Sacred Games Of Twisted Fate {18+}

*NO MORE SILENCE *

***author's pov***

As Aayara descended the grand staircase, her eyes instinctively scanned the sprawling mansion. The quiet halls and empty rooms echoed back at her, but there was no sign of Arjun. She sighed softly, a familiar pang of disappointment creeping in. It wasn’t unusual for him to disappear without a word, yet every time she hoped he’d be there, a part of her still longed for his presence.

Shaking off the feeling, she made her way to the kitchen. The aroma of breakfast being prepared by the staff greeted her, but she felt the urge to do something herself. Busy hands, after all, were the best remedy for an overthinking mind.

As Aayara quietly worked in the kitchen, the lively sound of laughter broke the silence. Meera and Dia entered, their voices carrying an air of superiority as they chatted and giggled together. Dia's gaze immediately landed on Aayara, and a smirk curled on her lips.

“Oh, look who’s here,” Dia said mockingly, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Our dutiful bahu, always so busy trying to impress, but still falling short.” She exchanged a knowing glance with Meera, who smirked in agreement.

Aayara's hands paused for a moment, but she didn’t react. She was used to their taunts by now, but it didn’t stop the sting that came with them. Keeping her head low, she focused on her task, determined not to give them the satisfaction of seeing her upset.

Dia’s chuckle rang out, sharp and cruel. "Oh, are you making breakfast for your husband or mine? Husband stealer!" she sneered, her eyes glinting with malice. "I still can’t figure out what Rudra ever saw in you. Honestly, it’s pathetic."

Aayara felt her blood boil, her jaw clenching tightly. This was beyond bearable now. Dia’s words echoed in her ears, and she remembered what Arjun had told her—protect yourself and stand up for what’s yours.

Her hands stopped chopping the vegetables. Slowly, she turned to face Dia, her once soft and innocent eyes darkening with a fierce determination. Dia, caught off guard by the shift in Aayara’s expression, raised a brow, clearly expecting her to shrink back like always.

But instead, Aayara smirked, her voice calm yet cutting. "Maybe the problem isn’t with me, Dia. Maybe it’s because you can't keep your husband satisfied, and you’re looking for someone to blame."

Dia’s smug expression instantly faltered, her eyes widening in shock. Meera’s mouth dropped open, utterly speechless. The silence that followed was thick with tension, and for the first time, Aayara felt the power shift in her favor.

Dia’s eyes blazed with fury as she glared at Aayara, her confidence shattered by the unexpected comeback. Her lips curled in a sneer, but for a moment, she was at a loss for words. The humiliation of being called out so openly left her seething.

"How dare you speak to me like that!" Dia hissed, her voice low but venomous, trying to regain her composure. "You think you’ve got power now, don’t you? Just because Arjun tolerates you doesn’t mean you’re anything more than a burden in this house."

Aayara, however, didn’t flinch. She held Dia’s gaze, unshaken. “I’m not the one who’s insecure, Dia. If you spent more time focusing on your own marriage instead of tearing others down, maybe you wouldn’t feel so threatened.”

Meera, still shocked by Aayara’s boldness, stood silently, her earlier smirk gone. The balance of power had shifted, and Aayara’s words hung in the air, leaving Dia fuming but momentarily powerless to respond.

Aayara smiled calmly, despite the tension lingering in the air. She reached for the tray she had prepared and turned to Meera, her expression softening with polite respect.

"Good morning, Mummy ji," she greeted sweetly, though her eyes still held a flicker of the confidence that had silenced Dia. "I’ll be taking this to my husband. He doesn’t eat food made by anyone else, you see. It has to be made by me." Her words were casual, but there was a subtle edge to them.

With that, she gracefully excused herself, leaving Dia and Meera standing in stunned silence. The smile on Aayara’s face grew a little wider as she walked out of the kitchen, feeling a rare sense of victory. Today, she had stood her ground.

As Aayara walked down the hall, her gaze fell upon the partially open door where Rudra sat, hunched over his laptop. His jet-black hair was a mess, and the exhaustion on his face was unmistakable. His body seemed to scream for sleep, and the faint sound of his stomach growling reached her ears. She hesitated, her heart softening as she thought of how tired and neglected he seemed.

Rudra had been the first person in this house to make her smile, to offer her some warmth in this otherwise cold environment. She glanced down at the tray of food meant for Arjun and bit her lip, torn between duty and compassion. Rudra was her devar, and she couldn’t ignore how much he had silently suffered.

Gathering her courage, she knocked gently on the door. Rudra’s head snapped up, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw her standing there with the breakfast tray, a soft smile on her lips. His gaze briefly moved over her appearance—she looked like a vision in her red saree, the delicate folds clinging to her frame gracefully.

For a moment, his heart raced, but as his eyes caught the sight of the mangalsutra around her neck, reality hit him hard. The smile that had just begun to form on his lips faltered, replaced with a controlled, faint one. His emotions, which had momentarily stirred, were quickly pushed back as he composed himself.

"Aayara," he said, his voice low and warm, though tinged with a hint of restraint. "What brings you here?"

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Forbidden love? __