Veer's POV

The moment I opened the balcony door, my breath hitched.

There she was.
Standing exactly where I had ordered her to.
Not an inch away. Not even a step.
Soaked under the relentless rain, trembling... but unmoving.

For a second, I froze. My chest tightened in a way I couldn't explain. Something ugly-guilt maybe-twisted inside me.

My legs moved on their own, carrying me closer. And when I looked into her eyes, I didn't just see fear. I saw pain. Loneliness. The kind of silence that screams louder than words.

And before I could say anything-she collapsed.

My hands shot forward instinctively, catching her before she hit the ground. She was feather-light in my arms, cold, fragile. My jaw clenched as I noticed it-faint red fingerprints on her cheek... and a trace of blood near her lip.

My mind stuttered.

Who the hell dared to slap her?

But why?

Confusion and rage tangled inside me, but I shoved it down. This wasn't the time. I carried her inside, placing her carefully on the bed. With one hand, I turned off the AC and switched on the heater.

I called anika. Within minutes, Anika rushed in with a servant behind her.

"Bhai-what happened?" her eyes widened when she saw Aranya.

"Change her dress. Quickly."
She obeyed, though her gaze lingered on me with suspicion. I stepped into the bathroom, peeling off my own rain-soaked clothes and letting the water run over me for a moment. By the time I came out, Anika and the servant had done their part.

"Bhai... we've changed her dress. Her ornaments are in that box." Anika pointed before crossing her arms. "But... why was bhabhi outside? Soaked like this? Did you-"

I cut her off with a cold glance. For a long beat, my eyes stayed on Aranya's pale face before I finally muttered, "She's getting what she deserves."

Anika's lips parted in protest, a frown tugging at her brows.
"You can go," I added firmly.

She turned to leave, but I stopped her midway. "Whatever happened here... don't tell anyone. If Mom asks, just say she isn't well."

Anika hesitated, then gave a small nod before walking out silently.
The room grew quiet again.

I leaned back on the couch, eyes glued to her frail figure on my bed.

Yes, I had promised myself to make her life a living hell. She deserved it-for standing there as my replacement bride, for being part of Rathore's scheme.

But tonight... when she trembled under the rain like a lifeless doll... something twisted inside me.

And those marks on her face? They made my blood boil.

Who touched her?

Who dared?

I clenched my fists, shutting my eyes.

No. This is not my concern.
Not now. Not ever.
Or... at least, that's what I told myself.

🦋Author's POV🦋

In the Rathore mansion, the grand chandelier bathed the living room in golden light, but there was no warmth in the air.

Kavya paced back and forth, her heels clicking against the marble floor. Her face was pale with frustration, her hands wringing the edge of her dupatta. Shanaya... where did you go? Until now, there had been no call, no note, no trace of her daughter except that one damning letter.

"Enough of this silence!" Grandpa's voice suddenly boomed across the room. He had been sitting quietly on the sofa, observing, but not anymore. His walking stick hit the floor hard as he stood, eyes burning with fury.

"Vikram!" His gaze locked on his son. "Where is Shanaya? And why-why the hell did Aranya take her place in the mandap? And don't you dare tell me it was her decision. Did you force her into this marriage?"

Vikram, standing near the bar counter with a glass in his hand, went still. His silence was heavier than any words. He looked at the floor, calculating, weighing, his jaw tightening but lips refusing to part.

Grandpa's anger only grew. "I'm asking you, Vikram!" His voice shook the walls. "Answer me!"

Finally, Vikram opened his mouth, but before a word could escape, another voice sliced through the room.

"Papa... is it true?"
All heads turned. Aarav was standing on the staircase, his steps slow, his expression unreadable, but his eyes carried the storm within. He walked down, his voice steady but sharp.

"Papa, did you blackmail Aranya into this marriage? Did you tell her that you'd sell Mom's property if she refused?"

The silence was deafening.

Vikram's grip on the glass tightened. He opened his mouth, but before he could answer, Kavya stepped forward, her hand placed dramatically on her chest, her face a perfect mask of sadness.

"Yes, beta," she said, her voice laced with fake sorrow and manipulation. "Your father had to do it. Your favorite sister, Shanaya, ran away without a word! Do you know what humiliation we would have faced? Your father did what any man of this house would do. He gave Shanaya's place to that... ungrateful girl."

