🦋𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕🦋

Devyani's voice broke the chatter at the dining table.
"Veer, how is it?"

The question landed like a stone in still water. The noise, the banter, even the little chuckles that floated moments ago, all dissolved into silence.

All eyes turned toward the man sitting at the far end of the table.

Veer Singh Chahun.

His presence already filled the room like smoke-dark, suffocating, impossible to ignore. And now, with the question hanging in the air, even the clinking of spoons stopped.

Aranya's fingers twisted into her dupatta under the table, her knuckles pale from how tightly she clutched the fabric. Her throat dried as if no amount of water could wash away the sudden fear crawling up her chest. She knew-his words could break her, his indifference could slice her open.

Veer didn't look up. Instead, he stirred the spoon in his bowl lazily, like this wasn't worth his attention.

"Who knows what if she poisons the kheer," he said, voice sharp and cutting.

The silence shattered.

Everyone's eyes widened, shock rippling across the table.
Dadu was the first to react, his face hardening with anger. "Then I would have died first, Veer! If she had poisoned it, it would have affected me before anyone else. Do you realize what you're saying?"
The weight of his voice shook the air.

Devyani's lips parted, hurt flickering across her face. "Veer!" Her voice carried more disappointment than anger, the tone only a mother could hold.

Even Rudra, usually calm, narrowed his eyes at his son. "Enough."
But the rest of the table sat in stunned silence. Kabir and Aaryan exchanged looks but didn't interfere, simply leaning back in their seats like shadows. Abhiraj and Shalini shifted awkwardly, clearly unsettled by the harshness of the remark.

Aranya's hands trembled under the table. Her nails dug into her palms so hard she nearly broke skin. The sting didn't matter. What mattered was the way her heart squeezed painfully in her chest, the way his words cut deeper than she could've imagined.

For a second-just one fleeting second-Veer's gaze shifted toward her. He caught the tremble in her shoulders, the way her eyes remained glued to the floor, and the faintest quiver in her lips. It did something strange to him, something he didn't want to name. Uneasy. Unsettling.

But as quickly as it came, he masked it with his usual indifference.
"Since you all insist," Veer finally said, tone bored, "I'll eat."

Every pair of eyes followed him as he lifted the spoon. He brought the kheer to his mouth slowly, deliberately, as if he knew how much tension he created. The creamy sweetness touched his tongue, and he chewed once, then swallowed.

And then... nothing.

For a full beat, he simply stared at his bowl, expression unreadable.

The family leaned forward almost unconsciously, waiting.
Vivaan was gripping the edge of the table like it was a suspense thriller.
Anika had her chin propped on her hand, staring as though she'd miss the verdict if she blinked.
Dadu and Dadi were straight-backed, their eyes locked on him as if he were delivering judgment in court.
Abhiraj muttered under his breath, "Come on, son, it's just kheer..."
Shalini elbowed him sharply.
Even Kabir and Aaryan, who looked the calmest, were both watching Veer closely, dark eyes flickering with curiosity.
It was ridiculous. It was comedy.

Like the entire household had paused their lives just to witness the man's reaction to a single spoonful of dessert.

And then, as if realizing the attention, Veer calmly set his spoon down.

The second he leaned slightly forward, everyone jerked back into their seats, trying to compose themselves like they hadn't just been caught staring. Anika quickly reached for her water glass, Vivaan pretended to scratch his nose, and Abhiraj cleared his throat too loudly. The sudden, synchronized nonchalance was almost funny, though nobody dared laugh.

Except for Dadi, who muttered under her breath, "Pagal parivaar."

Aranya, meanwhile, was still frozen. Her eyes stayed glued to her lap, her entire being braced for rejection.

Finally, Veer stood, straightening his blazer in that effortless, commanding way of his.
"It's... tasty," he said.

The room erupted in relief.

Vivaan threw his hands up like his team had just scored a goal. "Finally! The Chahun verdict is positive!"

Anika clapped once, laughing. "See, bhai? Told you our bhabhi would do good."

Dadi exhaled loudly, muttering, "As if we were waiting for a king's approval."

Even Shalini allowed herself a smile, shaking her head.

For the first time, warmth, acceptance, pride filled the air. Everyone turned to Aranya as if to share this victory.

But Veer wasn't done.

