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Autor
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She barely registered the furious sound of footsteps storming toward the house, the heavy front door slamming open to reveal the dark silhouette of Vayran Singh Chandravansh. His sharp features were set in stone, but his eyes burned like fire, taking in the scene before him-the man towering over Aaravika, her broken form on the ground, and her trembling hands clutching her chest.

"Get the fuck away from her," Vayran's voice growled, low and deadly, slicing through the tension in the room like a blade. Srivastav flinched, his arrogance momentarily faltering as he turned to face the towering man.

Before anyone could react, Vayran closed the distance between them. His hand shot out, gripping Srivastav by the collar and slamming him against the wall with such force the family portrait above them rattled.

"You lay another finger on her, and I swear I'll break every bone in your miserable body," he snarled, his tone venomous. His hand tightened on the man's shirt, his knuckles turning white. "Understand?"

Srivastav stuttered, "S-she got fourth... again. I-I only-"

"Shut up." Vayran's voice turned icier, his other hand flexing at his side as though he was holding himself back from delivering a punch that would knock the man unconscious. He turned his head slightly, addressing the others who had gathered-her mother Ektha and brother Parth hovering nearby with fear etched on their faces. "Stay back," he ordered curtly. "She doesn't need any more of your pity right now."

Vayran bent down, scooping Aaravika's trembling form into his arms. Her breathing was ragged, and her wide eyes darted around the room in panic. She barely registered her surroundings as he carried her to the sofa, sitting down with her cradled in his lap. His arms were firm yet careful, his warmth surrounding her like a shield as she clung to his shirt in desperation.

"Look at me," Vayran demanded softly, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. His voice was uncharacteristically gentle, a stark contrast to the raw anger still simmering in his eyes. "Breathe, Aara. Slowly. In... and out."

Her chest heaved as she struggled to follow his instructions. His large hand moved to the back of her head, pressing her gently to his chest so she could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It worked, albeit slowly.

"Jiju!" Parth's voice broke the moment, and Vayran looked up to see the boy rushing forward with a med kit. Alongside it, a small bottle of pills rested on top. Vayran's eyes narrowed dangerously at the sight.

"What are these?" he snapped, gesturing to the pills.

Parth hesitated, fear flashing across his young face before he murmured, "They're for her panic attacks... the doctor said she might slip into a syndrome if her stress isn't managed."

Vayran froze. The words sank in like a knife to his gut, his grip on Aaravika tightening instinctively. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, no one dared to speak as his fury visibly built.

"She what?" His voice was a low growl now, barely restrained. His gaze snapped to Srivastav, who had the audacity to look ashamed yet defensive.

"I-" the man started, but Varsha, her bua, cut in, her arms crossed and her tone sharp.

"Vayran, let's not forget this is just a contract marriage," she scoffed. "You don't need to play the knight in shining armor. She's not your responsibility-"

"Shut the fuck up!" It was sharp enough to make Varsha flinch, her daughters, Shravya and Shreya, shrinking back. Vayran's tone was venomous as he spat, "Contract or not, I won't stand by while someone destroys her-physically or mentally."

He turned back to Srivastav, standing with Aaravika still in his arms. His presence loomed over the older man like a storm waiting to strike. "You've done enough damage. Beating her for a rank? You disgust me."

Ektha finally spoke up, her voice trembling with emotion. "This is not the first time," she admitted, tears streaming down her face. "Even when she got first rank, he never praised her. He... he only saw flaws."

Vayran's anger boiled over. "You're pathetic," he spat at Srivastav before turning to Ektha. "And you stood by and let it happen?"

"I tried to protest but-" Ektha began, but her voice cracked. She looked away, guilt etched across her features.

Before anyone else could speak, Vayran shifted Aaravika in his arms. "I'm taking her to her room," he said coldly. "And after tonight, you'll wish you never touched her."

The threat hung in the air like a noose as he strode out, leaving a trail of suffocating silence in his wake.

The door shut softly behind him as Vayran entered the room with Aaravika in his arms, her frail form still trembling. Gently, he laid her on the bed, his jaw tightening as he noticed her clutching the edge of her kurta. He straightened, ready to step away and give her some space, but before he could, her hand darted out and gripped his wrist.

