"Drop whatever you have in your hand and raise your hands up."The thug’s voice was cold, steady, with the knife pressed threateningly against her neck. Asha stood frozen, her wide, tear-filled eyes fixated on Raghav. Fear shimmered in her gaze, the glistening tears catching the dim light, but the terror radiating from her was far more intense than the tears could convey. Raghav stood just a few steps away, his body taut with tension. Inside, his blood boiled as his gaze locked onto the knife, anger burning through him like wildfire. His jaw clenched so tightly it ached, and his hands fisted at his sides, but he knew he had to stay calm. For her. "Leave her," Raghav growled, his voice low but filled with barely contained rage.The thug smirked, tightening his grip on Asha. His eyes glinted with malice as he twisted the knife ever so slightly, causing Asha to flinch."Give me the keys," the thug hissed, his tone mocking. "And you'll get your wife."Wife?The situation was perilous, a
After the nurse treated her minor injuries he was all set to carry her to the car in his arms as she again started struggling not come with him which led him to forcefully carry her to the car. He partially understands why she is showing resistance today. He shouldn't have stab him infront of her. He guesses that might traumatized her. He settled her in the room, guiding her gently onto the bed, but she quickly scurried away, retreating to the washroom and locking the door behind her. He watched her from a distance, his expression neutral, almost as if he had expected this."I don’t want you near me. Please... leave me alone... for a while," she said, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and exhaustion. She knew that by asking him to leave, she was giving him another opportunity to impose himself on her. But she tried to make herself clear, hoping he wouldn’t interpret her request as an act of rebellion. It was more than that. She was traumatized, panicked, and needed s
Asha's mind strained, searching for fragments of a memory she could barely grasp. Had she really done what he claimed? She couldn't remember. She didn’t have memory loss, not exactly, but even now, a faint hunch nagged at her, suggesting there might be some truth to his words. Yet, no concrete recollections surfaced. Too much had happened in her life, too many chaotic events layered one upon the other. How could she remember such details, especially from those tumultuous years when everything was random, haphazard, and she was only a child? “That’s ridiculous!” she exclaimed, a bitter edge creeping into her tone. “You held a grudge over something a little girl might’ve done?” He leaned back, his expression calm as he rested a hand on his knee. His gaze settled on her, cool and detached. “I never held a grudge against you, Asha,” he replied, voice steady, almost dismissive. “Don’t go assuming things.” “Then why did you do all this to me?” she shot back, her voice tight with anger.
He stared at her, suspicion and surprise etched across his face. “What do you mean you didn’t receive it? I sent it directly to you.”She shrugged, a weary look crossing her face. “Maybe it never made it to me. Maybe the girl you gave it to tore it up. I don’t know. But I never saw it.”He looked away, processing her words, his face betraying a rare vulnerability, as if he were realizing what might have been. A faint trace of regret crossed his features, as though he’d lost a chance he’d never get back.“Then tell me,” he said, his voice breaking the silence. He looked back at her, his eyes almost pleading. “If the letter had reached you—would you have said yes? Would you have married me?”She exhaled sharply, a scornful smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She ignored his question, refusing to indulge him. But he pressed on, a spark of desperation in his tone.“Don’t ignore me. Tell me, once and for all. If you’d known, would you have agreed? Would you have been willing to marry
Only five days left, and somehow, time feels like it’s moving slower than ever. He's becoming stranger, in ways that I can’t quite wrap my mind around. He’s acting soft, almost gentle with me—and the fact that I find this behavior weird says a lot about the impression he’s left on me. I didn’t expect any softness from him, not after everything he’s done, everything he’s shown me about who he really is. Maybe things started shifting that day. Maybe he’s finally noticed how much his cruelty has affected me. Perhaps he’s softened because he saw the trauma he inflicted, or maybe he’s realized that I was never at fault to begin with—that it’s all a product of his own misguided assumptions, his projections. But this sudden change, this unexpected softness, feels almost as troubling as his previous coldness. Still, I can’t ignore that every benefit seems to come with a hidden cost. He may be gentler, yes, but now he’s becoming uncomfortably persistent, trying to engage me in conversatio
No one in the room could sleep. She lay awake, her body tense as she remained acutely aware of him behind her. There was an unspoken understanding between them, fragile but present, like a thread stretched too thin. She was holding up her end of their silent deal—staying close, talking to him when he needed it—but she also drew her boundaries firmly. He had agreed to respect those lines, promising not to touch her, and she held him to his word. He lay on his side, clutching the loose end of her saree in his hand. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had, and he clung to it as if it could soothe the ache in him. His gaze rested on her back. If only she’d face him, he thought, he might have been able to lose himself in her expressions, her eyes. But she wouldn’t. She had made that clear. “Listen,” he said softly, breaking the silence. His voice was low, uncertain. Her eyes fluttered open, reluctant. She was on the edge of sleep, drifting, but his words pulled her back. “Yes?” she a
