Author POV

Yaksh Villa – 6:15 AM

The whole mansion was quiet. Too quiet—like no one lived there.

Birds chirped softly outside, their sound too innocent for the dangerous man who lived inside.

Just then, the bathroom door opened.

Aastha stepped out, her anklets chiming softly.

She looked breathtaking—ethereal, exquisite… words felt insufficient to describe her beauty.

She was dressed in a dark wine-colored saree.

Her long hair was open, slightly damp.

The mangalsutra glistened around her slender neck.

The sindoor in her hairline looked like blood—a promise that screamed loudly: she now belonged to someone else.

The red chooda on her delicate wrists jingled softly, so small compared to her devil of a husband.

Her lips were naturally red, holding a quiet grace.

Her eyes, lined with kohl, could make anyone lose themselves in them.

A small red bindi rested on her forehead.

She was soft. Too delicate. Too innocent… for her own good.

And she didn’t even realize who her husband truly was.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice him.

Leaning against the doorframe, Pratyaksh watched her.

A slow smirk appeared on his lips.

“Hmmm…”

His gaze moved from her head to toe, studying every curve beneath the saree.

Aastha froze.

Her heart seemed to stop for a moment. Her cheeks burned instantly under his gaze.

Because he wasn’t just looking at her.

He was devouring her.

He stood there shirtless—broad chest, defined abs, droplets of water sliding down his skin—making him look dangerously masculine.

Dominating.

Ruthless.

Irresistible.

His eyes slowly stripped her, unwrapping her saree in his mind—teasing, tormenting.

Then he started walking toward her.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Each step making her heart race faster.

Because he knew.

He knew exactly how much he affected her.

Her breathing turned uneven.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly.

She stepped back, clutching her saree tightly.

He kept moving forward.

Until — She hit the mirror behind her.

A soft gasp escaped her lips at the sudden cold touch.

Her eyes lowered… then slowly lifted to meet his.

Innocent.

Wide.

Nervous.

He stood in front of her.

Too close.

But not touching.

Not yet.

He leaned near her ear, careful enough to avoid contact.

But Aastha… unconsciously leaned closer.

A soft gasp escaped her lips.

“Ah…”

Her breath trembled.

His breath brushed against her ear.

He chuckled softly.

A shiver ran down her spine.

Goosebumps rose on her skin.

“Kafiye behad khubsurat gulab ho…”

( Really, you're very pretty rose. )

Her eyes snapped open.

“Gulab…”

Her cheeks flushed instantly.

His hands moved behind her back.

Careful.

Controlled.

He lifted her hair gently, placing it over one shoulder.

His fingers reached her blouse strings.

Her eyes widened.

Aastha POV

As soon as his hand moved behind my back, my eyes widened.

His fingers held my blouse strings lightly.

I couldn’t breathe.

Standing this close to him…

I felt like I would fall apart.

He leaned closer.

I shut my eyes.

Then I felt it—

A soft tug.

The strings loosened.

“Ah….

A gasp escaped me.

My hands gripped his bare arms tightly, pressing myself against his chest without realizing.

“Breathe, Rose,” he said softly.

As if I wasn’t already losing control.

I slowly opened my eyes and looked at him.

My cheeks burned.

My breath was uneven.

He chuckled at my state.

My brows frowned.

I was falling apart… and he found it amusing.

“Rose…”

He whispered again.

This time teasingly.

A shiver ran down my spine.

He tugged my strings again, making me press closer to him.

I felt weak.

So weak.

“I… aapne bola tha aap mujhe touch nahi karenge…”

He tilted his head.

Again.

“Hmmm… bola to tha,” he said calmly, “but I’m not touching you, Rose… am I?”

I had no answer.

He was right.

He wasn’t touching me.

Yet…

I tried to step back.

Another tug.

My body arched slightly, pressing against him again.

“Breathe slowly… I’m not going to eat you,” he said.

Then paused.

“Not yet.”

My breath hitched.

“I’ll unwrap you slowly… petal by petal.”

My heart pounded violently.

“And soon… you’ll enjoy it.”

My fingers tightened.

“You’ll beg me for more… won’t you, hmm Rose?”

I couldn’t even look at him.

Another sharp tug—

“Ah…”

My body pressed fully against his chest.

Then suddenly—

He tied the strings back.

Tightly.

Too tightly.

My chest lifted slightly.

Heat rushed to my face.

His eyes dropped.

Not to me.

But to my cleavage.

He leaned down.

Barely brushing his lips against my skin.

A soft gasp escaped me.

He didn’t stop.

He inhaled me there slowly.

As if memorizing me.

My grip tightened on his arms.

After a few seconds, he pulled back.

But his eyes still lingered.

“Behad khubsurat nazara hai…”

Before he could do anything else— I ran.

Out of the room.

My anklets chiming.

His faint chuckle echoing behind me.

Third Person POV

Hospital – 3:25 PM

The hospital was in chaos.

Doctors and nurses rushed through the hallways.

Inside the operation theatre—

The smell of antiseptic filled the air.

Bright lights illuminated her fragile body.

Avyukt Thakur stood there in green scrubs, his face covered.

Blood stained the sheets beneath her.

He stared at her.

Broken.

Bruised.

Barely alive.

His jaw clenched.

“BP?”

“80 over 50, sir… dropping.”

“Start fluids. Two lines.

Now.”

“Scalpel.”

His hands were steady.

Too steady.

“More suction—I can’t see anything.”

“Liver laceration… damn.”

“Pulse is weak, sir!”

“Hold it steady!”

“Gauze. More gauze!”

“Heart rate falling!”

“Adrenaline. Now.”

“Come on…” he muttered.

“Stay with me.”

But she was slipping away.

“Sir… we’re losing her.”

“No.”

“Defibrillator. Charge it.”

“Clear.”

Shock.

Flatline.

“Again.”

Shock.

Nothing.

Silence.

“Time of death… 1:47 AM.”

His voice was calm.

Too calm.

“Cover her.”

He removed his gloves slowly.

And walked out.

Myra rushed toward him.

Her eyes red.

Swollen.

Filled with fear.

She stopped in front of him.

Waiting.

Hoping.

He looked at her for few minutes.

Then said—

“She’s no more.”

Author POV

Aastha ran through the hallway, her heart still racing.

Her cheeks flushed.

Her breath uneven.

Slowly… she stopped.

The mansion felt too big.

Too empty.

She looked around, trying to find her way downstairs.

Then—

Her eyes fell on a photo on the wall.

She froz

e.

Her hands trembled.

Her past came rushing back.

Because the photo was garlanded.

And beneath it —

“Late Aryavardhan Singhania.”

Thankyou guys that all for this chapter. 

I hope you all will like it and tell me what was your favourite part. 

Please do a vote too as it really encourage me for writing next chapters. 

Finally my exams are over and now I'm feeling so relieved and free...