Her words dripped venom, her tone making Aranya sound like the villain, while she played the grieving mother.

Aarav froze, disbelief flashing in his eyes. Ungrateful girl? His fists clenched. He remembered Aranya's trembling face, her silence, her pain...

"Blackmailed? With her mother's property?" Grandpa's voice cracked, filled with disbelief. He staggered a step forward, his face pale. "Really, Vikram? This is what you've become? I thought I raised a son with principles, with honor-but you... you-"

He never finished. His words broke off into a gasp as his hand clutched his chest.

"Dadu!" Aarav shouted, rushing forward just as Grandpa collapsed onto the floor.

"Papa!" Vikram dropped his glass, panic finally shattering his mask as he rushed to his father's side.

The whole mansion turned chaotic-the sound of Kavya's dramatic screams, Aarav's desperate calls, and the servants running in. Together, Vikram and Aarav lifted Grandpa and rushed him out, ordering the car to be brought immediately.

Within minutes, the Rathore mansion was left in stunned silence, the echoes of Grandpa's collapse still ringing in the air.

𝐕𝐞𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

The morning was quiet, deceptively calm, like the storm from the night before had never happened. Pale sunlight pushed its way through the heavy curtains, cutting into the dark corners of the room where shadows still lingered.

The faint hum of the heater filled the silence, but even that couldn't drown the echo of her trembling form that had stood in the rain. I hadn't closed my eyes all night. Sleep had teased me, hovered near, but every time I shut my eyes, I saw her standing there, soaked, shivering, obeying the command I had thrown at her in anger. And for the first time in years, I had felt something I wasn't ready to name.

She moved.

I caught it instantly-the slow flutter of her lashes against pale skin, the way her breathing quickened as she stirred awake. And then her eyes opened, hazel orbs blinking against the sunlight before they landed on me. Straight. Direct. Raw. Her fingers immediately clutched the blanket tighter, pulling it around herself like it was the only shield she had left.

Good. Let her remember where she was.

I leaned back into the couch, my gaze never leaving her face. "Finally awake," I said, my voice sharp, deliberately laced with mockery. "For a moment I thought you'd chosen to die in my room-would've saved us both a lot of trouble."

Her lips parted slightly, but no words followed. She just sat there, small and silent, like prey frozen under the predator's stare.
That silence... I hated it.

I pushed off the couch, my steps slow but heavy as I walked closer. Each step echoed in the quiet room until I was standing right in front of her. She refused to meet my eyes, staring down at the floor, her knuckles white against the blanket.

"You think keeping quiet will save you?" I bent forward, my voice low, dangerously calm, the kind that left no space for escape. "You walked into my life like you belonged here. You don't. And I'll make sure you never forget it."

Her lashes fluttered, and for the briefest second, her eyes flickered up to mine. Fear. Pain. And something else. Something I couldn't quite place.

My jaw clenched when I noticed the faint bruise on her cheek, the faint red smear near the corner of her lip. Evidence. Of a slap. My chest tightened-not out of concern, but out of cold calculation. Someone had touched her before me.

"Who slapped you?" My tone dropped to steel.

Her body tensed instantly, her breath caught.

I stepped closer, shadows wrapping around us as I demanded, "I asked you a question, Aranya."

Her lips trembled, opening and closing, but no sound came. Just silence.

I tilted my head, my eyes narrowing on her pale face. "Answer me. Now."

Nothing.

The longer she stayed silent, the more my blood boiled. But when I stared deep into her eyes, I saw it again-the glimmer of loneliness, the hollow ache of someone who had been fighting battles alone for far too long. And against my will, something twisted in my chest.

I broke eye contact abruptly, turning on my heel before that strange feeling could sink deeper.

The untouched food tray caught my eye. My temper flared.

"You ate?" My voice was sharp, curt.

She hesitated, then shook her head weakly.
"Of course not," I muttered, grabbing the tray and setting it firmly in front of her. The plate clattered against the table. "Eat."

Her hands hovered for a second but froze, trembling slightly.
"What now?" I snapped. "Do you expect me to spoon-feed you like a child?"

"I... I can't," she whispered, barely audible, as though even the words themselves carried shame.

I barked out a humorless laugh. "Can't? You had no problem sitting in a place that wasn't yours, wearing a role that never belonged to you. But now food feels like a sin?"

