Demon's Physco obsession

The Gathering Storm

Ankita sat like a statue, her tutor's words a distant hum against the backdrop of her turbulent thoughts. The maids' hushed gossip replayed in her mind, their words carrying a weight of truth she couldn't shake. This wasn't a life she had chosen. The maids, aware of her eavesdropping, worried she might report them to Adhiraaj. They knew she wasn't one to seek revenge, but Malti, the loyal guardian of Adhiraaj, noted even the most insignificant violations, like a missing pin from Ankita's belongings. Adhiraaj's presence was an evident force throughout the mansion; nothing escaped his notice.

"Everyone, leave!" Adhiraaj's sharp command cut through the air, startling Ankita. He had observed her distraction from entering the conference room, her thoughts miles away. Despite warning the staff to be discreet, he knew that words could slip. Ankita intuitively knew the maids hadn't intended malice; their concern for her felt genuine. Lost in her internal world, she didn't register Adhiraaj's approach until he leaned against the table.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. "You're not yourself."

Ankita fixed her gaze on the floor, unwilling to meet his piercing eyes. She knew one look could betray her swirling thoughts, and she didn't want to involve anyone. "Look at me, dove," he gently but firmly insisted. She flinched, a tremor running through her as she finally lifted her eyes. His hand gently cupped her chin, his tone softening. "Where are you, dove? Did someone say something to upset you?"

He was always aware of the quiet movements and hidden shifts within the mansion; nothing escaped his notice, but he wanted her to confide in him directly. Ankita, instinctively protective, shook her head. "It's nothing," she murmured.

Adhiraaj's eyes narrowed almost gradually, unconvinced. "You're lost in thought. Tell me why."

Her gaze wavered under the intensity of his dark eyes. She feared voicing the truth and the potential consequences for the maids. He leaned closer, his voice steady and unwavering. "You know I'll find out eventually. Nothing stays hidden here. What's on your mind?"

Ankita's composure began to crumble, a small sniffle escaping her lips. "Today... It's the anniversary of my parents' death," she whispered, the words barely audible.

Adhiraaj's expression softened instantly. He straightened, gently drawing her to her feet and into a comforting embrace. "You should have told me," he said quietly, his arms enveloping her. "I would have cancelled the tutor's session."
He pulled back slightly, his gaze searching her face with concern. "What do you need right now?"

Ankita's voice was a fragile thread. "I just... want to be alone."

He nodded, respecting her unspoken need, his hand lingering briefly on her shoulder in a silent gesture of support before he stepped back, granting her the aloneness she craved.
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Even as he gave her space, Adhiraaj never let her drift beyond his sight. Ankita sat curled up on the window bay, her posture stiff, her eyes locked on the sky as if searching for answers in its vast emptiness. The light outside had softened into a muted glow, casting long shadows across the room. She remained motionless, an isolated figure swallowed by grief, her silence heavier than words.

It was as if her parents had unknowingly shielded the maids from Adhiraaj's wrath. He had been ready to unleash his fury, but now, standing before her, hands buried in his pockets, he felt a pang of regret. Today was her parents' death anniversary—the one day Ankita refused to let the world touch her. It was her ritual of mourning, a private exile from everything around her.

Adhiraaj watched her in quiet contemplation, his brows drawn together. How had he overlooked this date? He, who meticulously kept track of every moment significant to her, had allowed it to slip past. Was he beginning to take her presence for granted? Had his mind been clouded by too many distractions? His rivals had successfully spiked her drink in Milan, right under his nose. That failure still gnawed at him. And now, this? Was he faltering in the promises he had made to protect her?