{THE GALA NIGHT}

The evening unfurled like silk over Mumbai, draping the skyline in hues of amber and violet. As the sun dipped into the Arabian Sea, the city transformed—its chaos softening into a glittering spectacle of lights and laughter.

The gala venue stood like a jewel amidst it all, bathed in golden illumination. Crystal chandeliers shimmered overhead, scattering light across polished marble floors where reflections danced with every movement. The air carried a blend of expensive perfume, fresh jasmine, and the faint saltiness of the sea breeze drifting in from the open terraces.

It wasn’t just a celebration. It was a stage—where power, beauty, ambition, and hidden intentions moved together in a delicate, dazzling dance.

The hum of conversation at the gala faltered for just a second as the distant roar of engines cut through the soft music. Outside the grand entrance in Mumbai, headlights sliced through the velvet dusk—three sleek cars gliding toward the venue in perfect, almost deliberate sync.

They didn’t slow.

They arrived.

All at once.

Tyres whispered against the polished driveway as the three vehicles came to a flawless stop, side by side, like a statement no one dared to interrupt. The guards stiffened. The valet hesitated. Even the air felt heavier.

From the first car, the door opened with quiet authority.

A man stepped out—tall, composed, his presence sharp enough to command attention without a single word. His suit was impeccably tailored, his expression unreadable, eyes scanning the surroundings as if he owned not just the night, but everything beneath it.

He was none other than _

" ADITYA SINGH RATHOR"

From the second car, another man emerged.

Different.  dangerous.Where the first was calm, this one carried an edge—his movements slower, deliberate, like a predator that didn’t need to prove anything. A faint smirk touched his lips, but it never reached his eyes. Those eyes were already searching, already calculating.

"DOMINIC PETROV"

Two men. Two forces.

And then… the third car remained.

Unopened.

Silent.

Waiting.

The tension coiled tighter, drawing every gaze toward it. Because whatever—or whoever—was inside that last car… was important enough to arrive with them.

Important enough… to make even them wait.

The silence outside the gala deepened as the third car finally stirred.

A soft click.

Then the door opened—not by a valet, not by a man—but by two female guards, their movements precise, almost ceremonial. They stood on either side, heads slightly bowed, as if acknowledging something far greater than just another guest.

Then she stepped out.

Under the golden glow of the gala lights in Mumbai, she emerged like a shadow carved in elegance. The black gown clung to her form like it was made for her and her alone, flowing down in perfect silence. The open back revealed smooth skin kissed by warm light, while delicate gold chains draped across her back like liquid sunlight—soft, dangerous, unforgettable.

Her heels touched the ground with quiet authority.

Not loud. Not hurried.

Controlled.

A loose strand of her dark hair curled against her neck, the rest swept into an effortless updo that only made her look more untouchable. She didn’t turn immediately. She didn’t rush to be seen.

The guards fell into step behind her, not leading—but following. Protecting.

Respecting.

Cold. Elegant. Dangerous.

She was none other than

" MIA WILSON"

She didn't move....

Instead, she paused beside the open car door in Mumbai—still, composed, as if she were not the main event… but merely the beginning of it.

Her hand remained extended inside the car.

Waiting.

The silence stretched, curiosity sharpening into tension. Even the guards exchanged the briefest glance, because this—this wasn’t hesitation.

This was intentions

And then—

Another hand slipped into hers.

Softer. Slender. Unhurried.

The second girl emerged.

She didn’t step out like the first.

She unfolded into the night.

The red dress caught the light before anything else did—a deep, dangerous crimson that shimmered with every slight movement, as if the fabric itself held a quiet fire. It clung to her frame with deliberate precision, tracing the curve of her waist before cascading smoothly along her hips, flowing down in a way that made every step feel like a slow reveal.

The neckline framed her collarbones delicately, drawing attention upward—to her throat, to the soft rise of her shoulders—before everything stilled at her face.