Her head bowed lower, her silence cutting through me like a knife. That strange fear was back in her eyes-raw, desperate, suffocating.

For reasons I didn't care to name, it angered me more than her refusal. I shoved the tray aside, the sharp clatter of the plate against the wood making her flinch violently.

"Fine," I spat, voice venomous. "Starve then. Makes no difference to me."

The tension in the room suffocated me, so I walked to the balcony, shoving the door open and letting the cool air slam against my skin. My thoughts raged. Why did it matter? She wasn't mine. She wasn't my responsibility. She was nothing. Nothing but a pawn forced into my game.

But then-her phone buzzed.

I turned slightly, just enough to watch her scramble to pick it up. Her hands trembled as she lifted it to her ear.

"Hello...?" Her voice cracked, fragile, like it might shatter at any second.

I didn't want to care. I didn't want to listen. But the way her shoulders dropped, the way her face drained of all color, pulled me in against my will.

"What...? Grandpa...?" she whispered, her voice breaking as tears filled her eyes. Her other hand pressed the phone to her chest, as though holding it tighter would keep the words from being true.

When she finally looked up at me, her eyes were broken, pleading. "Grandpa collapsed... they took him to the hospital."

For a moment, the silence stretched between us, heavy, suffocating. Then I let out a low, cruel laugh, my lips curling into a smirk that carried no warmth.

"Good," I said coldly, mercilessly. "One less problem in your perfect little family drama."

The look on her face-the devastation, the disbelief, the grief-it was almost satisfying. Almost.

But weakness has no place in my world. And if she wanted to survive here, she would learn that lesson the hard way.

🌼𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐚’𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 🌼

he phone slipped from my trembling hands. Aarav’s last words kept ringing in my ears—“Grandpa collapsed… the doctors are trying but he keeps asking for you.”

My chest tightened, air catching in my throat like I was suffocating. Grandpa… the only person who ever noticed me, who ever asked if I had eaten, if I was fine, who defended me when nobody else did. He was in a hospital bed asking for me, and I… I was here. Locked in a cage of golden walls, where every shadow felt like a stranger, and the only person who could take me to him was the one man who hated me more than anyone.

Veer.

My palms felt damp. My knees shook with every hesitant step I took toward the balcony. He was there, his broad frame leaning casually against the railing, one hand shoved in his pocket, the morning sun brushing across the sharp edges of his face. For a moment, I just stood at the door, afraid of the storm I was about to walk into.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I… I need to go.” My voice was small, fragile. “Grandpa collapsed. He’s in the hospital. He’s asking for me.”

He didn’t even turn. Just kept staring into the distance, jaw tight.
And then, slowly, almost lazily, he said, “Good.”

My heart stopped.

He finally looked at me, those cold eyes cutting through the morning light like knives. “One less problem in your perfect little family drama.”

The words stabbed deeper than any blade could. My lips parted, but no words came out. My throat burned. My chest ached. Did I expect sympathy? No. Did I hope for it? Maybe. Just maybe.

But he gave me nothing.

Tears blurred my vision, but I blinked them back. Crying wouldn’t help. I needed him. Grandpa needed me.

I forced myself forward, clutching the railing beside him as though it could steady me. “Please…” My voice broke before I could gather it again. “Can you take me there?”

He didn’t answer. His eyes narrowed slightly, like I was an insect daring to crawl too close.

“I will do anything,” I whispered, shame burning through me.
“Anything you say… just please, Veer… take me there.”

That made him move.
His question sliced through the air like a blade.
“Anything?”

The word was low, rough, and it made my heart stumble. For a moment, I couldn’t even breathe. He stood there, still leaning against the railing, his hand gripping the cold metal like he owned the space, like he owned me.

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat refusing to move. “Y-yes,” I whispered. My voice didn’t even sound like mine.

The second my reply slipped out, I regretted it.

Because his eyes shifted. That sharp, unblinking stare locked onto me, and my chest tightened. The corner of his mouth twitched — not a smile, but something darker. My fingers curled into my dress, and my legs went weak.

And then he moved.

Slowly. Calmly. Each step echoed against the tiled floor of the balcony, heavy enough to rattle my bones. The breeze was cool, but his presence was suffocating, hotter than fire. My body reacted before I could think — step by step, I backed away until my shoulder blades slammed against the wall.

