After Advait left Samaira heartbroken on the day that was supposed to be the happiest of her life-their wedding day-her world shatters. Picking up the pieces, she barely manages to rebuild herself when her family insists she marry Aarav, a successfu...
The fading light of the evening cloaked the city as Advait and Samaira stepped out of the warehouse. A cool breeze brushed against her skin, but it did little to soothe the storm inside her. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions—anger, exhaustion, and a strange, begrudging sense of gratitude. She trailed behind Advait, her steps slow, each one heavier than the last.
"Thank you for saving me," she said, her voice soft but deliberate.
Advait stopped abruptly, turning his head slightly toward her. Those words—so unexpected—echoed in his mind, disrupting the calculated rhythm of his thoughts. He shifted to face her fully, his sharp gaze locking onto her.
“Excuse me?” he asked, his tone laced with disbelief.
Samaira met his eyes, her expression unreadable. “I said thank you,” she repeated, her voice firmer this time. “I know what you said back there—about Aarav and me—might have been partly true. But those words… those words made him hesitate, and that hesitation saved me.”
Advait’s lips curved into a cold, knowing smile. “It seems you’re starting to understand how I work.”
Samaira’s jaw clenched at his arrogance, but she refused to rise to the bait. She let out a weary sigh, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I don’t know. Maybe I do. But the more I see of you, the more I realize… I didn’t know you at all.”
Her words pierced through him, though he didn’t show it. Instead, he leaned closer, his voice low and possessive. “You have your whole life to figure me out. Because now, you’re mine. My wife. And you will always be with me.”
Samaira stiffened at his words, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of a response. She just kept walking, her silence more cutting than any retort.
Samaira’s POV
Each step felt heavier than the last as I followed him. My legs trembled, but I pushed forward, refusing to let him see me falter. His words echoed in my mind, each one a reminder of the prison I was now trapped in.
I couldn’t forget what he did to me. I couldn’t forget the humiliation, the betrayal, or the scars he left on my heart. But I wasn’t like him. I wasn’t someone who thrived on vengeance or manipulation.
When I said thank you, it wasn’t because I had forgiven him—it was because I acknowledged the truth. He had saved me. Whether it was for his own twisted reasons or not, the fact remained that he had stepped in when I needed help. And that, at least, deserved acknowledgment.
But as we walked in silence, I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that clung to me like a shadow. My vision blurred, the world around me spinning. I stumbled, my knees buckling beneath me.
The last thing I saw before everything went dark was his face—a mixture of annoyance and something else. Something I couldn’t quite place.
Advait’s POV
Her words rattled me more than I cared to admit. Thank you. That wasn’t something I expected to hear from her. Not after everything I’d done.
But it wasn’t just the words—it was the way she said them. Calm. Measured. As if she had made peace with the chaos around her.
I kept walking, but I couldn’t shake the unease growing in the pit of my stomach. She was too quiet, too compliant. This wasn’t the Samaira I knew—the woman who had defied me, challenged me, fought me at every turn.
I glanced back at her just as her legs gave out beneath her. My instincts kicked in before I could think. I caught her in my arms, her body limp, her face pale.
For a fleeting moment, I thought this was another one of her tricks—a desperate attempt to escape. But as I looked closer, I realized this wasn’t a ploy. She was genuinely unwell.
“Samaira,” I said, shaking her gently. “Samaira, wake up.”
She didn’t respond.
For the first time in years, I felt a flicker of panic. Her breathing was shallow, her skin cold to the touch. I carried her to the car, my mind racing.
“Drive to the hospital,” I barked at the driver as I climbed into the backseat with her in my arms.
The car sped off, the city lights blurring outside the window. I held her close, her head resting against my chest. Her fragility unnerved me. I had always seen her as strong, resilient, a worthy opponent in my games. But now, she looked so... vulnerable.
“Damn it, Samaira,” I muttered under my breath. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to leave me.”
Samaira’s POV
A faint warmth surrounded me, breaking through the cold numbness that had taken over my body. I could hear his voice—low, urgent, filled with an edge I hadn’t heard before.
“Samaira, wake up. Open your eyes.”
Why did he care? Why was he acting like this? Was this another one of his manipulations?
My mind drifted back to the warehouse, to the venom in his words when he spoke to Aarav. If Aarav kills Samaira, I’d win either way. That was the real Advait. Cold. Calculating. A man who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals.
But then, there was the way he had looked at me just before I blacked out. The way he held me now, his arms protective and steady. It didn’t make sense. Nothing about him made sense.
Advait’s POV
As we pulled up to the hospital, I didn’t wait for the car to stop completely. I carried her inside, barking orders at the staff.
“Get a doctor. Now.”
A nurse approached, her gaze flickering between me and Samaira. “What happened to her?”
“She fainted,” I snapped. “Just do your job.”
They wheeled her away, and I found myself pacing the waiting room, my mind a storm of conflicting emotions.
Why did this bother me so much? She was just another part of my plan, wasn’t she? A pawn in my game, a tool to exact my revenge. So why did the thought of losing her twist something deep inside me?
As the hours dragged on, I couldn’t help but replay her words in my mind. Thank you for saving me.
She didn’t know it, but those words had disarmed me in a way nothing else ever had. And as much as I hated to admit it, they were the reason I was here now, waiting, worrying, feeling things I had no right to feel.
Samaira might not have escaped me, but she had done something far more dangerous—she had gotten under my skin.
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