Her eyes—

Wide. Soft. Almost innocent.

Doe green embroidery eyes that held a quiet contrast to the boldness of the dress, giving her an allure that wasn’t loud, but impossible to ignore. They reflected the lights, the people, the moment… yet seemed untouched by all of it.

Her hair fell freely down her back, long and dark, reaching almost to her waist—silky strands that moved like a shadow behind her, catching just enough light to glow faintly with every step she took.

She didn’t rush.

She didn’t rush.

She didn’t need to.

Because the moment she stood beside the first woman, it became clear—

She wasn’t just another arrival

She was the one the night had been waiting for.

The showstopper.

And for the first time since the cars arrived…

Even the air forgot how to move.

And she was none other than....

" SHREYA AGARWAL" .

_______________________________

I was caught off guard , when suddenly a Rolls Royce arrived.

A girl in black dress came first...

There were only female guards...

And then the girl in the black she stood, extended her arm inside the car ....

And then ....

She was there....

She didn’t arrive loudly—no dramatic rush, no hurried footsteps. Instead, her presence unfolded slowly, like a scene that demanded attention without asking for it.

The red dress clung to her figure as if it had been crafted just for her—off-shoulder, delicately framing her collarbones, the fabric shimmering with every subtle movement. It hugged her waist before cascading down in soft, glittering folds, the high slit revealing just enough of her leg to make every step feel intentional. The light caught the sequins, turning her into something almost untouchable—like fire given human form.

Her long hair fell in soft waves down her back, long and effortless, brushing against the curve of her waist. And her eyes—wide, calm, almost doe-like—held a quiet confidence, the kind that didn’t need to prove anything.

At the entrance, I was  standing waiting, watching, perhaps expecting something ordinary.

But the moment she stepped forward, everything shifted.

But the moment she stepped forward, everything shifted.

My posture faltered, My attention locked, and then… I was gone. Not physically vanished, but irrelevant. Like the world itself had adjusted its focus, pushing everything else into the background.

Because when she arrived, she didn’t just enter the room—

She became the moment.

And then—

Our eyes met.

No movement. No breath. No sound daring to exist between them.

The world around  us continued—people passing, voices blending into a distant hum—but for us , everything was still. Time didn’t stop… it simply lost its meaning.

Her fingers, which had been resting so effortlessly against the shimmer of her red dress, stilled completely. The faint sparkle of the fabric caught the light, but even that seemed dim compared to the intensity in her gaze.

I stood there like I had forgotten how to exist beyond that single moment.

It wasn’t recognition. It wasn’t a surprise.

It wasn’t recognition. It wasn’t a surprise.

It was something deeper.

Something unspoken.

Her doe-like eyes softened, but didn’t waver. They held my, steady and searching, as if trying to understand why my presence felt so familiar… so unsettling.

And my gaze—

it didn’t leave her. Not even for a second.

Not out of boldness, but because I simply couldn’t.

Because in that fleeting, suspended moment, it felt like I looked away.

whatever had just begun between them.

might disappear just as suddenly as it came.

So I stood there,

silent… unmoving…

while something is invisible, undeniable,

and dangerously real

settled quietly inside my chest.

And then she walked past me . As If I was invisible. As if I was never there....

And I don't know why but it hurt like a bitch.

_______________________________

Inside the gala, everything was drenched in gold light and quiet luxury—crystal chandeliers, soft music, laughter that floated like perfume in the air.

I was standing beside 'Mia' . Her eyes were searching for someone. I know who it was .

I walked in like , I belonged here .

Because I did.

But my eyes,

they weren’t admiring the room.

They were searching.

For him.

The same man who had stood at the entrance… the one whose gaze had unsettled something deep inside her.

But now—

he wasn’t there.

And that absence… it didn’t bring relief.

And that absence… it didn’t bring relief.

It made her uneasy.

