Disha 

I am cold. So cold that my limbs have curled instinctively, trying to gather whatever little warmth I can find under the blanket. But there's none. Not even a whisper of comfort. I cover my ears, trying to block out the haunting echo of my mother's screams—only for them to grow louder by the second. Panic start to rise in my body as i find myself surrounded by a puddle of blood around me, knife in my hand and bleeding figure lying on floor. I want to scream but no word is coming out of me. 

"Open your fucking eyes, Disha." 

My eye lids fluttered open to meet a pair of honey-brown eyes, glaring down at me with a clenched jaw. Veins throb at his temple, so angry and alive they look like they'll burst at any second.

"What did you dream about?" he asked, venom lacing his voice. 

His large, warm hands are cradling my face firmly, his thumb is stroking my jawline. Its too gentle for someone like him. He must be doing it absentmindedly otherwise, a devil like him can never show tender gestures. 

I try to shift, suddenly aware of his weight pinning me down. "Get off me," I hiss, my voice defiant.

His gaze flicks to my lips, then back to my eyes, slow and calculated.

"And if i don't?" he taunts, smirk pulls up at his lips, he moved his hands to pin my wrists above my head to overpower me. 

I arch my neck slightly, tilting my head to get a better view of him. "Then I swear I'll knee you so hard in your balls, they'll need a funeral."

His thigh is already pressing against my knee. It wouldn't be difficult.

He just chuckles, the audacity of him. "Go ahead. Just remember, you would be harming the father of your future kids."

My eyes widen in disgust. "I won't be having any kids with you. Or letting you come anywhere near me."

He leans closer, his voice low and filled with dark promise. "Oh, you will do both. It's just a matter of time."

His fingers tighten momentarily around my wrists before he pushes off me and stands. The pressure lifts, but the tension lingers.

I scan the room for the first time. A grand four-poster bed beneath me. To my left, tall windows, a plush couch, and a door in the far corner—likely a bathroom. Everything is too polished, too perfect. Like a castle built to cage. 

"Welcome to my hell, Mrs Sehgal." he said before vanishing through the door.

He returns moments later and places a sleek, brand-new phone beside me on the bed.

 "Inform your mother. I have appointed a 24/7 care taker for her who will watch over her. She will start from tomorrow-

I sit up abruptly, rage flaring. "I swear Rudra if you tried to harm her i will really kill you without another thought." 

"Oops. I am scared by your threat Mrs Sehgal. You scared the shit out of me." he gasps dramatically with wide eyes to mock fear. 

"Screw you, You bastard." i throw pillow at him in frustration. 

He dodged the pillow with ease. "Wives should show their husbands some respect." 

"Wife, my foot," I snap. "If a husband is anything like you, a woman should start praying to be a widow."

His brows rise, crossed his arms across his chest, the white t-shirt he is wearing starts to strain his large frame with his muscles bulging out. 

"So i assume, you are wishing for my demise?" His voice is softer now, but carries a dangerous undertone, he pins me with his dark gaze. 

"Absolutely. You signed up for your own destruction the moment you married me." I raise my hand, flaunting the wedding ring with disdain.

His gaze lingers on my hand, then travels up to my face. Wordlessly, he turns and disappears into doors again. 

I lean back against the headboard, arms crossed. If he thinks I am going to share this room with him, he's delusional. His very presence feels like poison in the air.

Minutes later, he reappears—this time dressed in a crisp business suit, his expression devoid of any trace of the earlier heat. Cold and controlled. He adjusts his cufflinks and walks towards the bed.

"There's medicine on the table. You had a fever," he says matter-of-factly. "Jessica will bring your breakfast and show you around the mansion. Don't try to run. I'll catch you before you even reach the gate."

I roll my eyes and make no effort to respond.

He steps closer, then abruptly grips my chin, forcing my gaze to his. His honey-brown eyes meet mine, calm yet lethal. He isn't suppose to be this handsome. A devil like him deserves to be a ugly as dump.

"Understand?"

 I grit my teeth and smile sweetly. Then, without warning, I rise to my knees, bringing my face level with his. He looks surprised, but says nothing as I fix his collar, brushing the imaginary dust off his shoulder.

 My venomous gaze meet his, batting eyes innocently. My voice drops to a chilling whisper. "I wish you a very unsafe journey, dear husband."

