200,000 READS! â¨
Dil se shukriya! ð I'm overwhelmed with gratitude for each and every one of you who has joined me on this journey. Reaching 200k reads is a dream come true, and it's all thanks to your love and support.
If you're enjoying this story, please take a moment to vote. Your votes mean the world to me and keep me motivated to bring you more!
Thank you, from the bottom of my heart! â¤ï¸
(Sends virtual desi hugs and love!)
â¡
तà¥à¤°à¥ पास à¤à¤¨à¥ सॠà¤à¥ सà¥à¤à¥à¤¨ मिलता हà¥,
हर दरà¥à¤¦ à¤à¥à¤¸à¥ पल मà¥à¤ सिमठà¤à¤¾à¤¤à¤¾ हà¥à¥¤
नà¤à¤¼à¤¦à¥à¤à¤¿à¤¯à¤¾à¤ तà¥à¤°à¥ à¤à¥à¤ यà¥à¤ महसà¥à¤¸ हà¥à¤¤à¥ हà¥à¤,
à¤à¥à¤¸à¥ रà¥à¤¹ सॠरà¥à¤¹ à¤à¥ बात हà¥à¤¤à¥ हà¥à¥¤
â
Avantika Pov
I woke up to a pounding headache, my lashes feeling impossibly heavy. My entire body ached, and my head throbbed as if it had been split in two.
Slowly, awareness crept in. My hand rested on something warm and firm-a chest. My head was nestled against it too. The realization jolted me awake.
I straightened my neck, blinking against the dim light, trying to make sense of my surroundings. My fingers, bare of bangles or rings, caught my attention first. Confusion churned in my stomach.
I turned to look beside me, and the sight froze me in place. My breath caught, and it felt as though the ground beneath me had disappeared.
It was Avyansh. He was lying there, half-naked, his chest exposed under the soft glow of the dark yellow light.
My heart sank as I realized my own T-shirt was slipping off my shoulder, barely clinging to me. Panic clawed at my throat.
"Oh my God..." I whispered, my voice breaking. Tears welled up, stinging my eyes as my trembling hands reached to cover myself.
I looked at my wrists-no jewelry, no bangles, no rings, nothing that I had worn the night before. My hair was loose and disheveled, as if someone had taken it down. Memories rushed back in disjointed fragments:
The party. Being at my parents' house. Chachi offering me a drink, insisting I try it. That man... the one I hated, who had made me nauseous.
And then-nothing.
My heart thudded dully, refusing to beat faster or slower, just a hollow rhythm in my chest. It felt as though someone had pierced through my soul. I pushed the comforter away, my hands shaking.
How could I?
I didn't want to look at him, but my eyes betrayed me. My gaze landed on his chest again-on the faint red marks trailing up to his neck. The sight made my stomach churn.
Then I noticed it. Kajal. A smudge of dark black near his collarbone, unmistakably from my eyes. My fingers trembled, hovering over the mark as I struggled to piece together what had happened.
Did I do this?
My breath hitched as fragmented images started surfacing-me crying, pleading, and leaning into him, begging for something I couldn't fully remember.
"No," I whispered to myself, fresh tears streaming down my face. "This isn't possible. I wouldn't..."
But as my trembling fingers brushed over the mark on his chest, another vision struck me-of me leaning toward him, my lips grazing his skin, leaving those marks behind.
I couldn't hold back the sob that escaped my lips. My tears dripped onto my trembling hands as I raked my fingers over the faint bruises on his neck, hoping they'd vanish under my touch, that they weren't real.
Then he stirred.
A deep breath escaped his lips as his chest moved beneath my fingertips. His eyes fluttered open, and they locked onto mine.
"Avantika..." His voice was soft, laced with concern. He reached out and took my hand, his touch gentle yet firm. "Are you okay?"
His words broke me. They were tender, filled with care, and yet they only confirmed the storm of doubts in my mind.
Tears continued to fall as I looked at him, my voice trembling. "What happened last night?" I asked, the fear in my tone unmistakable.
