5

A Month Later

Inaya's team had lost the tournament, and it left her heartbroken. It had been over two days since the tournament ended, yet she hadn't stepped out of her room. It wasn't just about losing, it was the way the fans reacted. Social media was filled with abusive comments, blaming the entire team. The harsh words from people they didn't even know made everything worse. Everyone in the team was struggling with it, but Inaya was taking it the hardest.

Aryan had tried talking to her, but she barely responded. He knew she needed time, but he also knew she couldn't stay like this forever.

Finally, Aryan decided it was enough. He had a plan. Today, he would take her somewhere that would make her feel better.

He walked into her room and found her sitting on the bed, staring blankly at the wall.

"Inaya, aren't you ready yet?" he asked, standing by the door.

"Aryan, um..." she hesitated, looking unsure.

"There's no 'um.' At least step out of your room. How long are you going to sit here like this?"

"I don't feel like going anywhere," she said softly.

"Why? Because of the fans?"

"It's not as easy as you think, Aryan," she sighed. "They're so angry that we didn't win. The comments are terrible. I'm scared to even open social media now."

Aryan sat down beside her. "I get it, Inaya. I really do. But you can't let this break you. You played your best. The whole team did. People will always say things, but you don't have to listen to them."

She didn't say anything, just listened to him.

"Okay, enough of this now," Aryan said, standing up. "Come on, let's go. I know a place that'll make you feel better. You need a break."

"I don't think I can go, Aryan," she mumbled.

"You can't say that," he said, holding out his hand. "Trust me. Just step out once. You'll feel better, I promise."

She looked at him, unsure for a moment. Then, after a deep breath, she slowly nodded.

"Good," Aryan smiled. "Now, get ready. We're leaving in ten minutes."

And for the first time in days, Inaya felt like maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.

■

As they drove further, the dense forest surrounded them. The tall trees blocked most of the sunlight, making the place feel darker than it actually was. Inaya couldn't help but feel uneasy. A cold shiver ran down her spine. Ever since that incident, she had been scared of the dark.

Aryan, noticing her discomfort, glanced at her and smirked. "Inaya, I am not kidnapping you. Don't worry."

She looked at him, startled for a second, but then a small smile broke through her face.

After a while, they finally crossed the forest, and the scenery changed. The trees thinned out, and in the distance, snow fell from the sky. Inaya's eyes widened in surprise.

"Aryan, where are we?" she asked, pressing her hands against the window to get a better look.

"I'm taking you to my home," he said casually, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Your home?" She turned to him in confusion. "Why there? Won't your parents say anything?"

For a moment, Aryan didn't respond. Then, in a flat tone, he said, "They died many years ago."

Inaya felt a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

Aryan gave a short laugh, one that didn't sound happy at all. "No, don't be sorry. I'm happy that they're dead."

Her eyebrows knitted together. She turned to him, confused. "What do you mean by that?" she asked, but before he could answer, the car came to a stop.

She looked out the window. In front of them stood a large house, hidden deep within the snowy landscape. The tall, iron gates slowly creaked open. A strange feeling settled in Inaya's chest.

"But why do you live here?" she whispered, still staring at the house.

Aryan didn't answer. Instead, he drove inside, the gates closing behind them.

As Aryan parked the car, he stepped out without a word. Inaya hesitated for a moment, gripping the edge of her seat. There was something eerie about this place. It wasn't abandoned, but it didn't feel entirely alive either. The silence around them was unsettling, with only the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped out. The cold hit her instantly, making her wrap her arms around herself.

"Aryan, are you sure this is your home?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He turned to her, his expression unreadable. "Yeah. Why?"

She swallowed. "I don't know. It just... it feels different."

Aryan let out a small chuckle. "You're overthinking. Come on."

He walked towards the entrance, and after a moment of hesitation, she followed. As they stepped onto the porch, the wooden floor creaked slightly under their weight. Aryan pushed the heavy front door open, and the warmth from inside greeted them.

