Trigger warnings: Violence
A little gore (Maybe disturbing)
Mention of crimes
Mature 18+ content
• This chapter deserves your proper engagement •
| S A M E E V E N I N G |
Aashika sits in the car, phone in hand. She dials Meera’s number, her voice slow as Meera picks and blurts out. “Aashi, where are you? And Tara—”
“Tara? She hasn’t returned yet?” Aashika interrupts, voice edged with tension.
“What do you mean? She wasn’t well, and you took her with you right?”
Aashika exhales, “I’ll call you later chachi.”
“But beta—”
She disconnects, shifting her focus to the road ahead as she mutters into herself “This girl. I shouldn’t have scared her that much.”
She drives on, every kilometre fueling her worry—Tara must be safe. But where’s she? Why hasn’t she returned to the palace? The questions gnaw at her relentlessly.
Another call buzzes—Enzo, The consigliere of Vaniore dominion where Aashika reigns as head.
He has sent a picture.
Aashika pulls the car aside and opens it, eyes scanning the teenage boy’s face in the picture. Clad in black tailored suit, his dark blue orbs and sharp facial features stand out.
Something clicks in her mind.
Without a second thought, she dials Enzo back and as the call connects, she spills “Who’s the boy in that picture?”
“You know him, Donna”
“Shut the fuck up and answer!?” She barks with impatience.
Enzo hesitates, “Do you remember Edward. Edward Krov?”
Aashika’s jaw clenches hearing this name, “How could I ever forget that fatherfucker—the man who trapped me in my innocence and tried to sell me like I was a fucking merchandise.”
“Absolutely, you were just a young girl when you were kidnapped to be smuggled across the seven countries.” Enzo informs, his tone dropping serious, “The boy in this pic was also the part of that smuggling veil, and he’s—”
“Aayansh!” Aashika cuts in, flabbergasted.
Silence lingers.
Then enzo fills in, “I got this picture from the confidentials of that deal. Possibly, either your brother knew about you since then or he’s equally responsible for whatever happened to you.”
Aashika’s focus is not on enzo’s words, she cuts the call and texts someone.
She starts the car again, but the destination is changed.
After around half an hour, aashika’s car comes to halt near a cliff. She strides out, face burning with rage as her eyes lock onto the tall figure standing at the edge. The cold breeze whips through his face, his back turned toward her… terrifyingly silent.
“Aayansh?!” She growls.
He doesn’t budge.
“Aayansh I’m talking to you,” Her fury peaks, “Where’s Tara?”
Aayansh’s muscles pulsate, but he remains still.
“I asked where’s—”
A shiver runs through Aashika as Aayansh finally turns toward her, eyes bloodshot, muscles taut, his voice icy as he warns— “Stay the fuck-away-from-her.”
A terrific silence.
For a moment, tears of hurt glisten in aashika’s eyes—a heartburn may be too deep.
“You think I’m her enemy?” She breaks the silence, “I want to harm her? I did scare her, so she’d step away from all this mess on her own.” Her voice wavers “Because she’s too innocent to be a part of this brutal game.”
Aayansh’s cold expression doesn’t waver a bit.
“And you—” Aashika’s voice turn cold, “You knew about me being alive for eleven- -fucking-years? You were the part of that smuggling veil where I was about to be sold as a merchandise?”
Memories crash over her—the moment when Aayansh first saw Aashika after she’d vanished, presumed dead to the world all those years ago.
A T L A N T I C O C E A N
Aayansh’s Age—17 Years
The ship’s chamber is silent, moon’s cold glow spills through the tall glass windows, casting on Aayansh’s face who stands leaning slightly against the burning fireplace’s mantel.
Clad in a black tailored suit. Freshly shaved face, growing broad shoulders and settled hair—his frame carrying the trace of boyhood.
He’s playing mouth organ, the same notes scary enough for goosebumps to crawl over anyone’s skin. His one hand resting into the pocket, eyes closed, cold face… showing no trace of emotions.
“Edward krov, European smuggler—He’s established unbreakable regime in seven countries—” Romano’s voice crackles, severe but composed “The most feared mafia in the dark world. Remember this son, if you want power here, you don’t do it alone. No one rules by themselves. We’re going to meet him, and you must make him beleive you’re loyal to him and his syndicate.”
Aayansh doesn’t budge.
No reaction, no movement.
His mouth organ keeps breathing the same unbroken dark melody.
“Also in this world, trust is the bullet waiting for your skull. Never hand it to anyone,” Romano clasps his hands behind his back “Anyone but your mentor, me.”
The melody lingers, but Aayansh doesn’t turn, his dark-blue orbs glued to the rushing waves outside as he murmurs “What makes you different from those ‘anyone’?”
“Huh?” A frown tugs at Romano’s face.
Aayansh turns to face him, his face blunt as he steps ahead “You call yourself my mentor, yet can’t answer a simple question?”
Romano’s throat constricts, aware his manipulation web is a fragile thread he’s trying to dangle over this young boy.
A while later, as the ship sways, music floats through its grand hall. At every table, sits a known personality of this crime world, glasses clinks, cigars burned when someone’s presence makes their posture stiffen.
Edward krov, armored in a gray long coat, his men standing behind. His gaze wanders around, an evil grin curls his lips.
“Հաղթանակի տոնը” He announces in his native language, cheers follows.
| The Feast Of The Victory |
A woman hands him the glass of champagne, when Romano’s words catch his attention “Another empire bows tonight, sigñore.”
Edward acknowledges his presence, then his eyes shift to the boy approaching there—Aayansh.
“This little boy’s also here?” He chuckles, knowing Aayansh isn’t just another face in the crowd, he’s one of those few who’s carrying the secret of the girls being smuggled across the seven countries tonight.
“So—” He extends a hand toward aayansh’s shoulder “What’s your name, young man?”
Aayansh’s tone cuts the air, calm but biting “I don’t like anyone touching me-” His eyes shift from Edward’s hand to his face as he finishes “without my permission.”
Edward’s hand freezes mid-way.
Romano’s breath dries in his throat, bracing for the storm that might follow.
But instead, Edward’s grin deepens “The kid’s got balls, I respect.” He takes a sip of champagne, “Not many would dare speak to me like that, not when surviving in this world is on the line.”
He settles on the Chesterfield couch.
Hesitant, Romano lowers himself onto the opposite sofa, where a few other men are already seated.
A man clears his throat, uneasy “Boss, the girls are sedated constantly, still if any tries to fight back or run, what do we do?”
“Break her legs,” Edward, leaning back with a winning smirk, says “Once these girls cross the seventh border, they’re no longer girls, they’re profit.”
“Конечно, the mother of all smuggling deals. International. Untouchable, after all it’s a work of legend like you.” Romano praises, grinning.