His smirk returns just as I press my palm against his injured shoulder—hard, applying high pressure to see any ounce of pain. "When you drive, I hope a truck smashes into your car. If you sit at your desk, may the ceiling collapse. Whatever you eat, I pray it gives you food poisoning. And may each day of your life from this point forward be your unluckiest."

 His eyes narrow slightly as I grab his collar and pull him closer, my hatred burning. I lean to his ear to whisper. "And if your eyes ever wander to another woman..." my breath brushing his ear. "...may you go blind."

Before I can lean back, he snakes one hand behind my head, threading his fingers into my hair, and yanks gently but firmly. Our eyes lock—his expression matches mine: dark, intense

"Such a pretty lips, spitting such venom." he murmurs, his thumb brushing across my bottom lip, slow and deliberate. "I'm a lucky man, having a wife who sends me off with such heartfelt blessings." he pulled my head closer until our lips are breath away. My grip on his injured shoulder is so tight. I can feel the bandage under my hand but no ouch of pain on his face. It frustrates me. 

"I think someone was saying something about not letting me near." his words reminded me of my own words.

Oh shit. How did i forgot? 

 Before i could react he smashed his lips against mine. He kisses me like a flame of fire. I should be burning but i am not. It just makes me want to wish for flames to go more chaotic and burning.

A while later...

"You are open to go everywhere expect the upper floor. Rudra doesn't like letting anyone go upstairs." Middle aged woman jessica said.

She's a middle-aged woman with graying hair tied neatly in a bun, head in charge of this mansion where 6 more helpers work with her. 

The mansion itself feels more like a gothic fortress than a home—beautiful yet brooding. Tall, arched ceilings. Antique chandeliers. Velvet drapes. It has the kind of coldness that latches onto your skin. Not a surprise, considering it belongs to a devil like him.

But what could he be hiding up there?

My curiosity begins to hum like tingle beneath my skin. Secrets. Maybe something I can use against him—leverage, a crack in the armor. The thought alone sends a thrilling chill down my spine, like the first touch of winter air after summer. 

I focus back on the old lady. We are now in garden. Front garden is simple but elegant. There's a striking fountain statue of a winged creature. My feet move itself as if a pull drawing me closer. I have never been the person who was interested in old art but this one catches my attention. 

I reach out and touch the cold stream of water flowing from the statue's neck.

The creature stands tall and proud, eyes closed as if meditating. Wings outstretched—but broken. Cracked at the edges. And the strangest part? The deep cut along its throat, from where the water falls like blood turning into purity. It flows down its chest to the pedestal, like it's bleeding serenity.

It feels... symbolic.

Just like Rudra. 

I shake off the thoughts and remind myself to focus. My mind briefly drifts back to conversation i had with my mother in morning. It took me good 2 hours to explain her. At first she panicked but later on she calmed down. Any mother on her place would have been worried sick for her daughter if she suddenly says she isn't returning from the best friend's wedding just because she got career options from the city which she escaped dearly. 

Thinking about it leaves a bitter taste in my throat. Since i have lot of free time. What should i do for my dear hubby? Should i blow off his kitchen. 

Umm... no. 

That's not a good idea because it will be his workers who will end up cleaning it. I want to get under his skin then fuck with his sanity. He welcomed me in his hell. I will make sure to dominate him in his own hell. 

My gaze falls on the large iron gates then the garage. Evil thought strikes my head. I walk back to my room to execute my plan.

I rummage through the brand-new wardrobe stuffed with designer tags and luxury fabrics he must have arranged for me. I end up choosing jumpsuit in black and white. Its elegant and classy. I tie my hair up in a neat clip, do light make up. 

I grab the black card i found in his closet. I don't know if its intentional or what. But its now in my hands. I get to do whatever i want. 

Before heading out, I switch my phone to silent.

As i walk through the hallway, jessica's voice made me stop. "Please don't forget to inform Rudra. He will get worried." 

I flash her a sweet smile. "I'll call him on the way, Jessica. Don't worry. Have a good day." I lie. I don't plan on informing anything to anyone. 

 i resumed walking wearing my branded glasses. He might expected me to do a pity party but he doesn't know me. I'm the kind of person who would dance in the rain at her own funeral. And now that I've got a rich, arrogant husband? Time to enjoy the perks.

"Take driver with you." 

I wave my hand in goodbye at her without turning around.

 When i reach the garage. my eyes land on a stunning navy blue custom sports car. Sleek. Sinister. Expensive.

Would he mind if I put a little scratch on his precious baby?

I smirk.

