Love isn't supposed to be this complicated- at least, that's what Manya thought before Sarth entered her life.
She's fiercely independent, and he's the infuriatingly charming guy who knows how to push her buttons.
Their connection? Intense, messy...
🎉 For the first time ever, you're diving into Sarth's POV, and I'm so excited to share this side of the story with you.
Can't wait to hear what you think—so let me know your thoughts as you read!
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Manya lay sprawled across my bed, her chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm, the early morning light caressing her face, painting her features in a soft, ethereal glow. She looked so peaceful, untouched by the chaos that had torn through our lives last night. I stood at the edge of the bed, unable to tear my eyes away from her.
How could she sleep so soundly? As if last night hadn't happened, as if she remained untainted by my touch, untainted by me.
The thought cut through me like a knife.
I hadn't slept a wink. My eyes burned with exhaustion, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my chest.
"I always wondered how they would look wrapped around my fingers," I murmured to myself, my gaze fixed on her hair fanned out across the pillow. The urge to touch her, to run my fingers through those waves, surged within me, almost unbearable. But I couldn't dare to wake her. Not now. Not after everything I'd done.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I fought to keep my distance. I wanted nothing more than to hold her, to pull her into my arms and protect her from everything that had happened, from everything I had done. But I couldn't. I'd caused her pain, driven a wedge between us. How could I touch her, how could I hold her, knowing that I was the source of her distress?
The weight of my guilt pressed down on me, crushing the breath from my lungs. "Why can't I just tell you how much you mean to me?" I whispered, the words barely audible in the stillness of the room. But even if I could, would it make a difference? Or was it too late? Had I pushed her too far, done too much damage to ever hope for redemption?
She stirred, a soft sigh escaping her lips, and panic flared in my chest. I couldn't face her, not like this. I turned and fled the room, my footsteps echoing through the silent house. I slipped into my office, slamming the door shut behind me. Leaning against it, I tried to steady my breathing, tried to calm the storm raging inside me.
Everything I had ever done, I did for her.
From the moment I met her, my world had revolved around her. The thought of her with someone else, of her leaving me, had driven me to agree to this marriage without hesitation.
"Even if we spend our lives bickering, at least she'll be beside me," I had thought. But now, that desperate need to keep her close had backfired spectacularly.
