It has been a week since I married her, though it feels like I've always had her. She was never anyone else's. From the very beginning, she was always meant to be mine. Even when she didn't know it. Even when she fought me, every step of the way.
She claims to hate me now, and maybe she believes it. But I know the truth buried beneath her anger, beneath the walls she's so carefully constructed-she has always loved me.
I enter the room, and there she is.
She stands before the mirror, combing through her long, dark hair, completely unaware of me. The soft, golden light from the lamp dances on her skin, illuminating the fine curve of her neck, the graceful slope of her shoulders. Her saree-midnight blue, like the depths of the night itself-drapes over her, hiding the secrets I long to uncover.
She is mesmerizing. And she has always been mine, even when she didn't realize it.
I remain frozen in place, watching. The rhythm of the comb, the soft rustle of her saree, the way she adjusts the pallu as if she's unaware of the storm brewing in the room-it's hypnotizing.
I want to take that comb from her, to run my fingers through her hair, claim her entirely. But I let her stay in control for now. She doesn't realize she has none.
Her gaze flickers up in the mirror, locking with mine. For a moment, I see something shift in her eyes-surprise, defiance... but deeper than that, something familiar. A pull she cannot deny, no matter how hard she tries.
She tightens her grip on the comb. "How long are you going to stand there?" Her voice is clipped, laced with annoyance.
A slow, deliberate smile curls on my lips. I take a step forward, my reflection merging with hers. "As long as I want, love."
She exhales sharply, turning away, but I catch the tremor in her fingers, the way her breath catches in her throat.
She can lie to herself all she wants. She can try to fight it. But I know the truth.
She has always been mine.
And I'll make sure she never forgets it.
She lifts the small silver box of vermilion, her delicate fingers hesitating just for a second before she dips them inside. My gaze sharpens. I know what she's about to do-complete the ritual herself, as if I don't exist, as if I have no claim over her.
I won't allow it.
Before she can touch her forehead, I move forward, my hand closing over hers, halting her movements. She freezes. Her breath hitches. Slowly, I take the vermilion from her grasp.
Her wide eyes snap up to mine in the mirror, surprise flickering in their depths. But just as quickly, she masks it with anger, her brows drawing together in defiance.
"It's my right, Angel," I murmur, my voice low and certain.
She tenses. I see the way her jaw clenches, the way her fingers curl as if trying to suppress the emotions surging within her. But she doesn't stop me.
With deliberate slowness, I take a pinch of vermilion and bring it to her parting, letting the deep red powder settle against her skin. Marking her. Binding her to me in a way she cannot deny.
She is absolutely breathtaking. And now, undeniably, mine.
A soft, satisfied smile tugs at my lips as I take a step back, drinking in the sight of her. "Done," I say, my voice filled with quiet possession.
She swallows, her lashes lowering as if trying to hide the storm raging in her heart. But I see it. I always see it.
She can fight me. She can hate me. But nothing will change the truth.
She belongs to me. And she always will.
I take a step back, admiring the way the vermilion now rests in her hair-a mark of me, of us. The sight fills me with a quiet satisfaction. She is mine in every way, whether she accepts it or not.
Still holding the silver box, I tilt my head and ask, "Are you going somewhere, Jaan?"
She stiffens for a moment, then moves away from me, putting distance between us. Her voice is sharp, "Yes, going to meet Megha. I was missing her... and also uncle and aunty."
I watch her carefully, noting the way she avoids looking at me directly. She's trying too hard to act unaffected.
I nod, slipping my hands into my pockets. "Okay. I was heading to the office anyway. Come, I'll drop you."
She turns to face me fully this time, her eyes flashing with resistance. "No need. I can go on my own."
I let out a small chuckle, stepping closer again, closing the space she so desperately tries to create. "I am your husband, Jaan. It's my duty to always take care of you."
Her jaw tightens. "I don't need your care."
My smile never wavers. Instead, I lift a hand and gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger for just a second longer. My voice softens, but the intensity doesn't fade. "But I will, anyway. Because you are my wife. My everything."
She swallows but doesn't reply. She can fight my words, but she can't fight the truth.
I take a step back, turning toward the door. "Now come fast. I'm waiting outside in the car. No more arguments."
And then, without waiting for her reply, I leave-because I already know she'll follow.
After some time, she finally steps outside, her movements hesitant but composed. Without a word, she opens the car door and slips into the passenger seat.
I glance at her, a soft smile tugging at my lips. She came.
Saying nothing, I start the car and begin driving toward Megha's house. The silence between us is thick, but I don't mind. She doesn't look at me once, her gaze fixed stubbornly outside the window, as if the city streets are suddenly more interesting than acknowledging my presence.
Of course, I affect her. My sweet Angel.
I let her have her moment of defiance, knowing well that no amount of avoidance can change what's already written in fate.