Her touch was featherlight, but the silent plea in her eyes rooted him in place. She didn't speak, her lips slightly parted as if the words were caught somewhere in her throat.

"Aaravika," he murmured, his voice softer now, a stark contrast to the storm that still brewed in his dark eyes. "You're safe. I'm here. No one's going to hurt you again."

She didn't respond, but her fingers refused to let go of his wrist. He sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed, his sharp gaze studying her face. The small cut at the corner of her lip still bled faintly, a painful reminder of what she'd endured. His hand reached for the med kit beside him, his movements calm yet deliberate.

"This will sting," he warned, opening the antiseptic bottle and soaking a cotton pad. He leaned in closer, his free hand tilting her chin up gently.

She flinched as the antiseptic touched the wound, but her gaze remained locked on him. The way his fingers worked with careful precision surprised her-it was almost as though he'd done this before, though his usual aura of dominance and control hadn't wavered.

Once he was done with her lip, he set the cotton pad aside and straightened. His voice dropped lower, edged with restrained anger as he asked, "Where else?"

She froze, shaking her head almost immediately. "It's fine," she muttered, her tone defensive.

Vayran's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't lie to me, Aaravika."

"I said it's fine!" she snapped, her voice louder this time, though it cracked at the end. She turned her head away, her fingers clutching the edge of her kurta. "Just leave it."

He didn't move, his eyes never leaving her. The air between them grew heavy, his silence more unnerving than his words. Then, without warning, he reached out and grabbed her wrist-not forcefully, but firm enough to stop her from retreating.

"Don't test my patience," he growled, his tone low and threatening. "Where else are you hurt?"

She swallowed hard, tears pooling in her eyes. "Why do you care?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "It's not like this marriage is real. You don't-"

"Stop." The command in his voice made her flinch, and she looked up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. His expression was cold, but his grip on her wrist softened slightly. "Don't tell me what I do or don't care about. You're mine, Aaravika. And I'll be damned if I let anyone touch what's mine."

Her cheeks flushed, but she quickly turned her face away, blinking back tears. Her silence only fueled his frustration.

"Lift your sleeve," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

She hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest, but the look in his eyes told her there was no escaping him. Reluctantly, she rolled up her sleeve, revealing the angry red welts crisscrossing her arm.

Vayran's breath hitched, his jaw clenching so tightly it was a wonder his teeth didn't crack. His fingers ghosted over the marks, careful not to touch them but close enough to make her shiver.

"How long?" he asked, his voice dangerously calm.

She didn't answer, staring down at her lap as if the question didn't deserve a response.

"Aaravika," he said, his tone sharper now. "How long has this been happening?"

Her lips quivered, but she remained silent.

Frustrated, he let out a low growl and leaned closer. "If you don't tell me, I'll find out myself anyway, let's just leave this topic."

Her head shot up, panic flashing in her eyes. "No!" she blurted, but it was too late. As his hands reached for the hem of her kurta, and before she could stop him, he gently but firmly lifted the fabric just enough to reveal her back. His heart dropped at the sight.

Dark, angry stripes from a belt marred her skin, some fresh and others fading into older scars. He traced the edges of one welt with his finger, his touch light but filled with an anger so potent it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

She whimpered, trying to pull away, but his hand rested gently on her shoulder, holding her still. "Why are you baring all these?" he demanded, his voice like ice.

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "Just... Just leave it alone, Vayran. Please."

"Leave it alone?" His voice rose, the fury he'd been holding back finally breaking through. He stood abruptly, pacing the room like a caged lion. "He did this to you, and you want me to leave it alone?"

She flinched at the venom in his tone, curling into herself. "It's my fault," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

His head snapped toward her, his expression darkening further. "Don't you dare say that." He crossed the room in three long strides, crouching down in front of her. His hands cupped her face, forcing her to meet his gaze. "None of this is your fault. Do you hear me? None of it."

Her tears fell faster, and for a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of her quiet sobs.

Vayran let out a shaky breath, his thumbs brushing away her tears. "You're strong," he said softly, his voice no longer angry but filled with something raw and unspoken. "But you don't have to be strong alone."