"Come in," Aryan said, walking ahead.

Inaya stepped inside cautiously, her eyes scanning the space. "Do you live here alone?"

"Yeah." His voice was casual, but there was an edge to it.

Aryan held her gaze for a long moment before turning away. "Let me show you your room first."

His avoidance made her uneasy, but she didn't press further. Something about this house, about Aryan, felt different tonight. And she wasn't sure if it was the cold air or something else, but a strange feeling settled in her chest one she couldn't quite shake off.

"Go get freshened up," Aryan said, looking at her.

Inaya nodded without saying anything. She turned and started walking toward the room Aryan had shown her, but something about all this felt strange. The house, the way he lived alone in such a huge place, the way he spoke about his parents, it all made her feel uneasy.

As she stepped into the room, she took a deep breath and looked around. It was beautiful, warm, and well-kept, but she still felt a strange discomfort in her chest. She sat on the bed for a moment, her mind filled with questions.

Had she made the right choice by coming here?

A part of her wanted to believe she had. After all, it was Aryan. He had always been there for her, supporting her, never making her feel uncomfortable. He was different from the others... or at least, that's what she wanted to believe.

Inaya had never trusted anyone easily, especially men. Not after what happened. That incident had changed her, made her fearful, made her question everyone's intentions. She had built walls around herself, not allowing anyone to come too close.

But with Aryan, it was different.

She didn't understand why, but she trusted him. Maybe it was the way he spoke to her, the way he never pushed her beyond her limits, or maybe it was just that deep inside, she needed someone to believe in.

Still, a part of her was scared.

She hoped she wasn't making a mistake. She hoped Aryan wouldn't turn out like the others. She hoped that trusting him wouldn't break her again.

Taking a deep breath, she went to freshen up, pushing her thoughts aside.

■

After freshening up, Inaya stepped out of the bathroom and saw a saree placed on the bed. She frowned, confused. She knew she didn't have any new clothes with her. So where did this saree come from?

She hesitated for a moment, running her fingers over the fabric. Maybe Aryan had left it for her. She wasn't sure why, but she didn't feel like questioning it right now. She had no other choice, so she decided to wear it.

Slowly, she draped the saree around herself, adjusting the pleats carefully. It had been a while since she had worn one. Once she was done, she tied her hair into a neat bun, giving herself one last look in the mirror.

With a deep breath, she stepped out of the room.

As she entered the dining area, she found Aryan already sitting at the table, waiting for her. He was casually scrolling through his phone, but the moment she walked in, his eyes lifted and then they stopped on her.

For a second, he forgot to breathe.

His throat went dry, and his fingers tightened around his phone. He wasn't sure what it was the way the saree fit her, the way her hair was styled, or just the fact that she looked so effortlessly beautiful.

His mind immediately warned him, Stop having unholy thoughts.

But his eyes refused to listen.

He tried looking away, tried focusing on the food, the table, or even the chair next to him. But no matter what, his gaze kept going back to her.

Inaya, completely unaware of his struggle, gave him a small, polite smile before taking a seat across from him.

"You look good in a saree," he blurted out before he could stop himself.

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. His voice had come out softer, almost like a nervous boy talking for the first time.

Inaya raised an eyebrow at him. "What's wrong with your voice?"

Aryan quickly cleared his throat, trying to fix his expression. "Nothing," he said, shifting in his seat, but the slight redness in his face betrayed him.

Inaya smirked slightly, watching him struggle. "Hmm. Okay," she said, picking up a glass of water and taking a sip.

Aryan mentally cursed himself. Get a grip, man.

The room fell into a comfortable silence, but his mind was far from calm.

■

While eating, Aryan's spoon slipped from his hand and fell to the floor. He bent down to pick it up, but as he did, his eyes caught something that made him pause.

