The steam of the bath still lingered in the air as Aayat walked out, a deep red saree draped delicately around her form. Droplets traced the line of her neck, disappearing into the silk as she sat in front of the mirror, comb in hand.
Her reflection was still, yet restless. The quiet of the chamber pressed in—until she saw it.
From the far door, Anirudh entered. His hair was damp, water trickling across his temple, his chest bare and broad, muscles carved in stark shadows under the light. He was dangerously handsome, but what made her shiver wasn't his body—it was his gaze.
Unblinking. Unrelenting. Straight into hers through the mirror.
Aayat froze, the comb slipping from her hand. Slowly, she stood, her back now facing him, but her eyes—her eyes never broke away from his in the glass. It was as though the world around them vanished, leaving only the mirror and the heat between them.
Each step he took was measured, deliberate. Silent but heavy, until she could feel his presence at her back, warm, consuming.
Without a word, his hand reached forward. He brushed her damp hair over one shoulder, exposing the line of her bare back. His breath ghosted over her skin before his lips followed—firm, deliberate—pressing a kiss at the base of her neck.
Aayat's eyes fluttered shut, a sharp breath escaping her. Her heart thundered.
Aayat (whispering): "W-What are you doing?"
His lips curved against her skin, his voice low and velvety.
Anirudh: "Collecting my birthday gift. Since my wife forgot to give one."
She turned her head slightly, words caught between protest and surrender, but he continued, his tone calm yet laced with dominance.
Anirudh: "Don't worry, Aayat. I'll give you your space to breathe. But remember this—"
His hand traced up her arm, curling possessively around her wrist.
Anirudh: "—I hold every right over you. To kiss your forehead, your cheek, your hands… even to hold you in my sleep. And the right to your lips—" his gaze darkened, his mouth inches from hers, "—that I'll claim only when you want me to."
Her breath trembled, relief flickering in her chest—until his voice dipped deeper, colder.
Anirudh: "But there is a condition."
Her stomach tightened.
Aayat: "Condition…?"
His thumb brushed her pulse, steady but unyielding.
Anirudh: "If you ever try to run from me… if you ever act without thinking, without considering who you belong to—then for every reckless deed, I will take away one choice from you."
Her eyes widened.
Anirudh (closer, dangerous): "For example… if you defy me, I'll kiss you on the lips. And this time, you won't have the luxury of refusing. You will respond. If I find you doing something I cannot accept—then your punishment will be to give me what is already mine… your body, your surrender, your everything."
Her lips parted, shock and heat tangled in her chest.
Aayat (barely audible): "That isn't fair…"
His eyes softened—just enough to twist the knife of his obsession deeper.
Anirudh: "Fair? Marriage isn't about fair, Aayat. It's about truth. And the truth is—"
His free hand rose, cupping her face. He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead, his voice a dangerous vow against her skin.
Anirudh: "—I belong to you. Entirely. From the moment you stepped into my life, I ceased to exist for anyone else. You are my only. My bride. My queen. And no one will ever come before you."
Then, slowly, as though mocking her freedom, he released her hand, stepping back. His eyes still burned into hers through the mirror, but his body gave her distance.
Anirudh (soft, almost taunting): "So choose wisely, Aayat. Every step you take away from me will only pull me closer. Every fight you give will only bind you tighter. And in the end…" His lips curved into a shadow of a smile. "…you'll see there's nowhere left for you but with me."
Aayat's chest heaved, her pulse racing. The room felt smaller, suffocating. Yet the most terrifying truth of all was the one she could not deny—she hadn't moved away.
Not even once.