His brows furrowed as he sat up slightly, still holding my hand. "Avantika... nothing happened. I promise, nothing you didn't want."
His words offered no comfort. If anything, they made my chest tighten further. "But... I don't remember. I don't know how I-"
"Someone spiked your drink," he interrupted gently, his eyes dark with anger.
"At the party. You weren't in your senses, and I couldn't leave you there. You begged me to stay close, to not leave you alone."
His explanation felt like both a relief and a burden. I wiped my tears hastily, staring at him, trying to process what he was saying.
"Did I... do this?" I asked, motioning toward his neck and chest, my voice barely above a whisper.
He hesitated for a moment before nodding slightly. "Yes," he admitted, his voice soft. "I want to stop you because I didn't want to frighten you more."
My heart clenched painfully. The thought of me-out of control, desperate-terrified me. "Did I... did we..." I couldn't even finish the sentence.
"No," he said firmly, his grip on my hand tightening. "Nothing like that happened. I made sure you were safe. I just stayed close so you wouldn't hurt yourself."
The sincerity in his eyes made me break down completely. My sobs shook my body as I tried to come to terms with everything. "I don't understand... I feel like I don't even know myself anymore."
He pulled me into a gentle embrace, his voice steady. "It's not your fault, Avantika. Someone did this to you. But I swear, nothing happened that you didn't agree to. You're safe with me. Always."
His words, his presence-it was too much and not enough all at once. I didn't know what to feel, except broken.
And yet, somewhere deep inside, I felt a sliver of gratitude. For him. For being the only anchor in the chaos that was now my reality.
---
I looked at myself in the mirror, my heart still heavy with the storm of thoughts swirling in my mind. My gaze scanned my reflection carefully, searching for any mark, any sign of something wrong. But there was nothing. Not a single bruise, not even the faintest trace.
He hadn't touched me.
I exhaled shakily, relief mixing with guilt. The truth settled in-it was me. I had been the one to lose control. I had left those marks on him. And yet, despite everything, he hadn't shouted at me, hadn't blamed me, hadn't even made me feel uncomfortable.
Why is he so patient with me?
I tried to push the thoughts away as I focused on the girl staring back at me in the mirror. My hair, freshly washed, fell in soft, natural waves, tied loosely at the nape of my neck with a simple black scrunchie. A few strands framed my face, softening my features.
I was wearing a flowy floral Anarkali dress, its earthy orange and green tones complimenting my complexion. The high neck design wrapped snugly around my collarbones, with delicate buttons running down the front.
The long, sheer sleeves added an air of modesty, though the fabric clung lightly to my arms. The dress flared gracefully from the waist, its fabric swishing gently as I moved.
My face, bare and simple, reflected my hesitation. Finally, I placed a small maroon bindi at the center of my forehead.
I paused for a moment, my fingers hovering over the vermillion box on the dresser. Slowly, I picked it up, taking a pinch of the vibrant red powder. My heart thudded as I filled the partition of my hair with a light streak of vermillion.
The gesture felt heavier today, more meaningful, as though it carried the weight of everything that had happened last night.
As I finished, I stepped back and took in my reflection once more. The girl in the mirror looked composed, her features calm, but I knew the storm was still raging beneath.
Why didn't he say anything? Why didn't he push me away or blame me?
The questions lingered as I adjusted the strap of the black sling bag on my shoulder. It was a simple accessory, but it grounded me, gave me something tangible to focus on.
Taking one last look at myself, I let out a shaky breath.
---
The breakfast table was heavy with silence-an uncomfortable, suffocating kind. The clinking of plates and faint footsteps from the kitchen staff were the only sounds filling the space.
He had come downstairs only five minutes ago, his presence commanding as always, but today there was something different-something distant. He hadn't served himself, nor did he allow the maid to serve him.
Instead, he sat at the head of the table, hands resting on the polished wood, lost in thought.