He paused at the door, his voice slicing through the happiness like a blade.
"We're lucky she didn't add any poison."
The words dropped like acid, burning away the warmth in seconds.

The table fell silent again, disappointment flashing in every pair of eyes. Dadu's face tightened. Devyani pressed her lips together. Even the cousins who usually didn't interfere looked irritated.

And Aranya-she felt her chest collapse in on itself. Her eyes blurred with unshed tears, but she forced her lips into a weak curve, refusing to let them spill here. Not in front of them. Not in front of him.

Veer walked out, leaving behind the shattered atmosphere.
Devyani reached for Aranya's hand gently. "Beta, don't mind his words. You did wonderfully. Eat something now."

Aranya nodded faintly. She lifted her spoon, but the food tasted like ash on her tongue. Something inside her twisted, her stomach rejecting it. She forced one bite, but bile rose instantly.

"I... I don't feel well," she murmured, voice tight. "Excuse me."
Before anyone could stop her, she rose quickly, dupatta pressed to her lips, and hurried upstairs.

The moment she reached her room, she dashed into the bathroom. Her body bent over the sink as she vomited, her entire frame trembling. Tears spilled freely now, mixing with the harsh breaths tearing from her lungs.

She felt broken. Exhausted. Alone.

In a house full of people, in a family that had showered her with warmth just moments ago, it was still his voice that echoed the loudest in her head.

And it hurt more than anything else ever had.

Veer's POV

he black SUV rolled to a stop in front of Imperium Towers, my building, my empire. Guards at the entrance immediately straightened, bowing their heads as soon as I stepped out. Their reaction was automatic, rehearsed, almost fearful. Just the way it should be.

Inside, the glass doors slid open and the familiar hush fell over the lobby. Footsteps quickened, whispers were swallowed, and no one dared to cross my path. Employees avoided my gaze, keeping their heads low. They all knew better. Veer Chahun was not someone you casually greeted.

And yet, despite the authority surrounding me, my mind wasn't here. It was somewhere else. Stuck on someone else.

Aranya.

Her name echoed inside me like an unwanted song that refused to end. I should have been thinking about numbers, the merger, the rivals waiting for me to slip. But no matter how many times I forced my focus back, her face cut through. Her wide brown eyes, deep and restless, lingered in my head like they were carved into me.

Damn those eyes. They weren't like anyone else's. They held storms, silence, and questions she was too scared to ask. And when she had looked at me earlier, trembling, clutching her dupatta as though it could protect her, my chest had tightened in a way I didn't like.

I don't get affected. I never do. And yet here I was.

The elevator opened to the top floor, my private domain. People scattered instantly, their spines pressing against the walls as I passed. The heavy doors of my office swung open, revealing my world. Glass walls stretched across the horizon, the oak desk sat like a throne, the leather chair waiting only for me. Above it, the portrait of my father, a constant reminder never to bend, never to weaken.

I dropped into my chair, twirling a pen between my fingers, but even here in the silence of power, I couldn't shake her.
Her kheer.

I had mocked her in front of everyone, thrown out venom like always, accusing her of poison. But the truth was different. One spoon had been enough to tell me- it was good. Silky, balanced, soft with cardamom. The kind of taste that lingered longer than I wanted. The family's laughter and eagerness flashed in my memory, and in contrast, the way she had lowered her head, palms damp with fear, nails digging into her own skin. She had looked as if she had committed a crime simply by existing.

And yet, I had walked away, hiding what I really thought. Because Veer Chahun doesn't praise. Veer Chahun doesn't soften. Not for anyone.

I threw the pen on the desk, jaw tightening. "What the hell is wrong with me?" I muttered.

She was nothing. A mistake. Aranya Rathore- the girl who sat in the mandap only because her perfect sister ran away. A stand-in bride. Not the one I chose. Not the one I wanted.

So why the hell was she in my thoughts? Why did her trembling make me restless? Why did her almost-tears burn in my head like a scar?

This wasn't guilt. I don't feel guilt. This was irritation. She was invading my mind and I needed to remind myself who I was.

I snatched my phone and dialed. Anika answered in her usual bright tone, "Bhai! Good morning, finally remembered me?"
"Stop talking nonsense," I said flatly. "Listen carefully. There's a blue file on my study desk. Give it to your aru bhabhi." I made sure the mocking lilt in my voice carried.

