The hum of the engine was the only sound in the car. Niranya sat beside me, her delicate frame pressed against the window, staring at the city passing by. The streetlights illuminated her pale face, and the faint reflection of tears clinging to her lashes felt like shards piercing through me.
She hadn't spoken a word since we left. She didn't need to. The silence was loud enough to remind me of what I had done.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. I couldn't bear seeing her like this-broken, hurt, defeated. The light that once danced in her eyes was gone, and I had taken it from her.
I'm sorry, Jaan, I thought, my gaze lingering on her trembling hands as she wiped another tear. I never wanted this for you. But I couldn't let you go, not when I knew the danger waiting for you. This pain... it's temporary, I promise. One day, you'll understand.
Her tears continued, silent and unrelenting. I wanted to pull her close, to wipe away those tears with my lips, to tell her everything would be okay. But I didn't deserve that luxury. Not yet.
I turned my head, fixing my eyes on the road ahead, but my mind stayed with her. The memory of the first time I saw her-so free, so untouched by darkness-flooded my senses. That day in the rain, she had been a vision. Her laughter had been the only sound cutting through the storm, and her joy had breathed life into the shadows I carried.
From that moment, she wasn't just a girl to me. She was my lifeline, my peace in the chaos.
Her voice, barely a whisper, broke the silence. "Why?"
I turned to her, my heart tightening at the question. She didn't need to say more-I knew what she was asking. Why had I ruined her life? Why had I taken her freedom, her dreams? Why had I forced her into this bond?
I took a deep breath, keeping my voice low and steady. "Because I had no choice, Niranya."
She flinched at the sound of my voice, but she didn't look at me. Her hands clenched into fists, her knuckles white against her skin.
"No choice?" she whispered, her tone bitter. "You had a choice, Ash. You could've let me go. You could've left me alone. But you didn't."
Her words stung, but I refused to let them show. "If I left you alone, you wouldn't be alive," I said quietly. "You don't understand the world I live in, Angel. And someone out there is waiting for the right moment to destroy you."
Finally, she turned to me, her eyes red and brimming with fury. "And you think you saved me by destroying me yourself?"
I held her gaze, refusing to flinch. "I protected you the only way I knew how."
She shook her head, tears spilling over once more. "You didn't protect me, Ash. You caged me. You stole everything I had."
Her words cut deeper than I thought possible, but I kept my face unreadable. She wouldn't understand now. Maybe not tomorrow, or even next week. But one day, she would see.
The car slowed as we reached the gates of my mansion. The imposing structure stood like a fortress, its cold stone walls a reflection of the life I had built.
"This is your home now," I said softly. The words felt heavy in my chest, but they needed to be said.
She didn't respond. She didn't even look at me. Her silence was louder than any scream, and it tore through me with ruthless precision.
I leaned back, running a hand through my hair, my mind warring between guilt and resolve. I had taken everything from her, but I had also given her something she didn't yet realize-my life, my protection, my soul.
"You don't believe me now," I murmured, more to myself than her. "But I swear to you, Jaan, I'll bring back that smile. I'll give you a life so beautiful that you'll forget this pain. I'll find the one who dares to threaten you, and I'll end them."
I glanced at her one last time as the car came to a stop. Her tear-streaked face, her trembling form-it was a sight I would never forget.
"I'll fix this, Angel," I whispered under my breath, so softly that even the wind couldn't carry it to her ears. "You don't see it yet, but we're bound together. You didn't choose me, and I didn't choose you. Fate did."
And fate, I vowed, would not break us apart.
Along with it, that bastard Arhan who dared to marry my Jaan, my Angel. For her, I didn't kill him-but mercy is never part of my rules. With one message to Vedant, his entire empire was obliterated. Every lie, every connection he built was reduced to dust. His wealth, his power-gone. He thought he could take what was mine, but I made sure he learned that nothing escapes my wrath.
We stepped out of the car, the cool evening air brushing against my face. I stared at the towering mansion in front of me, its grand, intimidating structure casting shadows that stretched far and wide. This wasn't the first time I'd been here. I had walked through those doors before-hesitant, nervous, but free.
