Chapter 65: ✿Chapter 58✿

We fucking won!!!!

Indiaaaa  Yayyyy 🙌🧿

Author’s POV

The dining table was lively with conversations and laughter, but one chair remained empty.

Avyansh hadn’t joined them.

Instead, he stood alone at the beachside balcony, the soft sounds of crashing waves filling the silence around him.

His hands rested on the railing, fingers slightly curled as he stared at the dark waters ahead. The ocean stretched endlessly before him, calm yet unpredictable—much like his thoughts.

He sighed, rubbing his forehead.

He had forced Avantika to join the others, telling her she needed to eat, that he’d join later.

But he wouldn’t.

Not yet.

His mind was restless.

How do I tell her?

It wasn’t fear that held him back—no.

He wasn’t afraid of sharing his past with her.

But… she was already carrying so much.

Her past, her trauma, her grief—he had seen it all.

How could he just throw his burdens onto her shoulders too?

What if…

What if she sees me differently after knowing the truth?

What if her eyes change when she looks at me?

What if this moment we have—this fragile, delicate thing we’re building—shatters?

A humorless chuckle escaped his lips.

Avyansh Raghuvanshi, a man feared by many, stood here tonight, not afraid of enemies, not afraid of failure—but afraid of losing the one person who made his world feel lighter.

And for the first time in years…

He didn’t know what to do.

The waves crashed softly against the shore, their rhythmic whispers blending with the faint murmur of the wind. The salty air clung to his skin, but Avyansh barely noticed.

His mind was loud—too loud.

The voices in his head were relentless.

How do I tell her? What if she looks at me differently? What if I ruin everything?

His fingers curled into fists against the railing, his jaw tightening as he closed his eyes.

Breathe.

The moment stretched, the cool night air brushing against his face.

Then—

A presence.

Someone behind him.

His breath hitched slightly, but he didn’t turn around.

He knew who it was.

Avantika.

She must’ve finished dinner and come looking for him.

But before he could speak, a hand rested on his shoulder.

And in that instant—he knew.

It wasn’t her.

The touch was different. Wrong.

His eyes snapped open.

He turned around—fast.

And there she was.

Sandhya.

Standing too close. A sinister smile curled on her lips, her eyes holding something unsettling.

His stomach twisted.

A cold shiver ran down his spine, his entire body tensing in an instant.

And then—

He yanked her hand off him.

He moved away from her so fast it was as if her mere presence burned him.

"Fucking stay away from me!" he snapped, his voice sharp, echoing in the night air.

His entire being screamed in discomfort.

Sandhya, however, didn’t flinch.

She just… smiled.

A slow, eerie smile.

Like she was amused.

Avyansh’s entire body went rigid, his breath coming in sharp bursts. His pulse pounded in his ears as he took another step back, putting as much distance between them as possible.

But Sandhya?

She didn’t move.

She didn’t stop smiling.

Instead, she tilted her head slightly, amusement flickering in her dark eyes.

“Oh, Avyansh…” she sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “Still so sensitive, aren’t you?”

His fists clenched. “What the hell do you want?”

Sandhya chuckled softly, taking a slow step forward.

He stepped back. Immediately.

Her eyes gleamed. She liked that.

“Still reacting the same way… just like when you were little,” she mused, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “Back then, too, you used to flinch just like that.”

Avyansh’s stomach churned.

No.

He felt suffocated.

A thousand memories flashed through his mind—unwanted, suffocating, disgusting.

Tiny hands pushing away.

A scared little boy.

Touch that was wrong.

A voice whispering, "It's okay, no one will know."

His fear.

His helplessness.

Sandhya took another step toward him.

“It was cute, you know?” she continued, her voice mocking. “How you used to squirm and try to run away.”

His breathing turned erratic.

He wanted to leave.

But his feet felt glued to the ground.

“And now? You’re all grown up, but some things never change, do they?” she smirked.

“You still look at me like I’m a monster.”

“Because you are,” he spat, his voice dangerously low.

Sandhya laughed. Laughed.

“Oh, come on, Avyansh. You were a child! You didn’t even understand back then—”

“Shut up,” he growled.

She ignored him, taking another slow step forward. “But now you do, don’t you?”

Her eyes flickered, scanning his face.

“I wonder… does your pretty wife know about it?”

Avyansh froze.

His fingers twitched at the mention of Avantika.

Sandhya saw it.

And she grinned.

“Oh… she doesn’t, does she?”

Her gaze darkened.

“What will happen when she finds out?”

Avyansh’s hands trembled. His breathing was heavy—ragged. His chest rose and fell unevenly, his mind spiraling between past and present.

His eyes burned red.

Not just with rage. But with the weight of old, buried wounds—ones he never wanted to remember.

