His Predator Her Prey

Silent Storms

Manasvi and Arnav sat quietly near the tranquil lake, their legs dipping gently in the cool water. The scene felt almost surreal, especially with the delicate beauty of Manasvi's face illuminated by the fading light. She looked as if she belonged to another world, her soft features framed by her long hair flowing gently in the breeze. Her round, delicate nose, graced with a small nose ring, added charm to her innocence, while a tiny bindi centered perfectly on her forehead completed her look. Her head rested on Arnav's shoulder, and they held each other's hands in a gentle, close embrace.

As Manasvi gazed at the shimmering lake, Arnav's eyes were elsewhere, lingering on her neckline with a look that felt uneasy, though she tried to brush it off. His focus, filled with a subtle intensity, made her feel somewhat self-conscious, yet she fought to dismiss it. "He saved me from that horrible man," she reassured herself, pushing the unsettling feelings aside. "Not every man is the same... Arnav is different. He's understanding." Manasvi clung to this thought, trying to let go of her unease.

After a few quiet moments, Arnav's voice broke through the silence, his question catching her off guard. "Can we kiss?" he asked. The question, so direct and unexpected, visibly altered her expression, hinting at her discomfort and uncertainty. Sensing this hesitation, Arnav quickly adapted, his face softening into an expression of vulnerability. "No... it's fine if you don't trust me," he murmured, casting his gaze down as if hurt, skillfully using his expression to stir sympathy within her.

Manasvi's heart softened, and she questioned her own reaction, wondering if she had perhaps been too cautious.

Manasvi's hands fidgeted in her lap, her mind a tangled web of emotions as she spoke softly, "No... It's not like that. I'm just... not comfortable with all of this before marriage." Her voice was gentle yet filled with conviction, her words hinting at her values and reservations.

Arnav sat opposite her, eyes dark with frustration and impatience. He had waited seven months in this relationship, yet their intimacy had barely progressed beyond holding hands. His gaze lingered on her, laced with an intensity that bordered on possessiveness. He let out a low, exasperated chuckle, "Come on, Manasvi. We've been together for months, and we haven't even kissed yet."

Before she could respond, he removed his hands from hers, a coldness settling between them. Standing up abruptly, he ran his fingers through his hair in agitation. "For God's sake, stop this stammering!" he barked, his voice harsher than he intended.

Manasvi flinched at his words, the sudden shift in his demeanor leaving her shaken. She felt small, vulnerable, as she whispered, "I... I'm sorry, Arnav. I didn't mean to upset you." Desperation flickered in her chest, a fear of losing him—of being alone. She wanted to make him happy, to hold onto this relationship that she had grown attached to. "Fine... I... I'm ready. Ready to kiss," she managed, her voice wavering but resigned.

Arnav's expression twisted into a satisfied smirk. Without another word, he pulled her close, his arms encircling her waist with a force that left no room for protest. His lips descended on hers, urgent and unrelenting. Manasvi tried to relax, tried to match his fervor, but her discomfort only grew with each second. She was pulled deeper into the kiss, her heart racing—not with excitement but with an overwhelming sense of discomfort. Tears pooled in her eyes as she felt his hands grip her more firmly, his intensity unyielding.

Finally, breathless, he pulled back, both of them gasping for air. For a moment, she thought it was over, that the storm had passed. But then his lips traced down to her neck, pressing into her skin with an urgency that felt foreign and unsettling. Her fingers trembled as she tried to gently push him back, hoping he would notice her unease.