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Aaravika took slow steps toward the balcony, her heartbeat thundering in her chest. Dadasa had sent her to call Vayran for dinner, but now she stood frozen near the half-open door, her ears catching the icy steel in his voice. His tone was dark, commanding, and filled with violence that sent shivers down her spine.

"Main keh raha hoon, usse aise todna ki wo dobara sar uthake na dekhe." (I'm telling you, break him so badly that he doesn't dare to lift his head again.) His words were drenched in menace, and Aaravika involuntarily clutched the edge of the door for support.

Her breath hitched as a haunting memory resurfaced-the day Vayran had grabbed her father's hand, stopping him from slapping her, only to threaten him with words so chilling that she never forgot them. The same terrifying coldness now lingered in his voice as he spoke to whoever was on the other end of the call.

Her fingers trembled as she forced herself to take a step forward. He's just talking, Aaravika. It's none of your concern. She pushed her fears aside and called out softly, "Vayran?"

He ended the call instantly, slipping the phone into his pocket as he turned to face her. The dim light of the balcony cast sharp shadows on his face, highlighting his jaw clenched tight with suppressed anger. His cold, piercing eyes bore into hers, and for a moment, she couldn't help but think they looked like they could burn a hole through someone's soul.

"Kya hai?" (What is it?) His voice was curt, void of any warmth.

"Dadasa has called you for dinner," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady despite the lump forming in her throat.

"Mujhe kaam hai," (I have work,) he said, brushing past her with an air of finality. "I'll eat later."

She stood there for a moment, watching him walk into the room, his aura suffocating the air around them. There was something in the way he carried himself tonight-a lethal combination of cold fury and restrained violence. Aaravika swallowed hard and turned away, silently vowing not to get involved in whatever storm was brewing in his world.

Downstairs, the dining table was buzzing with chatter. Vayran's father sat at the head of the table, his stepmother and stepsister seated to his left, while his uncle and aunt sat across from them. His cousins-Neel, Shrivanya, and Saksham-occupied the other seats. Aaravika quietly served food onto two plates, careful not to let her trembling hands spill anything.

Shrivanya, the youngest of the three cousins, looked up from her plate and smiled. "Bhabhi, where are you going?"

Aaravika returned the smile, polite but faint. "Vayran is busy, so he said he'll eat later. I thought I'd take his food to the room."

Shrivanya giggled. "Woh humesha busy hote hain, par aap toh jaanti hain na, bhabhi, unhe khud ke liye time nahi milta." (He's always busy, but you know, bhabhi, he never makes time for himself.)

Aaravika just nodded, excusing herself with the plates. She wasn't sure how Shrivanya or anyone else in this family saw Vayran, but to her, he was a man of masks. Polished and respected on the outside but hiding layers of cruelty and ruthlessness within.

As she climbed the stairs with the plates, her thoughts wandered back to his eyes-the way they had glinted with murder just minutes ago. She couldn't deny it anymore. Vayran wasn't just cold; he was dangerous. And though she hated the way her pulse quickened at the sight of him, she hated herself more for the fear he planted in her heart.

When she reached his room, she hesitated. Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside, only to find him sitting on the sofa, laptop on his lap, and his eyes watching her like a predator sizing up its prey.

"What do you want, Aaravika?" he asked, his voice laced with irritation.

She placed the plates on the table and straightened her posture, willing herself to meet his gaze. "Dinner."

He scoffed, "I said I'll eat later."

"And I thought you shouldn't starve yourself over whatever... kaam (work) you're doing," she replied, her voice firmer than she felt.

His eyes narrowed, the corner of his lips curving into something between a smirk and a sneer. "Worried about me? Or is there something else you want to know?"

Her breath caught, but she didn't back down. "I don't care what you do; I brought this because Dadasa told me to." She lied.

He got up from the sofa and stepped closer, and she instinctively took a step back, her heart hammering in her chest. His presence was suffocating, the air between them thick with tension.

"You're having trouble understanding a simple thing-" he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Mujhe kisi ki chinta chahiye bhi nahi." (I don't need anyone's concern.)