I tried to focus on my own plate, though the knot in my stomach made eating difficult. My plate held a single chapati and a small portion of sabzi. Even that felt like too much.
I took another bite, chewing slowly, when his voice broke the silence.
"Avantika."
His tone was flat, devoid of any emotion.
"Hm?" I replied, glancing up at him.
"I'll be late today," he said, his gaze fixed on something distant, something I couldn't see. Then his eyes shifted to me, dark and unreadable. "And... I need a few answers."
His words sent a ripple of unease through me. I froze, my fingers tightening around the edge of my plate. Answers? About last night? About what had happened?
Before I could say anything, he pushed back his chair and stood. His movements were precise, controlled, but his gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than necessary. He looked at my plate, then back at me, his expression unreadable.
"The driver will drop you," he said finally, his voice quieter now but still firm.
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me alone at the table.
I sat there, staring at the untouched half of my chapati, my appetite completely gone. His words echoed in my mind-"I need a few answers."
What did he want to know? Did he expect me to explain? Did he... blame me?
My thoughts spiraled, but I shook my head, forcing myself to take a sip of water. You'll have to face him sooner or later, I reminded myself. But the thought didn't make the heaviness in my chest any easier to bear.
The towering gates of the institution loomed ahead as I stepped out, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder. The late morning sun cast a soft glow over the paved walkway, but it did little to lift my mood.
Two bodyguards stood by the exit, their presence as conspicuous as ever. I sighed inwardly, wishing for a moment of normalcy.
"Hey, pepper spray!" a familiar voice rang out, clear and teasing.
I stopped in my tracks, turning around sharply. And there he was-Akshat.
He stood a few steps away, leaning casually against the low stone boundary, looking as self-assured as ever. His fitted light blue polo shirt complemented his sharp features, its soft fabric clinging slightly to his broad shoulders.
He had tucked it neatly into a pair of slim, off-white trousers that highlighted his tall frame. The crisp pleats and polished white sneakers gave him a look that was effortlessly put together, even if he wasn't trying to be. His dark hair fell naturally over his forehead, slightly disheveled, as though he had run his fingers through it moments before.
I blinked at him, my headache pounding faintly behind my temples, a stark reminder of the morning's chaos. Just when I had managed to breathe a little, he had appeared, ready to add to my misery.
"What do you want, Akshat?" I said coldly, not bothering to mask my irritation.
He pushed off the stone ledge with a shrug, a small smirk playing on his lips. "You look annoyed. What happened? Did your guards give you trouble, or was it the breakfast?"
His tone was lighter than usual, but it still carried that edge of smugness that set my teeth on edge.
I ignored his question, turning to walk away, but he fell into step beside me as though he had every right to.
"I didn't know I was such a headache for you," he said dryly, though his tone softened slightly.
"You didn't know? How surprising," I shot back, keeping my voice steady and cool.
"Still as icy as ever," he murmured, more to himself than to me.
I didn't respond. I couldn't waste my energy on him right now, not when I was already drained.
The bodyguards followed at a respectful distance, their presence grounding me in the reality of my life-one Akshat didn't understand, and one I didn't care to explain to him.
"Did you really need two guards today?" he asked, glancing at them over his shoulder.
His tone wasn't mocking, but I could sense the curiosity behind his words. He knew I had been accompanied by guards for a long time now, but he never pushed too hard for an explanation.
"That's none of your business," I replied curtly, picking up my pace.
"Right. None of my business," he echoed, his voice quieter now.
For a brief moment, I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. He wasn't as grumpy as usual, not with me at least. But I didn't care. He wasn't someone I wanted in my life-not now, not ever.
The ache in my head pulsed again, and I cursed silently. Between the headache, the unease from the morning, and Akshat's presence, it was shaping up to be a long day.
---
Avyansh POV:
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, my fingers running over the faint marks on my neck and collarbone. Bruises-not ones that came with pain, but ones that told a story I wasn't ready to revisit.
