Disha 

I glance around me cautiously like a thief stealing a moment to make sure no one is watching.

 Jessica is out for some personal reasons and the rest of the  staff is busy with their own task. No one is paying attention to me. It's just me who have been wandering idly. I had nothing else to do other than coming here. 

My feet drag me towards his study. 

As i enter, it feels different from the rest of the house even though it still caries the darkness which always lurks around. But still it's far away from main residential area as if it doesn't belong to rest of the outside world. The corridor leading there is dimly lit, its shadows clinging to the walls. A faint scent lingers in the air which is something like spice, citrus and sharp. 

If it had been night, I might've dared to wander upstairs, to peel back curtains and pry into the mysteries this house hides. But daylight makes me cautious, too many eyes could catch me.

In the past few days, he's been coming home regularly. Our exchanges have been silent, a war of glances. He stares with that unreadable intensity of his, and it's always me who breaks away first. Not because I'm intimidated or shy but because water fills in my eyes which I don't want him to mistake as my tears of vulnerability.

 Honestly speaking, i have been too tired to do anything. All i do is sleep, eat and collapse again. Headache always pound at my temples, my eyelids feel heavy, my body always need a bed to lie on. 

I think it's because of sudden change in my environment. When i shifted to ludhiana, it took me long time to get used to the environment there. 

Now i am back to Delhi after six years where my routine and eating habits have changed. I guess it affected my monthly cycle as well. I only had periods for three days but recently it's been over five days and my flow is heavier than to be called a normal. Maybe that could be the reason i am having drowsiness and head ache. 

Anyway, moving ahead, i plan to use Rudra's computer so i can log into my accounts and try to find some way out. I turn the knob and find the door unlocked. Relief flooded me and without waiting, i slip inside. 

My breath hitches at the interior. 

Everything is dark brown, walls, furniture except the books and files on the shelves. A massive desk is spread out in front dominating the room, having a perfect floor to ceiling window behind it. The chair behind it is tall, commanding, like a throne. Papers and stationery sit in meticulous order. 

 My hands find the curtains, pulling them to side. Light spills in, revealing a lush garden, looking peaceful. I can't help but smile at it, a brief betrayal of the storm inside me. 

Turning back, my gaze rakes over the dark brown leather couches, diamond-shaped pearls stitched into the design. 

I lean to check the drawers to table. As expected, all of them are locked which means there is definitely something important placed. 

Straightening up, is two books shelfs on either side of me. To my left is the file folders which looks like company reports. On the right are the books, all of them are about Business, economics, strategy—volumes upon volumes of ambition bound in leather. 

My gaze caught on one book at the very top with spine unmarked unlike the others. I move closer to it and try to reach for it, stretching, jumping slightly on my toes. 

Pain stabs my stomach with every effort, cramps tightening like a cruel fist. I pause, hands pressing into my waist as i breathe through the ache. Then suddenly i feel something warm trickling down my nose. 

I freeze.

Slowly, i lift my hand, fingers brushing under my nose. When i pull them away, my breath catches at the red stains on my fingertips. 

A nosebleed. 

I can't think when was the last time i had a nosebleed. It was that time in hospital six years ago when i was admitted to hospital due to high fever. That too because, most of medications causes me nosebleed. Since childhood i have been sensitive to medicines. When my periods started, it started affecting my periods as well. So i preferred less medications no mater how much painful it was.

But the question still hangs there. Currently i am having no medications. 

I rush out of study with a hand under my nose to kitchen with panic clawing at me.

In the kitchen, I fumble for tissues, pressing them hard against my nose, changing them when they soak through. My mind races in spirals.

 Normally i would never panic, knowing what medications i have taken that would have made me consult a doctor immediately. 

But in this situation. 

What am i suppose to do?

 My thoughts start piercing together the fragments, sharp as broken glass. The sleepiness after meals. The constant drowsiness that blankets me the moment i eat something. 

I have been so alert and careful around me knowing anything could happen. But never in my mind crossed a thought that something could happen to my meals too. That was the only area where i let my guard lose. 

