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Her jaw dropped, and her face heated with indignation. “You—” she began, but the words caught in her throat as he closed the distance between them.

“Go on,” he murmured, his voice lower now, almost teasing. “Explain to me why I shouldn’t make this situation more interesting for both of us.”

Her heart pounded as she took a step back, her mind scrambling for a response. She knew he was playing with her, pushing her buttons just to see her squirm. And it was working.

But before he could say anything more, his phone buzzed on the desk. The sharp sound broke the charged silence, and his expression shifted instantly.

He sighed, his jaw tightening in annoyance as he glanced at the screen. “Dadasa,” he muttered under his breath, his tone betraying both respect and irritation.

For a brief moment, Aaravika stood frozen, unsure whether to move. But as he reached for the phone, she seized her chance.

Without another word, she bolted toward the bathroom, her bare feet silent against the floor.

He answered the call just as the bathroom door slammed shut behind her.

“Yes, Dadasa,” Vayran said, his tone clipped, though his gaze lingered on the closed door.

“Come to my room,” the elder’s commanding voice came through, leaving no room for argument.

“I’ll be there,” Vayran replied, running a hand through his hair as he ended the call.

For a moment, he simply stood there, staring at the bathroom door, his expression unreadable. He exhaled sharply, a hint of frustration and amusement flickering in his eyes.

“Saved by the call,” he muttered to himself. “But don’t think this is over, Aaravika. You can’t keep running forever.”

As he walked out of the room, Aaravika leaned against the bathroom door, her heart still racing. She clutched the towel tightly, the memory of his gaze and words lingering in her mind.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Vayran stepped into his Dadasa’s expansive room, the rich scent of sandalwood lingering in the air. The elder man sat in a high-backed chair, his aura commanding as ever, despite his age. His sharp eyes immediately fell on Vayran, scanning him with a knowing glint that Vayran couldn’t decipher.

“Dadasa,” Vayran greeted, his tone measured, bowing his head slightly out of respect.

Dadasa didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stood and walked toward Vayran with deliberate slowness, his cane tapping softly against the marble floor. When he reached him, he rested a hand on Vayran’s shoulder, giving it a firm yet affectionate pat.

“I’m happy,” Dadasa said, his voice deep and steady.

Vayran’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Happy about what?”

Dadasa let out a low chuckle, one that spoke of experience and wisdom. “You might be good at many things, beta, but hiding your feelings isn’t one of them. At least not from me.”

Vayran stiffened, his jaw tightening. “Dadasa, if this is about—”

“It is,” the elder interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. “I’ll admit, I never thought you’d give this marriage even a sliver of a chance. I expected resistance, distance. But what I see now...” He paused, studying Vayran’s face carefully. “I see sincerity. A kind of sincerity I never imagined you capable of.”

Vayran’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of defensiveness crossing his face. “You’re mistaken. This is nothing more than a contract, a necessity.”

“Is it?” Dadasa challenged, his voice calm but firm. “Because what I saw last night says otherwise. The way you shielded her, the way you looked at her even when you thought no one was watching... That’s not the behavior of a man fulfilling a mere obligation.”

“What I did was instinct, nothing more. I would’ve done the same for anyone in that situation.”

Dadasa’s knowing gaze didn’t waver. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest. “Anyone?” he repeated, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You don’t strike me as the kind of man who saves ‘anyone.’”

Vayran’s eyes narrowed, his tone turning colder. “I’m not. I don’t care about people. I don’t get involved. And I certainly don’t play the hero.”

“Yet, you saved her,” Dadasa countered calmly, his voice laced with quiet authority. “And you protected her again when she broke down, even though you didn’t understand why. That doesn’t sound like the actions of someone who doesn’t care.”

Vayran took a step closer, his dark eyes flashing with frustration. “You think too much, Dadasa. I did what was necessary, nothing more. I didn’t save her because I care—I saved her because it was expected. Because letting her get hurt would’ve brought unnecessary complications. That’s it.”

Dadasa chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You can tell yourself that all you want, beta. But I’ve lived long enough to know when someone’s lying to themselves.”