My jaw tightened. I would've loved it if she had done this in her senses. That thought lingered in my mind, its weight pressing harder on my chest. What happened last night wasn't her fault, yet I couldn't stop the anger bubbling inside me.
But the anger wasn't for her. It was for whoever had dared to put her in such a state-whoever had thought they could mess with her, my wife.
I clenched my jaw, the muscles tightening as a surge of fury rippled through me. Someone had done this, someone had crossed a line, and I wouldn't rest until I figured out who it was.
She was mine to protect, and the thought that someone had taken advantage of her vulnerability made my blood boil. How dare they? How dare they?
I adjusted the cuffs of my crisp white shirt, my movements stiff and deliberate. The green tie was knotted perfectly, but even that didn't feel enough to contain the storm brewing inside me.
My coat hung neatly to the side, waiting, but I wasn't in the mood to put it on just yet. There was too much to do, too many questions that needed answers, and too many people who would face my wrath from today.
I ran a hand through my hair, taking a deep breath to steady myself. Losing control wasn't an option.
For her sake, I needed to keep my composure. But every time I thought of her tear-filled eyes from the night before, or the tremble in her voice, it only fueled the fire inside me.
This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
With one last glance in the mirror, I straightened my shoulders and picked up the coat from the side. Time to get to work.
As I entered the car, the soft thud of the door shutting behind me brought a momentary sense of calm.
Mr. Patel is today here to pick me up as he started the engine, the quiet hum filling the air. Without looking at him, I muttered, "You know where I have to go."
"Yes, sir," he replied with a nod, his voice steady and professional.
I leaned back against the headrest, letting out a slow breath. The cool leather pressed against my head as I closed my eyes, trying to block out the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me.
The faint sound of the engine and the soft rhythm of the tires on the road should have been soothing, but my mind refused to quiet down. Flashes of last night flickered behind my closed eyelids-her tears, her trembling hands, the way she had clung to me like a lifeline.
My fists clenched against my thighs as frustration bubbled up again. Whoever did this will pay.
But then there was the other side of the storm-the memory of her leaning closer, her warmth, her whispered words. I couldn't decide which was harder to process, the anger or the ache.
The car hit a slight bump, and I opened my eyes briefly, watching the city blur past the window. There was too much to do, too many answers to uncover. But right now, all I could do was steel myself for the day ahead.
I closed my eyes again, letting the hum of the car guide me into temporary stillness. For now, I needed to gather my thoughts-because once I got to my destination, there would be no turning back.
---
Author's POV
The sound of Avyansh's footsteps echoed through the expansive house, each step heavy with purpose. The party had ended hours ago, yet the air still felt thick with tension. A few guests lingered upstairs in the penthouse, unaware of the storm brewing below.
As Avyansh entered the grand hall, silence descended like a shroud. Every eye turned toward him, the weight of his presence palpable. His expression was unreadable, but the coldness radiating from him was enough to unsettle even the boldest in the room.
"Baithiye," Viransha, Avantika's mother, whispered softly, gesturing toward an empty seat. Her voice held a cautious undertone, as though she was treading on thin ice.
Avyansh inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment and took the offered seat. His movements were deliberate, controlled, yet his every action seemed to carry an unspoken warning. The atmosphere in the room shifted.
The occupants of the hall sat in tense silence-Manoj, Viransha, Pratham, and Minakshi. Each seemed acutely aware of the storm that loomed just beneath the surface.
Avyansh's piercing gaze swept across the room, finally landing on Minakshi. His sharp eyes bore into her with unrelenting intensity. Her fingers twitched, and she quickly averted her gaze, but it was too late. The slight waver in her posture, the tension in her shoulders-it all betrayed her unease.
She swallowed hard, her heartbeat quickening.
The silence stretched on, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on everyone. Avyansh's aura was unmistakable-calm on the outside but seething with fury just beneath.
"Shall we begin?" he said finally, his voice low and steady, yet cutting through the quiet like a blade.
No one dared to speak, but the shift in their expressions said everything. They knew this was not a simple conversation. This was an interrogation.
