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The room was cold, and the only thing that could be heard was the silence mixed with soft breath. A slow sound which felt like something gushing the flesh out.
Avir took steps forward, his bloody forearm drenching the floor beneath. He lifted his arm and wrapped it around who was the reason for it.
Blood droplets fell on the floor, drenching her silver saree beneath. Her body shivered, and her hold on the knife tightened.
His head fell on the crook of her neck as he sighed slowly yet steadily. Her eyes moistened. "Mera ye pagalpan, junoon mein badal raha hai, Avir. Isse pehle ki main tumhe maar doon, mujhe maar daalo," she whispered, only to have his hold tighten around her back.
"Tumhara ye junoon, ye pagalpan, sab mere liye hai kaya?" He groaned slightly, feeling the pain in his forearm. "Aur tum bhi meri hi ho."
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Death has neither ending nor beginning.
All it has is mystery.
The dead never speak-it crawls beneath your skin until you are adamant to destroy what lies behind it.
Kaysha Maurya, the woman who was brave enough to follow the single thread that was never hers. Relentlessly hunting the person she once promised to spend her life with, she now wants nothing more than to see him dead.
Avir Wardhan, everything seems to fall according to him. For him, nothing goes wrong until she happened.
She wants his life.
He wants her protected.
Neither knows which one will be sacrificed first.
He called it devotion, she called it vengeance, and sometimes love is the cruelest form of vengeance.
When their motives collide, how can a love like this remain untouched?