"Yuvraj, please," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Don't do this."
"Get up," he ordered, his voice as cold as ice.
Tears streamed down my face. "Please, I'll do anything. Just don't make me-"
"Step on the glass," he interrupted, his eyes burning wit...
🌶️ Heads up! This chapter is spicy and intended for mature audiences (18+). If you're not 18+, you can decide whether to read it. Enjoy!
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I woke up the next day drenched in sweat, the sheets clinging to my skin. The pain in my feet was a sharp reminder of what had happened yesterday. I glanced around, realizing I was naked under the blanket, with my feet heavily bandaged. A shiver ran down my spine as fragments of the previous day flooded back into my mind.
Ignoring the pain, I frantically searched for my phone on the bed and nightstand, hoping for some solace. Instead, I found a note, written in Yuvraj's familiar scrawl.
The note read:
"Aisha, before you can eat, you must clean the room and prepare lunch. Only then will you receive any food."
A wave of frustration washed over me, but I knew I had no choice. I gingerly got out of bed and dressed, wincing with every step. The bandages on my feet were tight, but the pain was relentless. Still, I forced myself to start cleaning the room, each movement a battle against the throbbing in my feet.
Hours passed in a blur of dusting, scrubbing, and tidying. I moved like a robot, the promise of food my only motivation. Finally, I made my way to the kitchen and began preparing a traditional Indian meal. The aroma of spices filled the air as I cooked, hoping Yuvraj would be pleased with my efforts.
By the time I finished, it was already 4 PM. Exhausted and hungry, I set the table and sat down, waiting for Yuvraj. The medication I had taken earlier was making me drowsy, and I could barely keep my eyes open. I leaned back on the sofa, just for a moment, I told myself.
Sleep overcame me quickly, pulling me into a deep, empty-stomach slumber, even as the smell of the food lingered in the air.
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After working in my study till 6 AM, I finally made my way to my bedroom. The sight that greeted me was a stark reminder of the previous night. Aisha was there, lying naked under the bedsheet, her face streaked with tears and blood. Her crying had subsided into soft whimpers. I ignored the pang of guilt that threatened to surface and quickly changed into my gym clothes.