After a while, I pull the car to a smooth stop in front of Megha's house. Turning slightly, I say, "I'll come in the evening to pick you up."
She doesn't even hesitate. "No need."
Before I can respond, she pushes the door open and steps out, walking away with the same fire in her stride, the same resistance she always carries around me.
I watch her go, shaking my head in amusement. So stubborn.
A low chuckle escapes my lips as I grip the steering wheel. "I will, Jaan," I murmur to myself before driving off toward my office.
Because whether she accepts it or not, she will always be mine. And I will always come for her.
As I walk toward the entrance, I can still feel him-his presence lingering around me, wrapping around my senses like an unshakable shadow.
Why?
Why does he still affect me this much?
I should hate him. I need to hate him. But I can't. No matter how much I tell myself otherwise, my heart refuses to obey.
No, Niranya. Don't forget what he did to you.
I shake off the thoughts, forcing myself to focus. I won't let him weaken me. Not again.
With a deep breath, I step inside the house.
The moment I do, a familiar voice fills the air-excited, warm, and just what I need.
"Niru!"
Before I can react, Megha rushes toward me, her eyes lighting up with joy.
A genuine smile tugs at my lips as I embrace her tightly. In this moment, with her, everything feels lighter. Even if just for a little while.
Megha pulls back from the hug, her eyes scanning my face with concern.
"How are you now?" she asks, her voice soft but laced with worry.
I force a small smile. "I'm good."
Her eyes narrow slightly, as if she doesn't completely believe me, but she doesn't press further. Instead, she sighs in relief. "Finally, you came."
I nod, my smile becoming a little more real. Being here feels comforting-like a brief escape from everything weighing on my heart.
Before I can say more, Megha's parents appear in the doorway, their familiar warmth washing over me.
Her mother immediately steps forward, wrapping me in a gentle embrace. "Are you okay, beta?" she asks, her voice filled with motherly concern.
I nod, my heart tightening at the affection. "Yes, Aunty."
Her father watches me with kind eyes. "Everything alright, dear?"
I swallow past the lump in my throat and smile softly. "Yes, Uncle. Everything is fine... just missing you all." My voice dips slightly as I add, "You've always been like my family."
Aunty cups my face with a gentle smile. "We don't just feel like family, beta. We are family. Always."
The warmth in her words wraps around me like a protective shield, making me realize just how much I had longed for this-for a place where love isn't complicated, where I can simply belong.
As time passed, Megha took me to her room, and just like old times, we talked endlessly-about everything and nothing. Laughter filled the space between us, momentarily pushing away the storm raging inside me.
We had lunch together, reminiscing about our college days, silly fights, and all the dreams we once shared. For a while, it felt like I was home.
But then, Megha's voice turned soft, hesitant.
"Niru... are you happy with Ashtram?"
I stiffened, the question pressing against my chest like a weight I wasn't ready to carry. Happy? How could I be happy with the man who turned my world upside down?
I exhaled slowly. "I want to hate him, Megha." My voice was quiet but firm. "After hiding his true identity from me... after forcing me into this marriage... and now, suddenly, he acts like he cares."
Megha watched me carefully, her eyes filled with understanding. "I get it, Niru. But... I've seen the way he looks at you. He loves you-so much."
I let out a hollow laugh, shaking my head. "It doesn't matter, Megha. He already shattered me."
She sighed, sensing the exhaustion in my voice. "Okay, okay. Let's not talk about him anymore."
And just like that, we moved on, diving into old memories again, letting the past distract us from the present.
By the time I glanced at the clock, the sun had already begun its descent. Evening had arrived.
Laughter echoed through Megha's room as we reminisced about old times, our conversation flowing effortlessly. For the first time in weeks, I felt lighter-as if the weight of my tangled emotions had momentarily lifted.
Then, my phone rang.
The sound yanked me back to reality like a cruel reminder. I glanced at the screen.
Ashtram.
My heart betrayed me with a stutter, but I ignored it. I should hate him. I should never pick up. Yet, deep down, I knew one thing with certainty-ignoring Ashtram Raghuvanshi only made things worse.
With a sigh, I answered.
Before I could utter a word, his deep, authoritative voice came through, sharp and unwavering.
"I'm outside. Come out, Wife."
I clenched the phone tighter, my jaw stiffening. "I told you, I don't care if you're waiting. I'm not coming."
A low chuckle slipped through the line, dark yet laced with something deeper. "And I told you, Jaan, I don't have the patience to stay away from you. Now, come back where you belong."
Jaan. That cursed endearment. The way it rolled off his tongue-possessive, unapologetic, binding. My chest tightened, but I forced my voice to remain steady.
"No."
He exhaled a slow, deliberate breath. "Then I suppose I have no choice but to come inside and take you myself. In front of everyone. And we both know I will, Angel."