Trapped.

He didn’t stop. His height caged me in, his shadow falling over me. My heart hammered so loud, I was sure he could hear it. The smell of rain clung to the air, mixing with the faint scent of his cologne — sharp, strong, and dizzying.

I should have been terrified. And I was.

But something else crept beneath my skin. Something I didn’t recognize. My stomach twisted, my chest tightened, and my breath refused to come out steady.

He stopped just inches away, eyes boring into mine.
God, those eyes. Cold, unreadable, but pulling me in like a whirlpool.

I should have looked away. I couldn’t. The longer I stared, the harder it became to breathe. Fear burned in me — fear of what he could do, what he might do — but beneath it, something strange pulsed. A heat. A pull. A feeling that made no sense, and yet… refused to leave.

His gaze flicked lower — just for a heartbeat — to my lips. My entire body jolted.

Panic. Heat. Fear. Something else. I squeezed my eyes shut, as if that would help. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, loud enough to drown out the rain.

The silence was unbearable.

Seconds crawled by. I could feel his nearness, the warmth radiating off him. My palms pressed flat against the wall, desperate to hold myself steady. My chest rose too fast, every breath shallow, shaky.

And then —

His breath ghosted against my skin, right near my ear.
I froze, every muscle locking. Goosebumps shot across my arms, and my stomach flipped.

“Next time,” his voice rumbled low, dark, sending a shiver down my spine, “think before you ask something. Or don’t ask at all.”
The words burned and froze me at the same time.

When I dared to open my eyes, he was still there. Close. Too close. His expression unreadable, his eyes still holding mine captive. For a moment, the world didn’t exist — just that stare, that silence, that impossible pull inside me that scared me more than his threats ever could.

And then he stepped back.

As quickly as he had trapped me, he turned away, walking inside with calm, heavy strides. As if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just shaken the ground beneath me.

My knees gave out the second he left. I slid against the wall, pressing a trembling hand to my chest. My heart was still racing, out of control, my lips parting for breaths I couldn’t find.

What was that feeling? Fear. Definitely fear.

But also… something else.

My heartbeat refused to settle. My chest rose and fell rapidly as I pressed my palm over it, trying to quiet the storm inside. Why was it racing like this? Why did his nearness make my body freeze, my voice vanish, my mind turn blank?

Something I didn’t want to name. Something I shouldn’t even feel.
I buried my face in my palms, trying to steady myself, but the truth was, I couldn’t. Because the echo of his voice still lingered in my ears, and the ghost of his closeness refused to fade from my skin.

But before I could untangle the mess inside me, Grandpa’s face filled my mind again. Weak. Pale. Asking for me.

Tears spilled freely now, hot and relentless. I slid down against the wall, curling my knees close, burying my face in them as sobs broke out. The house was quiet, but inside me, it was chaos—fear, pain, guilt, helplessness all mixing into one unbearable weight.

Why was I always the unlucky one? Why did fate always strip away the little pieces of happiness I clung to?

For an hour, I cried until no more tears came, my throat raw, my chest hollow. Finally, I pushed myself up, wiped my swollen eyes, and stepped inside.

The room was cold, silent, suffocating. Veer was nowhere in sight.
I dragged myself to the wardrobe, fingers brushing over the clothes. My first day in this house. My first day as their so-called daughter-in-law. I should be presentable. I should look the part. But all I felt was broken.

Still, I forced myself to change. To fix my hair. To put on the veil. To pretend I was fine.

But deep inside, all I wanted was to see Grandpa… one last time.

.............................

I had barely finished fixing my hair when I forced myself down the stairs. My body felt heavy, a strange tiredness pulling at me with every step. But I ignored it. I couldn’t afford to look weak here. Not now. Not today.

The faint clattering of steel vessels led me straight to the kitchen. The warm aroma of ghee and spices filled the air. Inside, Maa—Devyani ji—and Chachi were already busy cooking, their hands moving with practiced ease.

The moment Maa’s eyes fell on me, her face lit up with concern.
“Aree beta, you’re awake! How do you feel now?” she asked, her voice warm, gentle.

I blinked in confusion. “Feel… now?” I echoed softly.
She wiped her hands on the edge of her saree and stepped closer, her expression still worried. “Voh… Anika said that Veer told her you weren’t well.”