Aaravika swallowed, refusing to let him see the fear in her eyes. "Aur mujhe kisi ko khush karna ka shauk nahi hai." (And I don't have a hobby of pleasing anyone.)

Aaravika exhaled sharply. She straightened her dupatta, walked over to the sofa, and sat down, pulling her plate onto her lap. Without sparing him a glance, she started eating.

Vayran raised a brow, watching her bold move. "What are you doing?"

She didn't bother looking at him, chewing slowly before replying. "Khana kha rahi hoon. " (I'm eating.)

His jaw tightened as he crossed his arms. "You're sitting like this as if this is your room."

Aaravika finally glanced at him, a sly smile tugging at her lips. "Isn't it? Doesn't a contract mean becoming the wife of yours?"

Again the cold glint in his eyes softened, replaced by something unreadable. He stepped closer, towering over her, but Aaravika didn't flinch.

"Tum jaanti ho, zyada bolna tumhare liye theek nahi hoga," he said, his voice low and threatening. (You know, talking too much won't be good for you.)

She smirked, popping a piece of roti into her mouth. "Aur chup rehna tumhare liye accha nahi hoga." (And staying silent won't be good for you.)

Vayran stared at her, torn between amusement and irritation. He leaned down slightly, their faces inches apart. "How long are you planning to keep up this attitude?"

Aaravika tilted her head, pretending to think. "Until you get fed up with me."

For a moment, his lips twitched as if fighting a smile. Shaking his head, he straightened and walked over to the table, picking up his plate. Sitting across from her, he began eating in silence.

The tension between them simmered, but so did an odd warmth, a strange familiarity that neither of them acknowledged. Aaravika glanced at him from the corner of her eye and let herself smile softly.

For the first time since his mother's death, Vayran wasn't eating dinner alone. Even though he sat with his so-called family every time, it was a hollow pretence and a formality. He would barely take three or four bites before leaving the dining hall, his presence more of a formality than genuine involvement.

But tonight was different.

He glanced up from his plate and saw Aaravika sitting across from him on the sofa, her legs crossed as she quietly ate. She wasn't looking at him-she was too busy wiping her fingers on her dupatta and muttering something under her breath about the roti being cold.

It wasn't the laughter-filled family dining table he'd grown up with, but somehow, there was a strange peace in the air. Her presence filled the heavy silence he was used to enduring alone.

He took another bite of the food, realizing he wasn't rushing through it or forcing it down just to leave. He was eating. Peacefully.

Aaravika caught him staring and raised a brow. "Kya hua? Khana mein zeher nahi hai." (What happened? There's no poison in the food.)

His lips twitched, but he covered it with a sip of water. "Tumhare jokes utne hi thande hain jitni yeh roti hain," he said flatly, though his tone lacked the sharpness it usually carried. (Your jokes are as cold as the roti.)

She narrowed her eyes.

He shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. It was strange how she managed to make his stone-cold walls crack with her trivial remarks. But instead of retorting, he focused on finishing his food, something he hadn't done in years.

And for the first time, the dining table didn't feel like a battlefield, even though they were still miles away from being anything close to allies.

After Vayran finished eating, Aaravika stood up, picking up the plates with a quiet motion. As she began to walk out, Vayran's voice, laced with sarcasm, echoed behind her. "Aaj pati ki badi seva ho rahi hai, kya baat hai?" (Looks like today, I'm getting special treatment from my wife. What's the matter?)

Aaravika paused at the door, the teasing tone of his voice making her lips twitch in amusement. She couldn't resist it. Turning back, she walked over to him, placing the plates back on the table. Without saying anything, she moved behind him and began gently massaging his shoulders, her fingers pressing into the tense muscles.

Vayran hissed slightly, a sharp intake of breath. Aaravika froze, her fingers lingering as she felt the unusual tightness under her touch. The realization hit her-there was a wound on his shoulder, partially hidden beneath the fabric of his shirt. She immediately pulled her hands back, an apology already forming on her lips.

"I'm sorry. I forgot that you were hurt," she said, her voice soft but genuine.

Vayran looked at her from the corner of his eye, his expression hard to read. "It's nothing," he muttered, though his tone suggested otherwise.

There was a moment of awkward silence before he finally broke it, his voice low but inquisitive. "What do you want?"