“By the way, this girl shipment is straight outta Asia, yeah?” He adds, finger tapping against the glass, “That’s what I’ve been hearing.”
Edward’s expressions stiffens, then in a cold and asserting voice, he answers “India, majorly. Each girl is a pure-untouched beauty, made to be sold— a pristine product.”
Meanwhile, Aayansh who’s hearing this conversation. His nerves are taught, knuckles white and eyes red-rimmed… like a predator waiting to strike.
“Well, this night’s for pleasure” The lieutenant declares “Bring them!?”
Seconds later, the cargo hall fills with naked women from different countries, trays of drinks balanced in their hands as if part of twisted entertainment.
The pair of beauties slide onto Edward’s lap, one undoing his overcoat and the other, his belt followed by pants as they start doing ‘IT’ then and there.
Not only them, the lieutenant and a few other men are also doing the sexual activity openly.
Meanwhile, Romano gestures to a temptress, sending her toward Aayansh. As in their eyes, Aayansh is just a naive ‘little boy’ developing hormones, easily fascinated by these things.
Slowly and seductively, the girl steps near Aayansh, aiming to draw his attention toward her as she whispers “For tonight, I’m yours.”
Him, who hasn’t spared a single glance at her, his icy eyes on the glass in his hand, his voice slow and menacing “Just for tonight?”
A faint frown tugs at the girl’s face, then she takes a step closer with a teasing smirk “Um… as many nights as you want.”
His lips curl slightly, not in desire, but something darker flicks in his eyes—disgust laced with a sadistic calm.
“Get used to this son! you’re in our world now” Romano interjects, “Go on, take her to a room and enjoy.”
At this point, Aayansh’s patience is even scarier.
He rises from the sofa and makes his way to the chamber inside, Romano indicates to the girl to go behind him.
The girl trails after Aayansh, her steps laced with a seductive grace.
He doesn’t turn, doesn’t react, knowing she’s following him—until her hand looms over his arm—his patience breaks.
He shuts his eyes, fingers rake the nape of his neck like a psychopath as he mutters in his breath “I hate anyone touching me without my permission. I-hate-it.”
The girl stumbles a step back.
| N E X T M O R N I N G |
The smuggling is set to move at dawn, cargo has already slipped past six borders… one more crossing and the girls would vanish, sold across seven countries.
The cargo’s surface? spilled drinks, smoke in the air, men passed out with the guns still at their side, the taste of last night’s sins lingering heavy.
Here, romano enters Aayansh’s chamber. His gaze sweeps around, the room is clean with a faint smell of cigar mixed in the air.
His gaze lingers on Aayansh who’s pulling up a black leather jacket over his shoulders, back turned to him.
“So-” with a wicked smile, Romano tucks his hands behind him and asks “How was the experience of tasting a woman for the first time?”
Aayansh doesn’t flinch, clearly unbothered to his words, his expressions blunt and actions steady.
He shrugs into the jacket properly, rolling his shoulders as if settling it in his own skin as he answers “The girl you sent wasn’t that good, uncle.” He turns to face Romano, “Next time, send a woman who can endure me—at least a few hours.”
Romano flinches, eyes thinning in disbelief and confusion.
He lets his gaze wander around, searching for the girl as he questions “But… where’s she?”
Silence, Aayansh doesn’t answer, straightening the collar of his jacket.
Then the lieutenant’s urgent voice cuts through the stillness of the cargo hold. “Chief, there’s a girl’s body drifting against the cargo’s edge.”
Panic erupts—thinking this might be the indication of the enemy’s attack.
Romano stiffens, as though cement has been poured straight into his spine.
Meanwhile, a small and sadistic grin tugs on Aayansh’s lips.
He’d allowed the girl to follow him last night, because for him she was nothing but a pawn to use as a distraction.
He slips a hand in his pocket, pulling out a folded paper— unfolding it to reveal a girl’s picture—in her early twenties.
The girl he’s been searching for nine years…dead to the world, alive in the chaos… his sister.
Aashika Oberoi.
Outside, the deck explodes into chaos. Shouts overlap with curses, guns snapping up as men scatter toward the rails.
“Mother fuck, Government raids?!” someone barks, voice rough with panic, boots slam against the iron floor.
Untouched by the frenzy around him, Aayansh rests the gun at the small of his back. Eyes cold and sharp as he heads off the chamber, steps unhurried.
A sudden blast erupts on the upper deck, panic surging faster than fire through dry grass.
The eighteen girls—who were about to be smuggled in seven different countries—are hidden beneath a tarpaulin in a shadowed corner of the cargo hold. The only hint of their presence is a faint sensor blinking under the canvas—No one on deck notices it as the havoc tears around the hull.
Amid the chaos, Aayansh enters the hull. Outside the tarpaulin, two men stand guard for extra security, their stances stiff and hands never far from their weapons until a gunshot echoes through the hull, the two guards snap alert instantly.
Their eyes dart around, hands flying to their guns as one of them mutters “C'è qualcuno lì.”
As ordered, one of them set the entire tarpaulin ablaze, ensuring the girls inside cannot escape, nor can anyone claim them… not even in death.
Flames roar in the ocean, but no scream rises under the burning tarpaulin… the girls inside are drugged so heavily they can’t feel their bodies, don’t even remember their names.
Aayansh storms into the burning tarpaulin, smoke hazing the way ahead but his stride doesn’t falter.
“Chi sei, ragazzo?” One of those men barks from behind Aayansh, raising his gun straight to his head but before a shot can ring, Aayansh pivots in a blink, slamming the man’s face against the iron wall. His skull cracks under the force.
He makes his way inside, flames and smoke clawing at him. The Entrance is locked with a code, and as he’s one of the few who knows the secret of this smuggling veil, with a swift flick of his fingers, the lock clicks open.
Those eighteen girls are chained inside, swallowed by the haze of fire, smoke filling their lungs but they’re unaware how their bodies are burning to death slowly.
All these girls are purely untouched—beautiful—virgins.
Aayansh’s cold eyes search through the smoke and flames, desperate, looking for the girl he’s here, his sister.
Suddenly, a flicker of movement cuts through the smoke. His hand grips his gun right away, one blink when he shoots in the left side… and the lieutenant aiming at him crumples to his knees.
He doesn’t glance back, focusing on finding Aashika in the crowd… until his eyes land on her… curled in the corner, barely conscious.
The sight of her in such a state makes Aayansh’s blood boil beyond control. His knuckles clenched, fury flooding in his veins.
He crouches down slightly, flames descending from above, licking his skin as he forces his way closer.