Sandhya’s voice was still dripping with false amusement, but her words were sharp. Mocking.

“Look at you… all grown up now.” Her gaze trailed down his frame before she smirked. “And still as Handsome as ever.”

His stomach twisted violently.

A sickening sense of déjà vu crashed over him.

A small boy, trapped in a suffocating room.

A warm hand brushing against his face.

A whisper in his ear.

"You’re special, you know?"

"But shhh… Yai bas humare beech mai rehega ."

"If you tell anyone, they won’t believe you anyway."

A hand on his shoulder.

A touch that wasn’t supposed to be there.

A forced smile.

The feeling of wanting to run.

"Such a good boy, my Avyu."

NO.

Avyansh blinked. He was not that child anymore. He was not.

“I am NOT that boy anymore.” His voice was low, lethal. “One wrong move, and I will destroy you, Sandhya.”

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “Oh, but you already did.”

Her expression shifted—anger flashing in her eyes as she stepped closer.

“Your grandfather destroyed me—because of YOU.” Her voice was filled with venom. “You ran crying to that old man, and look what happened!”

She pointed at herself, voice rising.

“Because of you, I lost everything! Because of you, I had to start from nothing again!”

Her lips curled in disgust. “All because of one stupid, weak little boy who couldn’t keep his mouth shut.”

Avyansh’s fists clenched so tightly, his nails dug into his palm.

His grandfather.

His Dadu had protected him. The only one who believed him.

When he had gathered the courage to speak,  to his grandfather.

He didn’t even hesitate.

“You will never set foot in this house again, Sandhya.” His grandfather’s voice had been firm. “If I ever see you near my grandson, I will ruin you.”

And he did.

He made sure Sandhya was left with nothing.

And now—now, she was here.

The ground beneath him felt unsteady.

But Avyansh refused to show weakness.

He took a step forward.

“If you even breathe near me again, I will finish what my grandfather started,” he hissed, his voice ice cold.

Sandhya’s jaw tightened, but then—she smirked.

“Let’s see, Avyu… let’s see.”

Sandhya’s lips curled into a sweet, practiced smile—one that dripped with deception.

“Avantika,” she called out, her tone light and innocent. “Look, I was just telling Avyansh to come eat. You should convince him too.”

She turned slightly, tilting her head toward Avantika.

Behind Avyansh, Avantika stood still.

She had just stepped onto the balcony, unaware of the storm that had just passed between the two.

Her gaze flickered between them, confusion evident in her soft hazel eyes.

Sandhya’s expression remained carefully composed. A gentle smile. A facade.

Avantika, unaware of the tension that had just poisoned the air, hesitated for a moment before nodding slightly.

An awkward smile pulled at her lips, not understanding why something felt... off.

Sandhya gave one last glance at Avyansh before gracefully stepping away, her saree trailing behind her as she exited the balcony.

The moment she was gone…

Everything fell silent.

Avantika turned her full attention to Avyansh.

Her brows furrowed.

Something wasn’t right.

He wasn’t moving.

He stood stiff, his entire frame locked in place.

His hands were gripping the railing so tightly, his knuckles had turned white.

His jaw was clenched, his breathing uneven.

His eyes—red.

Fury. Pain. Something deeper. Something terrifying.

Her heart twisted.

She stepped closer. Carefully.

"Avyansh ji…?” she called softly.

He didn’t respond.

Didn’t even blink.

His shoulders rose and fell with sharp, heavy breaths. Like he was fighting a war inside his head.

She reached out slowly, her fingers gently touching his forearm.

He flinched.

A sharp, violent reaction. Like a man touched by fire.

Avantika immediately pulled her hand back, her eyes widening.

Her lips parted to say something, but—

He suddenly stepped away from the railing.

His movement was abrupt. Stiff.

Uncontrolled.

Like he was forcing himself out of a trance.

Then, without a word—

He turned around.

And started walking away.

"Avyansh ji!" Avantika called after him, alarmed now.

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t look back.

Didn’t acknowledge her.

Just kept walking, his pace increasing.

Avantika stood frozen for a second, her heart pounding.

Then, without thinking, she walked after him.

Avyansh’s POV

I slammed the bathroom door shut.

My hands gripped the sink so tightly that my knuckles turned white.

My breaths came out sharp. Uneven. Forced.

Turning the faucet, I let the cold water rush through my fingers before splashing it on my face.

But it wasn’t enough.

It didn’t cool the fire burning inside me.

The moment she touched my arm—I flinched. Like a coward. Like I was still that pathetic, helpless boy all over again.

I clenched my jaw, my reflection glaring back at me from the mirror.

No. I am not that boy anymore.

I am Avyansh Singh Raghuvanshi.

