Demon's Physco obsession

Bonus chapter: The Calm He Built for Her

Ved stood in the middle of Adhiraaj's study, frowning at the bookshelf as it had personally offended him.

It was the wrong kind of wrong.
Too lived-in. Too chaotic. Books shoved in at odd angles, spines cracked, papers tucked where bookmarks should be. It looked less like a curated collection and more like the aftermath of a silent war.

He scratched the back of his head.
"This doesn't belong to you," he muttered to no one in particular. "Looks like the books are fighting each other for dominance."

The air shifted.

"Leave the bookshelf," Adhiraaj's voice cut through the room, deep and unmistakably displeased. "And explain why you're in my study without a single urgent crisis to justify it."

Ved jumped—just a little—then straightened, affronted.
"It is an important issue," he said defensively. Then his eyes narrowed. "Also... where's Kittu? She's usually here by now."

Adhiraaj didn't even look up from the tablet in his hands. A slow, amused snort escaped him.
"She decided to improve her morning by pissing me. Went to the temple."

Ved blinked. "The estate temple? It's barely a stone's throw away."

"That one suddenly lacked spiritual depth," Adhiraaj replied smoothly. "So she went to the village temple instead. Took only Raghav and Malti."

Ved groaned softly, rubbing his face.
"Great. The old Ankita—the one who keeps everyone on edge—is officially back."

A beat.

"I suppose I'll just wait until she decides to grace us with her presence," he sighed, then frowned again, pointing at the shelf. "But seriously, this bookshelf is disturbing."

Adhiraaj's lips twitched. He finally lowered his gaze to the tablet, shoulders relaxing in an almost imperceptible way.

Ved, suspicious now, circled the desk and leaned over Adhiraaj's shoulder.

The screen showed live footage.

Ankita, barefoot, standing before the temple sanctum. Her head bowed, hands folded, sunlight spilling over her like quiet approval.

Ved burst out laughing—full-bodied, unrestrained.
"Oh. Now I understand," he said, wiping his eyes. "This is why you were so calm about her taking only two guards."

He shook his head.
"Every time we think you've changed, Adhi, you remind us who you really are."

Adhiraaj didn't deny it.

"She's safe," he said simply. "That's all that matters."

Ved glanced back at the bookshelf again. "Still doesn't explain this."

For the first time, Adhiraaj's expression shifted—something darker, more inward.

"Ankita arranged it," he said quietly.

Ved stilled.

"That afternoon," Adhiraaj continued, voice low, measured, "before everything broke. Before Shyamla died. Before our life split open." His jaw tightened. "We were... happy. Ridiculously so."

He exhaled through his nose.
"She stayed in this room for two and a half years," he added. "Even when she wasn't physically here. Her presence did."

Ved sobered completely.

"That bookshelf?" Adhiraaj said. "It's the reason I survived."

Silence settled between them—heavy, respectful.

The heavy oak doors creaked open. Ankita stepped in, her movements graceful as she carried a silver puja thali, the scent of sandalwood and fresh hibiscus trailing behind her.