Twenty-one-year old aashika lies slumped, drugged beyond awareness. Her body doesn’t move, numb even as the fire inches closer until Aayansh perches on his tiptoes beside her, wrapping his arm around her frail frame and lifting her to stand fully on his support.
He holds her tight in his arm, passing through the smoke and flames while she drifts, unaware of herself, drugs numbing her senses.
The lieutenant’s muffled cries fuels Aayansh’s rage.
His fingers clench around the barrel of his gun, one arm cradling aashika carefully as his predatory gaze locks on the lieutenant.
He’s about to tear into him with bullets when a broken, trembling voice cuts through the chaos from behind, “D-don’t kill… my husband, please leave him. You too… have someone you love in your arms.”
Lieutenant’s wife, who was here to look after these girls.
Aayansh’s bloodshot eyes drop to aashika for a second, a fresh wave of rage surges through him.
He doesn’t turn, raising his gun behind him. In a blink, a shot strikes the woman’s forehead. And before her body even hits the ground, two more bullets tear into her husband—the lieutenant’s chest—without hesitation.
Aayansh doesn’t spare their bodies a single glance, sliding the gun into the back of his jacket, he lifts aashika in his arms and makes his way out of this burning place.
The skin of his shoulders is scorched, the leather of his jacket beginning to melt against him.
He strides forward, entering the hull where bodies lie scattered like refuse, chaos erupting all around.
Aayansh exhales, smoke filling his lungs, face drenched in sweat, eyes bloodshot and burning.
Amid all this, a sharp and venomous voice slices through the smoke from behind. “Bloody deceiver!”
Edward krov, stepping from the shadows, gun trained on Aayansh from behind. Eyes cold.
“Leave the girl,” Edward barks, a wicked smirk curling his lips “—and drop the gun. Now! Little ‘Deceiver’ boy.”
Aayansh closes his eyes, veins standing out on his forehead and arms, fury surging beyond his own control.
He settles aashika against the side wall, then turns to Edward, tossing his gun aside. His gaze locks to Edward’s, unflinching and lethal.
Edward steps closer, gun leveled at Aayansh’s head, voice raw as he spits, “You don’t deserve any easy death—”
In a flash, Aayansh’s eyes snap to the shovel lying a few inches from his feet, before shifting back to Edward.
There’s no moment to plot, either he loses his life or rips Edward’s throat out.
Edward lunges again, reaching for Aayansh’s face but Aayansh lifts his right leg, slamming a kick against Edward’s chest. Edward crashes backward with a loud thud, his back hitting the ground but he doesn’t budge, instantly, a bullet fires toward Aayansh’s head.
Aayansh jerks downward the same second, the bullet scorching past, embedding in the iron wall behind.
In one brutal motion, Aayansh grabs the shovel lying near, muscles coiling with rage. Edward raises his gun again, but it’s too late.
Aayansh lifts the shovel up, plunging the metal directly into Edward’s throat with all his strength. The force is so brutal Edward’s head snaps away from his body to the other side, leaving his torso writhing in agony.
A sea of blood swallows the ground, splattering across Aayansh’s face, smearing crimson over his features.
He exhales, a sadistic satisfaction settling over his face as his eyes linger on Edward’s lifeless body.
A few hours later, it’s a cottage, aashika lies in bed—unconscious, a female expert examining her.
Aayansh stands near, his eyes pinned to aashika.
“She’s fine now,” The woman says softly, “The sedation will wear off soon.”
“Can she travel?” Aayansh questions, his voice severe.
“Definitely!”
He asks only so he can send Aashika to India safely, without letting her know he saved her, he knows she’s alive. Because maybe, his path has changed too drastically for her to be a part of it.
A path where he doesn’t wait for fate to clear his ways, he bends destiny itself to carve them—writing his story where he’s the villain, not only of his own life, but of others’ as well.
| P R E S E N T |
Aayansh leans against the car’s roof, eyes fixed on the dark sky above, his expressions unreadable.
Aashika’s standing against the car’s bonnet, silent, then finally she murmurs “You’ve known I’ve been alive from the beginning— and still never tried to reach me, meet me at least once.” A bitter smile formed over her lips.
Aayansh doesn’t answer.
“Are you ignoring me?” She taunts, her eyes narrowing at him.
“If you feel ignored,” Aayansh says in his usual calm tone, giving a little glance to her “Then be it.”
“Sadu pumpkin” She mutters in her breath, frustration across her face.
Aayansh who has heard the word clearly, he ignores.
Aashika straightens, walking to the car’s boot and pulling out two beer bottles.
Reaching the front again, she holds out a bottle to Aayansh. He shoots her a cold glance, and she quickly mumbles in excuse “Ghuro mat! I don’t usually drink. Just sometimes.”
He ignores, without sparing her a glance as he takes the bottle from her hand.
Aashika leans back against the bonnet, “All these years were so tough, so lonely without our family—You, mom, chachi-chachu—But” She takes a sip before looking back at him “When did you get to know I’m alive? I was so fucking dead to the world.”
Aayansh also sips, eyes on the dark above “I don’t believe in what the world does,” He lets his words settle, “So for me, you were never dead.”
Aashika makes a dramatic face.
Then finally, she spills what’s actually in her head “Don’t you… miss mom?”
Silence.
Her eyes shift to Aayansh whose eyes are close, expressions unreadable and calm.
Aashika exhales, the weight heavy in her chest. She knows how useless this question was, because Aayansh’s someone who never lets anyone know what’s going on inside him.
They remain silent, aashika’s drinking.
“I won’t ask where you’ve kept tara…” she murmurs in a serious tone, “But—why have you separated her from the palace… and the family?”
Aayansh opens his eyes, voice colder than the night breeze.
“Because I don’t want her to witness another chaos.”
“Kya karne wale ho tum?”
| T W O D A Y S L A T E R |
EVENING — 7.08 P.M
Heavy rain lashes against the windshield, the night humming with thunder… drowning the city in its rhythm when Aayansh’s black car stills before his private villa.
He steps out—rain cascading over his tailored suit— soaking him in seconds.
Ordering the driver to park and leave, he himself makes his way to the silent villa. There’s no one here, not even servants.
Running fingers through his messy-drenched hair, Aayansh enters the empty hall, the silence mingling with the relentless downpour of rain outside. He takes off his blazer, tossing it on the couch as he lets out a small crack on his neck before heading toward the grand lawn outside.
As he reaches there, his gaze falls on Tara, lingering on her like a quiet caress.
He leans against the glass door, folding his arms as he stares at her like a man mesmerized.
Here, Tara who’s lost in her own world. Clutching her guitar, humming the lyrics as a soft melody flows from her fingers. The pink middie she’s wearing clings to her frame, rain-soaked hair dancing wildly with each movement, each sway of her like an angel untouched.