Grabbing the keys from the hook, I slide into the driver's seat and admire the dashboard. It's packed with buttons I don't understand.

 I am not a good driver. The only time i drove was during my driving lessons. So basically i am just a beginner. 

The engine roars to life, deep and commanding. As I pull up to the gate, the guards hesitate.

I roll down the window with practiced sass. "Open the gate. Rudra called me to his company."

They exchange a look, clearly uncertain.

I raise a brow and smile. "Do I need to call him and tell him you're holding up his wife?"

Click. The gates open. It was easy than i expected. 

I never thought i would really feel this good in my forced marriage. Would he divorce me if i end up spending all his fortune within a month? Probably. Would he hate it? Definitely. From now on, i will do the opposite of everything he says. He says go right? I will go left. He will demand peace and i will bring chaos. The mere thoughts make it more enjoyable. 

Let's see how long the devil lasts in hell with me.

I reach the mall and spend the next few hours in pure blissful destruction. Designer dresses, lingerie, shoes, matching bags, glittering set of makeup, and absurdly priced jewelry. 

Then, just for the drama, I march into the salon and demand a full makeover. Hair washed. Styled. Dyed from black to a platinum blonde. But I add a twist—a one-time-use red dye that will wash out in one rinse. It's ridiculous. I hate all of it.

But I do it anyway. Just to spite him.

My phone rings for what must be the hundredth time—his name flashing across the screen like an annoying ghost.

I decline the call and head towards my car. I load up my car with shopping bags.

I spend at least 15 minutes in car to think about my next visit. I don't want to go to mansion. I have known most of the areas of delhi. So it feels nostalgic to be able to drive here freely yet it feels tied. 

I don't have anyone in this city who i could call. I revive the engine once again and put the next location to GPS.

 St Mary Graveyard.

As i drive, my mood is no longer cheerful. 

After my 8th birthday party, we had to move out from our old apartment. Our new apartment building was basic. My mother did multiple jobs so she had told one of our neighbours to drop me and pick me from school as their kids were in same class as me.  

Whenever i use to step out of building small puppy with brown fur and big innocent eyes use to follow me around. I use to get scared of him whenever he stepped closer. Eventually he started following me but at a distance. I don't know when i gave him name. Brownie. 

All he wanted was my attentions but i couldn't give him because i was too scared to do that. My fear was developed after knowing that my mother was once bit by one of the dogs in past. She was in so much pain. Despite the fear, i started looking forward to having him following me. 

It was random day when he was following me to school when many bulky street dogs started barking at us. Brownie like a protector barked at them and then ended up being attacked by all of them. He died on the spot. I still remember the tears in his eyes when he closed them. 

People who were gathered took him to grave to bury him. I was crying so much and trying to get out of the grip of aunt who was walking me to school. I managed to get myself free from her and ran after the people. That was the first time when i skipped the school. I cried in distance watching people digging a hole. 

I brush off the lone drop of tear which escaped from my eyes. I park the car outside the grave and step out, removing my glasses. A shiver climbs down my spine the moment my feet touch the familiar path. Nothing's the same... yet everything feels unchanged. It's been years since I last came here.

My feet moves itself and leads me towards my brownie. I wonder if i will still find him there. 

I suck in a breath when i found a large familiar tree giving a shelter to the healthy lily plant. 

For a second the world starts to circle around me, the memories from that time floods back to me like a water fall. 

Does this mean it was really a ghost? 

I step closer and drop to my knees. My fingers hesitantly touch the blooming lilies i demanded from that ghost. 

  Flashback - 8 years old, St. Mary Graveyard, Delhi 

My cries fills the silent place, each one shaking my small frame. My hands are fisted, resting on my folded knees, while my gaze is fixed on the freshly dig soil. 

"Brownie......" i whisper for the hundredth time. Each whisper of his name cracks something deeper in my chest. 

Sky is dull, full of dark clouds. The wind is too strong, rustling of dried leaves are scaring me. Graveyard isn't a good place to visit. Mumma told me there lives the wandering souls. Does this mean brownie would be here too, watching me? 

Suddenly the sound of footsteps crushing the dead leaves makes my body freeze. 

When a figure stops behind me, i try to turn my head to look at whoever is behind me. But before i could glance back, a large hand landed on my crown of my head to keep me still, so my gaze is fixed on the spot where brownie is lying. 

"What are you doing here?" came a deep, gravel-edged voice from behind me. "Shouldn't you be at school?"