She stared at him, her lips trembling as if she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

Without waiting for her response, he stood and grabbed the med kit again. "I'm treating every last bruise," he said firmly. "And if you try to stop me, Aaravika, I swear I'll tie you down if I have to."

Despite the darkness of the moment, her cheeks flushed slightly at his words. But she didn't fight him this time, allowing him to care for her in silence as the weight of everything settled between them.

The air in the room was suffocatingly tense. back ached with every small movement, the searing pain from the belt marks her father had left still fresh.

"Take it off," he ordered, his voice cold and devoid of any trace of patience.

Aaravika froze, her fingers clutching the hem of her kurta as if it were her last shield. She looked at him, wide-eyed. "What?"

"You heard me," he said, his voice was firm, brooking no argument, but his expression carried a hint of something that made her heart stutter-concern masked by frustration. "Take off the kurta."

Her jaw dropped as her mind reeled, panic bubbling under her skin. "Have you lost your mind?" she snapped, her voice shaky but defiant. "What the hell are you even saying?"

Vayran's eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. "Don't make me repeat myself, Aaravika."

Her hands trembled. "No! I'm not doing that. Do you hear yourself? My mom will take care of it, okay? She'll treat the wounds. You don't have to-"

"Your mom isn't here, is she?" he interrupted, his voice low but sharp. His tone carried an edge of menace, yet beneath it was something deeper-an urgency that she couldn't ignore.

Aaravika shook her head vehemently, trying to deflect. "Look, I already told you that I can take care of myself. I don't need you to-"

"Enough!" His voice thundered through the room, silencing her instantly. He exhaled harshly, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Stop being stubborn. I'm not asking you to do something wrong. Just remove the damn kurta so I can treat the wounds properly before they get worse."

Her heart raced as she stared at him, her mind torn between humiliation and an unspoken trust she didn't want to admit existed. "You're acting like it's nothing," she muttered, avoiding his gaze.

"It is nothing," he said through gritted teeth, though his tone softened just slightly. "Do you think I'd-" He stopped, his expression turning harder. "I'm not some monster, Aaravika. If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't need your permission to do it."

The truth of his words stung, but it also twisted something inside her, something she didn't want to acknowledge.

She bit her lip, her gaze dropping. "I'm fine, okay? It's not that bad. I'll deal with it-"

His patience snapped. "Stop lying!" He held her chin, not harshly but firmly enough to make her look at him. "You're not fine. I saw how you flinched when you moved. I'm not blind."

Aaravika's throat tightened as she tried to push his hand away, but his grip didn't falter. "Vayran-"

"Take it off," he said again, his voice lower this time, almost a whisper. His dark eyes bore into hers, leaving no room for argument. "You can either do it yourself, or I'll do it for you. Your choice."

Her lips parted, but no words came out. The sheer audacity of his statement made her blood boil, yet her body betrayed her, a shiver running down her spine at the intensity of his gaze.

She attempted to diffuse the tension with a weak laugh. "Wow, Vayran. This is exactly what every girl dreams of-a man demanding she undress. So romantic."

His expression didn't change. If anything, his jaw clenched tighter. "This isn't a joke, Aaravika. Stop playing around and listen for once."

The laughter died in her throat, replaced by a lump she couldn't swallow. She hated how small she felt under his piercing gaze, how vulnerable.

"I hate you," she muttered under her breath, her voice breaking slightly.

"Good," he shot back. "Hating me won't stop the pain from getting worse."

Her fingers trembled as she hesitated, her mind screaming at her to push him away, to fight back. But the truth was, she didn't have the strength-not today. Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she slowly reached for the hem of her kurta, her heart hammering in her chest.

Satisfied, Vayran turned his back to give her a semblance of privacy. "Hurry up. I don't have all day."

"Why do you care, anyway?" she asked bitterly, her voice trembling as she slid the fabric off her shoulders.

He didn't turn around, but his voice carried the weight of his emotions. "Because someone has to."

The words hit her harder than the belt ever had.

When she finally lay on the bed, her back exposed, he turned around, his expression unreadable. His eyes swept over more anger he saw the red marks on her skin again, his jaw tightening visibly. He said nothing as he sat down beside her, his touch surprisingly gentle as he began cleaning the wounds.