"File? For bhabhi?" she sounded confused. "But why her? I can bring it. I'm free today, and bhabhi doesn't-"

"Anika." My voice sliced cold through the line. "Do as I said. Nothing more."

"But Bhai-"

I cut the call before she could finish.
A slow smirk curled at my lips. Aranya Rathore wanted to prove herself? Wanted to blend into this family? Fine. Let her try. My office wasn't a home, it wasn't forgiving. It was sharp edges, ruthless contracts, and pressure that bent even the strongest men. She had no place in this world- but I would make her step into it. Call it her first rasoi gift if the family wanted to be sentimental. Instead of gold bangles, I'd hand her responsibility. Instead of blessings, I'd hand her fire.

Let's see if my mistaken bride could survive it.
I leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes for a moment, but even in silence, her face returned. Those haunted eyes. That quiet storm. That fragile defiance that shouldn't matter to me, but did.
I hated it. Hated the way my chest felt heavy last night when I saw her standing soaked in rain. Hated the way I remembered the quiver in her voice.

No. This wasn't concern. This wasn't guilt. This was just another irritation I would crush.

I checked my watch. Eleven fifteen. Half an hour. That's all the time she had to show up. If she didn't, she would learn exactly what it meant to disobey me.

Because Veer Chahun doesn't wait. Not for deals. Not for people. And definitely not for his mistaken bride.



🌼Aranya's pov🌼

The morning light was just beginning to filter through the curtains, painting faint golden streaks across the room. I was seated on the floor, knees drawn to my chest, my head resting lightly against the wall. The weight of exhaustion pressed down on me like a stone I couldn't move. Every muscle ached, every breath felt shallow, but I forced myself to stay upright. Grandpa... I had to see him. I had to. The thought of him lying unconscious, demanding to see me before he went under, sent a pang of restlessness through my chest that I couldn't ignore. My entire body trembled with the effort of staying strong, of holding myself together for just a little longer.

A sudden knock on the door made me jump, my heart leaping as I tried to steady my breathing. "Bhaabhiiiiii!"

The voice was unmistakable-Anika. Her usual cheerfulness was immediate and bright, but the moment her eyes fell on me, the brightness faltered, replaced by worry. "Bhabhi, what happened? Why do you look like this? You're not well... should I call Maa? Or..." She trailed off, her words a torrent of anxious questions, each one tumbling over the next, echoing my own scattered thoughts.

I blinked slowly, trying to form coherent words, and forced a soft smile. "Anika, it's okay. Really, I'm fine. I just... didn't sleep well last night. That's why I look tired."

Her brow furrowed. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I replied, nodding. The lie felt heavy on my tongue, but necessary. I couldn't tell anyone the truth-not yet. Not anyone.

Anika stepped closer, leaning toward me with a curious tilt of her head. "By the way... yesterday. How did you get soaked in water? I mean... everthing was okay, but... bhai told us you weren't well, and then you were-"

I froze, confusion tightening my chest. "What do you mean?"

"Bhabhi, last night... bhai called me and said to change your dres. I came with a servant because you were sleeping so deeply-we didn't want to wake you."

Relief washed over me in a quiet, almost imperceptible wave. My fingers relaxed slightly as the tension in my shoulders eased a little. So it hadn't been him. My chest felt marginally lighter, even if only by a fraction.

"You changed my dress?" I asked softly, just to be certain.

"Yes. Me and the servant."

I exhaled slowly, grateful. My hands, which had been gripping the edge of my dupatta so tightly that the fabric was almost creased, relaxed a little. "Oh... thank goodness," I whispered, barely audible, almost to myself.

Anika clapped her hands together excitedly. "Oh! I almost forgot!"

She rummaged behind her and pulled out a neatly stacked blue file. "Bhabhi, bhai called me. He said to give this to you and... umm... to take it to his office."

My stomach dropped. "Me?"

She grinned, clearly thrilled. "Yes! You. Maybe... maybe it's your first rasoi gift. You know, like... his way of welcoming you into the house, or something!"

I opened my mouth, only to be cut off. "Why me?" I murmured, more to myself than to her, my fingers tracing the edge of the file nervously.

"Don't think too much!" Anika giggled. "Come on, it's your first time going to his office. We can't have you wearing a saree, right? Let's pick something nice."

