Her Nightmare | 18+

| Promise |

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PARINIDHI

As I awoke to the morning light streaming through the curtains, my gaze instinctively gravitated towards the couch where Devansh lay.

He lay sprawled on his stomach, his face turned away from me, his form relaxed in slumber. The absence of any covering allowed my eyes to trace the contours of his broad back.

"I can sense your eyes on me, love," Devansh's voice cut through the silence, startling me, as I realized he was already awake.

With a shift of his weight, Devansh turned to face me, his hand propping up his head, a subtle smirk playing on his lips.

"I wasn't staring," I hastily retorted, attempting to conceal my gaze, but Devansh rose from the couch, making his way towards me.

His sweatpants hung low on his hips, accentuating the definition of his lower abs and the faint scars adorning his skin.

Despite the coolness of the room, beads of sweat formed on my forehead as my eyes lingered on his physique, unable to look away.

I was perched on the edge of the bed when Devansh silently approached, standing tall before me, his sudden presence catching me off guard.

"Are you certain you weren't admiring the view?" Devansh's voice broke the stillness, his gaze piercing yet playful.

My eyes involuntarily lifted, and a gasp escaped my lips as I beheld him—how could someone exude such raw allure straight out of slumber?

Swiftly redirecting my gaze downward, I cursed inwardly as it landed upon his sculpted abdomen, my fingers unconsciously tracing the faint scars adorning his skin.

"What's the story behind these scars?" I ventured, though I knew it was a question better left unasked, the answer already evident in the markings.

Devansh tensed at the touch of my fingers, momentarily speechless. Meeting his gaze once more, I found a tumult of emotions swirling within his eyes—anger, hurt, and perhaps a hint of vulnerability.

"Speak up," I insisted, holding his gaze unwaveringly.

Devansh wordlessly clasped my hand, settling beside me on the bed. No words were exchanged as he held onto my hand, his eyes expressing a myriad of emotions, silently.

I shifted slightly to meet his gaze, and he, in turn, raised his eyes to meet mine.

Feeling my silent request for clarification, he managed a small smile before speaking. "It's a gift to myself for causing you pain," he admitted, his voice carrying a mixture of remorse and resignation.

Devansh's admission didn't catch me off guard; I had already pieced together the answer before he uttered a word.

The notion of Devansh inflicting physical harm upon himself wasn't unfamiliar territory, but the severity of his actions left me stunned.

His abdomen bore deep lacerations, wounds that hadn't yet fully healed, while cigarette burns adorned his biceps, stark reminders of his inner turmoil.

What depths of emotional anguish could drive someone to such extremes of self-inflicted pain? It eluded my understanding.

His conduct deviated sharply from the norm, prompting me to delve deeper into the root causes behind his sudden and perilous outbursts.

For now, I found solace in the absence of Devansh's wrath since Anshika's return. Though I knew her pain was the catalyst, the extent of his volatility remained perplexing.