⋆.°༘𝐒𝐀𝐘𝐀⋆˚˖

His hands were everywhere.

Hot, rough palms splayed across my waist, pulled me flush against his chest like he was trying to carve me into his skin, like breathing without me was forbidden.

My saree pallu had slipped from my shoulder long ago, pooling somewhere on the floor, forgotten like my sanity.

My blouse was hanging on for it's dear life while his hand remained around my neck, angling my face for better access.

His thumb grazed my jaw, sliding down deliberately slow, stopping right at the corner of my mouth.

I froze and then i slightly leaned into his touch, wanting more.

Before I could gather my thoughts, his other hand slipped around my neck, pulling me closer than before. The sudden closeness made my chest tighten, my breath uneven.

My hands instinctively went up, meant to push him away…..but somehow they ended up gripping his shirt instead.

His nose brushed mine, his breath fanning across my lips.

"Tell me you don't want me..." he whispered, his voice deep, rough, wrecking me from the inside out. "Tell me..just like you did that night, slap me, push me away...for destroying your honour, tell me how I r#ped you ?! Tell me what you told your mother....c'mon ! TELL ME !!" I flinched at his tone. Tears clouding my vision as I lowered my eyes.

I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

Before I could properly think, his mouth crashed onto mine, hot, demanding, unapologetic.

The kiss was chaotic, messy, deep, and hungry, his tongue sliding past my parted lips, claiming me because he had every right to.

I gasped softly, fingers twisting into his shirt as his hand tilted my jaw higher, taking more, giving me no space to breathe.

Every time his tongue brushed against mine, sparks shot through my veins, making my knees buckle.

He held me tighter, one hand pressing into the small of my back, the other sliding up to cup the nape of my neck, controlling the kiss, controlling me.

I was drowning in him, his taste, his heat, his anger, his need.

And yet…I didn’t want to come up for air.

My back hit the cold wall with a soft thud, his towering frame caging me in. His scent, sharp, clean, intoxicating, made my knees tremble and my thoughts scatter.

He didn’t speak further, sparing me of my misery. He just took whatever he wanted.

And God, I let him.

His mouth found my neck, his lips grazing that spot just under my jaw before sinking his teeth in, sucking deep until my breath hitched and a whimper escaped me, one I bit back too late.

“Rai…” My voice broke, somewhere between pleading and surrendering.

He hummed against my skin, low and sinful, as his thumb brushed the edge of my blouse, dangerously close to where my honour would scream no.

But he doesn't care about it.

“Say my name again” he murmured against my throat, his voice dark and hoarse, like a piano note meant for seduction.

I hated how easily I obeyed, how my lips parted to give him the very thing he wanted “Rai..…”

His eyes locked with mine, his green clashing with my brown and for a second, just a second, I thought this was real.

I thought this was the love we promised each other. I thought maybe, just maybe, he wanted me the way I wanted him.

But the cruel truth was in the silence that followed.

Because right when his fingers dug into my waist and his breath feathered across my lips, when the world was narrowing down to the sound of our hearts hammering in sync.

His phone rang.

The shrill vibration cut through the tension like a blade.

He stilled. Completely.

I thought he’d ignore it. I prayed he would, for once he would ignore everything else and just look at me, But then he pulled backstory slowly, as if snapping out of a trance, his green eyes now totally unreadable behind the glare of his glasses.

He reached into his pocket and I stood there, trembling, my back against the wall, my blouse slightly undone, my chest heaving as shame crept up my spine.

My saree pallu lay abandoned on the floor, and the marks he’d left on my neck burned like a flame under my skin.

And then…..I saw it.

The name flashing across his screen.

Her name.

A bitter laugh almost bubbled up in my throat, but it died when I swallowed it down, tasting blood instead.

He swiped to answer, his voice dropping into that cold, controlled tone he always reserved for everyone but me.

"Yes"

A pause.

"I’ll be there"

He ended the call and shoved his phone back into his pocket like nothing had happened. Like I wasn’t standing there half undone, breathing him in, aching for his love.

Then, as always, he turned to leave without a single word. The humiliation burned hotter than the marks on my skin.