I glance around the neat and clean kitchen. Looking innocent in appearance but who knows what kind of things have been hiding here. 

Driven by a mix of fear and fury, I decide to find the truth. One by one, lids clatter, containers fall open. Spices spill, sugar scatters, pulses scatter like beads across the counter. Plates shatter as I push them aside, drawers left gaping, cupboards wide open. Within minutes, the once-pristine kitchen is into chaos.

I find myself silently praying that it's not what i am thinking. But still, i find myself searching. Deep down i know, person like Rudra can go to any heights. 

After finding nothing for minutes of search, i lean against the counter, chest heaving, palms pressed hard to the counter behind me. 

Thank God. 

I wipe my damp forehead with the back of my hand, anger simmering into exhaustion. 

Then, Sound of approaching footsteps reach my ears. Jessica enters followed by the maid she went out with. Her eyes sweep across the chaos and then land on the bloodstained tissues scattered across the floor.  For the first time since I stepped into this gilded prison, I see something shift on her face. Perhaps—concern?

"Are you okay?" she asks stepping closer to me. Her sternness softens, eyes flickering with tenderness. 

My chest tightens. There hides a motherly nature beneath her cold shoulders. There is no way a mother would do that to their own child. 

I grip on to the hope tightly, swallowing the lump in my throat at the dryness of my mouth. If there is nothing wrong then she will say it. And it will be over. 

"Have you been adding any medications to my meal, Jessica?" i ask bluntly not beating around the bush. I hear my heart thudding through my veins. 

Just as her softness evaporates into air, i find myself losing my balance. I grip the edge of counter tightly. Her black eyes stare back at me almost like she accepts the shit she have been doing with my food while i complimented her cooking every time and tried to build a understanding with her.

"I need answer Jessica. Don't you dare play dumb with me." My voice rises, furious. 

"It was Rudra's orders."  

A laugh burst out of me, jagged and hysterical, almost alien in my own throat. My hand trembles as I wipe away the tear that has escaped the corner of my eye. 

How could i think that she would be a mother figure to me when she have been tied to Rudra for longer than i know. She works for him. Anyone related to him is my enemy. I took her silence as kindness and distance as restraint. Guess what, i got played. 

I shake my head in disbelief. Who knew that bastard would have gone this far? 

After all why not? 

If he could tie me into this marriage then why not drug me into obedience too.

I turn to her, my laugh replacing with coldness. 

"What was it?" 

"Sleeping pills." Her answer lands like a slap. 

For one second, relief floods. At least it wasn't a poison. He wasn't slowly killing me but the relief is fleeting, replaced by a rage. 

He have been drugging me like a prisoner. So i won't have energy to fight against him. So he can control as much as he want. 

My gaze flickers past her to the doorway where other maids have gathered, whispering, watching me like some spectacle. Their lips move in hushed tones like they always do. But today it stings. 

 I am among people who barely know me and married to man who hates with his all being. 

This feels like mockery.

Something inside me snaps.

My hand grips the counter so tightly my knuckles ache. Bitterness drips with every syllable as I spit, "Tell me—how many of you have ended up in his bed?"

A ripple of shock runs through the room. Jessica's face blanches, her lips parting as she whispers my name like a warning. "Disha—"

But I'm past warnings and decency. 

 I push myself off the counter, stepping forward, my arms folding smugly across my chest. "Do you whisper among yourselves whose turn it is every night? Hm?" My voice is scorn wrapped in silk. "You must. You probably do."

I know my words are venom. But it feels too good to give others the same wound i received. After all i am not the kind who keeps debt.  

I snap my head to Jessica, with all respect gone leaving nothing but betrayal. "What about you Jessica? You have been working for him for what... fifteen years. Did yo-

"Mind your next words, MRS DISHA SEHGAL." The air splits with a growl, deep, vibrating through my spines. 

Ice prickles across my skin even as fury surges higher.

I turn.

And there he is. 

Devil.  

He stands in the doorway, filling it entirely, dressed in a dark business suit, jacket unbuttoned, hair mussed as if he's just torn through the day itself. His brown eyes blaze—not just anger, but something darker, heavier, a storm locked behind his gaze. 

