Her Deviant Husband

Chapter 13

Reyansh's pov

She wasn't going to give me an answer. 

The realization burned, an ache tightening around my chest as I watched the hesitation flicker in her eyes. 

I had told her to leave—given her more than enough reason to, if she had any sense. 

Yet, there she was, frozen still, lips parted with an answer she couldn't bring herself to utter. I had no intention of letting her stay one more second.

"Last chance, Athira," I whispered, barely managing to keep my voice steady. 

"Tell me to stop, and I will.

Her silence was all I needed.

I leaned forward, close enough to see the softness in her gaze, her lips parting as if on the verge of saying something. 

My heart hammered in my chest, my pulse relentless, and I couldn't look away.
She was a force of chaos, a storm I couldn't control, couldn't turn away from—no matter how much I knew I should.

She wasn't going to make this easy for me, was she?

"Fine," I muttered under my breath. 

"You owe me one, sweetheart," I said, my voice barely a whisper, only for her ears.

I reached back, feeling the cold handle of the dagger pressed against my spine. I unsheathe it and pulled it from my waistband, the motion slow and deliberate, my gaze never leaving hers. The flash of fear and confusion in her eyes was just enough to ground me as I brought the blade down, driving it into my own arm without hesitation.

Pain shot through me, hot and knocking back some sense to me. 

I even went and took an IV to get rid of the effects of the vaigra and now I had to still stab myself because of this woman. 

Fucking Unbelievable!

I gritted my teeth as blood emerged around the blade, and the sting reminded me to stay in control- barely. I held her gaze, watching the shock, the horror wash over her face, her eyes growing wide with unshed tears.

"There," I whispered, feeling the blade twist with the slightest movement. 

"Go get your phone from Vihaan, who's waiting outside." I forced myself to keep my voice calm, composed. "And get out of my apartment. I'll count to ten."

The confusion in her gaze burned into me, mingling with something like hurt. 

Her eyes shimmered with tears, and that should've been enough satisfaction, seeing her finally realize I wasn't the man she thought. Proving her wrong should have made me feel incredible. 

Instead, all I felt was this sick, hollow ache.

"One," I started counting, voice low.

"Are you serious?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

"Two." My voice was colder this time, sharper. I couldn't stop, wouldn't stop. This was necessary. But the way she looked at me—like she actually cared, like she could see some piece of me that I didn't want her to—sent a strange, twisted pain through my chest that was sharper than the dagger's blade.

"You didn't... you didn't need to stab yourself. I would have left anyway."

I let out a hollow laugh, the pain twisting with each breath, but I kept my tone steady. 

"Clearly, you didn't feel like leaving a second ago." My fingers clenched around the handle of the knife, holding it in place even as a fresh wave of pain coursed through me.