There were injuries on Inaya's feet small cuts, bruises, and scars, probably from the game and practice sessions.

But to him, they looked worse.

His fingers tightened around the spoon as an uneasy feeling settled in his chest. How much pain had she been ignoring? How much had she endured without complaining?

He quickly sat back up, not wanting her to notice his concern. He continued eating, but his mind was elsewhere.

"After eating, you can take some rest," he said casually, trying to sound normal.

Inaya simply nodded, not paying much attention. She was too tired to talk.

Aryan, on the other hand, kept stealing glances at her, his mind still stuck on those bruises.

After dinner, Inaya went to her room, exhausted. The day had been overwhelming, and all she wanted now was to rest. Meanwhile, Aryan quietly made his way to his own room.

But his room wasn't like any other.

It was hidden behind the massive book cupboards. With a swift movement, he pushed one of the shelves aside, revealing a small entryway. He stepped in and locked it from the inside.

This was his secret space.

Inside, he had access to every single damn thing. Nothing could escape his eyes.

Without wasting time, he grabbed his phone and called his PA.

"I need all the information on the people trolling Inaya. I want their profiles within a few minutes," he ordered.

"Understood," his PA responded without hesitation.

Aryan ended the call and took a deep breath. His jaw tightened as he clenched the phone in his hand.

Then, he walked deeper into the dimly lit room, his footsteps echoing slightly. At the end of the corridor, there was another door.

He opened it.

And there he was.

Lying on the cold floor, motionless except for the slow, shallow breaths. His body was covered in bruises, his skin pale. His lips were dry, and his wrists were bound in heavy chains.

It had been days since he had eaten.

But why would he have the strength to eat?

Because Aryan had drained him.

He was Inaya's coach.

The same man who had molested her.

The day Aryan found out that her coach molested her, he hadn't wasted a second. He had followed the coach in the parking lot, beaten him mercilessly, and dragged him here.

Now, he was nothing more than a breathing corpse.

"Are you feeling anything?" Aryan asked. "Or do you still feel like your old self?"

The coach didn't answer. He couldn't.

His body was weak, his mind barely functioning. But Aryan wasn't done yet.

He pulled out a lighter from his pocket, flicking it open. A small flame danced in the dim room, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

Without hesitation, Aryan brought the flame closer, closer until it touched the coach's hand.

A muffled scream erupted from the man's throat as he writhed in pain.

But no one could hear him.

Aryan had already shoved a cloth into his mouth.

The coach's body jerked as the fire burned his skin. His muffled screams filled the room, but no one could hear him. No one except Aryan.

Aryan watched him struggle, his face calm, almost emotionless. He didn't flinch, didn't hesitate. He let the flame burn for a few more seconds before pulling it away.

The coach gasped, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he shook in pain. His hands trembled, but he couldn't move much. The chains around his wrists and ankles held him in place.

Aryan crouched in front of him, resting his arms on his knees. His dark eyes stared straight into the man's terrified ones.

"Does it hurt?" Aryan asked quietly. "Good."

The coach whimpered, unable to speak. His throat was too dry, his body too weak.

"You're feeling helpless now, aren't you?" Aryan continued. "That's how she felt. That's how you made her feel."

The coach tried to shake his head, as if denying it would change anything.

Aryan let out a short, humorless laugh. "You really thought no one would find out, didn't you?" he said. "That she'd stay quiet forever?"

The man squeezed his eyes shut, his body trembling. He knew there was no escape.

Aryan stood up, walking to a small metal table in the corner of the room. On it, a set of tools was neatly arranged each one sharp, cold, and made for pain.

He ran his fingers over them, thinking. He didn't want this to be over too soon.

"You betrayed her trust," Aryan said, picking up a scalpel. The blade glinted under the dim light. "You thought she was weak. But she wasn't."

He turned back to the coach, twirling the scalpel between his fingers.