And all of it is directed at me. His light stubble makes him look more like a heartless bastard.

His footsteps drag closer, heavy, deliberate, until he's an inch away from me. The air shifts with the heat radiating off his body. My fists clench so tight my nails dig into my palms—I restrain myself from planting them straight into his face.

Our eyes clash like blades, neither willing to drop. His towering frame casts a shadow over me, his head tilting down as he is foot taller than me. 

I step closer, so close our bodies brush, defiance crackling between us like static.

I rise on my toes, leaning to his ear, venom dripping from my lips.
"Tell me, Mr. Sehgal... are you into older women? Is that why Jessica is so precious to you?" 

His expression turns stern more than before. Before i can even read it properly, he grabs me, yanking me off the ground. My scream shatters the silence as he slings me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Put me down, you bastard!" I shriek, fists pounding against his back. "I swear to God, Rudra, I'll kill you!"

He ignores me, striding down the hall as if I weigh nothing. My fingers claw into his hair, yanking so hard I'm sure I'll leave him bald. He grunts but doesn't slow. My legs kick, heels slamming into his chest, his stomach, whatever I can reach. The bastard just tightens his grip on my thighs, holding me like prey he's claimed.

He kicks my bedroom door open, strides inside, and throws me onto the bed with such brutal force that the impact rattles through my bones. Pain explodes at the side of my head, my ears ringing, vision blurring.

I hear 'bee' sound in my ears. 

By the time I blink the haze away, the sharp rip of tearing fabric fills the air. Cold air stings my skin, and I realize with horror—it's my top, shredded, pieces fluttering useless to the floor.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" I snarl, scrambling back on the bed.

He looms above me, eyes dark, voice low and merciless.
"Showing you what kind of woman I'm actually into. So, next time you keep your pretty mouth shut before asking who climb to my bed or not."

Fear coils in my stomach. But I bite it down, forcing my voice sharp, laced with venom.

"Too bad. You're not the kind of man I'm into."

I ram my knee upward, aiming for his groin. He twists aside with infuriating ease, a cruel laugh rumbling from his chest. 

"Stop, you bastard." i shout, scratching my nails into his arm, kicking my legs in every direction.

He catches my wrists, slamming them against the mattress above my head, pinning me like a predator. His gaze rakes down at my upper body in just bra, my chest rising and falling up with my restrained rage.  My skin tingles as he looks down to my ribcage.  My stomach muscles tightening under his heated gaze staring down at my novel down to my waist band. 

I feel disgust at his lustful gaze raking over me. Even with my hands bound, i manage to dig my nails into his hand enough to bleed. 

"Don't" i warn before his gaze lower to where i certainly don't want. 

His eyes flick back to mine, smirk curling with smug cruelty.
"I own the right to claim what's mine, Mrs. Sehgal."

Disgust writhes in me, bitter and choking.
"I already hate you, Rudra. Don't push me to hate you enough to become a monster like you."

His jaw clenches, muscles in his forearms tightening as his grip bruises deeper into my wrists. With a swift, brutal motion, he flips me onto my stomach. My knees jam into the mattress, my cheek pressed hard against it. His weight traps me, his breath hot at my neck, his clothed chest grinding against my bare back. 

I feel his gaze on my back, locked to my hook of bra. 

Tears sting at my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. 
"It will be considered rape, Rudra." My voice breaks, low but fierce.

His body stills. His hand hovers an inch from my bra hook, hesitation slicing through the tension. I push against the pause, trying to twist out from under him, but he holds me down, immovable.

His lips graze my ear, voice a blade of anger. "You need to control your mouth, Disha. If you won't keep it in control, i will have to take matters into my hands." 

"Your cruelty deserves cruelty in return. How could you drug me with sleeping pills? Now you are trying to force yourself on me. I didn't know you could go this low." 

"So you lashed out at my staff." 

"They deserved it for always following your commands." 

