The storm outside was relentless, drowning the city in sheets of silver rain, but the true violence was the silence within these walls. Noor stood near the glass window of the Singh Mansion, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, watching lightning carve through the night sky. The cold marble beneath her bare feet did little to calm the fire churning in her chest. Behind her, she could feel him. She didn't need to turn around to know. His presence had a weight of its own — heavy, sharp, suffocating. He hadn't spoken yet, but the storm wasn't the only thing brewing.
Aarav Singh.
Her husband.
Her captor.
She had never seen a man so unwilling to love, yet so unwilling to let go. He didn't want this marriage, yet he refused to let her escape it. Every time she moved, his presence loomed. Every time she tried to breathe, he reminded her who she belonged to.
"You've been gone long enough," his voice came at last, cutting through the quiet like the crack of a whip.
Noor didn't flinch. She had trained herself not to. Slowly, she turned to face him. He was lounging on the black leather couch, his shirt unbuttoned at the top, a glass of untouched whiskey in one hand, his eyes sharp and unreadable. His gaze locked onto hers with the precision of a weapon.
"I went to see my friend," she said, her voice even.
"Which one?" he asked, not because he cared about the answer — but because he already knew it.
She exhaled slowly. "It doesn't matter."
His expression didn't change, but she saw it — the flicker in his jaw, the slight tightening of his fingers around the glass. He stood with quiet authority, each step deliberate. She didn't move as he crossed the room and stopped in front of her, close enough that she could smell the hint of spice and smoke on his skin.
"It matters," he said, his voice lower now, darker. "Because you're my wife. And wives don't disappear without telling their husbands where they're going."
"You don't get to track me like I'm a criminal," she replied, proud of the strength in her voice even though her heart was slamming against her ribs. "You don't own me."
A small, cold smirk touched his lips. "That's where you're wrong, Noor. I do."
He reached for her wrist, not roughly — never roughly — but with a grip that reminded her she wouldn't break free unless he allowed it. She tried not to react, but her breath betrayed her.
"This marriage was a deal," she said, her voice tight. "You said it yourself. No love, no expectations. So why do you act like I'm yours?"
His gaze didn't soften. It burned. "Because you are."
"Why?" she demanded.
"Because I don't like sharing and you are mine" he said simply, as if that answered everything.
Noor's breath hitched, but she refused to look away. "That's not how marriage works."
Aarav leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Marriage isn't what's keeping you here, Noor. I am."
Her pulse pounded, a mixture of defiance and something dangerously close to fear coursing through her veins.
He wasn't lying. He had never lied about this. He didn't believe in love, yet his obsession with her was suffocating. She was his possession, his claim, his prize-and he would burn the world before he let her go.
Noor swallowed hard. "You can't keep me in a cage forever."
Aarav smirked, his thumb brushing against her bottom lip. "Watch me."
Noor felt the slow, burning rage curl inside her. His control was suffocating, intoxicating.
She stepped back, but he followed. She moved again, and again, he closed the space until her back hit the cold glass of the window. She could feel the city lights at her back, could see his shadow eclipse everything else. The glass trembled behind her from the storm. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't have to.
"You were laughing today," he murmured, eyes fixed on hers. "Smiling with him."
Her heart skipped.
"I saw you."
Noor's lips parted, but no words came.
Noor's heartbeat slammed against her ribs. Not from fear, but from something far more dangerous.
"Who is he?" he asked, his voice lower this time, quieter, but no less dangerous.
Noor's eyes closed, her hands pressing against the cold glass. "He's my colleague," she whispered. "We're working together. That's all."
Aarav let out a low chuckle, one that sent shivers down her spine. "Is that what you tell yourself?"
She turned then, her eyes burning with frustration. "I'm an architect, Aarav. My work requires me to interact with my team. I can't stop being who I am just because you refuse to accept what we are!"
His fingers traced down her arm, slow, deliberate. "You think I care about your work, Noor?"
Her breath caught when his grip tightened. Not painful. Just... unrelenting.
"No," he continued, his dark eyes locked onto hers. "What I care about is that you are mine."
Noor inhaled sharply as he tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"You said you didn't love me," she hissed.
"I don't," he said, his voice cool, unwavering. "But that doesn't mean I'll let anyone else touch what's mine."
"You think I'm an object?" she challenged.
"I think you're the only thing in this world that doesn't bend to me," he said. "And I'll be damned if I let someone else tame you."
Her breath hitched as his thumb brushed across her jawline.
"I'm not yours," she whispered.
His fingers slid beneath her chin, tilting her face up. "You are," he murmured, his voice like velvet wrapping around steel. "Every look, every word, every ounce of defiance in you... I've memorized it ."
She tried to look away, but he didn't let her. "You trapped me."
"No," he said. "I chose you. That's not the same."
"You didn't give me a choice."
"You had one," he said. "You just didn't realize it."
She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, he kissed her — hard, fast, possessive. It wasn't tenderness. It was a claim. A brand burned into her soul. When he pulled back, his breathing was shallow, but his grip on her never wavered.
"Tell me," he said, his voice lower now, rougher, "did he touch you?"
"No," she answered immediately, but it wasn't enough.
His mouth hovered at her ear. "Because if he did, Noor... I'll make sure he never touches anything again."
"Aarav, you're scaring me."
"Good," he said. "Fear means you still feel. That means I haven't lost you yet."
"You never had me."
A dangerous gleam flickered in his eyes. "Not yet."
She shoved him with all her strength, and he let her go—not because she overpowered him, but because he allowed it. That's how it always was. He never forced. He controlled. He watched her walk away, but she could feel it — the weight of his obsession pressing into her back like a second spine.
She stepped into the shadows of their bedroom, but there was no real escape. Not here. Not in his world. And yet something inside her burned brighter than her fear—rage. She wouldn't be caged forever. Someday, somehow, she'd find a way out. Even if she had to burn everything he owned to the ground.
Behind her, Aarav stood in silence, staring at the mark she left on his chest where her hands had pushed him. His fingers brushed the spot, and for the first time in a long time, he smiled.
Noor had fire.
He wasn't trying to kill it.
He was trying to make it burn for him.
And if it destroyed them both?
So be it.
Because monsters like him didn't believe in mercy.
They believed in possession.
And Noor?
She was his favourite war.