My lips parted slightly, caught off guard. I forced a smile, shaking my head. “Hah, I’m fine now. Nothing serious.”

Maa’s eyes lingered on me, reading me more closely than I wanted. “But you didn’t sleep well, did you? You look so tired,” she said in that motherly tone that squeezed something inside me. “You need something? Tea? Milk?”

Her kindness made my chest ache. It had been so long since someone had spoken to me like that—like I mattered. Like I wasn’t just a burden. I quickly shook my head. “No, Maa. I’m fine.”

Chachi smiled faintly from behind her, busy cutting vegetables, while Maa turned back to the stove. Then, almost casually, Maa said, “Hah, aru… it’s your first day in this house. So, you’ll have to cook something, hmm?”

My heart skipped a beat. First rasoi.

“You know how to make something sweet? Rest all we’ll manage.” Maa’s eyes twinkled with affection, as if this was a moment she was genuinely looking forward to.

But my throat went dry. Sweet. Food. My stomach clenched at the memory of home—the bitter truth of why I hadn’t touched much food since then. That one incident… the poison… the betrayal hidden inside something as simple as a meal. My fingers curled tight around the edge of my dupatta.

Maa noticed the hesitation on my face. “Kya hua, beta? You don’t know?”

I swallowed. “I… I haven’t cooked much … ” My voice almost cracked, but I forced it steady. “But… I have made kheer once or twice. I’m not sure about the taste though—it was so long back.”

Her smile widened, and she patted my arm with reassurance. “That’s more than enough, beta. Don’t worry. Just make kheer. And if you need help, I’ll be right here.”

Chachi turned briefly, raising her thumb in encouragement. “You’ll do fine, Aru. Kheer is always the safest choice.”
I tried to smile, but deep down, my heart twisted. Safe? Nothing about food felt safe to me anymore. But I couldn’t let that show. Not here. Not in front of them. So I nodded quietly and glanced at the stove, already feeling the weight of this moment pressing down on me.

🦋Author's pov🦋

The aroma of freshly cooked food drifted through the Chahun mansion, spreading warmth across its grand halls. In the vast dining room, the long mahogany table gleamed under the soft morning light pouring in from the large glass windows.

Silverware and crystal bowls shimmered in place as Devyani and Shalini carefully laid out the breakfast spread.
It was a picture of a powerful yet close-knit family—a balance of discipline and laughter that kept the mansion alive.

The first to arrive were Anika and Vivaan, already bickering over something utterly unnecessary.

“Vivaan bhai, admit it—you stole my charger again,” Anika accused, flicking her long hair back as she pulled out a chai
r.
Vivaan raised his brows with exaggerated innocence. “Please, Anika, of all the people in this house, you’re the last person whose gadgets I’d touch. Do I look like someone who has time to babysit your battery issues?”

“You don’t look like you have time for anything, yet somehow you’re always in my room,” Anika shot back.

“Correction—your room is the only one with better Wi-Fi signals.” Vivaan smirked, deliberately stretching as if he had made a point.

Anika rolled her eyes, muttering, “Unbelievable,” under her breath.
Their banter echoed through the room, pulling Kabir and Aaryan in. The two cousins, tall, sharp, carrying a mafia-esque aura even in casual clothes, simply leaned against the chairs and watched the sibling duo spar with a grin.

“Morning entertainment is sorted,” Kabir murmured.

Aaryan chuckled lowly. “Every house needs its drama. Ours just happens to start before breakfast.”

Just then, Dadu and Dadi stepped in, their presence immediately commanding respect. Dadu shook his head with a smile.

“Subah-subah shuru ho gaye? (So it’s started early in the morning?)” he asked, walking to his chair at the head of the table.

“What’s today’s issue now?” Dadi sighed, though amusement tugged at her lips.

“Dadu, you won’t believe it—he used my charger again and won’t even admit it!” Anika jumped in, pointing a finger at her brother.

Vivaan raised both hands in mock surrender. “I swear, these false accusations are damaging my reputation in this house. Someone please tell her I have better things to do.”

The entire table broke into soft laughter, the tension of last night’s stormy wedding revelations momentarily forgotten.