"They don't. I am the one who orders them. And Don't ever talk rudely to Jessica again. If you have problem with her talk to me. Keep your attitude in check. This is my hell, Disha. I own every inch of it—and everyone in it."

"Remember this—you dragged me into this hell. I didn't come willingly. That means I make my own rules while I'm here."

He suddenly flips me back over, caging me beneath him again. His face hovers just inches away, his warm breath fanning across my skin, his cologne drowning my senses until I feel lightheaded.

"You need to learn following my orders." 

I huff, "Order my foot. From now on i won't trust anything related to you." 

He stares at me with unreadable expression probably thinking how to get rid of me without actually throwing me out of this house. 

 "I could die from the sleeping pills you have been giving me." 

"But you didn't. You're still alive. I don't see any problem."

Bile rises in my throat. My chest heaves with fury.
"Just because I'm breathing doesn't mean I'm not in pain. But you wouldn't know, would you? Men like you never care. A woman bleeding herself raw is dismissed as dramatic. Sensitive. Weak. Typical Men."

His silence only fuels me. 

My lips curl with bitter disgust.
"I hated you before. But now? Now you disgust me."

A cruel satisfaction flashes in his eyes.
"Good. Then you know what to expect of me."

He releases me suddenly, sitting up. I shove at his chest, scrambling back, wrapping my arms around myself as if that will shield me from his scorching gaze. Without looking away, he snatches a blanket from the side, tossing it at me.

I clutch it to my chest, unbroken, watching him peel off his suit jacket, then his watch, every movement deliberate. He doesn't spare me another word as he strides to the balcony, phone pressed to his ear, his back a wall of command.

I slip off the bed, blanket dragging around me like armor, and stumble to the closet. My fingers fumble through the clothes, desperate for something thick which won't tear easily.

When I step out of the closet, clutching the new clothes I've forced myself into, he's still there—standing tall, staring out the balcony window. The dusky light casts his figure into silhouette, cold and untouchable. He doesn't turn until I'm fully in the room.

And when he does, his eyes lock onto me like a command.

"Doctor is coming to check up, just to make sure you are not really dying." he says sarcastically. 

My fist clenches. "I won't be dying without killing you. So rest assured." My tone is sharp, acid-laced, as I stride past him to the bed. 

I snatch up my phone, ignoring the ripped fragments of my earlier clothes scattered across the floor. My fingers fly over the screen. I don't let his gaze shake me.

I book a ticket to Ludhiana for tomorrow morning.  

Once done, I toss the phone onto the bed with deliberate finality.

But his gaze doesn't waver.  He takes a slow step toward me—deliberate, when a sharp knock at the door interrupts.

He pulls the door open. 

Jessica steps inside, followed by a middle-aged woman holding a bag, dressed simply but neatly, her presence screaming professionalism. 

"Thank you, doctor for coming on such short notice," Rudra says smoothly.

My blood boils. Who knows if he gives me more dangerous drug. 

 "I told you I don't trust anyone!" My hand snatches a pillow from the bed and hurls it at him with all the rage I can muster. "Just leave me the hell alone!"

The pillow bounces off his chest, harmless.

The smug curve of his lips cuts me deeper than any retaliation. "She's losing her sanity," he tells the doctor, the mockery dripping from his tone as he gestures casually at me.

My jaw drops. My anger flares. "You bastard—!"

He doesn't give me a chance to finish. His strides eat the space between us until I'm backing away, scrambling across the bed, retreating until the headboard slams into my spine.

"Stop this, Rudra!" My voice shakes, a mixture of fury and something I refuse to name.

"Not until the examination is done." His words are final, his hand snaring my wrist before I can resist. In one swift motion he pulls me into his arms and sits down heavily on the mattress, forcing me onto his lap. My back is pinned to his chest, his arm coiled around me like a steel band, caging me, trapping me. My fists press against my own ribs in stubborn defiance, but his hold doesn't budge.

"Go ahead, doctor," he orders.

"I am not a child," I snarl, twisting in his grip. "Just leave me—"

"Shh." His breath brushes my ear, a whisper that steals the words from my lips, sending a strange, unwanted shiver down my spine. "It will take a few minutes.... Afterall, i can't let my wife die so early."