The same man people fear to cross. The same man who can destroy entire legacies with a single decision.

Then why?

Why did my hands still tremble?

I stared at them, my fingers twitching.

Her words played in my head like a poison I couldn’t escape.

“Look how much you’ve grown… and how handsome you’ve become.”

Disgusting.

I gritted my teeth, my fist slamming against the marble counter.

I should’ve destroyed her.

Right there. Right then.

She dared to smile at me. She dared to talk to me like nothing had happened.

Like she hadn’t stolen my childhood.

Like she hadn’t tainted my skin with filth when I was too young to understand what she was doing.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Whispers. Soft touches. “It’s our little secret.”

My grip on the counter tightened until my fingers ached.

I should’ve killed her.

I should’ve fucking killed her.

The door handle rattled.

"Avyansh ji?"

Her voice.

Soft. Hesitant.

Avantika.

I forced myself to take deep breaths.

I couldn’t let her see me like this. Not her.

Not when she was finally learning to heal.

I turned off the faucet.

One last deep breath.

Then, I opened the door.

I forced a smile. Fake. Hollow. Something I never had to do in front of her.

But tonight, I had to.

I couldn’t let her see it.

The storm inside me.

The rage. The disgust. The memories.

I felt her soft touch on my biceps. A hesitant grip, her warmth bleeding through my skin.

"Aap thik hai?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.

I exhaled slowly. Control. Keep it together.

"Haan," I replied, removing her hand gently.

I walked past her, settling on the bed, leaning forward.

"Headache," I muttered. A lie. But not completely.

It was the only excuse I could give her without breaking.

She crouched in front of me, worry deep in her hazel eyes.

"Shouldn't we meet the doctor? Doctor se mil lete hai… morning se headache ho raha hai aapko," she insisted.

Concern. Genuine concern.

I didn’t deserve it.

I shook my head. "Nahi."

I ran my hand through my hair, frustration clawing at my chest.

And then, unable to hold it anymore, I buried my face in my hands, my elbows resting on my knees.

Her presence was right there. Close. Watching me.

But for the first time, I couldn't look at her.

"Avyansh ji…?"

Her voice was soft, hesitant. She stepped closer, her small fingers wrapping around my wrists as she gently removed my hands from my face.

"Kya hua?" she asked, her hazel eyes searching mine. "Did Sandhya Aunty say something to you?"

Like a child—pure, unaware of the filth that woman carried—she asked so innocently, without realizing the weight of her words.

I didn't answer. I couldn’t.

Instead, I pulled her closer, wrapping my arms around her waist, resting my forehead against her chest.

She stiffened. Hesitated.

Her fingers twitched, unsure whether to hold me back or let me be.

Her scent—chocolate and something uniquely hers—filled my senses, soothing and tormenting me all at once.

I closed my eyes, tightening my grip slightly. She is my escape. My peace. The only warmth I can allow myself.

But right now?

Right now, I just needed to breathe.

Just needed her.

My hands gripped the fabric of her top as if it was the only thing keeping me steady. How do I even say this? How do I let her see that part of me?

She sat still, waiting. No pressure, no impatience—just the silent understanding that only she could give me.

The words tangled in my throat, fighting to stay buried, but for the first time in years… I wanted to say them.

I exhaled sharply and began.

"I was little… maybe eight or nine. It didn’t last long. Just a few months. But…" I clenched my jaw, shaking my head. "But it was enough."

Her fingers twitched, her hand still resting lightly on my arm. I could feel the slight tremor in her touch, but she said nothing, letting me speak.

"Sandhya used to touch me." The words came out in a rush, my voice quieter than I intended. "At first, I thought it was nothing. Maybe I was overthinking. But then, the whispers started. The lingering hands. The way she would find ways to be alone with me."

A sharp intake of breath. Hers.

I didn’t look at her. Couldn’t.

"She’d sit beside me during family gatherings, lean too close when no one was watching. Run her fingers through my hair, whisper things I didn’t understand back then."

My throat felt dry, the air in the room suddenly too heavy.

"She’d tell me I was ‘special.’ That I would ‘understand when I got older.’ That it was our secret." My hands clenched into fists. "And I was too stupid to realize what was happening."

Avantika’s grip tightened, her fingers curling around mine.

"You were just a child, Avyansh," she whispered.

I sucked in a breath. Fuck.

That was all it took for the memories to slam into me.

The way my stomach used to churn whenever I saw her.

The way I started avoiding family gatherings, making excuses to leave the room.

The shame. The confusion. The fear.

I pulled her onto my lap, my arms locking around her waist, burying my face into her shoulder.

She didn’t move away. Didn’t tense.

She just let me hold on.