She winced, her fingers clutching the sheets beneath her. "Could you be a little less rough?"

His lips twitched into a grim smirk. "You're lucky I'm doing this at all. Next time, I'll let you suffer."

"Next time?" she shot back, glaring at him over her shoulder. "You're already planning for my misery?"

"Someone has to keep you in check," he replied, his tone dry but his hands careful as they worked.

Despite the pain and the awkwardness, Aaravika couldn't help but notice the way his fingers moved, precise and efficient, as if he'd done this a hundred times before. For someone so cold, his touch carried an unexpected warmth.

When he was done, he stood abruptly, his walls going back up. "Don't do anything stupid and tear those wounds open again," he said, his voice back to its usual icy tone.

She sat up slowly, pulling her kurta back on. "Thanks," she muttered, barely audible.

He paused at the door, his back to her. "Don't thank me. Just stop being so reckless."

And with that, he was gone, leaving her alone with the weight of his words and the strange, unwelcome flutter in her chest.

After few days,

The chatter in the guest room was lively, filled with the sound of jokes, laughter, and harmless teasing. Aaravika found herself sitting on the plush sofa, surrounded by Vayran's cousins-Saksham, Shrivanya, and Neel. For the first time in days, the heavy atmosphere that followed her like a shadow felt lighter.

Shrivanya nudged her with a grin. "So, Bhabhi, what's the story behind that wound on your lip?"

Her fingers instinctively brushed the corner of her mouth, where the faint scar still lingered. The memory of her father's harsh slaps flashed in her mind, followed by Vayran silently treating the cut without a word of sympathy-but with an unexpected gentleness that still unsettled her.

"Oh, this?" Aaravika said quickly, forcing a casual laugh. "I, uh... slipped in the kitchen. Tried to balance too many things in my hands and, well... you know how that ends." She smiled awkwardly, hoping they wouldn't probe further.

Saksham raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Slipped in the kitchen? Sounds like something straight out of an old Bollywood movie. Are you sure you're not hiding something more dramatic?"

Aaravika rolled her eyes, deflecting. "Not everything has to be dramatic, Saksham. Unlike your life, mine isn't a soap opera."

Shrivanya laughed but then leaned forward mischievously. "Okay, okay, forget the wound. Aaravika Bhabhi, you've spent so much time with Vayran Bhai. Why don't you... act like him? Come on, let's see your impression of the great and terrifying Vayran Singh Chandravansh."

The others immediately cheered at the suggestion, and Aaravika froze for a moment. "Act like him? Are you crazy? I don't want to die today."

"Oh, come on!" Neel exclaimed, laughing. "We'll make sure you have a proper funeral if he finds out. But seriously, you have to do it!"

Reluctantly, Aaravika sighed, knowing they wouldn't let it go. "Fine, fine. Give me a second." She stood up and left the room, heading to Vayran's bedroom.

As she stepped inside, her eyes immediately landed on his neatly hung coat. She hesitated, her fingers brushing the fabric. The coat felt soft, expensive, and carried that distinct scent she associated with him-a mix of something dark, smoky, and uncomfortably alluring.

She shook off the thought, muttering to herself. "Get it together, Aaravika. It's just a coat."

Sliding it over her shoulders, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The oversized coat drowned her petite frame, but there was something amusingly satisfying about wearing it. Squaring her shoulders, she practiced a stern expression.

"Take it off," she imitated, her voice low and commanding. "Do as I say or face the consequences."

Snorting at her own attempt, she marched back to the guest room, where Vayran's cousins erupted into laughter at the sight of her.

"Look at Bhabhi!" Shrivanya gasped, holding her stomach as she laughed. "She's pulling it off!"

Aaravika crossed her arms, her expression cold and haughty as she mimicked Vayran. "Stop laughing. This isn't a joke. Do you really think I care about your stupid opinions?"

Neel clapped his hands, laughing uncontrollably. "Oh my god, that's perfect!"

Saksham leaned back, grinning. "She's got the whole 'I-own-the-world' vibe down to perfection. Now try the death stare!"

Aaravika furrowed her brows, narrowing her eyes