Aaravika hesitated for a moment, her fingers nervously fiddling with her dupatta. She let out a sigh, stepping back and sitting beside him. "I got into a fight with a senior yesterday... and now, the dean has asked me to bring a guardian or my parents with me to discuss it." She glanced at him, waiting for his reaction.

Vayran didn't say anything at first, the quiet tension stretching between them. He simply stared at her, his gaze cold but focused. "And why exactly are you telling me this?" he asked, his voice flat, though the edge wasn't completely gone.

She looked him in the eyes, a hint of defiance in her tone. "Because you're the only one who can go with me. The dean said it has to be either my parents or my guardian, and well... technically, you're my husband."

Vayran's lips curved into a smirk, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes despite his usual coldness. "So, you want me to play the part of a concerned husband? How charming."

Aaravika rolled her eyes, clearly not impressed. "I'm just asking for your help, Patidev. I don't have many options."

For a moment, he said nothing, but then he leaned back, his hands resting on his lap. "Fine. But don't expect me to be all 'concerned husband' for you. I'll go, but on my terms."

Aaravika didn't bother replying immediately, unsure whether to be relieved or frustrated. At least, he had agreed. She let out a quiet breath, trying to shake off the unease that settled in her chest. This wasn't going to be as simple as she hoped.

Vayran's cold gaze remained fixed on her as he asked, "Why did you get into a fight with your senior?" His voice was neutral, but there was an unmistakable glint of curiosity in his eyes.

Aaravika's breath hitched for a moment, and her grip tightened on the fabric of her dupatta. The memories of what had happened the day before flooded her mind, and her face flushed with anger. "She insulted me," Aaravika said through gritted teeth, her voice trembling with the weight of her words.

Vayran's brow arched slightly, his gaze unrelenting. "Insulted you? In what way?"

Aaravika's jaw clenched as she recalled the cruel words. "She called me a whore... just because she was jealous." The words hung in the air, thick with disdain. Her hands trembled, but she didn't let it show as she continued, her tone growing fiercer. "She was jealous of me, Vayran. That's all this was. And then she had the audacity to pull my hair like I was supposed to just stand there and take it."

Her fists balled in her lap as she looked at Vayran, her face flushed with the fury of that moment. "She dragged me by my hair, and humiliated me in front of everyone. And then I couldn't take it anymore, so I punched her. I broke her teeth," she added, her voice harsh as the memory of her fist connecting with the senior's face resurfaced.

Vayran remained quiet, watching her closely, as if studying her every word. Aaravika continued, her anger bubbling over. "And the worst part? She's the granddaughter of the dean. So now, the dean is making me bring a guardian like I'm the one who started this whole thing." Her voice was laced with bitterness, frustration seeping into her every syllable.

Vayran's expression didn't change much, but something flickered in his eyes. He let out a low breath, his gaze turning more contemplative as he processed what she had said.

"So, you broke her teeth over this?" he asked, his tone still cool, but now there was a hint of something else-was it approval? Or was it just the way he calculated everything?

Aaravika's eyes flared with defiance. "Yes, I did. She had it coming." She shifted uncomfortably, still furious, but now it was a mixture of guilt and anger swirling inside her. "And I don't care who her grandfather is. No one gets to call me that and get away with it."

Vayran stared at her for a long moment, his gaze narrowing as he processed her words. He finally gave a small nod, his lips quirking into a faint, approving smirk. "I didn't think you had it in you," he said quietly, his voice surprisingly soft. "You've got fire, Aaravika. That's good."

She raised an eyebrow, her temper still simmering. "Not everyone gets to see that side of me."

Vayran leaned back, the smirk still lingering. "I guess I'll be seeing more of it, then."

Aaravika didn't know whether to be annoyed or amused. She stood up, giving him one last sharp glance before heading for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said, her voice steady despite the storm brewing inside her. "And don't think you're off the hook for this just because you agreed to go with me. There's still a lot you owe me."

Vayran's eyes followed her, and as she left, he spoke one final time, his voice low and purposeful. "Maybe I'll collect on that debt soon, Aaravika."