Her steps slowed, her fingers tightening slightly against the fabric of her red dress, as if grounding herself. Her heartbeat betrayed her calm exterior—faster, sharper, unfamiliar.

What was this?

Love?.

Ohh! Hell no...

My lips almost curled at the thought.

I hated that word.

Despise everything it stood for—weakness, surrender, illusion.

Love was something I had buried long ago.

But this—

this wasn’t love.

This was something darker.

Something that coiled tightly inside my chest, refusing to loosen its grip.   A pull I couldn’t ignore, couldn’t silence, no matter how much I tried to steady herself.

It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t gentle.

It was consuming.

Obsession.

Possession.

The kind of feeling that didn’t ask for permission—it took.

My breath hitched, just for a second, as my gaze swept the room again. Every shadow, every corner, every passing face—it all felt wrong because he wasn’t there.

And that terrified me more than his presence ever could.

Because if he had stayed… she could have controlled it.

But now?

Now my mind was chasing him.

My thoughts were wrapping around a man I didn't even know.

And for the first time in a long time—

I wasn't  in control of myself.

I stood there, surrounded by people, music, light…

and yet completely alone with the storm rising inside me .

Going crazy?

No.

I wasn’t going crazy.

I was already there.

As I was standing there with Mia....

Someone approached us ...

And I didn't need to turn around. Because I could see Mia's expressions in front of me . And I already knew who it was .

And then the Familiar voice....

" Missed me Cup cake ." He said in his huskier voice.

I smiled tugged to my mouth.

I turn around.... And the next moment, he hugged me without warning. I gasped at his actions.

" I missed you so much." I said in a voice as if a child was talking....

We broke the hug and then he was staring at Mia ... A smirked appeared on my face.

Gosh I am so evil .

Mia was glaring at him .

Oh lord .

Beneath that mask , I only know what see's hiding.

And then DP asked....

" Cupcake , Balli con me ." He said .

( Dance with me)

I smiled at him and said ." Sì, lo farò."

( Yes I will)

I stepped onto the dance floor with him, my hand slipping easily into his as if we had done this a hundred times before. He pulled me just a little closer than necessary, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

Across the room, Mia  stood still… watching.

I noticed it first. My eyes flickered for a second, then I leaned in, my voice low and playful.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed tonight?”

He smirked. “Relax. I’m just dancing with my friend.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? Then why does it feel like you’re making a point?”

He twirled me slowly, letting my dress swirl, his gaze never leaving me . “Maybe I am.”

My laugh was soft and dangerous. “You’re terrible.”

“And yet… you didn’t walk away.”

I stepped closer this time, my hand resting lightly on his shoulder, my voice almost a whisper.

“Because I’m curious… how far you’ll go.”

His grip tightened just slightly at her waist. “Stay, and find out.”

From across the room, Mia's jaw clenched, her fingers curling into her clutch as she watched us —too close, too comfortable, too… something.

Back on the dance floor, I leaned near his ear.

“She’s staring.”

“I know.”

“And you’re enjoying it.”

“Maybe a little.”

I pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, a teasing smile forming.

“You’re going to be in trouble after this.”

He shrugged, unfazed. “Worth it.”

“Tell me something,” I murmured.

“What?”

“Are we still pretending this is just to make her jealous?”

For the first time, he didn’t answer right away.

And somehow… that made it even worse.

And for a moment I froze.... Because I saw him....

_______________________________

My jaw tightened as I was seeing something which I shouldn't have ....

The music shifted—slower now, heavier, like the room itself was holding its breath.

Her friend stood at the edge of the dance floor, fingers wrapped tightly around her clutch, eyes locked on them.

Every spin, every laugh, every too-close moment—it burned.

“You shouldn’t stare like that.”

My voice came  Low. Calm. Dangerous.

She stiffened before turning.

I was already there.

Her gaze narrowed slightly. “And why is that?”

I stepped beside her, not too close—but close enough to make it feel intentional.

