Reyansh had never been the kind of man who bent for anyone.
Not for family.
Not for friends.
And certainly not for fleeting emotions.
But for Arina, he'd already started to—though he told himself it was just an adjustment, nothing more.
Two days into their marriage and he was already altering the edges of himself, little by little, like a predator circling his prey but keeping the teeth hidden.
He had read about her before they met in person—small, quiet, bookish. A girl who preferred the corners of rooms to the center stage. But the woman who now walked through his house did not perfectly match the image in his mind. She smiled more often than he expected. She looked directly into his eyes longer than the reports suggested. And she moved with the kind of calm that was neither timid nor careless.
She had dismissed the maid the very morning after the wedding, telling him simply that she did not like strangers in her space. That was her reason. He had nodded. Not because he agreed, but because it gave him something he didn't admit out loud—complete, unobstructed access to her world. And her to his.
That night, the air was sharp and cool when he stepped out into the balcony. The city lights blinked like watchful eyes in the distance. He was half-lost in thought when he heard the faintest sound—the shift of weight, the whisper of footsteps on marble.
Arina.
She came to stand beside him without a word, her presence almost deliberate, as if she knew exactly how much space to close without touching him. Her gaze swept over him—studying, searching—and he felt the weight of it like a hand against his skin. He did not react, but inside, every nerve tightened. Her nearness tested something in him he had spent years keeping chained.
In the dark of their bedroom, she moved toward him and closed the small gap he had created between them. Her body was warm, the scent of her hair faintly sweet. It was enough to make the shadows inside him stir. He kept still, controlling his breath, refusing to give her the satisfaction of knowing how easily she could reach him.
By morning, when his eyes opened, she was curled against him, her face pressed to his chest as if she belonged there. Slowly, quietly, he untangled himself from her hold. Control. Always control. He dressed, went through his routine, and took to the gym to burn off what he would never allow to show.
When he returned, she was at the mirror.
Her hair was pinned, her wrists jingled faintly with bangles, and a soft vermilion streak adorned her hairline. She was dressed as a newly married woman should be, and for him. When her eyes met his in the reflection, she smiled—not a practiced smile, but one that was light and unguarded.
It almost undid him.
He hummed in acknowledgment, the only sound he allowed, and turned away before the edge of his restraint frayed any further.
At breakfast, she mentioned—casually—that she would be going to her home afterward.
Fine.
But then something happened that he had not anticipated.
As they walked toward the car, her steps slowed. Without a word, she turned toward him—and before he could read her intent—her arms slid around him in a sudden embrace.
It wasn't long, not more than a breath, but it was enough. Enough for the dark thing inside him to bare its teeth.
And then, just as quickly, she pulled away, slipped into the car, and closed the door.
He stood there, his hands still tingling from the brief contact, the faint warmth of her against him refusing to fade.
The driver started the engine.
Reyansh's gaze followed the car as it rolled toward the gate. But just before it passed beyond the boundary wall, Arina turned her head in his direction.
And smiled.
Not the soft smile from earlier.
A smile that knew exactly what she was doing to him.
He felt it then—clear and cold in his mind—that if she kept pushing him, he would stop holding back.
And when he stopped… she would see the part of him no one came back from.
---
"He thought he could cage his darkness. She found the lock."