Aaravika took the plates and walked out, her mind still simmering from the conversation. She returned a few minutes later, hoping to slip past Vayran without him noticing, but he was still there-his laptop screen glowing in the dim light, his posture hunched as he worked tirelessly.

She paused in the doorway, crossing her arms as she watched him for a moment, his focus unwavering. The faint click of the keyboard filled the room, but all she could see was the way he immersed himself in his work, as if the rest of the world didn't exist.

Her irritation flared again, and without thinking, she walked toward him, her voice sharp as she spoke, "Are you trying to make yourself blind, or is this just your way of slowly killing yourself?"

Vayran didn't look up, but the corner of his mouth twitched slightly, the only sign he heard her. His fingers didn't falter as they danced over the keys. "I'm not the one wasting time playing around, am I?" he replied coolly, though there was a certain edge to his words.

Aaravika's eyes narrowed as she leaned in, her tone mockingly sweet. "I'm sure you think you're some kind of goddamn genius, buried in your work. But all you're doing is making yourself sick, Vayran. Can't even look at someone for more than five seconds without running back to this damn thing." She gestured towards his laptop, a bit of venom creeping into her voice. "Your laptop is the only thing you care about. Hell, it's your mistress, isn't it?"

He finally glanced up at her, his gaze cold, yet something about the way he looked at her made her stomach tighten. "Is that what you think?" he asked, his voice low, a dangerous calm settling over him.

Aaravika didn't back down. "You don't even know how to breathe without it, do you?" she shot back, her words biting.

Vayran closed his laptop with one smooth motion, the quiet snap of it shutting echoing between them. He stood up slowly, towering over her as the silence thickened. "You think you know me, Aaravika? You don't know a damn thing about how I live." His eyes were dark, his voice dangerously calm, but there was a flicker of something raw beneath it.

She met his gaze, refusing to show any weakness. "Maybe I don't," she replied, her voice just as cold. "But I can see you're nothing but a machine, running on nothing but deadlines and expectations."

Vayran's lips twisted into a faint, mocking smile, the air between them crackling with tension. "And what exactly do you expect me to do, Aaravika? Stop everything for a moment of pity? Let go of the world I built? You have no idea what I've had to sacrifice for this."

Her chest tightened at his words, but she didn't flinch. "I'm not asking you to stop everything," she said, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. "But maybe... just maybe... you could live a little. Not everything is about work, Vayran. You're losing yourself in it, and it's pathetic."

For a long moment, Vayran didn't speak. His gaze flickered between her eyes and her lips, a strange mix of tension and something else-something that wasn't anger or disdain, but something far harder to decipher. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter, but just as pointed.

"Don't ever lecture me about what I should or shouldn't be doing."

Aaravika's heart pounded as she held his stare. "And why not? Because you're some untouchable god? Newsflash, Vayran, even gods need to come down from their thrones sometimes."

He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming, his eyes flickering with something dangerous. "You really think you can just come in here, run your mouth, and expect me to take it?" His voice was low, a simmering threat in his tone.

Aaravika didn't move. "Try me."

There was a brief pause, and then, unexpectedly, he leaned in, his lips barely brushing her ear as he whispered, "You don't know what you're getting into."

Her breath hitched, but she didn't pull away. "I never do," she replied softly, her words laced with a quiet defiance.

Vayran pulled back, his smirk returning, though it was colder now. "Just remember that. And next time, don't pretend like you know what's best for me."

As Aaravika turned to leave, Vayran's voice, unexpectedly soft, cut through the tension.

"Aaravika."

She stopped but didn't turn around, wondering if he was about to say something else sharp or mocking. Instead, his words were different, his tone less calculated than usual.

"I never needed a machine to remind me how to live."

She stiffened, her back still turned to him. There was something about his voice that caught her off guard. It was almost as if he was showing a crack in his armor.

Aaravika kept her voice steady, though her heart had begun to race. "Then why do you spend all your time glued to that damn laptop?"

He didn't respond right away, and for a moment, she thought she'd caught him off guard. But then he spoke, his voice low, almost vulnerable in its honesty.

"Because I've got no one else to remind me to live."

The words hung in the air, thick with an emotion that Aaravika didn't expect. She stood frozen for a moment, the weight of his statement pressing