Against my will and pride, my body stills. My pulse hammers in my throat, but my limbs fall slack, exhaustion overriding rage for a fleeting moment. The doctor moves closer, placing her kit on the bedside table. 

She presses the cuff to my arm, checks my blood pressure, and asks calm questions. I answer curtly, glaring into the void, refusing to look at him. 

He openly admits he have been giving me sleeping pills two times a day which shocks me and the doctor. But she says nothing as she belongs to his world of deception and betrayal. 

The doctor clears her throat, pen scratching onto her notepad, her face tightening with disapproval. "That explains the dizziness, the headaches. But she'll need further tests." Her gaze softens when it turns to me. "Any other symptoms?"

I swallow, voice low but steady. "I've been on my period for five days now. Usually, they last three. The flow is... too much. Not normal. And—" I hesitate, but force the words out. "I had a nosebleed too."

His arms tightens around me at my confession. 

The doctor nods grimly, jotting more notes. "That can happen with heightened hormonal stress and drug interactions. I'll prescribe medicines that won't trigger nosebleeds. Avoid strong sedatives at all costs."

Doctor packs up her bag quickly, excusing herself with lowered eyes. Jessica trails after her, and the door shuts with a heavy thud.

The silence that follows after the doctor leaves is suffocating, a heavy blanket pressing down on my chest. I shove myself off his lap the very second the door clicks shut, rubbing furiously at my arms as if I can erase the memory of his grip, as if his touch has burned into my skin.

"Why didn't you tell me about your problem?" His voice cuts through the silence, sharp and edged with something I know better than to mistake for concern.

"As if you didn't feed me pills without once thinking of the consequences." My words slice, but I want them to. 

I stare at him and noticing the conflict in his eyes and posture. 

With bundle of curses, he storms out of the room, slamming the door with such force the bedframe rattles, shuddering under the impact like the tremor of an earthquake.

I let out a sigh of relief at the solace of my room. I reach for my phone, typing out Arohi's number, thumb hovering over the call button... then freezes. 

 I tried calling her few day ago but Rudra informed me Jiju went to business trip just after three days from their marriage. Knowing Arohi is alone, completely new to this city and to people around her, i can't put my burden on her. I can't just ruin her newly married life. 

With a bitter sigh, I fling the phone aside and flop face-first into the pillow cursing all the punjabi cursing words i learnt in past six years. 

8:00 pm

The door creaks open. Rudra steps inside, carrying a plate of food. I had expected him to disappear to work but no. He have been haunting the house since evening like a shadow that refuses to detach from it's source. 

The hot water bottle hidden under my blanket suddenly feels like incriminating evidence. He had brought it earlier, which I'd stubbornly refused to use. Yet, when he left, I'd caved. This doesn't mean i swallowed by ego. I just used it because it was going to be waste. 

He sets the plate on the table, his voice firm but deceptively calm. "Sit down and eat. You need to take your medicine."

I turn my back to him, crossing my arms. My silence is louder than words. I won't eat his food. I won't drink his water. Tomorrow, I'll be gone.

"Didn't you hear me?" His tone drops, demanding.

"I'm not hungry."

A pause. 

Then his reply, low and challenging: "Fine. Let's see how long you can starve yourself."

I don't look at him. The room grows still, unbearably so, until curiosity forces my gaze sideways.

He hasn't left. He's seated by the window, a book and his laptop resting in his hands as if he has all the patience in the world. His posture is relaxed, deceptively casual, but I know better. His shirt clings to him, sleeves buttoned to the wrist as always, his figure annoyingly unshaken.

My eyes flick up—just for a second—and collide with his. That fleeting connection is enough to set heat crawling up my neck. I tear my gaze away, but the weight of his stare remains, pressing against my skin, unraveling the resolve I cling to with bloody knuckles.

11:30 PM 

My stomach growls with hunger. My throat is dry, as if I've swallowed dust.