I hesitated, unsure what to say. My mind was spinning. First rasoi gift? Office? Him? Everything tangled together, a knot of nervousness, curiosity, and unease tightening in my chest.

Anika disappeared briefly, only to reemerge moments later with a sky-blue anarkali in her hands. The fabric shimmered subtly in the soft morning light, delicate silver embroidery tracing the neckline and sleeves, sheer threads cascading down the skirt. I felt my breath catch as I took in the outfit.

"Just... wear this. It'll look cute on you. Trust me," Anika said brightly.

"But... how can I-this is yours," I whispered, feeling slightly guilty.

She waved me off with a laugh. "I'm your sister now. Sisters never ask. They take whatever they want. Just wear it."

Sisters. The word made something inside me swell. My chest felt warm in a strange, unfamiliar way. I hadn't heard that word directed at me with so much sincerity in years. My lips quivered into a small, tentative smile, and I felt my eyes prick with tears I refused to let fall.

Anika gently took a small makeup kit and started applying a light layer of kajal, blush, and lip color. Each brushstroke felt like care, like someone seeing me, acknowledging me. When I looked in the mirror after she was done, I barely recognized myself. The reflection was soft, bright, and... alive. My chest tightened, and for a moment, the nervousness of what awaited me melted slightly into awe and gratitude.

Anika gently guided me toward the mirror after fixing the last pin in my hair. "Okay, now look," she said, her tone full of excitement.

I hesitated. My fingers gripped the edge of the dressing table as if I wasn't ready to face what stared back. Slowly, I raised my eyes.

For a second, I didn't recognize her. The girl in the mirror. The pale blue anarkali shimmered softly around her frame, its delicate embroidery catching the light. A gentle flush painted her cheeks, her lips looked alive with just a touch of color, and her eyes-my eyes-shone brighter than I remembered them ever doing.

I blinked, taken aback. Was that really me?

My throat tightened unexpectedly, the sting of tears blurring my reflection. It wasn't because of the dress or the makeup-it was because someone had made me feel... worthy of it. Anika's laughter, her insistence, her calling me sister-it wrapped around me like a warmth I had long forgotten.

For the first time, I wasn't just dressing up because of a ritual, or because someone demanded it. For the first time, I felt... seen. Wanted. Like maybe, just maybe, I could belong here.

I swallowed hard, quickly lowering my gaze so Anika wouldn't notice the sudden wetness in my eyes. But inside, something shifted. Something fragile.

When I finally descended the stairs, the car was waiting. I steadied myself, holding the blue file close to my chest. The drive was tense. Each stoplight, each passing car seemed to echo the thrum of my heartbeat. My thoughts tumbled over themselves: Why did he call me? What is waiting for me there?

Imperium Towers rose ahead, sleek and modern. Its glass facade reflected the sunlight, blinding in its brilliance. The towering structure seemed to pulse with power, a kingdom in steel and light. My steps slowed as I approached the glass doors, my hands gripping the file so tightly that the edges creased.

Inside, the lobby stretched wide, polished marble floors gleaming under the light, voices echoing softly from the reception desk. A man in a perfectly tailored suit approached, his expression professional, his gaze direct.

"Excuse me," he said, voice smooth and controlled, "are you Ms. Aranya?"

My throat went dry. My fingers tightened around the file as the world seemed to narrow to that single, pointed question. The faint sound of the lobby's chatter faded into background noise. My chest ached, my heartbeat roared in my ears, and I barely dared to blink.

And that's where I froze.

🦋Author's POV🦋

"Hi ma'am, I am Abhishek, Sir's assistant." The young man greeted politely, his warm smile a stark contrast to the storm brewing in Aranya's chest.

She forced a faint smile, just enough to not appear rude, and gave a small nod.

"Sir told me to guide you to his office," he continued with professional calmness, gesturing for her to follow.

Aranya's feet moved, but her mind was somewhere else entirely. Why me? she wondered, her throat tightening with unease. Her heartbeat drummed too fast, not from the small walk, but from the awareness of where she was.

The Imperium office was nothing short of intimidating. The glass walls gleamed with a cold brilliance, every corridor immaculate, every passing employee dressed in sharp formals and holding files with quick, purposeful strides. But what unnerved her most wasn't the structure or the cold air-conditioning-it was the eyes.
Everywhere she turned, she felt them. Curious stares. Some quick and fleeting, some lingering far too long. Her palms grew damp. The weight of their gazes clung to her skin, making her feel out of place, exposed, like an intruder in a world that wasn't meant for her.