I stiffened, muscles locking with fear. My mother's warnings rushed back—never talk to strangers, especially men, especially alone places like these.

I once again try to look back but the hold on my head is firm and gentle at the same time. 

"Don't look back ." person said from behind. What if he kidnaps me just like mumma warned.

My lips quivered. My chest rose in panic. I lift my hand to wipe my tears with my dirty hands. "W-Why?" i ask sliding by hand into my bag to pull out my pencil to attack if he tried to harm me. I don't know much about fighting, but I had started learning to protect Mumma. That made me brave, didn't it?

My eyes closed briefly as i felt a gentle pat on my head. 

"Because," the voice replied slowly, "I am a ghost."

 A chill shot through my spine. Before i could stop myself, i started crying loudly, holding  my school bag tightly around my chest. 

I hear the ghost laughing then stroking my head. "Stop crying or i will possess you." 

That only made my cries louder.

He sighed dramatically. "Stop crying. You'll wake Brownie up. He needs rest." 

The mention of Brownie silenced me instantly. I swallowed the sob building in my throat and glanced at the flower. My heart ached, but I bit my lip hard to muffle my sorrow.

"Do you want to make Brownie happy in his next life?" the ghost asked.

I nod.

" Then, close your eyes, little one. Pray for his well being in next life." 

Without hesitation, I wiped my nose with the back of my hand and shut my eyes tightly. My lips moved silently, whispering prayers I barely understood but meant with all my heart. I prayed that Brownie would be loved wherever he went, that someone would pet his head gently, that he would never have to run after anyone ever again.

I felt the ghost shift behind me. His hand never moved from my head, but I sensed him bending down. A moment later, something soft landed in my lap.

"Open your eyes," he said quietly.

When i obeyed, i found my favourite choco lava cupcake in my lap. 

"Y-You do magic?" I whispered, unable to hide the wonder in my voice. I instinctively turned to look at him, but the hand on my head tightened slightly, keeping me forward-facing.

"I told you i am a ghost. i can do anything."

"Can you bring Brownie back too? Just once? I want to pet him one last time..."

The hand loosened slightly, as if caught off guard by my plea, but it stayed there. The ghost's voice turned solemn.

"No" 

 I blinked away the tears and took a small bite of the cupcake. It's warm. Soft. Delicious. Just the way I remembered before everything went wrong. Papa promised he would bring 2 cup cakes for me on my birthday. But neither he came nor my cup cakes. I thought i would never be able to have this again. 

"After this, you will go back to school and never leave the school again. This place isn't safe."

"Is it because of you? i heard in my stories that ghosts don't have a body then how do you have it? i want to look at you. are you ugly? did someone murder you? Is that why you are stuck here?  your soul is wandering he-

A burst of laughter cut through my rambling.

"Don't use your brain so much, little one. Yes, I'm ugly. Very ugly. If you saw me, you'd run away screaming. Next time if you skipped school again then i will posses you." 

I should be scared but i am not. Mumma said good spirits linger sometimes, especially near the innocent ones. I didn't know if that was superstition or truth, but something about this ghost makes me feel... safe.

I finished the cupcake in minutes, licking chocolate from my fingers, then shyly lifted my hand holding empty cup. 

"Can i have one more?" i ask.

The ghost groaned in mock irritation. "You have such a big stomach for such a tiny frame."

Still, he placed another warm cupcake in my hand without protest. I giggled, delighted, and hugged the new one like treasure.

"This is the last," he warned. "After this, straight to school. Promise me."

I didn't reply. I was already too busy devouring the second cupcake, eyes shining, heart a little lighter.

"I want to stay here today. Please

Present

"Ahhh!"

A scream tore from my throat the moment my feet left the ground. My arms instinctively flung around the person's neck, then my eyes locked into honey brown eyes. My heart skipped a beat at his angry murderous look. The fury in his gaze could burn down worlds.

For a moment i thought its a ghost. But its my devil husband. Because of him my long lost memory is left in mid.

I quickly look away, trying to mask my rising pulse with false bravado. "You should be scared of me," I said lightly, "I have connections with the paranormal."

It was a joke. Mostly.

But the way his jaw clenched—tight and violent—wiped the smile off my face. No sane person would believe me that i really met a ghost years ago. I wish he had been late i would have regained my all lost memory. 

He walked without a word, each step echoing with silent warning. 