"She survived," Aryan said. His voice was calm, but his eyes were filled with quiet rage. "And now... you'll see what it's like to be truly powerless."

The coach's eyes widened in terror. He struggled against the chains, trying to move, trying to escape. But it was useless.

Aryan took slow steps towards him.

The coach shook his head frantically, muffled cries escaping his throat.

Aryan crouched again, holding the scalpel close to the man's face.

"You hurt her," he whispered. "Now, let's see how much pain you can take."

And then, he pressed the blade against the coach's skin.

The scalpel felt cold against the coach's skin, making him shiver. His body tensed, his breathing became uneven, and his eyes darted around in fear.

Aryan didn't cut him right away. He just let the blade rest there, pressing lightly. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make the coach feel the danger.

"You're scared, aren't you?" Aryan asked, tilting his head. "That's good."

The coach whimpered, his muffled cries barely audible. He tried to shake his head, but the chains kept him still.

Aryan sighed and looked at him for a moment. "I should just kill you," he said calmly. "It would be quick, easy." He dragged the scalpel down the man's cheek, the blade barely touching. "But that would be too kind."

The coach's breathing turned rapid. His body trembled as Aryan finally pressed down, making a thin cut along his jaw.

A muffled scream escaped from behind the cloth stuffed in his mouth.

Aryan didn't react. "That?" He wiped the tiny drop of blood with his thumb. "That was nothing."

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "Do you know what happens to people like you?" he asked quietly. "People who hurt others and think no one will come for them?"

The coach squeezed his eyes shut, as if hoping this was all a nightmare.

Aryan grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up. "You thought she was alone," he said. "You thought no one would find out what you did." His fingers dug into the man's jaw. "You were wrong."

The coach whimpered again, his body twitching with panic.

Aryan smirked. "Oh, now you're scared?"

The coach made desperate, muffled sounds, shaking his head over and over.

Aryan ignored him. He walked over and, without hesitation, pushed a injection into the coach's arm.

The coach stiffened. His body jerked, his eyes widening even more as the drug started working. His muscles twitched, his breaths came in short, sharp gasps.

Aryan crouched beside him, watching closely.

"This won't kill you," Aryan said softly. "But it will make you wish you were dead."

The coach's head started to loll to the side. His body spasmed uncontrollably, his eyes rolling back slightly.

Aryan stood up, wiped his hands with a cloth, and turned toward the door. "I'll be back later," he said casually. "Try not to die before then."

Then, without another word, he switched off the light and left the room in complete darkness.

■

Aryan leaned back in his chair, staring at the big screen in front of him. It showed a picture of Inaya. He sat there admiring how beautiful she is. He wished he met her ten years ago.

"Ten years ago you were 22 and she saw 11. She probably don't know what is love that time." His mind mocked him.

Just then his phone buzzed. A message from his most trusted man.

"Received, sir. By tomorrow, they will all be in front of you."

A small smile appeared on Aryan's lips. "Good," he replied before putting his phone down.

He looked back at Inaya's picture, his fingers lightly tracing her face on the screen.

"I know, sweetheart. I know he hurt you," he murmured. "I know how much you suffered."

His eyes darkened as he thought about everything she had been through the betrayal, the fear, the humiliation. The way people had mocked her, how they had turned against her when she needed support the most.

He let out a slow breath, his fingers curling into a fist.

"All of them will pay for it." His voice was colder now. "Till now, you didn't have Aryan Raizada in your life. That's why people thought they could do whatever they wanted. Say whatever they wanted. Hurt you without facing any consequences."

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze locked onto the screen.

"But now I'm here, princess." His voice was steady, filled with promise. "And I will make sure no one even dares to hurt you again."

Tomorrow, everything would change.

To be continued

Toh doston kaise he aaj ka chapter?

What do you guys think, that how will inaya react if she finds out about Aryan?

Liked the chapter? Do vote. Comment and let me know your review

Target for next chapter: 180 likes, 15 comments