“Because it makes it obvious.”

“Obvious?” she scoffed softly, glancing back at the couple. “I’m just watching.”

My lips curved faintly. “No. You’re burning.”

Her grip tightened. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Don’t I?”

My eyes flicked toward the dance floor, then back to her—slow, deliberate.

“You hate what you’re seeing… but not for the reason you think.”

She let out a short laugh, more defensive than amused. “Oh really? And what reason is that?”

I  leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping.

“You don’t like losing.”

That hit.

Her jaw clenched. “I don’t lose.”

“Everyone does,” I replied calmly.

“The difference is… some people pretend it doesn’t matter.”

Her eyes flashed. “And what do you think I’m doing?”

My gaze didn’t waver.

“I think you’re trying very hard to convince yourself you don’t care.”

For a moment, I didn't speak. The music filled the silence—but it felt distant now.

She exhaled slowly, lifting her chin. “And what about you? Standing here, analyzing strangers… is that your hobby?”

A flicker of amusement crossed my face.

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

This time, I didn't answer immediately.

Instead, my gaze drifted—past her, toward the dance floor.

Toward the girl.

The one laughing. The one spinning in someone else’s arms.

When I spoke again, my voice was quieter. Colder.

“I don’t like being ignored.”

He extended his hand toward her, palm open, steady.

“Dance with me.”

She stared at my hand for a second too long… then back at my  face.

“And what makes you think I will?”

That faint, dangerous smile returned.

“Because,” I said quietly,

“you don’t like being the one left standing either.”

The music swelled again.

And for the first time that night…

she hesitated.

And then she went with him towards the dance floor and started dancing....

And the Music changed.......

Fucking hell not this one ....

Damn it

And I started dancing with her Friend.

_______________________________

The rhythm deepened, turning slower… more intimate. The kind of music that blurred lines

Sholon si sholon si

tere ankhon ki yeh roshni

kiske liye hai kiske liye hai

chandni chandni,

tere chehre ki yeh chandni

kiske liye hai kiske liye hai

tera muskurana nazar yun jhukana

tera muskurana nazar yun jhukana

mere liye hai bas mere liye hai

Two couples stood on the dance floor.

But nothing about it felt right.

They were all with the wrong person.

Shreya who was furious....

Her eyes locked onto them—her best friend laughed softly… and him… the man she couldn’t stop thinking about… moving in perfect sync with her friend Mia .

Her jaw tightened.

slow, dangerous heat spread through her chest.

She wasn’t just jealous.

She was burning.

Beside her, Dominic's gaze flicked between her and the Man accross who was now currently dancing with Mia .

reading everything without a word.

“Messy,” he murmured.

Shreya let out a sharp breath. “Pathetic.”

But her voice betrayed her.

Dominic noticed.

“Does it bother you that much?” he asked, tone almost curious.

She didn’t look at him. “Not at all.”

“Liar.”

Before she could snap back, the music shifted again—this time sharper, commanding.

sholon si sholon si

tere ankhon ki yeh roshni

kiske liye hai kiske liye hai

chandni chandni tere chehre

ki yeh chandini

kiske liye hai kiske liye hai

A subtle cue.

The kind only trained dancers noticed.

And then—

It happened.

The partners began to switch.

Fluid. Intentional. Almost…

inevitable.

Her breath caught.

“No… fuck no” she whispered under it.

On the floor, Dominic's hand slipped away… and in the same motion, the man she was obsessed with turned—toward her.

Everything inside her froze.

Her feet moved before her mind could catch up.

One step forward—

But suddenly—A hand gripped her wrist.

Firm. Unyielding.

She was pulled back—hard enough to make her breath hitch.

Before she could react, he stepped in front of her, closing the distance in one smooth motion.

It was none other than....

"ADITYA SINGH RATHOR".

His hand slid from her wrist to her waist, pulling her flush against him.

Too close.

Far too close.

