Chapter 20: His Words, Her Heartache

Mumbai – Shekhawat Multiplex

Rudraksh's patience was wearing thin. His eyes darkened with irritation as he turned to Haya, his voice sharp and demanding. "What exactly are you trying to say?" he snapped, his gaze locked onto hers as if daring her to challenge him further.

But Haya remained as calm as ever, unfazed by his anger. She met his intense gaze without hesitation and replied in a composed voice, "I'm saying that we should go home now."

As soon as those words left her lips, Rudraksh's eyes widened in surprise. For a brief moment, he just stared at her as if she had said something absurd. He was about to retort, but before he could, something flickered in his memory—something that made him pause. His jaw tightened, and he took in a deep breath as if trying to suppress his growing frustration. Then, in a low but firm voice, he ordered, "Get out."

Haya, still unbothered, looked at him and repeated herself with the same calmness. "I said we should go home."

That was the final straw. His patience snapped as he raised his voice. "I said get out of the car!" he barked, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Without waiting for her to comply, he abruptly stepped out of the car, walked over to her side, and yanked open the car door. In one swift motion, he grabbed her wrist, his grip firm and unyielding, and pulled her out forcefully. Haya, though reluctant, had no choice but to step out as well.

Without another word, Rudraksh tossed a face mask toward her. The action was abrupt, almost dismissive, yet it carried an unspoken demand—wear it. His fingers tightened around her wrist once more as he pulled her along, striding toward the entrance of the shopping mall with an air of authority.

Rudraksh had never set foot inside a shopping mall before. His life had always been meticulously managed by his assistants—his clothes, his meals, his every necessity was taken care of without him ever having to bother. But today, this girl, this stubborn woman, had somehow managed to drag him into a situation he never thought he'd be in. And that was enough to put him in an even worse mood.

As they stepped inside, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice but keeping his tone firm. "No one here knows who we are. Keep your mask on properly. It should not come off under any circumstances," he warned, his words leaving no room for negotiation.

Without waiting for a response, he turned and headed straight for the top floor, where the women's section was located.

Haya followed him, her gaze fixed on his back, her mind filled with questions. She had noticed something contradictory about his behavior, and she wasn't one to keep her thoughts to herself. "Just now, you were saying no one should recognize us," she said, her tone laced with sarcasm. "And now? You're acting like they're your personal servants."

Rudraksh didn't bother looking at her. Instead, he simply lifted his hand and gestured toward one of the saleswomen standing nearby.

Noticing the subtle but commanding gesture, the woman immediately walked up to them, her professional demeanor intact as she offered a polite smile. "Yes, sir. How can I help you?"

Before she could finish her sentence properly, Rudraksh cut in, his voice cold and direct. "I need a dress. Something royal. Price is not a concern. And I don't have time to waste. I want a dress finalized within ten minutes."

The saleswoman, though trained to handle high-profile customers, hesitated for a brief moment. She had dealt with wealthy clients before, but there was something different about this man. His aura, the way he carried himself, the unshakable confidence in his voice—it was unlike anything she had encountered before. She could tell he was someone important, someone powerful. But exactly who he was... that, she couldn't figure out.

Meanwhile, Rudraksh's piercing blue eyes held an intensity that made it impossible for her to look away. There was something mesmerizing about them—something dangerous.

Haya looked at Rudraksh in sheer disbelief. "Just a moment ago, you were saying that no one should know who we are," she said, her voice laced with sarcasm. "And now? You're acting like they are your personal slaves, commanding them like you own them."

Rudraksh turned his sharp gaze toward her, his blue eyes darkening with irritation. "You've already tested my patience enough, Haya Diwan," he said in a low, dangerous tone. "Before I completely lose my temper, just pick a dress and get this over with."

Realizing that arguing with him was futile, Haya sighed and turned toward the saleswoman, following her without another word.

Ten minutes turned into an hour.

Yet, despite the endless parade of extravagant gowns, lehengas, and designer dresses placed before her, nothing seemed to catch Haya's interest. Some of the outfits cost fortunes, with price tags that soared into the millions, but even among them, she couldn't find anything she truly liked. And the ones she did like? They were always the most expensive, which only made her hesitate further. Eventually, frustration settled in, and she slumped onto the chair, her head slightly bowed in silent defeat.