Vayran exhaled sharply, his fists clenching at his sides. “Believe whatever you want. But don’t mistake my actions for something they’re not. I’m not a savior. I’m not someone who cares. If she wasn’t my responsibility, I wouldn’t have lifted a finger.”

Dadasa studied him for a long moment, his expression thoughtful. “You might believe that now,” he said quietly. “But one day, you’ll realize the truth. And when you do, it’ll be too late to deny it.”

Vayran didn’t respond. He turned sharply on his heel and walked out of the room, his mind churning with a mix of anger and discomfort.

I don’t care about her. I don’t care about anyone. That’s not who I am, and it never will be.

But as much as he tried to convince himself, the image of Aaravika—frightened, vulnerable, and looking at him with wide, panicked eyes—refused to leave his mind.

Vayran stepped out of the mansion, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions. He had barely taken a few steps when his sharp gaze landed on Aaravika. She was heading toward the car, her movements brisk, as if trying to escape the suffocating walls of the house.

His eyes narrowed. She didn’t have breakfast, and she didn’t take her medicines.

He halted, instinctively about to call out to her, but Dadasa’s words echoed in his mind.

“One day, you’ll realize the truth. And when you do, it’ll be too late to deny it.”

A flicker of frustration passed through his features as he clenched his jaw. Why was he even bothered? Let her go. Let her sulk, starve, or do whatever she wanted. It wasn’t his problem.

Shaking his head, he turned away, heading toward his own car. His driver opened the door for him, but he hesitated for a fraction of a second, glancing back at Aaravika just as she got into her car.

A twinge of unease gripped him, and he tried to shake it off. She’s not your responsibility, Vayran. Let her do what she wants.

He got into his car, slamming the door harder than necessary. But as the vehicle rolled forward, his mind was far from settled.

He leaned back, his fingers drumming against the leather seat as his driver awaited instructions. She didn’t eat. She didn’t take her medicines. She’ll probably faint again, like the reckless fool she is.

His fists clenched, and his patience finally snapped. “Stop the car,” he barked, his voice sharp enough to make the driver hit the brakes immediately.

Cursing under his breath, Vayran shoved the door open and stepped out. His long strides carried him toward Aaravika’s car, his expression dark and unreadable.

The driver of her car froze when Vayran knocked on the window, his aura commanding immediate obedience. Aaravika, startled, turned her head, her brows furrowing in confusion.

“What now?” she asked, her tone sharp, though her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.

Vayran yanked the door open, his cold gaze locking onto hers. “Get out,” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Her eyes widened in defiance. “Excuse me? Who do you think you are—”

“Out. Now.” His tone dropped dangerously low, and despite her irritation, Aaravika found herself stepping out of the car, albeit reluctantly.

He didn’t give her a chance to protest as he grabbed her wrist, his grip firm but not painful, and began dragging her back toward the house.

“What is your problem, Vayran?” she snapped, trying to pull away. “I’m not a child! Let me go!”

He stopped abruptly, spinning around to face her. His eyes burned with a mix of anger and something she couldn’t quite name.

“My problem?” he growled. “You didn’t eat. You didn’t take your medicines. And now you think you can waltz out like nothing happened?”

She blinked, momentarily stunned by his words. “I’m fine—”

“You’re not fine!” he snapped, his voice rising. “Do you have any idea how reckless you’re being? Or do you enjoy testing my patience?”

Aaravika’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. His intensity left her speechless, and for the first time, she saw something other than cold indifference in his eyes.

“Get back inside,” he commanded, his grip on her wrist tightening slightly.

“Why do you even care?” she challenged, her voice trembling with frustration.

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer. But then he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

“Because whether I like it or not, you’re my responsibility,” he said, his words laced with bitterness and something unspoken. “And I don’t let what’s min-.”

Aaravika stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. His words hung in the air, heavy and charged, leaving her more confused than ever.

Before she could respond, he turned on his heel and began walking toward the house, dragging her with him. She didn’t resist, her mind too preoccupied with the storm he’d left behind in her heart.

As Vayran and Aaravika stepped into the dining room, a hush fell over the table. Everyone turned to look at them, their expressions ranging from curious to smug. Aaravika shifted uneasily, feeling all eyes on her. Vayran, on the other hand, didn’t bat an eyelid, his commanding presence silencing any whispers before they could begin.