“What are you doing?” she snapped, her voice low but trembling.

His grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt—but enough to stop her from moving.

“Stopping you,” he said calmly.

Her eyes flashed.  "Let ,go of me.”

“No.”

The music wrapped around them as if they were already part of it.

samjho mera joh ishara hai

joh bhi hai mera woh tumhara hai

samjho mera joh ishara hai

joh bhi hai mera woh tumhara hai

lehar mein koi hoon khoyi

manzil toh hai tu kinara hai

yeh meri adayaein yeh meri wafaein

yeh meri adayaein yeh meri wafaein

tujhko pata hai sab tere liye hai

On the dance floor, the others had completed the swap.

sholon si sholon si

meri ankhon ki yeh roshni

tere liye hai tere liye hai

chandni chandni mere

chehre ki yeh chandni

tere liye hai tere liye hai

haske dikha do deewane ko

jo ho raha hai ho jane do

haske dikha do deewane ko

jo ho raha hai ho jane do

dil ki ye uljhan zubaan pe

aati hai toh aa bhi jane do

yeh hothon ki narmi

yeh sanson ki garmi

yeh hothon ki narmi

yeh sanson ki garmi

mere liye hai bas mere liye hai

She tried to move ,

But his hand moved to her chin, forcing her to gaze back at him.

“Don’t,” he said quietly.

Her breath came uneven. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

A faint smirk touched his lips, but his eyes stayed dark. “And yet… here you are.”

He pulled her into the rhythm, guiding her effortlessly as if she had no choice but to follow.

Her hands instinctively landed against his chest.

Strong. Steady.

Infuriating.

“Why are you doing this?” she demanded under her breath.

His face lowered closer to hers, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Because you were about to make a mistake.”

“And this isn’t one?” she shot back.

“No,” he said quietly.“This… is control.”

But to Shreya, she was just pretending.... But she was head over heels .

The music faded behind them, swallowed by the walls as he pulled her away—far from the lights, far from the watching eyes. Her pulse stumbled, not from fear, but from the way his grip on her wrist felt… certain. Unyielding.

The corridor was dim, shadows clinging to the corners like secrets waiting to be told. She barely had time to breathe, to question, to protest—

Before he turned.

There was something dangerous in the way he looked at her. Not anger. Not softness either. Something far more consuming. As if the world had narrowed down to just her… and nothing else mattered.

“Why are you—”

She didn’t get to finish.

His hand slipped from her wrist to her jaw, firm yet almost reverent, tilting her face up just enough. And then

He kissed her.

Not gently. Not hesitantly.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss that asked for permission. It was the kind that claimed it had already been given.

Her breath caught, her thoughts scattering like glass under pressure. For a moment, she forgot how to push him away… forgot why she even should. Because there was something in it—something fierce, something desperate—that made her chest tighten instead of pull back.

And when he finally broke away, their foreheads almost touching, the silence between them felt louder than the music ever had.

“You should hate me for that,” he murmured, his voice low, almost rough.

But neither of them moved.

And neither of them looked away.

Aditya didn't  know.

Didn’t know that the girl standing so close to him—breathing him in like he was something she had craved for far too long—was already far gone.

That this wasn’t new to her. That she had been drowning in him long before his lips ever touched hers.

To him, it was a mistake.

To her, it was everything.

His words still lingered in the air, low and dangerous—

“You should hate me for that."

A mistake.

A warning.

A line drawn.

But Shreya didn’t step back.

Instead, something in her snapped.

Before he could even register the shift in her eyes, she moved—her fingers gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him down to her level with a force that didn’t match her delicate frame.

And then she kissed him.

This time, it was her.

No hesitation. No shock. No

questions.

Just fire.

Her lips crashed against his like she had been waiting for this moment her entire life—like she knew him, claimed him, owned the space between them in a way that made his breath hitch. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t uncertain.

It was consuming.

For a second—

Just a second—

He froze.