It's just me in his room. He must have gone to sleep in another room. Ever since i am here, it's me who have been sleeping alone with his visits only when he want something. 

I glance at the clock. 11:30. 

I push myself upright, slip my feet into slippers, and grab my phone before slipping quietly out. The corridor is silent, the kind that feels heavy. 

As i step into the living room, my eyes catch on him.

He is sprawled across the couch, his head tilted back, his chest rising and falling in an unhurried rhythm. He's asleep. Vulnerable, in a way I've never seen him. My fists twitch. A part of me aches to walk closer—not for comfort but to choke the life out of him. To rid myself of this cage once and for all.

But then the house presses around me, the walls themselves watching. I am in his den. These walls would betray me, give testimony against me. He owns everything here, even the air I breathe.

Grinding my teeth, I shake the thought away and make for the front door. My fingers curl around the knob, twisting once, twice—nothing. 

Locked.

And then his voice slices through the silence.

"Where are you planning to go at this time?"

My body stiffens. Slowly, I turn. He's awake now, already on his feet, arms folded over his chest as he studies me. His honey-brown eyes gleam in the dim light, too sharp, too aware.

"Open the door, I want to purchase a few things."

He tilts his head, one brow raised. "At this hour? What do you need?"

"I don't owe you an explanation."

"Yes, you do." he says calmly.

I roll my eyes, masking the quickening of my pulse. "As if I'd take your words seriously. Just open the damn door."

His mouth curves into that infuriating smirk. "Keys are in my pocket." His hands drop to his sides, casual, deliberate, before he takes a slow step closer.

I extend my hand. "Then give them to me."

"Find them yourself."

My teeth clench. I step closer, telling myself it's only because I want the damn keys, only because hunger and thirst are clawing me raw. If I can just get water, some biscuits, anything—

My hand reaches for the pocket of his joggers. That's when he moves. His palm settles at my waist firmly, pulling me closer. My breath stutters, caught between panic and something else. But my fingers push forward, slipping against the opening of his pocket.

A shiver runs through me when his breath brushes the side of my neck. He doesn't kiss, doesn't touch—just lingers close, warm air ghosting over my skin, raising goosebumps. My spine tingles, traitorous.

"Found it?" His voice is husky, low, vibrating against my bones. My stomach knots, not with hunger this time but with a sharp twist of sensation that coils lower, unfamiliar. His fingers rest at my waist, motionless yet burning, as if they brand me with their stillness.

I swallow, forcing myself to look up. His gaze locks with mine. And suddenly, memories crash through me from Arohi's bachelor party at the strangeness of his gaze. 

That night i was drunk, completely off guard and spent my night with him not having sex but sleeping in his arms, rambling non stops about how much he pisses me off. How much his honey brown eyes does something to me. How i hate when he looks at me with dark look which i didn't know earlier but i know now. It's hatred. 

I ended up confessing he had became my wet dream. I admitted things a sober woman will never admit to her crush, only when she is drunk. Like a drunken i was i admitted everything my past, my present and maybe that's why he got to know so much about my past and used my own information on me. 

And then Arohi's wedding night which turned out to be the same time of me getting marrying to him. I don't know if I hate more that I share my wedding date with my best friend... or that I ruined all the little dreams we once shared for each other's marriages. He took them. He ruined everything.

My voice cuts through the haze. "Why did you use my mother's fake voice and image to trap me that night?" 

His hand slides upward, cupping my face, tilting it until our lips hover a breath apart. "Because you used shadow trap to hide during bachelor party. You knew i would want you and you dared to deny what's already mine. I just played your own trick on you." 

I glare at him, searching his face. "How is that your right? At least tell me why you married me. What am I supposed to expect from this? What do you want from me? Why do you hate me so much?" My voice breaks, damn it, and I hate that it does. But the look in his eyes—the same strange tenderness from that bachelor party night—slips beneath my defenses.

"If i told you the reason, you will hate me more than you already do. I am fine being a monster as long as truth stays hidden. If you adjust, i will stop treating you like a bird in my cage and let you fly within limits but if you try to fly without my permission i will have to keep you caged." 