Minakshi's hands fidgeted in her lap, her usual confidence nowhere to be seen. Pratham exchanged a wary glance with Manoj, whose jaw tightened visibly.
Avyansh leaned forward slightly, his gaze still locked on Minakshi. "I have a few questions," he said, his tone deceptively calm. "And I expect answers."
"But more in private," Avyansh said, his gaze shifting pointedly to Avantika's father. His voice remained calm, yet it carried an undertone of finality that left no room for argument.
Manoj, Avantika's father, met his gaze briefly before nodding. Without a word, he rose to his feet, his expression grim, and gestured for Avyansh to follow.
Avyansh stood as well, his towering frame radiating authority. Before stepping away, his eyes flickered to Viransha, Avantika's mother, who sat quietly on the edge of the sofa.
"I want my mother-in-law to be there too," Avyansh said, his tone cool but laced with a subtle edge. His sharp gaze lingered on her, making it clear this wasn't a request but an expectation.
Viransha's brows furrowed slightly in surprise, but she nodded, rising slowly. She glanced at Manoj, who gave her a slight nod of approval.
The three of them walked toward the study, the heavy silence stretching between them like a taut wire. The dimly lit hallway seemed even longer as their footsteps echoed softly, each step amplifying the weight of the impending conversation.
Avyansh entered the study first, his sharp eyes scanning the room as if ensuring no one else would intrude. He gestured for them to take their seats at the small round table in the corner, the atmosphere growing heavier with each passing moment.
Manoj sat first, his movements slow and deliberate, while Viransha hesitated before settling into the chair next to her husband. Avyansh remained standing, his imposing presence casting a long shadow over the room.
"I'll be direct," Avyansh began, his voice low and cold as his gaze settled on both of them. "What happened last night?"
Manoj's shoulders stiffened, his fingers clenching the armrest of his chair. Viransha looked down momentarily, avoiding Avyansh's piercing stare, before raising her eyes to meet his.
"Nothing... unusual," Manoj replied, but the slight quiver in his voice betrayed his attempt at composure.
Avyansh's lips curled into a humorless smile. "Let's not waste time with lies. Someone spiked Avantika's drink. I want to know who-and why."
Viransha's face paled, her fingers clutching her saree tightly. "Avyansh, we... we had no idea something like this happened. I-"
"You had no idea?" Avyansh cut her off, his voice dangerously low. He stepped closer, his piercing gaze unwavering. "She was at your house, your party, surrounded by your people. And yet, someone had the audacity to harm her under your nose. Explain that to me."
Viransha opened her mouth to speak but faltered, glancing nervously at Manoj. He avoided her gaze, his jaw tightening as though grappling with an unspoken truth.
"Mr.Agarwal " Avyansh said, his tone sharper now. "Don't test my patience. Who was responsible?"
The room fell silent, the air heavy with tension.
Manoj straightened in his seat, his eyes meeting Avyansh's with calculated precision. His voice, calm but laced with manipulation, carried a weight that was impossible to ignore.
"She is our family too, Avyansh," Manoj began, his tone deliberately measured, as though scolding a naive child. "And I don't think you know her more than a few months. So it would be better if you stayed within your limits as a husband."
Avyansh's expression didn't falter, remaining unreadable, but his piercing gaze stayed locked on Manoj, who continued without pause.
"That was a party," Manoj said, shrugging slightly. "Maybe someone tampered with her drink. But you can't blame our family for that. There were dozens of people, most of them not even close to us. Accusing us without proof is reckless." His lips curved into a thin, smug smile. "And before you bring up the past . I am telling you this before btw-when she was dying, or almost dead, as you so dramatically put it-we were busy. Too busy. You have no idea the responsibilities we had to deal with."
Manoj leaned forward, his voice sharper now, a glint of condescension in his eyes. "And why would we leave all of our important work to attend to her when we knew you were there? Don't you think, now that she's your wife, that responsibility falls on you?"