But today... today, I am not just Niranya Sharma. I am Niranya Ashtram Raghuvanshi. His wife.
The weight of that thought pressed against my chest, and my hands balled into fists at my sides. Wife. The word felt like a chain around my neck, heavy and suffocating.
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. Ashtram stood beside me, his tall frame radiating power and dominance, as if he owned not just the mansion behind him but the entire world. His face was unreadable, his dark eyes scanning me briefly before turning toward the entrance.
Even after everything, I still felt... something. My heart still betrayed me, pulling toward him like a moth to a flame. It made no sense. After all he had done, how could my heart still betray me like this?
No, I told myself, my nails digging into my palms. I will not forgive him. I will not let him break me.
I tore my gaze away, focusing on the ground beneath my feet. My legs felt like lead, tired and unsteady, and all I wanted was to sit down and breathe. But I wouldn't show weakness-not in front of him.
I took a deep breath, willing myself to move forward. Just as I raised my foot to take a step, the world shifted.
I was no longer standing on the ground.
I gasped as I realized I was in the air, strong arms wrapped firmly around me.
My little fragile baby looked so tired, her pale face breaking my heart in ways I couldn't explain. She tried so hard to mask her pain, to keep that wall of defiance between us, but her trembling form gave her away. No, Angel, your husband is here to take care of you. You won't have to fight this alone.
The thought burned in my mind as I stepped closer to her. She looked ready to collapse from exhaustion. I couldn't bear it. Without a second thought, I reached out and lifted her into my arms.
"Put me down, Ashtram!" she hissed, her hands pushing weakly against my chest. Her resistance didn't bother me. Did I care about her protests? No. Never. When it comes to her comfort, I'll do anything, even if she hates me for it.
She glared at me, her eyes blazing with anger, but her body didn't have the strength to fight me. "I hate you," she muttered under her breath, her words slicing through me.
But I didn't flinch. I didn't react. Because I knew-deep down, beneath all that hatred and anger-my Angel still felt something for me. Very soon, this hatred would melt away, and her love would return, stronger than ever. I would make sure of it.
As I carried her into the mansion, my servants stood waiting, their heads bowed respectfully. One of them held a silver thali, ready to welcome us. They had prepared everything for this moment-our moment.
I gently placed her down, her wide eyes still glaring up at me. She stumbled slightly, and my hands instinctively steadied her waist. She shrugged me off, and I let her go, though my gaze lingered on her as she straightened herself.
The servant stepped forward, performing our aarti with reverence, the flame from the diya flickering between us. Niranya's lips pressed into a thin line, her tension radiating off her in waves.
Once the ritual was complete, I watched as she moved to the kalash. With a hesitant glance in my direction, she pushed the pot forward with her foot, the soft sound of it tumbling over the marble floor filling the silent hall.
She stepped forward again, her feet dipping into the vermilion water. The delicate prints of her steps left a trail behind her as she entered the house. My house. My life.
My Goddess had entered my world as my wife.
I reached into my pocket, pulling out a crisp white handkerchief. Walking ahead of her, I kneel down and placed it on the ground, carefully smoothing it out.
She stopped, confusion flashing across her face. "What are you doing?" she asked, her tone sharp, but I could see the flicker of shock in her eyes.
I looked at her, my expression softening. "Jaan, my Goddess's footprints are sacred. I want to keep them with me, always."
Her brows furrowed, her lips parting slightly as if to argue, but she didn't say anything. I stepped back, waiting for her to move.
She hesitated, her gaze flickering between the handkerchief and me. For a moment, I thought she wouldn't do it. But then, silently, she placed her feet on the white fabric, her red-stained footprints marking the pristine cloth.
I bent down, carefully folding the handkerchief to preserve her steps, as if it were a priceless treasure. "Perfect," I murmured, slipping it into my pocket.
She watched me, her expression unreadable, and for the first time that night, she didn't look away.