"I already hate you. My mother will be broken after knowing i am hiding so much from her. Arohi won't like i will be hiding under her nose. She is the only one who i can open up to. You took everyone from me who loves me only to hate me." 

Something flickers in his eyes— something I can't name. His thumb keeps circling under my jaw, betraying him. "Maybe I'm done watching you from the shadows. I want you close, even if it means living with your hate."

A tear slips free before I can stop it. "You've turned my dream into a nightmare, Rudra."

"As long as i am still in your dream i accept it." he murmurs with the depth which is unknown to me. What is he hiding? What truth is he twisting out of reach?

I whisper, "At least let me ask you one question. And answer honestly." 

He goes silent but his thumb speaks in a way that his eyes lie, body hides. I have never been so comforted than i am in this moment. Even though he can snap my neck within seconds but one thing i know, he values my life more than i do myself. He is like a flicker of light in a forest full of trees misguiding me into coming back into same place. 

"Answering depends on me." he finally says.

 My mind instantly races with thought making pros and cons on which questions to ask first so i can know something deep about him. The moment feels too fragile, i can't lose the chance. 

I stay silent, heart racing, thoughts swirling, and eyes don't dare to look away, knowing if i broke the gaze, the comfort between us will fade.

"I'll save it for next time." My fingers brush the keys inside his pocket at last, but I don't pull them free. I don't step back. I just stand there, suspended in the charged air between us, my heart betraying me louder than my hunger ever did.

Reluctantly, I pull away from him and turn towards the door. My fingers fumble against the cold metal of the lock before it clicks open. Without glancing back, I step out, carrying the weight of my earlier emotions with me like a shadow.

I head towards garage and press the button. Soon the shutter lifts, i enter and walk towards the same car i used last time taking the key from hook. It seems to be the only key to my freedom of few minutes. 

I slide into the driver's seat, and start the engine.

The moment the main gate comes into view, I push down on the accelerator. Behind me Rudra's car glides into position. The guards glances between us, then at his subtle hand gesture, the gates swing open.

I shoot forward, the tires screeching against the road, but his headlights follow relentlessly.

Out on the empty stretch, his car edges closer, pulling up beside me. He rolls down his window, his expression sharp against the night. He gestures for me to do the same. I ignore it, and slam my foot harder against the accelerator.

I slow down when i see a 24/7 store. I kill the engine and step out. Rudra storms toward me, his fury written across every line of his face.

Before I can react, his hand clamps around my arm, his grip bruising, dragging me closer. For a second, I see it again—that terrifying reminder. This is the man I married, not the man who had just softened me minutes ago. He cannot keep distracting me with sweet words and fleeting tenderness.

"If you drive recklessly like that again," he growls, voice low and edged with steel, "I'll make sure you never touch a steering wheel again."

 "Why not? Don't you want me dead already?"

His jaw clenches, and his fingers dig deeper into my arm. "If I wanted you dead, Disha... you wouldn't be standing here talking back to me."

"Oh?" I yank myself free from his grip. "Then I should be grateful, shouldn't I? That I'm still breathing in this toxic air you've wrapped me in."

I don't wait for his reply. I turn and march inside the store, aisles of snacks and bottled water offering small comfort. I grab what I can to keep me satisfied. 

Walking to cash counter, i display my items on table. Cashier scans the items, suddenly her hands still. I follow her gaze behind me. 

Rudra stands just behind me. His next words makes my blood run cold. 

  "If you don't want trouble then don't give her anything. She just escaped from an asylum. They are already looking for her." he says smoothly. 

My mouth falls open. "What—?"

"You won't believe me?" He tilts his head, the perfect picture of concern. "Look at the color of her hair. She dyes them whenever want new victim and  flips into violent episodes in seconds. If you sell to her, you'll regret it."

The cashier stiffens, hesitation flashing in her eyes.

I slam my hand on counter, anger rising hot in my chest. "Don't listen to him. He's lying. I'll pay online—see? Right here on GPay." I say trying to keep my voice polite. 