My breath hitched.
Damn him. Damn his arrogance.
The silence between us stretched, thick and suffocating. Even through the phone, his presence loomed-a force that refused to be ignored.
Then, as if sensing my hesitation, he added smoothly, "Alright then, I'm coming in-"
"No, wait! I'm coming." The words left my lips in a rush, betraying me.
A knowing smirk laced his voice. "Good."
And just like that, he hung up.
I exhaled sharply, gripping my phone like it had burned me. Why does he always do this?
Turning to Megha, I forced a small smile. "I have to go."
Her expression fell. "Already?"
I nodded. "But don't worry, I'll come again. We're in the same city, after all."
She sighed before pulling me into a hug. "Take care, Niru."
Holding onto that warmth for a second longer, I whispered back, "You too."
Then, straightening myself, I walked toward the man waiting for me outside-the man I claimed to despise... yet somehow, could never escape.
As I stepped outside, the cool evening air wrapped around me, but it did little to calm the storm raging within.
His car sat there like a silent predator in the night, sleek and commanding, just like the man waiting inside. My fingers curled into fists for a fleeting second before I forced myself forward. With a sharp inhale, I opened the door and slipped in, shutting it a little too harshly.
The moment I settled into my seat, his voice greeted me-smooth, teasing, dangerous.
"Welcome home, wife."
My jaw tightened. "Shut up," I snapped, refusing to meet his gaze.
He chuckled, dark and knowing. "Make me."
I turned toward the window, watching the world blur past as he started the car. His presence was suffocating, intoxicating-a gravitational force pulling me in even when I wanted to resist.
Minutes passed, thick with unspoken words, before his voice softened, threading into the quiet.
"Angel... I'll bring you to Megha every day if that's what it takes. But don't ask me to stay away. I can't. I tried, and it's a battle I'll never win."
My heart stilled for a moment, then pounded against my ribs. His confession wrapped around me like an invisible chain, tightening with every word. But I had to resist. I had to.
Swallowing hard, I forced my voice to stay steady. "I hate you, Ash."
A sharp exhale. Then, his voice-low, unwavering, laced with a promise that sent shivers down my spine.
"Then hate me, Angel. But don't ask me to stop loving you. That's a war I'll never surrender."
And just like that, my heart betrayed me again.
In a grand, shadowy room, an unknown man stood, his face obscured in the dim light, his features cold and calculating. The silence in the room was thick with tension as he paced back and forth, his mind clearly at work on a sinister plan.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, his eyes burning with anger. "She married him... But they can't be together. No, they can't. If they truly unite, then everything will be over. And that's not something I want."
He paused, his gaze darkening as his thoughts twisted further into malevolent intent.
"She has to die," he whispered, his voice filled with venom. "And he... he won't be able to save her. No matter how hard he tries. She has to die... and there's no other way."
His words hung in the air, filled with a chilling promise. His plans were set in motion, and nothing would stand in his way. Not even the love between Ashtram and Niranya would be enough to protect her from the darkness that was closing in on her.
At that moment, a figure in the shadows spoke, his voice laced with uncertainty but also understanding.
"Yes, sir, but she hates him. He married her forcefully, replacing her groom, betraying her trust," the man said, a hint of satisfaction in his tone.
The unknown man smirked, his lips curling into a wicked grin. "Very good," he replied, his voice dripping with malice. "Let there be distance between them. The more they drift apart, the easier it will be. Everything is falling into place just as I want it."
His eyes gleamed with dark satisfaction as he turned away, the scheming mind already plotting the next steps in his sinister plan.
The unknown man's voice lowered, growing even more sinister as he thought about the generations before him, those who had suffered because of Ashtram Raghuvanshi. His hands clenched into fists as memories of a long-past pain surged through his mind.
"The pain my ancestors bore because of him... the torment they endured for so long... he will have to bear that too. He will feel every ounce of it, just as they did," he seethed, his face twisting with rage. "And as for her... she's just a guest in this world... a temporary distraction. A fleeting moment. Her time here is limited, and I will make sure of that."
His eyes narrowed, a cold, calculating fire igniting in them.
"The moment I get her alone, the moment she is within my reach, I will finish her. No one will stand in my way," he vowed, a chilling promise leaving his lips. "She won't survive what I have planned."
A cruel smile spread across his face as he pictured the suffering Niranya would endure. The walls of the room seemed to close in, as though they too were complicit in his twisted plan. In his mind, he was already envisioning the pain, the agony, the final moments where he would end her life, severing the connection that had brought her to Ashtram in the first place.
He would make sure Niranya's existence would be erased, and Ashtram would bear the curse of his ancestors' pain, just as he had been destined to. And when the time came, no one, not even the cursed prince, would be able to save her.
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