The Unwanted Bride

30 - Her Stalker

Typed on 01/02/2025
Chapter 30: Her Stalker

What was confusing and also came across as a slight shock was Yug suggesting that she continues working for her current firm. Right after his accident, he said she needed change and now–now he thinks otherwise. Maybe he was losing his mind after all.

I could always give it a go and look for another job too. She'd been so busy worrying about her husband, keeping her in-laws and father updated on his health that she didn't have time to think about Samar.

"Pihu went under shock," Khushi can even hear the bitter feeling in her tone. She can't imagine how Pihu feels. "I mean, I would too, you only hear about these kinds of things–accidents and blood–in movies and TV, seeing it firsthand is," she shakes her head at the memory.

Neha mumbles a couple of swear words before speaking, "any CCTV footage in the area? I swear people around must have noticed something?"

They've been talking on the phone for five minutes and recalling the incident is making it harder for Khushi to concentrate on work. It's her first day back after all. "No CCTV footage, that was the first thing I mentioned to the police, remember?" She hears her best friend mutter something, probably agreeing with her. "We made a police complaint but nothing came from that, it's like they don't care, no wonder the justice system is so bad."

Neha thought it was both ironic and funny that Khushi mentioned how poor the justice system is. "Did they speak to Pihu?"

"Of course. They spoke to some local people who work in the area, but nobody saw the car number plate other than the model. It was a red Toyota. Hatchback." She felt helpless, so so helpless.

"I'm just glad he's fine. It could have been worse, a little tear here and there is better than permanent injury." Khushi found herself nodding, staring out her office's window, wondering what else was supposed to happen in her life. "Anyways, I got to go, mum's taking me shopping."

"Shopping?" She looked at her wristwatch, "at 10:30 in the morning? On a Monday?"

"Yes," Neha sounded as annoyed as Khushi's husband does when Khushi and Harsh leave for work while he stays home sulking. "She said 'the boy's family is coming over today, you need to wear something nice and traditional' like come on, now we're going to buy clothes too to impress a boy and his old parents?"

Khushi broke into a fit of laughter despite how stressful these past weeks have been. She covered her mouth, avoiding making too much noise. The last thing she needed was for her boss to take a dig at her. "I cannot believe you're going ahead with this arranged marriage fiasco." If anyone, Khushi could see herself in this situation–which she was–than Neha.

Neha mumbled something to herself as if reassuring herself that this would be okay, then she settled with, "not everyone is lucky in love Khushi." and the line went dead.

~

Samar thinks about the first time he found out where she lived.

He'd been stalking every move she made. First, it was her husband's social media–not hers. He did stalk her on social media but she was private, he couldn't figure anything out. So the best way to figure her out is following her.

He knows where she lives now. Now he knows for sure. previously, it could have been his in-law's house. It seemed as such, considering they were there every day.

This time. This time he had to be sure. She finally turned up to work after two weeks a few days ago and he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

Samar stood across the street, half-hidden by the shadow of a tree, watching her through the glass doors of the firm. She moved with effortless grace, her heels clicking against the marble floors, her navy blue blazer sculpting her frame with sharp, deliberate lines. She had always looked good in professional clothes, but now—now she was breathtaking. Maybe because she was no longer his.

She was–is a vision of power, elegance, and everything that used to be his.

His fingers curled into fists. He should have never let her slip away. He should have fought harder, should have done something—anything—to keep her. Instead, he had watched her walk out of his life and into the arms of someone unworthy. Yug.

Yug. The man she now called her husband. A plain, predictable, uninspiring man who didn't deserve to breathe the same air as her. He wanted to pull his hair at the thought that he breathed and sees more than the same air as her.

Samar's chest burned at the thought of them together, their quiet domestic life—her soft laughter at the dinner table, her hand in his, the way she probably kissed him goodnight.

It made him sick.

He had the chance to get rid of Yug once, to wipe him out of existence, but he hesitated. That hesitation disgusted him now. If he had followed through, she wouldn't be married to a man who bored her, a man who could never match the fire in her soul. No, she would still be his.

And yet, here he was—outside, looking in. A man who had lost.

Samar's jaw tightened as he watched her step out of the firm's entrance a little further, her blazer wrapped around her like a shield against the evening breeze. His pulse quickened. He had memorized every part of her routine by now—how she checked her phone before leaving, how she adjusted the strap of her bag, how her fingers absentmindedly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. But something was different tonight.

A sleek black car pulled up to the curb, and she walked toward it. Samar leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. Yug wasn't driving. He couldn't be. The accident had left his foot in bad shape—Samar had made sure of that. There was no way Yug could handle a car right now, not without risking more damage.

So who the hell was behind the wheel?

Then it clicked. A face he'd seen before. That face was now annoyingly familiar. Yug's Facebook. A birthday post, some random family gathering, a tagged photo at a wedding. Harsh. The younger brother. Samar exhaled sharply.

Of course. The dutiful little brother, the perfect chauffeur. He was the one picking her up, making sure she got home safely.

Samar watched as she slid into the passenger seat, her smile small but genuine as she spoke to Harsh. They seem close. But anybody around Khushi–anybody she merely smiled at seemed close to him. She could have said thank you to a stranger for helping her and he'd accuse her of cheating. That was Samar.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. So this was the setup—Harsh picking her up, driving her home, playing the role of a responsible brother-in-law. It was almost laughable.

But now he knew. He knew where she lived.

Following them had been easy. The city lights blurred past as he kept his distance, trailing their car through familiar streets and winding roads until they reached a quiet neighbourhood. He memorized the turn, the house, the way she stepped out and disappeared inside.

Now all he had to do was wait.

Wait for the right moment.

Wait for her to be alone.

He wouldn't waste the opportunity when it came. This time, he would speak. And he would speak well.

The Unwanted Bride

Do vote!

I.e., I think someone might be confused about Samar's POV: Samar did know where Khushi lived right after Yug's accident, however, because her in-laws were living with them to help out, he thought that was not actually her residence. Stalking her now confirms for him where she really does live--now that her in-laws have moved out again since Yug is doing better.

Hope that clears any doubts :)