The last of the papers turned to ash, curling into black fragments that fluttered down like dead moths. The smell of burnt ink and paper lingered—sharp, bitter, irreversible.
Advait snapped the lighter shut, his smirk carved deep, every line on his face radiating cruel amusement.
Aarav’s body went rigid, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles cracked. His chest heaved with unspent rage.
“Maine tumhe ek mauka diya tha, Advait. (I gave you a chance, Advait.)” Aarav’s voice was jagged, heavy with fury.
“Lekin tumhe kabhi sulah chahi hi nahi thi. (But you never wanted peace.)”
Advait tilted his head, eyes gleaming with mockery. “Peace? With you? Don’t flatter yourself, Aarav. Tum meri list mein sirf ek aur naam ho. (You’re just another name on my list.)”
Aarav’s rage cracked through his composure. His hand shot forward, gripping Samaira’s wrist with a bruising force. She staggered, gasping as he yanked her into his hold.
The metallic barrel of his gun pressed hard against her temple. The cold bite of it made her flinch.
Samaira’s pulse roared in her ears, her breath shallow.
Aarav’s voice trembled with anger and humiliation.
“Do you remember that day, Advait? Meri shaadi ka din. (My wedding day.) She was supposed to be mine. Samaira was mine. And you—” his teeth clenched, jaw twitching—“you stole her. Tumne meri dulhan ko mujhse cheen liya. (You snatched my bride away from me.)”
His eyes blazed, humiliation dripping from every word.
“You don’t know what it felt like… to stand there in front of the world… baraat, mandap, guests—sab ke saamne (in front of everyone)… and watch as the woman who was meant to be mine walked out… and married you.”
Samaira’s heart thudded painfully. Memories of that day—her trembling hands, the whispered gasps, the world watching—flashed before her eyes like knives.
Aarav’s voice broke. “Do you know what people whispered? ‘Bechara Aarav… dulha ban ke aaya tha, par dulhan vo to kisi aur ko ho gayi.’ (Poor Aarav… he came as a groom, and his bride was taken away.) They laughed, Advait. They laughed at me. And you stood there, holding her hand, like a king who had stolen his crown.”
Advait’s smirk deepened, cruel and deliberate.
“And I enjoyed every second of it.” His tone was silk over steel. “Watching your face—red with shame, burning with rage—it was worth more than the wedding itself. “Your humiliation was the true blessing of my marriage.”
Samaira flinched, her stomach twisting. His words cut her too, but his eyes were fixed only on Aarav, savoring the torment.
Aarav’s grip on her wrist tightened until she winced, the gun digging harder into her skin. “Bas! (Enough!) Don’t you dare mock me!” His voice cracked under the weight of his fury.
Advait chuckled darkly. “Mock you? Aarav, I don’t need to mock you. Tumhari zindagi hi mazaak ban gayi hai. (Your life itself has become a joke.) Your bride married me. Your father sees you as a liability. And now… look at you. Shaking. Desperate. Using her as a shield.”
Samaira sucked in a sharp breath, forcing herself to speak, her voice cutting through the tension.
“Killing me won’t erase your humiliation, Aarav. Tumhe kuch nahi milega. (You’ll gain nothing.) Not your pride, not your respect, not your revenge. Nothing.”
Aarav’s eyes darted to hers—wild, desperate. His lips quivered with unsaid words. “Don’t you understand?” he snarled. “Tum meri sabse badi haar ho. (You are my greatest defeat.) If I can’t have you… then at least I’ll make sure Advait loses you too.”
Her heart twisted painfully, but she lifted her chin. “And you think he would care?”
“If he didn't he wouldn't have wasted so much time finding you” Aarav replied with some delusional sense of upper hand and continued “Tell me Samaira if he doesn't love you, why is he here”
Before she could answer, the air split open with Advait’s voice—smooth, venomous.
“Because I am a predator.”
The room stilled. Samaira froze, her blood running cold.
Advait stepped forward, every line of him deliberate, unhurried. His eyes locked with hers, then flicked to Aarav, piercing, merciless.
“I never let my prey escape,” he said softly and then turned to her
.“I wanted to catch you, Samaira. Not for love—don’t flatter yourself. But to avenge my father. Tumhare gharwalo ne jo liya, main vasool karunga. (What your family took, I will reclaim.) I’ll take you from your family, your life, your name. That will be revenge.”
Samaira’s knees trembled, but she forced herself to stand firm.
The silence was suffocating.
Aarav’s hand shook violently. The gun pressed harder against her head, his breath ragged.
And after a beat he spoke again.
His smirk remained, cold and cruel.
“But you know for a second thought, even if aaj Aarav tumhe maar deta hai (If Aarav kills you)… I win either way. He rots in prison. His father abandons him. And I get my revenge without lifting a finger.”
Samaira’s stomach churned. The chains around her heart pulled tighter.
Her voice rose in desperation, her eyes blazing. “Don’t you see, Aarav? He’s using you! Tum mar jaoge… main mar jaungi… aur jeetega kaun? Sirf Advait. (You’ll die, I’ll die—and who wins? Only Advait.) Your just another pawn in his game. Nothing more.”
The words struck Aarav like a hammer. His breath hitched. His grip faltered. His eyes darted between her and Advait, wild, tortured.
And then—his madness snapped.
“Fine!” he roared. “Agar main doob raha hoon… toh tumhe bhi saath le doobunga! (If I’m drowning, I’ll drag you down with me!)”
The trigger clicked.
The gunshot ripped through the air.
Samaira flinched—her body rigid, waiting for the pain.
But it never came.
Instead, Aarav screamed, clutching his arm. The gun clattered to the ground, his blood spilling onto the floor.
Samaira gasped, heart hammering, the smell of gunpowder burning her throat.
Advait stood firm, gun raised, smoke curling from the barrel. His face unreadable.
Aarav dropped to one knee, snarling. “You… bastard…”
Advait lowered his gun with terrifying calm, his eyes locked on him like a predator watching prey.
“I never said I wouldn’t get my hands dirty,” he murmured, voice cold as death. Then he stepped closer, each word cutting like a blade.
“But if you think you can kill her in my presence and walk away from this… you’re gravely mistaken.”
His lips curved into a smile, dark and possessive.
“Samaira’s life… her death… both belong to me. Only I decide.”
The words hung heavy in the air, suffocating, final.
Samaira’s breath caught, her pulse thundering. Relief and terror twisted together inside her chest. He had saved her—but not out of love, not out of mercy.
Because in Advait’s eyes, she wasn’t free.
She was his.
💌 Hey, you! Yes, you reading this…
If your heart just skipped a beat, or you felt that ugh, Advait! moment, don’t keep it to yourself—vote and drop a comment! I promise I read every single one, and your thoughts mean the world to me.
The next chapter? Well… it’s waiting. Patiently. But it can’t come to life until this one hits 100 votes and 15 comments. So if you want to see what Samaira, Aarav, and Advait do next… it’s all in your hands.
Let’s make the next chapter happen. I know you’re dying to see it. Or maybe I am just being overdramatic as usual.😉
YOU ARE READING
UNWILLINGLY HIS
Romance**Her wedding day was supposed to be the start of forever. Instead, it became the day her world collapsed.** Samaira had it all-until Advait, the man she trusted, shattered her dreams on their wedding day. Left standing at the altar, humiliated and...