“Sit,” he ordered curtly, gesturing to the central seat at the table.

Aaravika hesitated, glancing at the chair. It was the seat of honor, meant for someone significant. She didn’t feel significant—not in this house, not with these people. But Vayran’s sharp gaze left no room for argument, and she lowered herself into the chair as gracefully as she could manage, her nerves bubbling under the surface.

To her left sat Sandhya, Vayran’s stepmother, her sharp eyes scanning Aaravika with poorly concealed disdain. Lavanya, her daughter, sat beside her, lips curled into a smirk as her gaze flickered between Aaravika and Vayran. Aaravika had learned enough about Lavanya’s obsession with Vayran to know her presence here wasn’t welcome.

To her right sat Vayran’s father, his expression unreadable, and Dadasa, who gave her a warm, approving nod. Across the table were his cousins: Saksham, Shrivanya, and Neel, their smiles breaking the tension in the air.

“You look better, Aaravika!” Neel said cheerfully, breaking the silence. “I was starting to think you’d never leave your room.”

Aaravika gave a small, awkward smile. “I’m feeling better now, thanks.”

“Good,” Saksham added with a grin. “We were getting tired of Vayran being so grumpy without you around.”

The comment earned a sharp glare from Vayran, but Saksham only laughed, unbothered.

“Stop it, Saksham,” Shrivanya scolded lightly, though her tone was playful. “She’s already nervous enough without you teasing her.”

Aaravika appreciated the effort, though her unease didn’t dissipate entirely. Sandhya’s presence was like a weight pressing down on her, and Lavanya’s gaze felt like needles on her skin.

“So,” Sandhya began, her voice smooth but laced with venom, “it’s nice to finally see you at the table, Aaravika. Though it’s quite a change, isn’t it? From the haveli to here?”

Aaravika opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Vayran spoke, his tone cutting through the air like steel.

“Eat,” he commanded, his dark eyes fixed on her.

Sandhya fell silent immediately, her lips pressing into a thin line. Aaravika hesitated, but the weight of Vayran’s gaze made her reach for her plate.

Meanwhile, Lavanya, ever bold, leaned forward, her tone dripping with false sweetness. “Vayran, you’re always so protective of her,” she said, batting her lashes. “It’s almost... sweet.”

Her fingers brushed against his arm as she spoke, and Aaravika stiffened, remembering all too well what had happened the last time Lavanya crossed a line.

Vayran’s hand shot out, gripping Lavanya’s wrist with such force that she gasped. His voice was low and dangerous as he leaned closer to her. “You seem to have forgotten the last time you tried to test my patience, Lavanya. Do you need a reminder?”

Lavanya’s face paled instantly, and she yanked her hand back, avoiding his gaze. “No... I-I just meant...”

“Then keep your hands to yourself,” he snapped, his tone final.

The tension at the table was palpable, but Aaravika couldn’t deny the small flicker of satisfaction she felt at seeing Lavanya put in her place.

As the meal continued, the cousins did their best to lighten the mood, cracking jokes and teasing each other. Aaravika found herself relaxing slightly, even managing a few smiles.

But every time she glanced at Vayran, she found him watching her, his expression unreadable. His presence was both comforting and suffocating, and she couldn’t quite make sense of the storm of emotions that swirled within her.

The soft clinking of silverware and the cousins’ occasional laughter filled the dining room, creating an almost serene atmosphere—until the sound of loud greetings echoed through the hallway. Aaravika froze mid-bite, her grip on the spoon tightening as her body went rigid.

That voice. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Her father.

Vayran’s sharp eyes flicked toward her immediately, catching the sudden change in her demeanor. His brow furrowed, but before he could say anything, footsteps approached, and Aaravika’s father walked into the dining room with a broad, cheerful smile.

“Well, well, what a lively family gathering,” he announced, his tone carrying that overbearing authority she knew too well. His gaze quickly zeroed in on Aaravika, and his smile widened. “There you are, beta. I was wondering where you’d disappeared to.”

Aaravika’s stomach churned, and she forced herself to stand, her voice barely above a whisper. “Papa... what are you doing here?”