I’m the sunshine, you’re the dark
Together we make a twisted spark
I’m the light that fades in your eyes
You’re the silence that never dies…
Her voice floats over the rain, soft and intimate. Every word she breathes wrapping the drops in a heat, Aayansh’s gaze traces her every movement, the charm on her face, the sway of her hips to the melody playing with the soft hum of her voice.
Aadhi hai rehguzar, aadha hai aasmaan
Aadhi hai manzilen aadha jahan…
She’s so engrossed in herself when a loud crack of thunder tears through the sky, making her shiver. The guitar slips from her hand, hitting the wet ground with a dull thud as her body jolts from the shock.
She bumps into something hard.
Her eyes drop to his arms around her waist as she sighs, “Aayansh?”
He doesn’t answer, drawing in her scent, his lips hovering over her ear, eyes shut as the rain streams down his face.
In this silence, he’s breathing her.
Tara wraps her arms over his, locking them around her waist as they stand beneath the downpour, letting the ice cold drops drench them.
The world shrinks into nothing, the rain wrapping them both in its intimate rhythm.
Tara’s heart starts racing out of nowhere, embracing the addictive heat of him when he murmurs against her lobe, “I have a good effect on you.”
Her eyes flick open, thinking what to say. Then she excuses, breathless “Any girl would react the same if a guy she loves is so close.”
“I’m not talking about ‘any girl’—” He cuts her excuse off, his voice low and intimidating “I’m talking about my girl.”
She exhales, silent now.
Feeling the cold drops with the heat between them.
And in the next breath, Aayansh flips her toward him.
Tara lifts her head, eyes searching his… as he stares at her with the intensity that makes her stomach flip. Her fingers tracing his abs over the thin fabric of his shirt, he rests his forehead on hers.
“You’re so in love, Amour.” He says, eyes locked to hers with the same depth.
She falls silent, then murmurs “As if you aren’t?”
“I never denied,” His thumb tracing her rosy cheek, voice an intense whisper.
“You did!” She protests, “Remember the day we married, you said, ‘Love makes people weak and you have no weaknesses.’?”
His lips curl into a faint, knowing smirk.
“I always meant those words” His palm cups her face, holding her gaze as he finishes “For the world, love becomes a weakness at certain points in life. For me—” He tilts closer to her face until his lips hover over hers, “Tara Aayansh Oberoi is and will never be my weakness.”
Unblinking, Tara’s eyes stay locked and Aayansh, searching for a hint of his thoughts. But his eyes are like an endless ocean, one can drown in them, yet never fully cross.
Then her eyes get teary as she blinks, mumbling “I want us to stay like this forever, far away from all chaos, like a happy,” her voice breaks “... normal couple.”
Aayansh’s eyes turn cold the moment he sees tears glistening in hers, something darker flashing in his gaze.
Meanwhile, tara’s mind drifts back. The flashback of what she witnessed two days ago replay vividly before her eyes… how aashika revealed the things she never imagined… the faint, haunting traces of a brutal past.
“Open- the door, please” Tara’s breath dries, palms slamming against the sealed car’s window frantically as she panics.
“I c- can’t breathe, pl-please open the door,” Her voice dying before even leaving her throat.
Her eyes squirms in suffocation when her phone rings, she glances at the screen—Aayansh. With slightly shaking hands, she picks the call and blurts out “aa-aayansh… I c-can’t—”
Within minutes, her forehead pressing against the steering wheel, eyes blurring with tears when she senses someone’s presence… she stills, feeling too weak to move her body.
Aayansh, who has just arrived, his cold eyes directly lands on Tara trapped in the car automatically locked from inside. Fury darkens his expressions, muscles clenches.
With a sharp crack, his fist slams into the corner of the window, the brutal force makes the glass explode into thousands of fragments.
His bloodied knuckles fumble over the lock inside, a sharp click and the door swings on.
Sensing his presence, Tara lifts her crimson-streaked face, drenched in sweat and tears.
“Aay...ansh” A sob escapes her lips as she tries to crouch toward him when his cold and commanding voice cuts through— “Don’t move!?”
Startled, she roots in her place, realising tiny glass shards are scattered all over the seat and can hurt her bare skin.
Her fear-filled but relieved eyes stay glued to him as he shrugs his blazer off, leans halfway into the car, one knee braced on the seat. He drapes the fabric around her, his oversized blazer swallowing her petite form.
Carefully, one hand braced against the front glass, Aayansh hooks his other arm around her waist and lifts her with effortless strength. Tara’s arms instinctively wrap around his neck and legs over his torso, leaving her entire weight on him as he maneuvers through the shards— making sure not a single fragment touches her skin— he lowers them and the moment his foot touches solid ground… he cradles her out of the car against him.
As he stands straight, Tara, still clinging to him, lets go of all her fear and starts sobbing like a child… her small frame shaking against his chest.
Aayansh’s hold tightens around her, eyes flashing red as he exhales, muscles twitching with rage but he restrains the sadistic side of him…. Just because she’s already scared.
“Shh, relax jaan” He murmurs, kissing her hair “I'm here.”
Slowly, she pulls her face back, her teary eyes lifting to meet him as he wipes her tears with his thumb when she realises something.
“Your h- hand is bleeding,” She gasps, taking his hands in both hers.
Another wave of thunder crashes through the stormy air, Tara lowers her head, unable to bear the burning intensity of his gaze.
Her body trembles from the cold, but his stare at her tilted face doesn’t waver, the same depth… as if he’s reading every quiet corner of her soul.
“I’m feeling co-” Before she can even complete, he sweeps her into arms, making their way inside the villa.
A moment later, Aayansh stands in the closet—shirt and pants soaked through, fabric molding to the ridges of his frame—Damp hair falling messily on his forehead.
His phone pressed to his ear, “And you think you’ll get away breathing?” His voice is laced with aggression, calm but menacing “You know exactly what happens when I walk into these profit-loss games.”
Before the conversation can proceed, Tara slips behind him, his eyes drop to her arms around his chest as she presses her cheek against his soaked back, mumbling “No aggression, please.”
His eyes stay on her arms, he ends the call and tosses the phone on the couch before his hand locks around her wrist, pulling her in front.
Tara jindal—
“Don’t disturb,” I cling back to his chest, eyes fluttering shut as I murmur his own words to him “Let me feel you.”
His arm cradles around my waist, “You can feel me in many other ways,” He tilts on me until his hot breath ghost against my lobe, biting it as he whispers darkly “And positions.”
My ears heat up but I don’t pull away, hissing “No, this is the best way.”
The wet fabric of my middie sticking to my curves, damp hair plastering to my forehead and neck as I press myself against him harder… needy for his warmth.
His hands encircle my curves, letting me have whatever I seek.
