RadhaKrishn

Wait For Me Radha

Author's PoV

"Wait for me a little longer bridie, I will make you mine."

The man's voice was low, almost a whisper, filled with an unsettling mix of obsession and longing. He stood in a dimly lit room, the only source of light coming from a small lamp on a table near the wall covered with Radha's photographs. Each picture captured her in different moments—smiling, laughing, lost in thought—each one more beautiful than the last.

His fingers traced the edges of one particular photo, where Radha was laughing, her eyes shining with joy. The sight of her happiness brought a twisted smile to his face. "Soon, Radha," he murmured, his voice dripping with an eerie promise. "Very soon, you'll be right here with me. Where you belong."

He stepped back, taking in the full view of the wall, the culmination of his careful collection over time. To anyone else, this would be a shrine of admiration gone horribly wrong. But to him, it was a testament to his unwavering devotion—a devotion that had festered into something far darker.

His gaze lingered on a candid shot of her, one where she was holding a bouquet of flowers, her head tilted slightly as she looked down at the blossoms. "They don't deserve you," he hissed, the softness in his voice giving way to anger. "They can't protect you like I can. Krishna, your so-called husband—he's a fool if he thinks he can keep you safe from me."

He moved closer to the wall, his breath shallow and quick as he reached out to another photograph, this one of Radha with Aavi, holding him close. His eyes darkened as he stared at the image, a flash of jealousy igniting within him. "Even the child... he can't keep us apart," he muttered, his voice laced with malice. "I'll take care of everything. You'll see."

He closed his eyes, imagining a future where Radha was by his side, a twisted fantasy where she finally understood that they were meant to be together. A shiver of anticipation ran down his spine. "Just a little more time, bridie," he whispered, his fingers curling into a fist. "Then, I'll make you mine, forever."

The man turned away from the wall, his expression now cold and calculating. He moved to a desk in the corner of the room, where a plan was slowly taking shape. Maps, notes, and photographs were scattered across the surface, a testament to his meticulous preparations. He knew everything about her life—where she went, who she saw, her routines and habits. It was only a matter of time before he struck.

He reached into a drawer and pulled out a small velvet box. Opening it, he revealed a delicate ring inside—a ring he had chosen with great care, one that he believed would seal their fate together. "For you, Radha," he said softly, as if she could hear him. "The moment you wear this, you'll understand that we're destined to be one."

As he snapped the box shut, his mind was already racing, formulating the next steps in his plan. He had waited long enough. The time was drawing near, and nothing—not Krishna, not Aavi, not even Radha's own will—would stand in his way.

With one last glance at the wall of photographs, he extinguished the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. His twisted obsession had consumed him, and now, he was ready to make his move.

"Wait for me, Radha," he whispered into the darkness. "Soon, you'll have no choice but to be mine."