"She probably stole that phone," Rudra adds lazily, his words slicing through the air like a knife. "You don't want trouble, do you?"

My nails dig into my palms as i turn to him. "Can you stop with your rubbish for once?"

Cashier don't dare look at me. I can see the refusal forming on her lips. Before i really turn violent and prove his words, i turn on my heel, storming outside. 

I kick his car so hard that the pain shoots up to my foot. Of course, not the one i am using but the one he always drives. 

"What the hell do you want from me, Rudra?" I snap, glaring at him. "I have basic rights to buy food."

He doesn't flinch, doesn't even raise his voice. "Why would you buy outside when food is already waiting for you at home?"

"So you can slip pills into it again?"

He steps closer, not too much, just enough for his words to sink in. "I promise—no more pills, as long as you don't try to run from me. I'll... find another way to keep you with me."

I don't want to trust him.  "And if you don't keep your promise?"

He holds my gaze, unblinking. "I'm a man of my words."

"I don't trust you." My shoulder brushes his as I walk past, refusing to give him the satisfaction of another glance.

I get back into my car, hands shaking as I grip the wheel. This time I drive slower, the fight in me simmering, not blazing. I go to two more stores only to face two more humiliations. Each cashier already poisoned by Rudra's careful lies. Each time, I'm the insane woman with strange hair, denied the smallest dignity.

By the time I return home, my body aches with exhaustion, my stomach growling in protest. I park the car, shut the garage door, and drag myself upstairs.

I collapse onto the bed, yanking the blanket over me, shutting out the world and him. My hunger claws at me, but I let it. 

My door creaks open, I don't turn. My pride keeps my back stiff, my gaze pinned to the wall.

"Don't make me force feed you." His voice is low, threaded with steel.

I sit up despite the rebellion simmering in my chest. It's better i eat myself if i am already meant to eat the food. 

He moves closer, dragging a chair to sit in front of me, placing a bowl on the nightstand. When my eyes flicker over, I find it's coconut oil. 

"You didn't eat," I mutter, eyes falling on the two untouched plates.

"Don't talk." His tone slices clean, making me fall silent.

I stare at the plate in front of me, unmoving. My stomach twists with hunger but my hands refuse to obey. Seeing my hesitation, he calmly takes my plate, scoops a bite, and eats it himself. Then another And another. As though proving, one spoon at a time, that the food holds no threat.

My chest squeezes. I hate that he knows exactly how to corner me.

"I want to ask now" I whisper, my voice quieter than I intend.

His eyes lift to mine but his silence is permission.

"Is there anything you hate? Do you... do you have anyone you're scared to lose? Someone you'd go to any height to protect—stained hands, dirty games, whatever it takes—just to keep them safe?"

His answer is immediate as if he is sure about who it is. "I hate my existence. Bringing me to the life cost three innocent lives."

A shiver runs down my spine.

"And There are two women I want to protect."

I swallow hard, then risk a question I'm not sure I want answered. "Does that... include your mother?"

His silence is louder than any words. My lips twitch into the faintest smile—the first in what feels like days. At least this monster's heart still beats for a woman who gave him life.

The wall between us cracks. I break off a small bite and chew slowly. Minutes stretch into a fragile silence while we eat together, the rhythm strangely domestic.

When I'm done, I lean back against the headboard, the water cooling my throat, satisfaction settling heavier than the food.

He gathers the plates without a word. At the doorway, he pauses, his silhouette framed by the dim light. "Don't miss the medicine. If it hurts again, call me." Then the door shuts softly, his exit nothing like the storm he usually leaves behind.

But his words linger. Three innocent lives for his own breath. What does that mean? Was it truth—or just another carefully crafted string to bind me tighter? I don't know. I can't trust him. Hell, I can't even trust myself when he turns like this.

Hours later, I stir to the dip of the mattress. Warmth spreads behind me, and then—fingers, gentle, threading through my hair. The touch is so careful, so unfamiliar, it breaks me in places I didn't know were whole. My headache eases under the slow massage. My body betrays me, I curl closer, sinking into that warmth.