Her breaths quickened. She tucked her dupatta tighter around herself, wishing it could shield her from those piercing glances. She could almost hear the unspoken questions in their eyes: Who is she? Why is she here? Why does Sir's assistant look like he's escorting her personally?

Her steps faltered once, but she forced herself to keep walking, trying not to crumble under the invisible pressure. Just keep moving, Aranya... you have no choice.

But in her absent-minded haze, she hadn't even noticed where Abhishek was leading her. Her gaze stayed fixed on the marble tiles beneath her sandals until suddenly, he stopped.

She almost bumped into him, startled, and raised her head.
They weren't at a door labeled "CEO's Office" or even near the main elevator bay. No, they were standing near a dull-gray metal door-the emergency exit. The kind no one ever used unless fire alarms rang.

Aranya blinked in confusion. Abhishek pushed the heavy door open, and the stale air of the staircase drifted out, smelling faintly of dust and concrete.

"Ma'am," Aarav said softly, almost apologetically. "You can take the stairs."

Her brows furrowed. "Stairs? Why not the elevator? Is it not working?" she asked, genuinely puzzled, her gaze darting toward the shining elevator doors just a few feet away. They looked perfectly functional.

Abhishek hesitated, his lips parting and closing as though he wished he could say otherwise. He finally cleared his throat and muttered, "Sir... specifically instructed that only you are to take the stairs."

For a moment, silence hung heavy.

Aranya let out a faint, bitter laugh, though it carried no humor. Of course. Of course, this was his doing. Who else would come up with such a cruel, unnecessary demand? It wasn't about the stairs. It was about power. About reminding her that he controlled every step she took.

Her stomach twisted. His life goal is to destroy me in every way possible, she thought grimly. And here it was, another proof.

But even as her body screamed with exhaustion, another thought hit harder-Grandpa. Her grandfather's faint voice over the phone, the sudden collapse, the urgency in Aarav's words. That was her priority. She had to hold on, somehow, until she could see him again. If climbing stairs was the only way, then so be it.

"Okay," she said finally, her voice small but steady. "Which floor?"

"Thirty-two, ma'am."
The words crashed into her like a cruel joke. "32th floor?" she repeated, her voice rising with shock.

"Yes," Abhishk's tone was low, uneasy, as though he knew just how inhuman the order was. He avoided her eyes as he added, "Sir said... you should reach there in ten minutes."

Her knees nearly buckled. Thirty-two floors. Ten minutes.

Impossible.

But she saw the helplessness in Abhishek's expression, the way his shoulders sagged. He didn't like this either, but he had no his boss's order was his priority.

Her chest ached, and her throat burned with unshed tears. Why? Why is he doing this to me? But even as the question rose, she knew the answer. He hated her. He wanted her to break. To prove she didn't belong. To punish her for a sin she didn't even understand.

She swallowed hard, clutching her dupatta in trembling fists. I can't... I don't want him to get angry. I don't know what he'll do if I disobey. The thought sent a cold shiver down her spine.

Her lips quivered into a fragile smile, the kind that masked pain, as she whispered, "Alright. Thirty-second floor it is."

Abhishek's jaw tightened. He gave a small bow before turning away, clearly uncomfortable leaving her there. But orders were orders. Within moments, she was alone with the gray metal staircase, stretching upward endlessly like a cruel test of will.

She stood there for a long second, her heart sinking lower than her feet. The truth pressed down on her chest like a stone-she was helpless. Sad. But it was the truth of her life now.

No one would fight for her. No one would question him. And she couldn't risk angering him. All she could do was obey... even if it meant shattering herself piece by piece.

Her hands trembled as she touched the cold railing. Her throat constricted, but she inhaled deeply.

One step at a time, Aranya.

With that, she placed her foot on the first stair, the weight of thirty-two floors pressing invisibly on her back.

And thus began her climb.

Meanwhile, inside the glass fortress of his office, Veer Chahun leaned back in his leather chair, files spread neatly across the polished mahogany desk. His sharp eyes scanned the numbers, his hand moving lazily as he flipped through contracts with practiced ease.
The silence of the room was broken when his phone buzzed.
It was a message from Abhishek.

