raced as she stared at him, unable to comprehend the words that had just left his mouth.

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Hi! I know I'm updating this chapter late but still I hope ki aapko yeh chapter pasandh aaya hoga😁 Also, don't forget to like and follow🥰
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