Then, her eyes landed on a stunning cream-colored lehenga displayed at a distance. It wasn't overly flashy, yet something about it drew her in. Sitting up, she pointed toward it and said, "Can you please bring me that one? I'd like to try it on."

The salesgirls, noticing her choice, quickly brought the outfit to her and handed it over. "The changing room is over there," one of them informed her politely.

Haya nodded slightly. "Thank you," she murmured, though inwardly, she was irritated. She had never liked dealing with people, and today was no different. The way they were moving around, the way some of them were glancing in her direction, made her feel even more on edge. It was as if she were the center of unwanted attention, and she hated it.

Needing a moment away from prying eyes, she hurried toward the changing room—the only place she could find some solace.

Inside, Haya let out a deep breath, pressing her back against the door as she inhaled and exhaled heavily. A layer of sweat had formed on her forehead, and she wiped it away in frustration.

"What the hell is wrong with these people?" she muttered to herself, rubbing her temples. "I didn't even want a dress in the first place. And yet, here I am, being forced into this nonsense!"

Shaking her head, she turned toward the mirror, staring at her own reflection before glancing down at the lehenga in her hands. Without thinking much, she decided to try it on.

However, the moment she put on the skirt, she realized her mistake—it was too loose. She had grabbed it in a hurry without checking the size. "Great," she grumbled under her breath, rolling her eyes.

Her frustration only grew as she thought about him. That man. That insufferable, stubborn man who had abandoned her here and was probably lounging somewhere without a care. "Where the hell is he now?" she wondered, irritated. "And, of course, I don't even have my phone! Perfect. Just perfect."

She glared at the lehenga as if it had personally wronged her. Annoyed, she swiftly removed her original clothes and tossed them aside, standing in just her innerwear. Her milky-white skin seemed to glow under the soft lighting, but she was too agitated to care.

Hurriedly, she slipped into the lehenga and reached for the blouse. Just as she was about to fasten it, the zipper—completely out of nowhere—snapped.

She froze.

Her eyes widened in horror as she stared at the broken zipper in her hands. "You have got to be kidding me," she groaned, smacking her forehead. "Haya, what the hell is wrong with you today? One problem after another!"

As if things couldn't get any worse, one particular thought sent a shiver down her spine. "And now, that man is going to kill me if I take any longer."

Determined, she gritted her teeth and struggled to fix the zipper, trying to force it back into place. But no matter how much she tugged and adjusted, it refused to cooperate.

And just when she was in the middle of wrestling with the cursed zipper—

BANG!

The door burst open with a force that made her heart nearly leap out of her chest.

Before she could even let out a scream, a strong hand covered her mouth.

Haya's eyes widened in shock as she felt the sudden warmth of a palm pressing against her lips, silencing her. Her gaze shot up, and there he was—Rudraksh.

His tall frame towered over her, his stormy blue eyes holding a dangerous intensity as he used his foot to kick the door shut behind him. His presence filled the small space instantly, making the air feel heavy with tension.

Rudraksh had assumed she was already dressed—after all, she was wearing the lehenga and blouse, right? But what he didn't realize was that the blouse was barely hanging on, undone from the back.

And when he reached forward—perhaps to shake her or pull her away in frustration—his coat brushed against her, and in that instant, the loose blouse slipped further—right into his grip.

Sweat beads formed on Haya's forehead as she stared at Rudraksh in shock. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words never came. Rudraksh, too, was momentarily taken aback. His piercing blue eyes, usually unreadable, locked onto hers with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. For a brief moment, neither of them moved.

Then, his gaze dropped—just for a split second—but that was enough.

Without a word, he spun her around, his movements sharp and decisive. Before she could even process what was happening, he draped his coat over her shoulders, covering her completely. His voice, cold and edged with irritation, cut through the heavy silence.

"When you don't know how to handle something, you should at least have the sense to ask."