This feels so good, I rub my nose against his chest and make patterns.
A moment passes.
Another.
I stay clinged.
But my breath hitches when I realise him unzipping my dress in one swift motion.
I detach to look up at him, “You—” words die in my throat as he grabs my nape, yanking my face up, his lips crash against mine. Brutal and desperate.
My eyes squirm shut, feeling his passion on my lips, I whimper in his mouth. He sucks on my lips, more feasting on them like a starving soul.
Slowly, I start reciprocating him. My back arches back with the intensity, hands reaching to tug his hair.
Minutes passes, he doesn’t stop, his lips crash harder against mine, tongue savoring every corner of my mouth.
I tap on his chest impulsively, breathless.
Aayansh traps my bottom lip between his teeth, sucking harder before biting with insatiable hunger—then finally—he frees me.
I gasp uncontrollably, chest heaving wildly as each ragged breath fights its way out. His mouth is already on the edge of my jaw, devouring my half-soaked skin.
He pins me against the closet’s wall, his mouth hovering over my neck. The heat of his lips against my neck sends a strange ache of pleasure within me, my hands clutch the wet fabric of his shirt as if my life depends on it.
I choke out, “Aah-yahnsh—”
“Shh—” He cuts me off in a whisper, his teeth grazing my collarbone.
Before I can even register, my soaked dress is on the floor— half torn.
I stand in my black shapewears, pressed between the closet’s wall and him.
He picks me in his arms, I hide my face against his chest and wrap my arms around his neck. A chaotic mix of shame, vulnerability, thrill and yearning coursing through as my cheeks burn with the heat of him, his touch and closeness.
He brings me to the room, pushes me down to the bed before detaching. Outside, the rain lashing against the rolling thunder, making the moment more sensual then already it is.
His intense eyes sweep the entirety of my exposed body, from head to toe, slowly as if he’s devouring me with his eyes.
There’s something beyond hunger with darkness mixed in them.
I turn my head to the other side.
He watches the shift of my expressions, every reaction, making me more flushed.
Should I spread my legs?
Shut up.
His gaze stays locked to mine as he lowers to my stomach, his mouth sealing over my navel in a hard, torturous suck that makes my back arch off the mattress.
My lips part, a broken moan slipping as fire coils low inside me, hands fisting in his clothed shoulders.
I twitch against the mattress when his grip clamps around my waist, holding me captive as his mouth trails all over my stomach, nibbling, biting and branding my skin with a bunch of marks.
“Mmmhh-” My legs tighten around his neck, letting him devour me the way he wants.
My muffled moans and cries echo in the room, mingling with the heavy downpour outside. The rain drums harder, so does my heartbeat.
The panties cling to me, wetness pooling down my folds.
His lips are on my inner thigh, gripping my ass, his teeth sink into my left thigh and I cry out— “Aah- yan slow.”
My eyes flutter open slowly, feeling the detachment of his lips on my skin, I look down with uneasiness, only to watch him getting up as he presses a button at the nightstand.
Next, I find complete darkness swallowing the room, but my breath falters when I look up—only to find the entire ceiling transformed into a mirror
My ears burn with shame as my eyes snag on my own reflection above, the thin black bra and panties clinging to me, lips parted, legs splayed in restless abandon. My light brown hair spills wildly across the pillow, face framing a flushed and exhausted crimson.
But above all, these marks all over my stomach and thighs, proving the torture of his mouth on me.
I’m so fucking scared.
But thrilled—
“Slide these off,” He orders, his gaze fixed on my slick panties while his fingers work to open the buttons of his shirt.
“Huh?” I flinch, biting my inner cheek.
“Slide that wet fabric off your beautiful thighs,” He rasps, his voice husky as he peels his soaked shirt off his body, tossing it aside— Eyes darkening with lust, shifting back to me “Spread these legs and give your husband the taste of the sin coating your tight little cunt.”
“You do have a mouth to do that” I gasp, his smirk deepens and a sharp coil of regret twists inside me.
Fuck my bold ass!
He doesn’t grant me another moment to part my legs, his hand forces them open, and before I can protest, his lips descend, tongue vibrating against the heat of me, “My mouth is starving to devour this pussy, but right now, I’m going to make love to my woman.”
My goddamn heart flutters.
I wanted this, wanted him to make love to me. He’s never gentle in bed, never the man who holds back his hunger, yet tonight, I’m aching for him to love me the way he did on his birthday.
His lips press against my soaked folds, the drenched fabric of my panties clinging between us.
Heat sears through me as my eyes drift to the mirrored ceiling, my own reaction staring back, legs parted with his face buried between them, his mouth closed over me.
I’m losing my mind.
I hook trembling fingers into the waistband of my panties and drag them down, baring myself to him.
His smirk curves darker, I can’t care less. Slowly, his tongue drags over my folds, savoring every drop of me, making my thighs tremble around his face.
My head falls back, eyes rolling back as pleasure surges through me.
My eyes stay on the ceiling as he rises, and a broken cry rips through my throat when he thrusts his thick, calloused thumb inside me without warning.
“Aaah—yah..ansh” I cry out, fisting the bedsheet and moving my head with sudden invasion, tears soaking my face.
I writhe between his legs, he leans down to peck my lips, murmuring against my mouth “Relax, it’s just my thumb.” He circles his thumb in me, stretching my clenched walls open and hitting the spots that make me twitch beneath him.
His thumb curls inside me, plunging in and out with frantic insistence. At first, it overwhelms me, but slowly, the rhythm finds me, heat builds as I surrender to the relentless pleasure.
And then, suddenly I shatter. A hot, trembling wave rips through me, I cry out as my body convulses and floods over his hand.
I feel his devilish gaze on me throughout as I collapse against the mattress, trembling.
I try to shrink, my cheeks burn with embarrassment as I realise I just squirted on his hand, the bedsheet beneath is drenched.
I shouldn’t be embarrassed, but I can’t help it. Every time he makes me squirt, my body burns with shame and heat… as if I’ve peed in front of him.
Flushed, my entire face burns crimson as I blink up at him, trying to look innocent.
Broad, toned chest and shoulders, finely carved abs and a devilishly handsome face. Oh god, he’s intoxicating, so sexy.
He shifts atop me, his full weight pressing down on his one arm. I’m pinned beneath him, still trembling and spent from the waves of pleasure that haven’t faded.
An intimate silence lingers between us.
I whimper when his thumb brush harshly against my clit down there, “So fucking sensitive” He whispers against my mouth, our eyes locked “So fucking ruinable.”
I wrap my arms around his back, eyes closing as his hand slides over my chest, cupping my left breast. He presses and kneads on it, making me moan over and over.
His warm lips closed over my collarbone, biting harder, and every unholy sound I’m trying to stifle slips past my lips.