Her father walked over to her, ignoring everyone else in the room as though they didn’t exist. “What do you mean, what am I doing here? I came to check on you, of course. Your mother has been worrying nonstop. And then your result was out today—I wanted to make sure everything was fine.”

Vayran leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable as he observed the interaction. His fingers tapped lightly against the table, a silent indicator of his growing impatience.

“I’m fine,” Aaravika replied, her voice tight. She glanced at Vayran, who was now openly staring at her father, his dark eyes glinting with intrigue—or was it annoyance?

Her father didn’t seem to notice the tension in the room. “Good, good,” he said, nodding. “But why haven’t you left for college yet? You shouldn’t be wasting time here. I’ll drop you myself.”

Aaravika’s heart sank. “Papa, it’s not—”

“And,” her father interrupted, his tone turning more authoritative, “after your classes, I’ve decided to take you to Desai House. Your mother’s been missing you terribly. It’s been too long since you visited home.”

As Aaravika's father turned his sharp gaze to her, her heart pounded. She could feel Vayran’s eyes on her, silently daring her to go against him. But her father’s expression held an unspoken demand, one she had been conditioned to obey since childhood.

“Aaravika,” her father said again, his tone softer now but no less firm. “Go get ready. We’ll leave immediately after breakfast.”

The lump in her throat grew heavier. She glanced at Vayran, hoping for some kind of intervention, but his face was unreadable. His silence was deafening.

“I... okay, Papa,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

A flash of satisfaction crossed her father’s face. “Good,” he said, nodding approvingly. “Finish your breakfast quickly, then. You don’t want to keep me waiting.”

She lowered her gaze, unable to look at anyone else at the table. The air was thick with tension, every pair of eyes on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge them. Instead, she pushed her chair back and stood, her movements slow and hesitant.

“You’re not finished,” Vayran’s voice cut through the silence, low and commanding.

Her hands froze mid-motion. She dared to glance at him, and the intensity in his eyes made her stomach twist. It wasn’t a suggestion—it was an order. But her father’s presence loomed behind her, and she knew defiance wasn’t an option.

“I’m not hungry,” she whispered, avoiding his gaze.

Vayran’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling around the edge of the table. His dark eyes burned into her, and for a moment, she thought he might stop her. But then he leaned back in his chair, his expression hardening.

“Fine,” he said coldly. “Go.”

Her breath hitched, but she didn’t look back as she turned and followed her father out of the dining room. The weight of Vayran’s stare lingered on her back, and she knew this wasn’t the end of it.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Aaravika sat stiffly in the backseat of the car, her father’s gaze piercing through the rearview mirror as the car sped toward her college. The weight of his presence pressed down on her chest, suffocating her with every passing moment. He hadn't said a word since they left the house, but the tension in the air was palpable. She knew what was coming.

Her father's voice finally broke the silence as the car stopped in front of the college gates.

“You better not come fourth again, Aaravika,” he said, his tone cold and authoritative, like a chilling reminder of his unspoken expectations. "You’ll disgrace this family if you don’t improve."

Aaravika nodded, but her mind was numb. His words echoed in her ears, but they didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered when it came to him. She had learned long ago to hide her emotions, to bury any sense of self-worth beneath his demands.

When they entered the college grounds, her father walked briskly ahead, not sparing her a glance. Aaravika followed, her footsteps hesitant but determined. She couldn't escape this. Not now.

They reached the notice board where a small crowd had gathered, eagerly peering at the results posted there. Her hands trembled slightly as she approached the board, her father close behind her, his gaze locked on her like a predator waiting for a misstep.

As she stood in front of the notice board, her heart hammered in her chest. She forced herself to look at the list, and there it was—fourth. Her rank. Again. The same damn position.

A wave of dread washed over her. She couldn’t let her father see it. She couldn’t bear to face him with this failure. Her breath quickened, but just as she turned to leave, she heard his voice behind her, sharp and cutting.

“Are you really going to run away from this again?” His voice was like ice, making her freeze in place. “Tell me your rank.”

Aaravika felt her throat tighten. She turned slowly, her eyes lowering, unable to meet his gaze. Her father’s eyes were cold, expecting an answer,