"Such a bad luck," I muttered, trying to fill the thick silence. "I thought maybe you would get hit by a truck, or the ceiling might crash down on you. But it seems like even the universe is on your side today. I guess I will have to ask my ghost to unalive you personally."

He stopped. Then he turned to look at me, and the chill that crawled down my spine had nothing to do with ghosts.

His steps halted. his gaze met mine again. It sent a shivers down my spine. "Tell your fucking ghost. You won't be coming here again. I won't tolerate your relationships even with a male ghost. Get that in your red head." he resumed walking towards the blue car.

His voice was steel wrapped in smoke. And then he resumed walking, dragging my trembling defiance straight to the waiting blue car.

He deposited me into the passenger seat with zero grace. I fumbled with the seatbelt, glaring at him. "Merciless," I muttered under my breath.

He stayed near my door. His gaze fixed on my red hair. I don't look at him, let him try to burn me with his glares. 

He slammed the door shut followed by many cursing in foreign language. 

The car roared to life. The hum of the engine filled the silence, but it couldn't drown out the tension. His hands gripped the steering wheel like it personally offended him. 

I turned to the window, hiding the grin that tugged at my lips. He didn't like my red hair—his expression when he first saw it had said enough. And the money I blew today? Definitely added fuel to the fire.

When the car halted in the driveway, he stepped out, circled the vehicle, and yanked my door open. I barely had a second to react before he grabbed my wrist and began dragging me through the hallway. We passed Jessica, who opened her mouth to speak—but one glare from him had her turning away without a word.

He didn't stop until we reached the bedroom.

Then, straight to the bathroom.

He pushed the door open, pulling me under the showerhead without explanation. My eyes widened, but I didn't resist. I was too curious. Too intrigued.

He shrugged off his jacket, left in just a white shirt clinging to his frame—and turned the water on.

Cold water crashed down on me. I shivered, my mouth parting in protest, but his stare kept me still.

Then he reached for his own shampoo.

He poured it into his palm and started rubbing it into my red-streaked hair. His movements were rough, controlled only by the storm he was clearly trying not to unleash. The scent of his shampoo—musky, masculine, oddly comforting—wrapped around us.

His fingers tangled through my strands as he scrubbed, his breath shallow. His shirt plastered against his torso, revealing the thick bandage peeking through the cotton on his shoulder.

When he finally rinsed out the last of the lather, he switched off the water and reached for a towel. He wrapped it around my head, gently but with a simmering irritation.

The moment his eyes caught the blonde underneath the red dye—my latest rebellion—his scowl deepened. 

I smiled. Purposely. Amused. I want him to notice it so it can give him a idea that his restlessness amuses me. 

He took a step closer and i took a step back until my back touched the shower wall, his large hand cups my jaw, tilting my face up to meet his. He was eye level. Too close. Too intense.

"Spend as much money as you want, Mrs. Sehgal," he said lowly. "But don't you dare mess with your originality."

Each word was barely a whisper, yet thundered in my chest.

I batted my lashes innocently. "So you don't like my new hair?"

His gaze dropped to my mouth. "I. Don't. Like. It."

The water trickled down from his damp hair, sliding along his jaw and disappearing into the soaked fabric at his collar. My fingers itched to follow the trail, to trace the path with something more than curiosity.

"So sad," I said, feigning pout. "It'll take weeks to get my natural colour back." I lifted my hand and lightly grazed his cheek. "Who knows if you will be alive long enough to see it again."

A dangerous smirk curved his lips.

"I won't be dying anytime soon, Mrs. Sehgal."

His words broke my innocent facade and brought out the real me. The side of me trying to keep my anger, hate in one side to trap him. 

"I own my death, little one." he whispers, leaning closer until his nose is brushing against me. "Death will come only when i allow it." he lean towards my ear. "When that happens, you will be crying mess, mourning me. I promise."

I scoffed, refusing to flinch. "I doubt that."

"I don't make promises I can't keep." he confirmed the words like sealing it into our fate. I hated how those words curled around my spine making me react despite the reluctance. 

Before I could reply, he backed away.

"Get changed before you catch a cold," he muttered.

I rolled my eyes and, with perfect dramatics, mimicked his tone behind his back. "Get changed before you catch a cold," I echoed, just loud enough for him to hear. 

He paused at the doorway. Slowly turned. His eyes pinned me in place.

"And don't ignore my calls again," he said. "You'll regret it." he disappeared from my sight.

I will make you regret before regretting myself Dear Husband. Its my promise to you.