“Are you…..” My voice cracked, barely above a whisper, but somehow it stopped him mid step. “…are you going to meet her ?”

The silence stretched, suffocating me in this huge bedroom. He didn’t turn around but he didn’t deny it too.

That silence cut deeper than any answer ever could.

I took a shaky step forward, anger finally pushing past the shame clawing at my throat. "Say something ! Just tell me you’re not"

This time, he did turn, slowly. His piercing green eyes fixing on me with no emotions in sight.

"Why ?" His voice was low, cruel. “Scared I'll find someone better ?"

My breath stuttered. The words from the past coming back to haunt me “I—”

"I'm not yours to question anymore" His mouth curved in the faintest, coldest smirk.

I felt it. The tearing inside my chest. The soundless shattering, again.

He didn’t wait for my reply. Didn’t wait to see me fall. He just turned and walked away, slamming the door behind him.

Tears slid down my cheeks before I could stop them.

Only if I could change the past.

Only if I hadn’t been the reason he lost everything.

Only if he knew how much I…

I sank onto the bed, dragging my saree pallu over my bare shoulder, hiding the bruises and bite marks he’d left like they were secrets I should be ashamed of.

But I wasn’t ashamed.

Not of him.

Not of wanting him.

Not even of loving him when I shouldn’t.

I was ashamed of one thing.

That even after every cruel word, every scar he carved into me…

I’d still let him touch me again.

.

.

The silence in the haveli was screaming with sadness.

I adjusted the pallu of my saree, smoothing the soft silk between my fingers before letting it fall loosely over my shoulder.

The heavy earrings brushed against my neck as I walked down the carved wooden stairs, each step creaking faintly under my bare feet.

This haveli…his haveli…my husband’s haveli.

It still never felt like mine.

The corridors stretched endlessly, lined with intricately carved arches and tall brass lamps, their soft light throwing long shadows against the white marble walls.

The ceilings soared high above. It was beautiful, breathtaking even….yet hollow.

Almost like us.

My fingers traced the railing absentmindedly as I descended, the polished wood smooth beneath my touch.

Reaching the ground floor, I turned towards the kitchen. A faint aroma of spices lingered in the air, roasted cumin, fried onions, ghee melting into something savory.

Should I cook for him today ?!

The kitchen was bright, buzzing with low murmurs and the rhythmic chopping of vegetables.

Three servants moved around quickly, preparing for dinner, their bangles clinking softly as they stirred pots and sliced paneer.

I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, twisting the cap open. The coolness of the bottle soothed my warm fingers. I took a sip, letting the cold water slide down my throat.

It was then that my ears caught faint whispers from the far side of the kitchen.

Two of the younger girls were huddled close near the stove, speaking just low enough to make it obvious they didn’t want anyone to hear.

"He comes late every night…I’ve never even seen him looking at her properly” one of them whispered, her voice sharp with curiosity.

The other gasped softly, “Haan na…and he’s always going out. Even on holidays, festivals…..they don’t celebrate anything. Kya pata…kahin bahar…”

I froze, knowing what she was going to say.

“…affair toh nahi chal raha, hmm ?”

The words slammed into me like cold water.

"A man like him has needs, and she's clearly not enough to satisfy them. What kind of wife can't keep her husband's eyes on her ?!"

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My fingers tightened around the bottle until it almost crushed in my hand.

I turned, sharply, my saree rustling against the polished tiles.

“Ayy ! Both of you ! ” My voice came out sharper than I intended.

The two servants jumped, their eyes widening like guilty children caught stealing sweets.

“How dare you ?” I snapped, stepping closer, my voice trembling between anger and hurt.

“You live under his roof, eat from his kitchen, get paid from him and this is how you repay him ? By spreading filth behind his back ?”

One of them lowered her head immediately, while the other stammered, “Hum toh bas…baat kar rahe the—”

( We were just talking )

“Baat ?” I cut her off, my voice low, dangerous now. “Baat ya badnaami ?”

( Talking or spreading nonsense ? )

Their silence was answer enough. I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to breathe. I wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not in front of them.