Being intimate with someone you love never feels like mere lust, especially when they attend your pleasure and needs with equal intensity.
His mouth descends to my cleavage, licking and sucking the skin with a burning hunger while he kneads on my other breast, I shiver with his desperation.
My nails rake across his back, he doesn’t care, not even a bit.
His arm grips my waist, tilting me just enough for his mouth to trace my bare back, before he sinks his teeth into the hook of my bra, undoing it as he throws it aside.
My breasts spill free, heavy and aching. My hard buds brushes against his chest as he spins me back toward him.
His eyes are now pinned to my naked, heaving chest, I want to bury myself somewhere out of shame.
The ache in my buds deepens, unbearably sensitive under the heat of his unwavering gaze.
His gaze locks with mine, his voice serious as his eyes roam over my chest “Any difference?”
I hesitate, not sure if I’m blushing. “I—don’t know…” I look here and there “Maybe, they’re heavier now.”
He dips closer, planting a hungry kiss on each of my breasts.
My buds throb painfully.
Another thunder tears through the sky outside.
I wrap my arms around him, cuddling harder, pressing him to me until our chests fuse together.
Our heart beats mix in a rhythm, just me and him, as the world around us fades into nothingness.
He kisses my shoulder, his one arm locking me tighter against his hard frame, so close that his body overwhelms mine, forcing a gasp from my lips.
“I’m tired, aayan” I murmur somehow, eyes still shut, lips trembling.
He buries his face deeper in my neck, kissing and nibbling harder, his grip on me never waver… as if he means to consume me until I’m nothing but full of him.
His hand fumbles to unbuckle his belt, desperate and hungry, his breath husk against my heated skin as he rasps, “You're on pills?”
I bite my bottom lip, his hardness brush against my thigh as I pant, “I—aaya—”
“Yes or no?” He cuts in, voice rough, forcing my legs apart until he has complete access to my slick core.
“No—” I whimper, realising I’d been taking pills ever since that day in the office, when he released inside me out of his breeding kink.
He takes a deep breath against my chest.
I murmur “I’ll t-take after…wards—”
“Don’t,” He interrupts, leaning in to graze his lips along my cheek as his hand caresses my inner thigh. “It’s not good for your health.”
Aayansh detaches, slipping off his belt and tossing it aside. I lie open for him, exhausted and vulnerable.
He unzips his pants, pushing them down along with his boxers, his throbbing cock— heavy, thick and rock-hard—coming fully into the view.
I gulp, his eyes darkening with a raw hunger as he wraps his hands around his length, giving it a few strong strokes.
Then he reaches for the nightstand’s drawer, pulling something out—a condom.
He tears the packet open and slides it over his erection, desperate but unhurried. I watch him quietly. He doesn’t want me to get pregnant, but I do. I want him inside me, want to carry his babies, our babies, growing inside me. But no, I don’t have the heart to go through what happened with my first Babies again.
I don’t know why, but my hand drifts to my stomach, they were growing here, inside me… before leaving this world.
My angels.
“Come back to this world, amour” His hoarse voice drags me out of my thoughts.
He leans into me, one hand braced at my side, dragging his thick length down to press against my slick, aching folds.
My body trembles at the contact, his lips push against the edge of my jaw as he grinds against me, harder and harder but doesn’t enter and I’m already shaking.
“Mmh… Aah—yahn” Another unwilling moan slips, my head falling back as he presses his cock up and down over my folds, still not pushing inside.
My hands roam over his chest until he suddenly seizes my wrists, trapping them in one hand effortlessly and pinning them above my head.
My eyes roll, he’s still grinding his hard length against my slick folds, stroking up and down harder but doesn’t push inside.
“Baby—” He rasps, his lips nibbling on the skin just above my left tit.
Blinking through the haze, my lashes flutter as I stare back at him, breathless and undone.
“You’re so fucking soft” His husky deep voice vibrates against my skin, his hardness parting me for him to enter “So tight and addictive.”
A strangled whimper slips past my lips as overstimulation consumes me, his cock shows no mercy, nor does his relentless mouth on my skin.
Hovering over me, he drapes the blanket over our naked bodies, pressing his tip at my entrance without pushing in.
Against my mouth, he whispers “It will hurt.”
I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, fear and anticipation coiling as I mutter in ragged breaths “As.. if-if you…care?”
“I do,” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to my cheek, tucking a damp strand of hair behind my ear. “But once I’m inside you-” His voice drops darker, “There’s no care, no mercy.”
I shiver.
“Ready, baby?”
I nod timidly, eyes squeezed shut in dread.
The blunt head of his cock presses in, stretching me open. A cry escapes me, then a piercing scream rips through my throat as he thrusts in, filling me deeper than I can take.
It burns at first because of his size, his cock forcing me open beyond my limits, my walls clenching tightly around him.
I move my head with uneasiness, a choked sob escaping me, my body trembling beneath him.
He releases my hands, letting me dig my nails on his tight taut skin as he pulls my hips back. I scream “Aaah—yahnsh, it-it’s bur-ning.”
Unhinged tears soak my face.
Aayansh wraps my trembling legs around his waist, lifting me higher. He leans down, mouth crashing against mine, kissing me harder as he swallows every cry escaping past my lips.
Slowly, as he guides his length inside me, giving me just enough space to adjust to his size. The initial pain melts into a delicious pleasure, he doesn’t stop, lodging himself deeper in my cunt.
His lips devouring mine hungrily as I cling to him for support, my body has no energy to move. I just reciprocate the kiss, my nail clawing at his back.
Through my hazy gaze, I catch us in the mirrored ceiling. Naked, clinged to each other. Every inch of me is hidden beneath his broad frame, only my teary, smudged eyes peeking through. And my arms cling to his back, seeming so tiny against the power of his body.
I blush harder, staring at our reflection.
I exist for him, he exists for me.
I tap on his shoulder the moment I run out of breath, he detaches a little, rests his sweat coated forehead on mine—Looking intensely in my eyes, “We belong here,” He whispers, his nose brush mine “With each other, for now—” He pauses, letting my heart sink “And forever.”
I can’t form words, just stare back at him silently.
He buries his face in my neck, placing slow, hungry kisses on my skin. I tangle my fingers in his sweat-soaked hair, eyes squeezing shut, lips parted with pleasure and warmth as I draw him closer, wanting him to devour me the way he desires.
He’s still inside me, plunging deeper with every moment. His cock and lips on my skin are the only thing I’m feeling in my numb body right now. I bite his shoulder hard.
“Aaah… yah—nsh” I choke, lost in the pace he drives inside me, every thrust making me forget my own name, teetering on the edge until I lose my goddamn self before him.