What is this man? One moment, he shatters me into pieces, and the next, he's carefully preserving my footprints as if they're sacred. How can someone be so contradictory? I can't understand him, but no matter what he does, I can't forget what he's done to me.
My thoughts were a whirlwind when, before I could react, he lifted me into his arms again. "Ash, put me down!" I protested weakly, but he didn't even flinch. His grip was firm, steady, and unwavering, as though my resistance didn't matter to him at all.
The silence between us was heavy as he walked towards the elevator. Neither of us spoke a word, the air filled with tension so thick it was suffocating. I didn't even dare look at him; I kept my gaze fixed on the elevator doors, willing the moment to pass.
When the elevator doors finally opened, I felt a strange pang in my chest. This was it-the reality I had to face now. He carried me down the hallway, past the familiar walls of his mansion, until we reached his floor.
No, not his floor. Ours.
Yes, I'm his wife now, right? The word felt foreign, almost surreal, like it didn't belong to me. My heart felt heavy as he pushed open the bedroom door with his foot.
And there it was-the decoration for our wedding night. The soft glow of fairy lights, the fresh scent of roses, and the delicate drapes adorning the bed all screamed of romance and intimacy. But in my mind, one thought echoed louder than anything else: This will not happen.
My stomach churned as I stared at the room, my body stiffening in his arms. He must have noticed because he gently set me down, his touch surprisingly tender.
"Breathe, Jaan," he said, his voice low and steady, laced with an unshakable promise. "This night isn't a demand; it's a canvas. And I'll wait-days, months, even years-until you're ready to paint it with me. My love doesn't take; it only gives, and it will always be yours to command."
I looked at him, startled by his words.
"If you're not comfortable with something, I'll never force you," he continued, his tone steady, as if he meant every word. "Now go and change, Jaan. You're tired. Take some rest, my Baccha."
His words hung in the air, and for a moment, I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. He looked at me with something so pure in his eyes, it was almost unbearable. But the cracks he left in me were still too fresh, too raw.
Without a word, I turned and walked towards the closet. My mind was a battlefield, emotions colliding and tearing me apart. Rest? That sounded impossible. Not when everything in my world had turned upside down.
As she walked into the closet, I headed to another room to change. I needed a moment to calm myself, to let the weight of the evening settle. When I returned, my Jaan was already back in the bedroom. She had changed into a simple white kurta, the soft fabric hugging her form in all the right ways. Simplicity was her charm-she didn't need grand outfits or heavy jewelry to look beautiful. She was breathtaking just as she was.
I stood at the doorway, watching as she struggled with the pins in her hair. Her delicate fingers fumbled, her frustration evident. I couldn't bear to see her struggle, not when I was here to take care of her. Without a word, I walked over to her, standing behind her in front of the mirror.
She stiffened slightly when she noticed me, her eyes darting to mine in the reflection. "I can do it myself," she murmured, her tone firm yet unconvincing.
I ignored her words, my hands gently brushing hers aside as I reached for the pins. "Let me Angel," I said softly, my voice leaving no room for argument.
One by one, I unpinned her hair, letting the silky strands fall free. Her soft scent enveloped me, intoxicating and calming all at once. I couldn't help myself-I leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to her hair.
She froze, her breath hitching, but I stepped back before she could protest further. She turned away quickly, walking over to the bed without looking back. I didn't follow.
Instead, I moved to the couch and sat down. Watching her climb into bed, her back to me, stirred something deep inside me. My every fiber ached to go to her, to hold her in my arms and erase every ounce of pain I'd caused her. But not yet. Not until my Jaan is ready.
When the time comes, I'll claim her so thoroughly, so completely, that she'll never want to leave my side. This isn't just desire; it's something far greater. She's my everything-made for me and only me. If that's obsession, so be it. I'll gladly live with it, because there's no end to it.
As I leaned back on the couch, my gaze softened. Her breathing slowed, and her features relaxed as sleep claimed her. Seeing her like this-peaceful and safe-brought me an odd sense of calm. My Angel. My wife. My Jaan.
With that thought, I allowed myself to drift off as well, the sight of my sleeping Jaan the last thing on my mind.
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