Arranged to my hater

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Ishita's POV:

A sharp urge wakes me, my bladder screaming for attention. I groan, fighting the pull of sleep, but nature wins. Reluctantly, I drag myself to the bathroom.

It's Saturday—a rare gift. I can sleep in as long as I want, and after last night, I need it. My body aches deliciously from the intensity of Abhimanyu's passion. His insatiable hunger had kept me awake through the night—his hands roaming over my bare skin, his lips marking their territory, and the way he devoured me like a midnight feast.

Despite my exhaustion, I smile at the memory. Every touch felt like a promise, every kiss a declaration.

Returning to bed, I glance at Abhimanyu. He's sprawled out, a faint smile curving his lips as he softly snores. I wonder what he's dreaming about. Whatever it is, it's peaceful, a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside me.

After finishing my business, I crawl back under the covers. Saturdays like this are meant for nothing more than sleep.

The second time I wake, the scent of cinnamon fills the air, teasing my senses. My stomach grumbles in anticipation as I roll over, only to find Abhimanyu's side of the bed empty.

Curious, I slip on the first piece of clothing I can grab—his oversized shirt—and follow the smell to the kitchen.

The sight that greets me stops me in my tracks.

Abhimanyu is standing by the stove, shirtless, his muscles flexing as he stirs something in a pan. Soft music plays in the background, so faint I can barely catch the melody, but his head bobs slightly to the rhythm.

It's mesmerizing, this quiet intimacy.

Until now, the view of Solang Valley during my college trip to Manali was my favourite. That breathtaking mix of snow-capped peaks and endless skies had always been my escape.

But today, that view is dethroned.

Nothing compares to this—the man I love, lost in his world, completely unaware of how breathtaking he looks.

He turns suddenly, spotting me frozen in place. A slow smile spreads across his face as he sets down the tray in his hands and walks toward me.

"Good morning, Sunshine," he murmurs, pulling me close and placing a soft kiss on my forehead.

"Good morning," I reply, heat rising to my cheeks.

"I made poha, pancakes, and scrambled eggs," he says, pulling out a chair for me. "There's also fruit, and Kaki sent over idlis with sambar and coconut chutney—your favourite."

"And the cinnamon smell?" I ask, settling into the seat.

"Ah, this." He disappears into the kitchen and returns with a steaming mug. "Cinnamon tea."

My lips twitch into a smile as he sets it before me.

"I planned to surprise you with breakfast in bed, but this works too," he says.

I glance at the spread before me, an overwhelming variety of food. "You know I can't eat all this, right?"

"I just wanted to make all your favourites."

He serves me a little of everything, and I start with the scrambled eggs. The first bite melts in my mouth, rich and flavorful.

"This isn't fair," I groan.

His face falters. "What? Is it bad?"

"It's too good," I admit. "And I've been bragging about my scrambled eggs. Now you'll never like mine!"

He laughs, a deep, rumbling sound that fills the room and settles something warm in my chest.

"I'll like everything you make for me," he says, his tone sincere.

"Even if it's burned?"

His laughter grows, and at that moment, I know my favourite sound of nature is no longer the rustling trees or flowing rivers of Solang Valley. It's his laugh.

The afternoon is spent lazily watching movies, with stolen kisses and soft whispers in between.

Evening comes, and Abhimanyu is called away for a meeting. Reluctantly, he agrees to attend online from his home office.

I decide to call Emma. Her phone has been switched off all day, which is unusual. She never goes a morning without checking in.

Finally, after several tries, it rings. Relief washes over me as she answers.

"Emma, where are you? I've been trying—"

"Ishita, I'm sorr—" Her voice is cut off by another, one that sends ice through my veins.

"Hello, Ishita," my father says smoothly.

"Dad?" My voice trembles. "Are you in London?"

"No. Emma's in Mumbai. And who else is with her?"

Aarav. My heart stops.

"What have you done?" I whisper.

"Oh, it was too easy," he says, his tone dripping with malice. "I told Emma you'd had an accident and were calling for Aarav in your unconscious state. The fool didn't even verify it with you."

Emma must have tried, but my phone was dead last night, and I'd only charged it this morning.

"Where are you? I need to see them," I demand, struggling to keep my voice steady.

"Not so fast. Transfer 50 million to my account, and you can see them."

"I don't have that kind of money!"

"Your husband does. Beg, borrow, or steal—I don't care. Aarav's been asking for you all day. It'd be a shame if he didn't see you again."

"Don't you dare touch him or Emma!" I shout, my voice breaking.

"You know what to do, Ishita." The line goes dead.

I sit there, paralyzed. My mind races, but every thought leads to the same horrifying conclusion.

"Sunshine, what's wrong?" Abhimanyu's voice jolts me. He's standing in the doorway, concern etched across his face.

I blink at him, unsure how much time has passed. My father's demand hangs heavy over me. Should I tell Abhimanyu? Will he help, or will the truth drive him away?

No, I can't risk it.

"Nothing," I lie, forcing a weak smile. "Just upset about the movie."

Abhimanyu frowns but doesn't press.

As he lifts me into his arms, my phone vibrates. I snatch it before he can see.

Unknown Number: You have until tonight. The clock is ticking.

I don't need to guess who it's from.