"I was scared," I admitted against her skin. My voice was low, raw. "I knew my family would believe me. But… I was the eldest. What would my cousins think? What if Dev and Devika got scared of me? What if they didn’t understand? And our reputation…"

My voice cracked slightly. "I thought about everything except myself."

Avantika’s arms wrapped around me, her fingers stroking the back of my head gently.

"You were protecting them," she murmured.

I let out a hollow laugh. "I was protecting everyone. Except me."

Silence.

The kind that wasn’t empty, but full.

"One day," I continued, "she cornered me. I don’t remember much. Just that I finally snapped. I ran to Dadu. Told him everything."

I swallowed, my grip tightening around her.

"He didn’t ask anything else. He didn’t hesitate. He destroyed her—cut her out of our lives. But…" I pulled back, looking into Avantika’s hazel eyes, my own burning with restrained anger. "Not enough. Because she came back."

Avantika cupped my cheek gently, her touch anchoring me.

"She can’t hurt you anymore," she said firmly. "She has no power over you, Avyansh. None. Hum hai na yaha aske pass ab."

I swallowed, my jaw clenching. "Then why do I still feel like that scared little boy whenever she’s near?"

She told me…” My voice came out hoarse, almost foreign to my own ears. “That men don’t get hurt. That we can’t be physically assaulted.”

Avantika’s fingers twitched where they rested against my arm. She didn’t say anything, just listened, her presence grounding me in a way I never knew I needed.

“She said we’re supposed to be brave. That we don’t cry." A bitter chuckle slipped from my lips. “So, I didn’t.”

Silence.

I hesitated before continuing, my hands clenching into fists. "I never cried after that. Not once.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “The first time I cried in years was… when you got shot.”

A sharp inhale.

This time, hers.

Her grip on my arm tightened, her breath hitching slightly.

I didn’t dare look at her. I was afraid of what I’d see.

She didn’t have an answer for that.

Instead, she kissed my forehead, her lips lingering there. A silent promise.

And somehow, that was enough.

Then—soft.

Warm.

A featherlight touch pressed against my forehead, lingering.

My breath caught in my throat.

She kissed me.

By herself.

For the first time.

I felt my heart slam against my ribs, the world around me blurring.

She had never done this before—never taken the first step.

And yet, here she was.

Not out of obligation.

Not out of pity.

But because she wanted to.

My hands instinctively tightened around her waist. Not possessively, not desperately—but protectively.

She was mine.

And right now, I needed her more than anything.

I lifted my head slightly, bringing our foreheads together. Our breaths mingled, the air between us charged with something I couldn’t explain.

"Mishti…" My voice was rough, thick with emotions I couldn’t contain.

She swallowed, her eyes flickering between mine. I could see the uncertainty, the hesitance, the silent questions dancing in her gaze.

But I needed her.

Right now.

So I leaned forward and captured her lips with mine.

A soft gasp escaped her as our lips met, her fingers tightening on my shirt.

It wasn’t rushed.

It wasn’t desperate.

It was slow, deep—full of unspoken words, of trust, of something far greater than just attraction.

She trembled slightly against me, and I could feel the rapid beat of her heart through the thin fabric of her shirt.

I wasn’t going to push her.

I wanted her to feel this—to know that with me, she was safe.

I let my hands trail up her back, my fingers tracing slow, comforting circles. She shivered, but she didn’t pull away.

Instead, she melted.

My grip on her waist tightened slightly as I guided her, leaning back until my back hit the mattress.

She f landing on top of me, her body pressed against mine in a way that felt too perfect.

I could feel her hesitation in the way she tensed slightly, her hands now resting on my chest, as if debating whether to move or stay still.

I slid one hand to her nape, tilting her face slightly, deepening the kiss just enough to make her feel it.

Her breath hitched, and I felt her fingers curl into my shirt, holding onto me like I was the only thing keeping her grounded.

I kissed her slowly, deeply— savoring the way she fit against me, the way her lips trembled slightly before parting under mine.

She let out a shaky exhale, and I could feel her relaxing against me, her body molding into mine as if she belonged there.

And she did.

She always did.

My free hand trailed up to her waist, my fingers grazing the soft skin beneath her shirt. A shiver ran down her spine, and I smiled slightly against her lips.

She was so sensitive. So responsive.

I pulled back slightly, just enough to watch her.

Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly swollen from our kiss, her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink.

She looked… beautiful.

She slowly opened her eyes, hazel meeting dark brown.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

We just stared.

I lifted a hand, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

“Mishti…” I murmured, my thumb tracing the curve of her jaw.

She swallowed, her lips parting slightly as if to say something. But no words came out.

And she didn’t need to say anything.

Because in this moment—I already knew.

She was mine.

And I was completely, utterly hers.

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