Her lips parted slightly in shock. Every new piece of information about his life left her more confused, more trapped in this strange, dangerous world he had forced her into. Noticing her reaction, he smirked. “Relax. My brother doesn’t kill people unless it’s necessary.” She looked down, willing her face to stay neutral. He didn’t need to see how unsettled she was. Living with him, she had learned to mask her emotions, knowing that any visible discomfort could make things worse. “Doesn’t your grandmother say anything about this?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “About you and your brother’s… profession?” He laughed outright at her question, the sound echoing off the kitchen walls. “She’s the one in charge. She keeps us in line. But she doesn’t approve of my brother’s work. It’s complicated. He joined the mafia to protect me. Back when I was in observation homes, I was safer there because of him.” “Eat,” he ordered, his voice firm, breaking her train of thought. Sh
She was seated beside him in the front row, her heart pounding against her ribcage. The grandeur of the function hall was overwhelming, its opulence radiating from every corner. The red carpeted floor stretched beneath their feet like a royal invitation, and the dim, golden lighting bathed the room in a soft, warm glow. The space was alive with a subtle hum of whispered conversations, laughter, and clinking glasses. Everyone in attendance seemed to glimmer with a richness that extended beyond their attire, leaving her feeling like an outsider despite her carefully chosen ensemble. She had dressed to match the elegance of the event, but even in her perfectly draped saree, she felt small. The air of effortless sophistication exuded by the crowd made her question the authenticity of their joy. Their hollow laughter and picture-perfect smiles felt more like a façade than genuine emotion. The event progressed seamlessly, with guests congratulating each other and exchanging pleasantries
She was seated beside him in the front row, her heart pounding against her ribcage. The grandeur of the function hall was overwhelming, its opulence radiating from every corner. The red carpeted floor stretched beneath their feet like a royal invitation, and the dim, golden lighting bathed the room in a soft, warm glow. The space was alive with a subtle hum of whispered conversations, laughter, and clinking glasses. Everyone in attendance seemed to glimmer with a richness that extended beyond their attire, leaving her feeling like an outsider despite her carefully chosen ensemble. She had dressed to match the elegance of the event, but even in her perfectly draped saree, she felt small. The air of effortless sophistication exuded by the crowd made her question the authenticity of their joy. Their hollow laughter and picture-perfect smiles felt more like a façade than genuine emotion. The event progressed seamlessly, with guests congratulating each other and exchanging pleasantries
Her lips parted slightly in shock. Every new piece of information about his life left her more confused, more trapped in this strange, dangerous world he had forced her into. Noticing her reaction, he smirked. “Relax. My brother doesn’t kill people unless it’s necessary.” She looked down, willing her face to stay neutral. He didn’t need to see how unsettled she was. Living with him, she had learned to mask her emotions, knowing that any visible discomfort could make things worse. “Doesn’t your grandmother say anything about this?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “About you and your brother’s… profession?” He laughed outright at her question, the sound echoing off the kitchen walls. “She’s the one in charge. She keeps us in line. But she doesn’t approve of my brother’s work. It’s complicated. He joined the mafia to protect me. Back when I was in observation homes, I was safer there because of him.” “Eat,” he ordered, his voice firm, breaking her train of thought. Sh
No one in the room could sleep. She lay awake, her body tense as she remained acutely aware of him behind her. There was an unspoken understanding between them, fragile but present, like a thread stretched too thin. She was holding up her end of their silent deal—staying close, talking to him when he needed it—but she also drew her boundaries firmly. He had agreed to respect those lines, promising not to touch her, and she held him to his word. He lay on his side, clutching the loose end of her saree in his hand. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had, and he clung to it as if it could soothe the ache in him. His gaze rested on her back. If only she’d face him, he thought, he might have been able to lose himself in her expressions, her eyes. But she wouldn’t. She had made that clear. “Listen,” he said softly, breaking the silence. His voice was low, uncertain. Her eyes fluttered open, reluctant. She was on the edge of sleep, drifting, but his words pulled her back. “Yes?” she a
