....˖☆𝐀 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 + 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞☆˖....
"You can't marry him Vaani" I said staring deep in her eyes gritting my teeth my chest tighten with unfamiliar and unbearable pain , just the thought of her being with someone else kills...
"Sometimes, the deepest wounds aren’t the ones the world can see they’re the ones carved quietly inside, where no light reaches. But even in that darkness, if someone holds your hand and doesn’t let go, maybe, just maybe, you find a way to breathe again." ~ Vaani
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Content Warning: ⚠️
This chapter includes mentions of blood, violence, and torture that may be distressing to some readers. If you feel uncomfortable with such content, please feel free to skip this chapter. Your well-being comes first.
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"Nirvaan, abhi ghar aao."
Abhimaan’s voice thundered through the phone gritted teeth barely containing his fury.
["Nirvaan, come home right now."]
"Papa, abhi nahi aa sakta--"
["Dad, I can't right now—"]
"MAINE KAHA NA, GHAR AAO!”/" Abhimaan roared, his voice sharp as a whip.The sound echoed through the grand halls of the Raichand mansion, making every family member freeze where they stood.
["I SAID, COME HOME!"]
Nirvaan exhaled slowly, jaw tightening, and disconnected the call. His gaze shifted to Nishant, who gave a silent nod he understood.
They both turned to the man tied to the chair in front of them.
The reporter’s face was already bruised, blood caked around his mouth, and yet he still trembled not just from the pain, but from the rage in Nirvaan’s eyes.
Nirvaan grabbed the microphone lying nearby and jammed it against the man’s face. "Aaahh!" the man howled, the metal striking his cheekbone.
Nirvaan didn’t flinch.
The memory was still burning in his mind her flinching, stumbling backward, as this same man had shoved the microphone at her like a weapon.
Her eyes filled with panic, her lips trembling… and this bastard didn’t stop.
"KAR NA REPORTING. CHAL, UTH—AA CHAL KAR!"
["Do your damn reporting. Come on, get up—move!"]
"Bahut shauk hai na tujhe?"
["You love doing this, don’t you?"]
Nirvaan snapped the ropes off the man and stepped back, eyes cold and dead.
"Utha mike," he ordered, sinking into a chair, legs spread, like a judge awaiting a confession.