“Next time I hear anything like this” I said, my voice tight, “you won’t just lose your job…you’ll wish you never worked here.”

They nodded quickly, murmuring soft apologies but their faces…their faces still carried doubt.

I will look for some other househelp, these two will have to go.

Frustration burned in my chest as I stormed out of the kitchen, my footsteps echoing against the marble floor. I walked into the living room and stopped, letting my eyes sweep across the space.

Taking in the emptiness that is indeed doubtful in a newly married couple's house.

No photo frames, No flowers, No little touches anywhere, we didn't even have any wedding photoshoot, no pictures of our wedding day, no pictures of us at all.

Almost as if we are not even married, if it wasn't for the sindoor in my hairline and the mangalsutra in my neck...nobody would even think I'm his wife.

It's a lifestyle everyone wishes to have, I'm not oblivious to other women wishing they were the one wearing his name, no, I'm not that stupid but it's huge haveli full of wealth for others, for me...it's Just walls.

I sank onto the sofa, my hand automatically reaching for my phone. I hesitated for a second before dialing the only saved contact other than his.

He picked up on the third ring. “Saya ?”

“Nayan….where is he ?” My voice was soft, too soft or maybe it was hesitation dressed politely.

There was silence for a moment, just faint static on the other end. Then he answered.

“There's some emergency at the construction site, he's gone there.”

I closed my eyes, letting out a shaky breath I didn’t realize I was holding. He lied, He wasn't going to her.

Relief washed over me like a quiet tide but then I processed his words.

"It's not risky right ?! Do you know exactly what has happened ?!"

"I'm driving there too, there was a landslide because of heavy rain but I wouldn't know anything until I see it myself"

“Please…” I said softly “be careful and tell him to take care too....”

“I will”

I hung up, the phone slipping from my hand onto the sofa.

And then…...silence again. The sound of the pouring rain outside adds into the gloomy feeling.

Why is he so careless ? Construction is always harder in the rainy season and I remember lots of employees who were in charge of the project, telling him to start the construction when the monsoon ends but...then I heard that they all got fired the very next day.

He's become unpredictable, his behaviour unreadable. His eyes don't even hold emotions now. He's changed, and I hold myself guilty for the sin.

This isn’t what I imagined.

We were supposed to be much more than just two strangers living as husband wife.

I always imagined our future, waking up Tangled with him, celebrating all the festivals together, I always wanted to be... married to him, maybe have two or three kids...that just look like him and have his green eyes.

Kids.

I always thought, by now, there would be kids running around this haveli. I loved the idea of carrying his baby. A little us...A piece of him I could hold forever.

But here I am sitting in a house that feels less like a home and more like walls.

I don’t even know when we stopped dreaming. I rubbed at my temple, trying to push away the heaviness in my chest, when, a loud crash from the kitchen shattered the silence.

I shot up instantly. “what happened ?” I called out loudly, my voice echoing through the hallways but there was no response.

My heart started pounding as I hurried towards the kitchen, my saree swaying with each step

When I turned the corner and stepped inside, I froze.

Two of the servants were lying on the floor, completely unconscious. My breath caught in my throat.

“what happened to them ?” I whispered, panic clawing up my spine.

Only Kaki, the oldest servant, stood near the counter, calmly chopping vegetables as if nothing had happened. Her knife slid through the vegetables effortlessly, her expression disturbingly blank.

“Kaki !” My voice trembled. “What.....what happened to them ?”

She didn’t look up immediately. Just kept cutting.

“They…..tasted the paneer they were making" Kaki said without looking up, as if making the dinner perfect was more important that two people possibly dead on the floor.

Her next words froze me “Maybe it was poisoned”

"Poisoned ?"

I stepped back, my hands gripping the edge of the counter to steady myself.

“I’ll call Nayan”

Kaki calmly wiped her hands and pulled out her phone, calling Nayan.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe and then, slowly…...I lifted my gaze.

The CCTV camera

in the corner blinked faintly, its tiny red light flashing.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry.

He didn’t…..right ?

He wouldn’t.

Would he ?

Alright, that’s enough emotional damage for today 🫡

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