But my eyelids flutter open slightly when his phone buzzes from the nighstand.
My head shift toward it.
He doesn’t budge, not even an inch, taking me with the same ravenous hunger, as if the world and every sound doesn’t exist.
I press my bottom lip between my teeth, suppressing the unholy sounds as I murmur “aa-aayan?”
No answer.
“Your phone—it’s ringing” I press with a shaky breath.
“It might be.. a-an important.. call” I somehow force these words out of my aching throat.
He strokes himself inside me, hitting my g-spot harder, murmuring “Nothing is more important than having my woman like this.”
And then suddenly, my body convulses. A desperate scream escaping me as I’m overtaken by ecstasy, trembling beneath as I come undone again on his length.
I have nothing left, utterly spent as I fall back against the sheets.
He keeps driving inside me, chasing his own release, the whole bed quakes beneath us with the force he’s thrusting.
I stare at his handsome face and body with a blurred vision.
Sweat glistens across his chest, his entire weight braced on his one tricep, hair tousled and clinging to his forehead as he moves above me.
While I’m lost in the overwhelming sensation, gasping and crying out, his arm tighen around me, pressing me even harder against him. Heat and fullness flood me as I realise he’s riding out the tremors of his hot, thick cum.
That freaking condom seperating his every drop from pulsing freely inside me, it’s unbearable, I want to feel his warm liquid filling me.
He relaxes, face nuzzled into my neck as he empties himself, his lips leaving lingering kisses along my collarbone. I shift slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder, my body still shaking with the aftershocks.
And in the next breath, he flips me over, settling me atop his chest. My head rests against his heart, legs draped around his torso—feeling the warmth of him beneath me as he presses his lips to my hair.
“I love you,” I murmur, hearing his heartbeats against my ear.
I patiently wait for his ‘I love you too’.
But he doesn’t say a word, just holding me as I’ll slip away somewhere.
I pull back slightly, resting my chin on his chest, murmuring with a flutter of heartburn “At least say I love you too!” My voice barely escapes, hoarse from screaming his name relentlessly.
He gazes deeply into my eyes, so intense it makes me forget how to blink… as if it’s hypnotizing me. Then, he murmurs “You’re hearing it.”
Confusion flickers across my face, “How?” I whisper.
He guides my head back to his chest, and his heartbeat echoes in my ears again, loud and steady, grounding me in the warmth of him.
“Words end when lips are shut, they’re meaningless, amour” His hand roams over my bare back, my heart flutters as he finishes off “What I feel for you is here.” I hear his heart beating for me— “Alive, beating until I’m breathing.”
I cuddle him, overwhelmed with the emotions.
Maybe I still haven’t understood him, I always expect him to follow the world ways—but no. My Aayansh is nothing like others, he’s different.
My eyes snap open when I feel him moving up, then it hits me—
He’s hard again!
But he just orgasmed, barely a few minutes ago.
While I’m still in daze, I feel my body lifted into the air as he carries me toward the bathroom and I realise he’s not going to spare me.
I breathe heavily, sprawled across his chest on the bed. Tangled in the sheets, our bodies still bare from the shower, where his torment hadn’t ceased… at last, I have a moment to catch my breath.
With my face hidden in his chest, I murmur slowly “You’re… so—cruel.”
Then something inside me snaps.
“Are you… sure I won't get pregnant?” Tension coils inside me, my voice barely steady. “You know… last time I took the pills on time, and still conceived.” I swat his chest with a gasp.
“But whatever, we’ll have only five babies—two boys and three girls—” I exhale, “No actually, three boys and two girls.”
I pull my face from his chest, tilting up to look at him. He’s leaning back against the headboard, head and shoulders relaxed. A cigar smoldering between his fingers. His face cold, calm and unreadable, as if he’s thinking something.
How can he be this relaxed after fucking the hell out of me?
“Stop smoking,” I snap, “You know I’ve read an article smoking affects the sperm production…and I want so many babies in future.”
His eyes drop to mine, a devilish smirk forming on his lips. He doesn’t say a word, leaving me confused.
But then I realise what I asked him a moment ago, ‘are you sure I won't get pregnant?’ and about the last time, my cheeks flush with embarrassment as I gulp.
I stay quiet for a moment, hiding my face. He crushes the cigar into the ashtray, then slips one arm around my back, pulling me more against his chest.
“I’m hungry,” I whisper, feeling my stomach twisting with a quiet burn.
He leans in a little, lips grazing my ear, hot breath fanning over my lobe as he husks, “I’m also hungry.”
“I’m hungry for food” I quickly excuse.
“And I’m hungry for my food” His deep, throaty voice does something low in my belly.
My eyes burn as I stare back at him, “You just had your food.”
His hand slides between my thighs, grazing over my sore, sensitive cunt. I shiver at the touch as he whispers “I want more.”
His hand captures both of mine, pining them behind my back against his chest. I whimper softly, breathless “No way—I’m so tired.”
I squirm my eyes shut as he presses me harder against him, I realise he’s not gonna stop.
His breath flow against my face, I struggle timidly in his hold.
No movements.
Just stillness and silence lingers between us.
I open my left eye a little, only to find him staring intensely at my face.
Next, I feel him shifting me to the side of the mattress as he stands. I quickly pull the blanket around me, covering my exposed chest and can’t help but watch him walking completely naked toward the closet—utterly shameless.
Within a few minutes, he returns, a pair of black shorts now on and with a black T-shirt in one hand.
Reaching me, he snatches the blanket away in one swift motion. I instinctively wrap my arms around my chest, heat rushing to my face.
He holds my arm, pulling me up onto my knees in bed. A sharp cry escapes my lips as the ache in my lower body flares, my muscles trembling as I feel he’s still inside me.
His eyes scan my body for a brief moment, tracing every mark he’s left on me.
“Too delicate,” He murmurs, towering over my head, his fingers brushing my shoulders as he slips the T-shirt over my head. “This wasn’t your first time.”
Bipolar.
I want to argue, but my throat is aching.
He wraps his arm around my waist, lifting me against his chest, my legs curl around his torso as I press close, cuddling him.
We reach the kitchen downstairs, he settles me onto the slab, my legs swing in the air.
There’s no servant or culinary staff here, he should’ve ordered something.
I don’t know why, but I’m dying to eat something spicy.
My hand reaches for his phone on the slab,
and I murmur to myself “I’m ordering something.”
Before I can touch it, he snatches the phone from my fingers and tosses it onto the couch. I stare at him, blinking in confusion.
He grabs some green vegetables, placing them on the board as he starts chopping.
No freaking way!
He’s gonna cook, but he just knows one thing in the name of cooking—That disgusting porridge.
Just the thought of its taste makes me want to vomit.
