Sacred Games Of Twisted Fate {18+}

* OLD BONDS , FRESH WOUNDS *

***AUTHOR'S POV***

Meanwhile, in another part of the mansion, Rudra stormed into the room, his face dark with anger, and his usually composed demeanor shattered. Dia, sitting at the vanity, combing her long hair, gasped the moment her eyes landed on him. His lip was split, smeared with blood, and his knuckles were bruised, evidence of a fight. She knew instantly that something had happened with Sahil.

Concerned, Dia immediately stood up and walked toward him, her eyes filled with worry. She gently reached out, trying to touch his hand, her fingers barely brushing his skin.

"Rudra, what happened?" she asked softly, but before she could do anything more, he jerked away, stepping back as if her touch burned him.

"Don’t touch me!" he snapped, his voice harsh and laced with frustration. His eyes were dark, filled with an intensity that made Dia pause in her tracks. "Stay away!" he barked, the anger in his tone making her flinch.

Without another word, Rudra turned on his heel and stormed toward the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind him with a loud bang, the sound echoing through the room, leaving Dia standing there, stunned and hurt.

She swallowed hard, her chest tightening as she stood frozen, unsure of what to do. She wanted to help him, to comfort him, but Rudra had built walls around himself, walls she couldn’t seem to break through.

Dia sighed, sitting back down slowly. She stared at the closed bathroom door, her heart aching for him. Whatever had happened between Rudra and Sahil, it had clearly shaken him more than he was willing to admit.

But despite his anger, despite his harsh words, Dia knew that there was more to Rudra than the cold, distant man he tried to be. She could see the pain hidden beneath his anger, the frustration that he didn’t know how to express. And deep down, she wished he would let her in.

But for now, all she could do was wait, hoping that one day he would finally let her close enough to help.

After a while, Rudra emerged from the bathroom, his face hardened and his jaw clenched. His wound was still fresh, a thin trickle of blood running down his lip, but he didn’t seem to care. He hissed quietly in pain but made no effort to stop the bleeding. He looked rough, worn from whatever confrontation he had with Sahil, yet he wore his bruises like armor.

Dia watched him, biting her lip in frustration. She hated seeing him like this, but she knew if she approached him gently, he’d only push her away again. With sudden determination, she crossed the room to him, grabbing his wrist firmly and pulling him toward the bed.

Rudra tried to resist at first, his instinct to push her away kicking in as he muttered, "I’m fine, leave it." But before he could break free, Dia turned and glared at him, her eyes fiery with anger.

“No!” she snapped, her voice firm. “I’m not helping because you want it—I’m helping because I’m your wife and I care. You hurt yourself fighting your best friend, so at least let me do this!”

Her sharp tone left Rudra momentarily stunned, and he blinked, swallowing hard. For a second, he found himself at a loss. He wasn’t used to people standing up to him, least of all someone like Dia. And why, of all times, did he suddenly find her cute when she was angry? He gulped, his gaze softening slightly as he glanced away, trying to hide the faint smirk threatening to appear on his lips.

Without a word, he let her tug him toward the bed, not bothering to pull his hand away from her grip. His mind, still swimming in the heat of his emotions, was caught off guard by how her anger and care collided. He usually hated being fussed over, but something about her determination made him pause.

Dia pushed him gently to sit on the edge of the bed and grabbed the first aid kit from the bedside table. She worked quietly but efficiently, her hands soft but her movements precise as she cleaned his wounds. Rudra watched her in silence, his heart racing slightly at how close she was, her face etched with concern and determination.

He winced as she dabbed at his split lip, and she shot him a quick glance, her frustration still lingering. “Why do you always have to fight?” she muttered, more to herself than to him.

Rudra didn’t answer, instead, his gaze stayed fixed on her. For the first time in a while, he didn’t have the energy to argue back. And maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to.

As Dia carefully treated his wounds, Rudra sat still, his eyes wandering away from her. His mind raced, trying to distance himself from the way her touch made him feel. But then, unexpectedly, Dia gripped his chin and leaned in closer, her face just inches from his, making his breath hitch as his eyes widened.

“Wh-what do you think you’re doing?” he stammered, caught off guard by the sudden closeness.

She rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed with his reaction. “I’m not kissing you, Rudra,” she replied with a sigh. “You wouldn’t let me even if I wanted to.” Her tone was casual, but there was an edge to it. “I’m checking your lip cut. So stay still.”

With that, she focused on cleaning the wound, blowing gentle air onto his split lip, soothing the sting as she worked. Rudra’s eyes stayed on her, unblinking, cold, but silently observing her every move. There was something in the way she handled him—calm, firm, and unbothered by his usual defenses—that stirred thoughts he tried to suppress.

As Dia continued, Rudra’s mind wandered back to their past. He thought of the years when they had been best friends, when everything between them had been easy and natural. She had been someone he could rely on, laugh with, confide in without judgment. But that was before everything changed, before her obsession with him had turned their friendship upside down and pushed him into this marriage—a marriage he hadn’t wanted.

If it weren’t for her feelings, they could have stayed like that, close and uncomplicated. But now, every time he looked at her, the weight of their relationship, the forced commitment, pressed down on him. The warmth between them was buried under layers of frustration, resentment, and unspoken emotions.

Rudra’s gaze darkened as those thoughts swirled in his head, his cold eyes locked on Dia’s face. Part of him hated her for ruining what they had, for pushing them into this life where he felt trapped. And yet, in moments like this, when she was close enough to touch, when she was simply caring for him without expecting anything in return, he couldn’t deny that he missed their old bond.

But those thoughts remained unspoken, locked behind his icy exterior. When Dia finished, she gently released his chin and stepped back, seemingly oblivious to the storm of emotions brewing behind Rudra’s silent gaze.

“Done,” she said softly, giving him a small smile as she put away the first aid kit. “You’ll be fine now.”

Rudra didn’t respond. He simply stood up, his face once again unreadable. His coldness returned as he turned away from her, the distance between them feeling as vast as ever.