Haya wanted to lash out, to say something, anything—but the words died in her throat. Her face burned with embarrassment, her body stiff with humiliation. She couldn't believe it. Rudraksh had seen her in nothing but her undergarments, and she wanted nothing more than for the ground beneath her feet to open up and swallow her whole. Her fists clenched tightly, her nails digging into her palms as she kept her gaze lowered, unwilling to meet his eyes.

Rudraksh cast one last glance at her before walking out of the changing room without another word.

Five minutes later, he returned, thrusting a dress into her hands. His voice was sharp, laced with barely restrained anger. "Get dressed. And hurry up."

Haya didn't argue. She simply took the dress and disappeared back into the changing room. When she finally emerged, she was wearing a breathtaking red lehenga. The rich fabric hugged her figure perfectly, accentuating every curve. She looked undeniably stunning.

Rudraksh's gaze flickered over her, unreadable.

"Fine. Keep it," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

Just then, the saleswoman from earlier approached again. "Sir, should I pack this for her?" she asked, her tone respectful yet curious.

Rudraksh didn't bother answering with words—he simply gave a slight nod before turning away, already growing impatient.

Haya followed him out, still confused and angry about everything that had just happened.

Finally, she snapped.

"What exactly are you trying to do, Rudraksh?" she demanded, stopping in her tracks. Her voice was laced with frustration. "First, you drag me here against my will. Then, you force me into that dress. And now, you're storming out like I was the one who begged to come here! If you need to shop, go ahead! But I can't stand being around these people any longer!"

Rudraksh didn't respond.

Instead, he suddenly grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward him, pressing her back against the car's bonnet. His grip was firm, his touch possessive. His blue eyes burned into hers as he leaned in, his voice dangerously low.

"Because of you, I'm already two hours late, Haya Diwan," he growled. "Sophia has been waiting for me. And if you even think about testing my patience right now, I swear, you won't like what happens next. I don't just make threats—I follow through with them."

With that, he abruptly let her go, his frustration evident in the way his jaw clenched.

Haya swallowed, her breath uneven. She could tell he was genuinely irritated, but a part of her still refused to back down.

Moments later, they were back in the car.

The tension inside was suffocating.

Rudraksh gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white as he pressed down on the accelerator. The car sped through the streets, his driving as reckless as his temper.

Haya, still unsettled by the earlier events, hesitated before speaking. Her voice was softer this time.

"Look, about earlier... I didn't mean to—"

"Just shut up," he snapped, cutting her off without even looking at her.

She flinched at the harshness of his tone but still tried again.

"Rudraksh, I—"

"I said, shut. up." His voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument.

Silence filled the car, thick with unspoken words.

Haya clenched her hands into fists, her emotions in turmoil. She wasn't used to feeling this way—not with Rudraksh. She had always brushed off his anger, his cruelty, his indifference. But tonight felt different. Tonight, his words hurt.

Suddenly, she found herself asking something she had never dared to before.

"Tell me something, Rudraksh." Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant. "If your wife were in trouble... would you be this worried for her, too?"

A muscle in his jaw twitched. His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

Then, without a shred of hesitation, he answered.

"You don't need to worry about that, Haya. My real wife will only ever be Sophia. And unlike you, I know exactly how to protect her."

The words hit her harder than she expected.

Before she could even process the sting of his response, Rudraksh suddenly slammed on the brakes.

The car came to an abrupt halt.

Without sparing her a second glance, he spoke again, his voice eerily calm.

"Get lost."

Haya blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

Rudraksh's gaze darkened. "I said, get lost."

This time, he was yelling.

Haya's breath hitched, but she didn't argue. She could see the fury in his eyes, the impatience in his posture. Without another word, she pushed open the car door and stepped out.

The night air was cold against her skin, but she barely felt it.

She turned back one last time, looking at him.

For the first time since their marriage, Rudraksh had managed to hurt her. Ok Really hurt her.

And that realization felt heavier than anything he had ever said before.

Without another word, she took a deep breath and walked inside the Jannat Villa.

Rudraksh, meanwhile, sped off into the night.

Where was he going?

Straight to Sophia?

Would he ever truly accept Haya?

Or was she always meant to remain... The Devil's Sweet Sin?

To find out, stay tuned for the next chapter of The Devil's Sweet Sin.