“I want to eat something spicy” I urge, sitting on the slab with my legs swinging in the air.
He doesn’t answer, his focus is on chopping. Once done, he puts the vegetables in a bowl, adding a few ingredients before sliding it onto the oven.
I wrap my arms around my stomach, burning with hunger.
Then my eyes wander around the kitchen, memories of the last time he cooked the same porridge—and banged me on the slab, then on the couch, against the wall, flashes unbidden in my mind and my cheeks heats up unwillingly.
That was so dirty!
“We’ve done far dirtier things than that,” His voice makes me glance back at him. He’s pouring the porridge into a bowl, eyes focused on the deed, then he walks toward me.
What the fuck!
He hands me the bowl, saying “Eat.”
My eyes drop to that eww thing. I swear I want to puke, but I force the thought down. Taking a deep breath, I lift the spoon, summon all my courage and begin to eat.
Please someone tell this man how horrible he is at cooking.
I mean, yuck!
Meanwhile I eat, Aayansh is talking on call with his usual face—I look at the time in vintage clock—03: 51 A.M!
After taking three fucked-up spoons, I stare back at him “I’m full.”
His eyes shift to me, that same monstrous gaze of his. “Finish all of it!”
I make puppy eyes. “I can’t—”
He cuts in, “You know I don’t care if you’re already sore.”
I quickly start stuffing the porridge into my mouth, finish it in no time and place the bowl aside before turning back at him.
I let out a yawn as he wipes the corner of my lips with his thumb, murmuring, “Good girl.”
AFTER A FEW MOMENTS:
Tara lay curled up in the hammock, swaying gently in the night breeze on the balcony. Exhaustion softening her features, after love-making-glow coating her cheeks as she drifts in a peaceful slumber… unaware of the world around her.
When Aayansh steps in, his gaze halts on her. The moon’s silver light casting on her face, some strands of hair gently swaying with the air. She’s still in his T-shirt, clutching a pillow to her chest… looking ethereal like an angel.
Serene and fragile under the dark night.
His gaze on her doesn’t waver, mesmerized with her quiet beauty.
She sighs with irritation as a stray of hair brushes across her face. Aayansh leans over, tucking the strands behind her ear before sliding his arms beneath to pick her up.
“Don’t… touch… me, I’m married” She murmurs in her sleep, voice soft and muffled.
Aayansh carries her inside the room, lifting her closer to his face. His lips hover over hers as he whispers dangerously “And who will stop me?”
Tara makes a disgusted face, deep lost in slumber, snapping with soft irritation “My husband will… break your balls.”
He lays her down on the mattress, but her hands cling to his shoulders, trembling as she mumbles through her haze. “I love—so much.. Aayan—sh oberoi.”
Aayansh’s lips soften into a small smile, rare and genuine.
He sinks down beside her, pulling her up on his chest. With a slow exhale, his eyes drift shut.
• N E X T D A Y •
AFTERNOON
Tara rests in bed, glancing at her gynaecologist Dr. Martha sitting nearby, focused on checking her with quiet precision as she wasn’t feeling good since morning.
“So” Dr. Martha finally asks, her voice soft “How often do you have intercourse, Mrs. Oberoi?”
Tara hesitates, mind scrambling for an answer, unsure what to say.
“We—” She manages to spill the words, “We had it just last… night.”
“Oh, And how long does Mr. Oberoi last inside you?” The Doctor pushes another question, making Tara burn with shame.
“Actually…” She murmurs, voice barely audible “He doesn’t stop— I think… half an hour… maybe more.”
How should Tara even tell she never stays sane when he’s inside her?
Dr. Martha, noting all this, rummages through her bag, searching for something. “So—” She presses, “Did he use protection last night?”
Tara’s eyes flicker here and there.
“Want to know the brand as well?”
Tara turns her head toward the door, finding Aayansh entering the room. His cold eyes on Dr. Martha, who lowers her gaze timidly.
“I… was just asking f-for information” Dr. Martha mutters hesitantly, without daring to put forward another word, she rises quickly and slips out of the room.
Tara’s eyes shift from her leaving to Aayansh as he covers her with a blanket “She was doing her work.”
He gives her the medicine, asserting “Sleep, you need rest.”
She nods, as he presses his lips against her forehead before leaving.
Moments passed since Aayansh has left, Tara is lying in bed, restless.
Something comes in her mind, she gets up slightly, reaching for her phone on the night stand as she dials to someone… hesitantly.
The call connects, Tara says nothing at first, then finally she gathers herself “Can you… can you please meet me today?”
Hearing the other person’s answer, she exhales and lies back in bed.
| O B E R O I I N D U S T R I E S |
Aayansh stands near the glass walls of his floor, eyes fixed at the world outside, a cigar pressed between his lips as smoke curls lazily around.
A knock cracks on the door. He doesn’t turn, ordering the person to enter.
Rivaan.
He halts a few steps from Aayansh, a sealed envelope clutched in his hand.
Rivaan falters, searching for the right words. He wants to ask about Tara, her whereabouts, her well-being…but he’s scared of his brother to death.
“Bhai… actually” He manages to spill, “Bhabhi—”
“You don’t have to think about her, Rivaan” Aayansh cuts in, his voice cold, eyes still fixed on the world outside.
“Sorry, Bhai, I was… j-just asking” Rivaan says, quickly recovering his composure.
“So you’re not concerned about your sister-in-law?” The burning cigar twitched between Aayansh’s fingers, playing like a twisted game.
“I am!” Rivaan quickly answers, “I was—”
“You know how much I hate anyone even thinking about my wife, right?” Aayansh’s voice is calm, lethal.
“S—sorry—bhai” Rivaan stutters, eyes immediately dropping to the floor.
“Stop stammering,” Aayansh orders, crushing the cigar aside “Keep the envelope on table and leave.”
Rivaan backs away and quickly walks out, as if he just escaped his death. “So manipulative” He mutters in his breath, heading out of Aayansh’s floor.
Finally, Aayansh turns, sinking into his chair, his fingers curling around the envelope.
Face blunt, eyes locked on the envelope as he slides the papers out. Tossing the empty cover aside, his gaze meticulously roams over each page.
Tara’s pregnancy reports: positive. Eight weeks, completely healthy. These aren’t routine results, but thoroughly examined, every detail confirmed.
Going through the papers, he sets them back on the table and leans his head against the chair’s crown. Closing his eyes, their last night’s moments replay vividly in his mind.
His hand grabs the paperweight, rotating it within his palm—expressions unreadable but something twisting is going on in his head.
After a moment, he opens his eyes and turns on the large screen in front of him. Tara comes under his gaze, sleeping peacefully in the bed.
His gaze looms over her, a satisfied peace settling in his chest.
To be continued~
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