One by one, the family gathered—Rudra, calm and authoritative, settling beside Dadu, while Veer finally walked in, composed as always, face unreadable. His very presence made the air shift. He didn’t join the jokes, didn’t smile, just sat in his seat with the kind of silence that demanded distance.

Dadi glanced around, her sharp eyes scanning the room. “Where is Aru?”

The name dropped into the silence. Veer’s brows knitted briefly. “Aru?”

“Ahh, bhai,” Vivaan jumped in with his casual charm, “basically bhabhi’s name is Aranya—it’s long, right? So we thought we’d call her something short, something warmer. So… Aru.”
The way he said it, with such ease and affection, pulled smiles from everyone else around the table.

“Seriously?” Veer scoffed under his breath, reaching for his plate. “You guys accept people too easily.” His words sliced through the warmth, but no one replied. They were used to Veer’s walls.

“She’s in the kitchen. I’ll call her,” Devyani said, ignoring her son’s sharp tone.

Moments later, Aranya walked in carrying a silver tray. Her soft peach dupatta framed her delicate face, and though her eyes carried tiredness, there was a gentleness in her steps.

“She’s made something special for her first rasoi,” Devyani announced proudly.

Aranya’s palms were damp, her heartbeat faster than she liked. Balancing the kheer she had prepared, she carefully placed the bowls in front of each family member. No one missed the way her hands trembled slightly.

Everyone smiled at her politely, offering her the acceptance she had never known. Everyone except Veer—he didn’t even glance her way, too busy with his food as if she didn’t exist.

Still, she sat down quietly, right beside him. Her heart betrayed her calm exterior, thudding faster than normal.

“I was craving something sweet today, and see—we have kheer!” Abhiraj said cheerfully, eyes sparkling.

“Abhiraj ji,” Shalini cut in, arms crossed, “for your kind information, don’t forget your sugar levels are already at the border.

That sparked chuckles across the table.

“This is what you say every time,” Abhiraj countered, his tone teasing, “but I can’t resist."

Aranya couldn’t help the small, faint smile that tugged at her lips. Watching them argue playfully, seeing the genuine care even hidden behind scolding—it warmed something in her chest. She wasn’t invisible here.

For the first time, Veer caught it—the curve of her lips, the way her eyes softened. He froze mid-bite, his gaze shifting discreetly toward her. Something unreadable flickered in his eyes, though his expression remained stone cold.

“Let me check how our bahu cooks,” Dadi finally said, picking up her spoon and tasting the kheer first.
The entire table waited in suspense. Aranya’s stomach knotted, her palms slick. She stared at her lap, terrified.

Then Dadi set the spoon down, stood up, and called out, “Aranya, come here.”

Her voice was firm, almost sharp. Aranya flinched and rose, hesitant steps carrying her toward Dadi. Everyone’s eyes followed her, including Veer’s, his sharp gaze catching every nervous twitch.

Fear tightened her chest.

Dadi extended her hand, and Aranya instinctively lowered her gaze. But instead of rebuke, Dadi slid a pair of beautiful, heavy gold bangles off her wrist. The intricate design shimmered in the light as she placed them gently onto Aranya’s hands.

“Arey, Aru… you’ve made the best kheer,” Dadi said, her voice softening into affection. “This is your first rasoi gift—from me and Dadu both.”
Aranya’s eyes widened. Her throat tightened with emotion.

“Really? Then I’m eating more!” Vivaan exclaimed, already reaching for his bowl, making everyone laugh again.

“Vivaan!” Anika groaned, hitting his arm.

Aranya’s lips curved again, this time fuller. For the first time in years, someone had given her something not out of duty, not out of manipulation, but as a token of love. The bangles felt heavy, but her heart felt even heavier—with gratitude.

Across the table, Veer’s spoon was still untouched. He didn’t eat, but his eyes… his eyes were on her. Watching. Calculating.

One by one, others praised her. Rudra and Devyani blessed her with words, Abhiraj and Shalini added gifts, and the younger ones teased but affectionately.

Then Devyani’s voice cut through. “Veer, how is it?”

The room hushed instantly, all eyes shifting to him.

Aranya’s fingers tightened on her dupatta, her throat drying as fear gripped her again. Veer didn’t even look up immediately, only stirred the spoon lazily in his bowl.

And just like that—the suspense wrapped itself tightly around the table.

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