ONGOING + EDITING
𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐇𝐈 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐋♡
Bow to the queen before speaking ~
A beauty with brains and has a sassy attitude with a sunshine personality. At just the age of 21, she achieved success in the business field. Princess of Agarwals and...
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They say love changes a man.
What they don’t say is—it doesn’t always change him gently. Or in an affectionate way.
Sometimes, love twists him. Cracks him open, tears the softness out, and stitches rage into the hollow spaces she left behind.
It has been a week since she flew to Mumbai.
Seven nights since I’ve heard her laugh in person. One hundred and sixty eight hours since her voice echoed through the walls of this house and reminded me I had something to come home to.
And in her absence? I have time.
Time to finish what I should’ve the moment we left Jaipur. Time to do what mercy wouldn’t let me when she was near.
The six men who attacked her were still breathing.
That was not forgiveness. That was a delay. Death would be the easiest way to get revenge. And I didn’t want that.
From the moment we landed back in Delhi, I had them moved to the estate’s hidden cell—a space nobody remembers exists except the builders who were paid to forget it.
I didn’t act right away that time.
I was too caught up in her, making sure she didn’t see the storm in my eyes every time I looked at her and remembered her in that red saree, gripping a knife, undefeated.
Yes, she is strong enough to fight herself but I still can’t lift up the guilt of not arriving on time.
The fact that she fought alone, even after having me, does something wrong to my brain cells.
And now, she’s not here. And I have time. I am gonna do it. My hands have been twitching for a week.
I took the stairs down just like every night now.
Not like a man. Not like a lover. But like something holy.
Like wrath wrapped in designer linen and a heart too full of love to be sane.
The door to the basement didn’t creak. It groaned. Like it knew what I’ve done behind it.
They were tied up exactly how I left them—wrists hanging, mouths gagged some days, loose on others, depending on what I wanted to hear.
They looked like men who forgot what peace tastes like. Good. They forgot what she looked like, too.
Because the last time they saw her, she was fierce. Crimson. Vengeful. She carved herself into their skin with a goddamn knife and heels.
I’m just finishing her work.
I stepped in, and they all flinched.
It’s my favorite part.
The fear. The silence. The way their bodies stiffen like animals caught in a trap, too clever to escape.
I don’t ask questions anymore. I already know who sent them.