Only five days left, and somehow, time feels like it’s moving slower than ever. He's becoming stranger, in ways that I can’t quite wrap my mind around. He’s acting soft, almost gentle with me—and the fact that I find this behavior weird says a lot about the impression he’s left on me. I didn’t expect any softness from him, not after everything he’s done, everything he’s shown me about who he really is. Maybe things started shifting that day. Maybe he’s finally noticed how much his cruelty has affected me. Perhaps he’s softened because he saw the trauma he inflicted, or maybe he’s realized that I was never at fault to begin with—that it’s all a product of his own misguided assumptions, his projections. But this sudden change, this unexpected softness, feels almost as troubling as his previous coldness. Still, I can’t ignore that every benefit seems to come with a hidden cost. He may be gentler, yes, but now he’s becoming uncomfortably persistent, trying to engage me in conversatio
He stared at her, suspicion and surprise etched across his face. “What do you mean you didn’t receive it? I sent it directly to you.”She shrugged, a weary look crossing her face. “Maybe it never made it to me. Maybe the girl you gave it to tore it up. I don’t know. But I never saw it.”He looked away, processing her words, his face betraying a rare vulnerability, as if he were realizing what might have been. A faint trace of regret crossed his features, as though he’d lost a chance he’d never get back.“Then tell me,” he said, his voice breaking the silence. He looked back at her, his eyes almost pleading. “If the letter had reached you—would you have said yes? Would you have married me?”She exhaled sharply, a scornful smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She ignored his question, refusing to indulge him. But he pressed on, a spark of desperation in his tone.“Don’t ignore me. Tell me, once and for all. If you’d known, would you have agreed? Would you have been willing to marry
Asha's mind strained, searching for fragments of a memory she could barely grasp. Had she really done what he claimed? She couldn't remember. She didn’t have memory loss, not exactly, but even now, a faint hunch nagged at her, suggesting there might be some truth to his words. Yet, no concrete recollections surfaced. Too much had happened in her life, too many chaotic events layered one upon the other. How could she remember such details, especially from those tumultuous years when everything was random, haphazard, and she was only a child? “That’s ridiculous!” she exclaimed, a bitter edge creeping into her tone. “You held a grudge over something a little girl might’ve done?” He leaned back, his expression calm as he rested a hand on his knee. His gaze settled on her, cool and detached. “I never held a grudge against you, Asha,” he replied, voice steady, almost dismissive. “Don’t go assuming things.” “Then why did you do all this to me?” she shot back, her voice tight with anger.
After the nurse treated her minor injuries he was all set to carry her to the car in his arms as she again started struggling not come with him which led him to forcefully carry her to the car. He partially understands why she is showing resistance today. He shouldn't have stab him infront of her. He guesses that might traumatized her. He settled her in the room, guiding her gently onto the bed, but she quickly scurried away, retreating to the washroom and locking the door behind her. He watched her from a distance, his expression neutral, almost as if he had expected this."I don’t want you near me. Please... leave me alone... for a while," she said, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and exhaustion. She knew that by asking him to leave, she was giving him another opportunity to impose himself on her. But she tried to make herself clear, hoping he wouldn’t interpret her request as an act of rebellion. It was more than that. She was traumatized, panicked, and needed s
"Drop whatever you have in your hand and raise your hands up."The thug’s voice was cold, steady, with the knife pressed threateningly against her neck. Asha stood frozen, her wide, tear-filled eyes fixated on Raghav. Fear shimmered in her gaze, the glistening tears catching the dim light, but the terror radiating from her was far more intense than the tears could convey. Raghav stood just a few steps away, his body taut with tension. Inside, his blood boiled as his gaze locked onto the knife, anger burning through him like wildfire. His jaw clenched so tightly it ached, and his hands fisted at his sides, but he knew he had to stay calm. For her. "Leave her," Raghav growled, his voice low but filled with barely contained rage.The thug smirked, tightening his grip on Asha. His eyes glinted with malice as he twisted the knife ever so slightly, causing Asha to flinch."Give me the keys," the thug hissed, his tone mocking. "And you'll get your wife."Wife?The situation was perilous, a
His lips collided fiercely with hers, driven by an intense urgency as their bodies rocked together in a feverish rhythm. Her legs were hooked securely around his arms, giving her no escape from his relentless passion. The sound of their lips parting with a soft smooch echoed in the still night air, and without hesitation, he lowered his head to find her neck, sucking on the tender skin at her sweet spot.Small, involuntary moans escaped her lips, and she found herself embarrassed deeply, especially in such an exposed setting. They were in a camper van, tucked away on a deserted hillside, the shed doors left open to the night air. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, trying to hide herself, trying desperately to muffle her sounds as they continued to echo in the empty space around them.Still deeply connected with her, he shifted his position with fluid ease, making her straddle him. Even with their clothes partially on, the friction between them sent jolts of pleasure throug