The Billionaire's Bride [ Rewritten]

Part 11 | Nightmare

Midnight.

I stared at the ceiling, wide awake, listening to the quiet hum of the night. Sleep refused to come, no matter what position I lay.

Maybe I should read something?

No… too tired to get up and find a book.

Food?

I had just brushed my teeth. Absolutely not.

Call someone and ruin their sleep?
I almost laughed at the thought.

Aditi? She’d skin me alive for waking her up.

Dhruv? Busy, no doubt, wrapped up in his new world with Siya. They have been together for a month now. I smiled faintly in the dark. He deserved that happiness.

Jason? Nah.. Probably fast asleep.

The memory of Sunday dinner drifted in—easy conversations, a few silences, Kartik being unusually quiet with Jason. But with Dhruv, it had been different. They had clicked instantly, like old friends finding each other again.

Last week hadn’t been remarkable in any grand way—but it had been easy, calm in the way that settles quietly into your bones. Kartik and I… we were good. No—better than good. There was a comfort between us now, growing steady.

I even discovered something amusing—Mr. Oberoi, who claimed otherwise, was terrified of horror movies.

“I’m not scared,” he argued. “I just don’t like them.”

I smiled at the memory.

I wonder if he’s asleep.
He had come home late. He must be.

Closing my eyes, I tried the old trick my mom had taught me.

One sheep… two sheep… three sheep…

Somewhere between four and five, sleep must have found me.

A sharp crashing sound tore through the silence.

My eyes flew open.

3:00 AM.

Another crash followed, louder this time.

“Kartik?”

My heart started racing as I threw off the covers and hurried out of my room. The hallway felt colder than usual. I reached his door and pushed it open slowly.

The sight inside made me freeze.

Kartik was thrashing on the bed, drenched in sweat, his face twisted in distress. A broken vase lay scattered across the floor, along with the shattered remains of a photo frame from the nightstand.

" Kartik… wake up," I said softly, rushing to his side.

He didn’t respond.

He was mumbling—words I couldn’t make out—his breathing was uneven, strained. A nightmare.