What is the meaning of this, Vani?" he seethed, his eyes locked onto hers. "Are you so starved for attention that you seek it from other men?"
Vani's heart sank as she realized the storm that was brewing in Rudra's eyes. She tried to speak, to expla...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Are you feeling good now, darling?" His voice was calm, too calm. "I think we're even now."
Vaani blinked, stunned.
He didn't scream.
Didn't yell.
Didn't even flinch.
He was smiling.
Smiling.
"What's the matter?" he drawled as he stepped closer, blood dripping lazily down his arm.
She didn't move.
Vaani lowered the vase, but her glare didn't waver. "Don't pretend like you're noble. You almost broke my wrist."
Rudra stepped closer. Close enough for her to feel his breath. "I know."
She looked at him, rage in her throat, her chest, her fists. "You're sick."
He nodded slowly. "Yeah. But I'm yours."
That knocked the air from her lungs.
She stepped back, desperate for distance, but Rudra didn't move. He just stood there, bleeding and smiling like the devil himself.
"I'll send someone to clean the glass," he said casually, finally glancing at the blood pooling on the tiles. "And I'll send someone for your wrist too."
. Rudra didn't leave right away.
He stood there in the doorway, blood still dripping from the side of his arm, watching her with eyes that weren't angry anymore—but something far more dangerous. Calm. Obsessed.
"You can cry," he said, voice low and ragged. "You can scream. You can hate me until your last breath."
She didn't move, but her fingers clutched tighter around the broken piece of vase in her hand.
He stepped closer, slow like a beast stalking its prey.
Her breath caught.
His eyes gleamed in the dim kitchen light, wild with devotion, madness, obsession. "you're not leaving me. Not now. Not ever."
He was inches from her again. Blood staining his skin. Her tears still fresh on her cheek.
His hand reached out, trembling, not with fear but with restraint, as he brushed a strand of hair away from her face. "You're mine, baby. Whether you love me, hate me, or wish me dead... it doesn't matter. You're still mine."
Vaani's heart thundered in her chest, fury clashing with something rawer, deeper... fear.
"I can burn down the world for you," he breathed. "But I swear, if you try to run from me again, I'll burn down your world instead."
He cupped her face now, ignoring her flinch. "Don't make me that man, Vaani... because you won't like what you create."
And with that, he leaned in—not to kiss her lips, but her wrist. The one he had hurt. He kissed it softly, reverently, like a madman worshipping his ruin.