He sat back, crossing his arms, as if confident he had delivered an irrefutable argument.
Avyansh's smirk was slow and deliberate, a sharp contrast to the tension in the room. It wasn't a smile of amusement but one of dangerous amusement, the kind that sent chills down the spine of anyone who saw it.
"Done?" he asked, his voice low and mocking, yet sharp enough to cut through steel.
Manoj blinked, slightly taken aback by the unexpected reaction.
"Because I'd really like to applaud your audacity," Avyansh continued, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees as his cold gaze bore into Manoj like a dagger
. "It's impressive how you've managed to spin your neglect into a justification. 'We were busy,'" he mimicked with a sneer. "That's your excuse? Busy with what? Polishing your ego? Counting your money? Or simply pretending she didn't exist?"
Manoj's jaw clenched, but he said nothing.
"And as for her being my responsibility," Avyansh said, his voice dropping further, dripping with venom, "you're absolutely right. She is my responsibility now. But do you know what that means ?"
He leaned in closer, his smirk widening into something darker, more threatening. "It means I won't tolerate anyone-not you, not your so-called family, not anyone-hurting her, ignoring her, or disrespecting her ever again."
Viransha shifted uncomfortably, but Avyansh's eyes never left Manoj's.
"As for what happened last night," Avyansh said, straightening, his tone cold and unforgiving, "don't think for a second that your excuses will stop me. If someone in this family was involved, I'll find out. And when I do, there won't be a single place on this earth where they'll be safe from me."
Manoj opened his mouth to speak, but Avyansh cut him off.
"You think you've covered your tracks," Avyansh said, his smirk returning. "But people like you always forget one thing-you may control the people around you, but you can't control the truth. And the truth always comes out."
The silence that followed was deafening, the tension so thick it was suffocating. Avyansh stood, adjusting his cuffs as though dismissing them entirely.
"Remember," he said, his voice like ice, "I'm not like the rest of your family. I don't play your games, and I don't fall for your lies. So tread carefully. The next time you try to manipulate me, make sure you're better prepared."
He began, his tone a perfect balance of respect and warning, "I'd suggest you choose your words carefully when addressing me. Control your tongue."
His piercing gaze locked onto Manoj's, his expression unreadable but radiating an authority that left no room for defiance. "Don't forget who I was-and who I am now. Yes, I married your daughter, but that does not give you permission to forget your place. Don't mistake my silence for weakness, and certainly don't test my patience."
The room seemed to shrink under the weight of his words, every syllable laced with a warning that demanded attention.
"I've tolerated a lot today, but let me make this crystal clear," he continued, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, the kind that forced everyone to lean in, hanging on to every word. "Respect is not something you can demand from me, It is something you will earn-if you're lucky. And right now, you are dangerously close to losing even the semblance of it."
Manoj shifted in his seat, but Avyansh's eyes pinned him in place, unyielding and cold. "I don't know what kind of authority you think you hold here, but let me remind you-I am the one standing by your daughter's side now. I am the one responsible for her, and I am the one who will protect her, no matter what."
He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to an icy whisper that sent shivers down the spines of everyone in the room. "So, listen to me carefully: this is the last time I will tolerate disrespect-toward me, or toward my wife. Do not cross this line again, because I assure you, I am not someone you want to challenge."
The room was deathly silent, the weight of his words suffocating. Manoj's usual composure cracked, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, his gaze darting away from Avyansh's unforgiving stare.
Straightening his cuffs with deliberate precision, Avyansh stepped back, his smirk cold and unnerving. "I hope we understand each other."
Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, his footsteps echoing through the silence, leaving behind an air so heavy it felt like the walls themselves were holding their breath.
â â¡â â¡â â¡â â¡â â¡â â¡â¡â¡â â¡â â¡â â¡â â¡â â¡â â¡â â¡â â¡â â¡â â¡â
Thanks for Reading
Do vote and follow me
Btw Vote Target is 450+
An comment Target as usual 100+