"Sir, i have shown ma'am the stairs.She is climbing."

A slow smirk curved across Veer's lips, a dark gleam flashing in his eyes. He set the file aside, rolling the pen between his fingers, leaning back with satisfaction. The image of her delicate frame, struggling against the merciless flight of endless stairs, pleased him more than he cared to admit.

Cruel? Maybe. But it was deliberate. Every order, every punishment, every challenge was his way of reminding her-she was in his world now. She didn't get choices. She didn't get comfort. She would bend, she would break, or she would learn to endure.

A low chuckle escaped him. "Good girl," he murmured to himself, pride dripping in his voice, though not the kind that came from affection. No, it was the cold pride of a man who thrived on control. Watching her suffer meant he had succeeded again.
And so, while he returned to his work, Veer's thoughts never fully left her. He pictured her flushed face, the tremble in her hands, the stubborn determination in her eyes-each detail feeding his cruel satisfaction.

Far below, Aranya clutched the railing with both hands, her breath already shallow. The first ten floors had been manageable, her body running on adrenaline. But the further she climbed, the more reality crashed down on her fragile strength.

Her stomach ached with emptiness. She hadn't eaten properly for two days, every morsel either avoided out of fear or forced down without taste. Add to that the hours she had been left shivering in the rain the night before, her body already weakened... and the punishment of these stairs became unbearable.

By the fifteenth floor, her throat burned like sandpaper. She pressed a hand against the wall, gasping, her vision blurring at the edges. Her shoes slipped against the smooth steps, sweat dampening her palms until she almost lost her grip on the railing.

Her legs trembled violently, each step heavier than the last. A dizzy spell washed over her, and she paused, eyes closing tightly, willing herself not to faint. She wanted to give up so badly-to just sit on the step, close her eyes, and let exhaustion consume her.

But she couldn't. She wouldn't. Somewhere deep inside, a fragile fire still burned, whispering to her to move forward. She had to.
With trembling fingers, she pulled out her phone.

4 minutes left.

Her chest constricted. Only four minutes. And she wasn't even halfway done.

A broken sound escaped her lips as she shoved the phone back into her dupatta and forced her feet to move. One. Two. Three. Each step felt like dragging boulders tied to her ankles. Her lungs screamed, sweat soaked the back of her neck, and still, she climbed.

Minutes bled into eternity.

Her body betrayed her, slowing despite her will. When she finally staggered up the final step, her phone buzzed again.

15 minutes had passed.

She was late. Very late.

Her vision swam as she stumbled against the wall, chest heaving, sweat glistening on her temples. And then, her blurry gaze landed on two imposing men in black-Veer's bodyguards.

They frowned, their hands instinctively hovering near their sides.
"Who are you?" one demanded, his sharp tone slicing through her haze. "Why are you coming from the stairs?"

Aranya opened her mouth, but nothing came. Her voice had deserted her, her throat too dry, her body too broken. She gasped helplessly, gripping the railing to stay upright.

Before the situation escalated, Aarav appeared from the hallway. His calm voice filled the air.

"Sir instructed her to climb the stairs."

The guards exchanged looks, shock flickering across their features. But orders were orders. They stepped aside immediately.
Aarav's expression softened as he glanced at her, but he said nothing. He only gestured silently toward the polished wooden door at the end of the corridor-Veer's cabin.

Her heart sank.

She knew. She was fifteen minutes late. And if there was one thing she had already learned, it was that Veer Chahun never tolerated failure.

Aranya wiped her clammy palms against her dupatta, trying to compose herself. Her pulse raced wildly, matching the storm of fear and nerves in her chest. She stood before the door, staring at the golden nameplate gleaming against the dark wood.

Her hand trembled as she lifted it. One soft knock echoed, followed by the slow creak of the door opening.

And there he was.

Her breath hitched, body frozen at the doorframe. She couldn't even blink under the weight of his stare, that voice crawling under her skin like ice. The silence between them was deafening, her heartbeat the only sound in her ears.

"You are late, wifey."

And her heart nearly stopped.

And in that chilling moment, she knew-this wasn't just about time. It was about power. About him reminding her, yet again, that she was trapped in his world.

Her trembling fingers curled tighter into her dupatta, praying she wouldn't collapse right there.

The room turned colder.

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