Caught completely off guard.

Because this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She wasn’t supposed to respond like this. She wasn’t supposed to pull him closer instead of pushing him away.

But the way she kissed him—

God.

It wasn’t something you walked away from.

Her lips moved with a hunger that felt almost dangerous, almost addictive, like she wasn’t just kissing him—she was unraveling him. And he felt it, every second of it, slipping through his control like sand between his fingers.

“Stop—”

He didn’t even sound convincing.

Because he didn’t stop her.

He couldn’t.

His restraint shattered.

In the next heartbeat, his hands found her—one gripping her waist, pulling her flush against him, the other tangling in her hair as he kissed her back.

Harder.

Deeper.

Rougher.

Like he was trying to take control again… and failing.

The kiss turned fierce, almost punishing, as if he was fighting something inside himself and losing badly. Every second it dragged on, it only got worse—more intense, more reckless—until there was nothing carefully left in the way he held her.

Nothing distant left in the way he responded.

Only raw, unfiltered needs.

When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t because he wanted to.

It was because he had to.

His chest rose and fell, his grip on her still tight, like letting go wasn’t even an option anymore. His eyes searched hers, dark and unsettled, as if he was trying to understand what just happened… or maybe what she had just done to him.

And her?

And her?

She didn’t look shaken.

Didn’t look confused.

If anything—

She looked like she had just found exactly what she was looking for.

The shift was sudden.

One moment, they were standing too close—breath tangled, tension sharp enough to cut—and the next, his grip tightened around her wrist.

“Enough,” he muttered, though it sounded more like a warning to himself than to her.

Before she could react, he pulled her with him.

Fast.

Unrelenting.

And this time it was different....

The door slammed shut with a finality that echoed through the room—and through her.

She barely had a second to turn before his hand wrapped around her arm.

“Wait—”

The word died halfway out as the ground vanished beneath her feet.

The word died halfway out as the ground vanished beneath her feet.

A sharp breath tore from her throat as he lifted her effortlessly, throwing her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing. Her fists hit against his back, panic rising fast now—real, sharp, unfamiliar.

“Put me down!” she demanded, but her voice wavered.

He didn’t even slow down.

He didn’t even slow down.

Each step he took felt heavier than the last, like something inside him was snapping, unraveling beyond control. The door to the room burst open, and then—

She was thrown onto the bed.

The impact knocked the air out of her lungs. She scrambled back instantly, her pulse racing wildly as she looked up at him.

He stood there, chest rising and falling, eyes dark—too dark. Not just anger.

Something far worse.

Something consuming.

“Why,” he said, his voice low, almost too calm, “did you let him touch you?”

Her throat went dry.

“It wasn’t—” she shook her head, backing away slightly. “It wasn’t like that—”

His hand slammed against the bed beside her, caging her in. She flinched.

“Don’t fucking lie to me.”

The quiet rage in his voice was far more terrifying than shouting.

Her heart pounded painfully. This wasn’t how she imagined him—not like this… not when all she had ever felt for him was something twisted and consuming of her own.

“I didn’t want him,” she whispered, the truth slipping out. “I only—”

“You only what?” he cut in sharply, leaning closer, his presence suffocating. “Needed attention? Needed to make me watch?”

Her breath hitched.

“I thought you didn’t care,” she said, weaker now—but honestly.

That did it.

Something in his expression broke.

His hand shot forward, gripping her neck—not enough to hurt, but enough to make her gasp, to hold her still.

“I don’t care?” he repeated softly, dangerously. “You think I don’t care?”

A shiver ran through her—not entirely from fear.

She pushed against him suddenly, desperate for space. “I’m leaving—”

But the moment she moved, he caught her again.

This time is harder.

Her back hit the mattress, his body trapping hers instantly, leaving no space, no escape. Her breath came faster now, uneven, her hands pressing weakly against his chest.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said, his voice dropping to something almost unrecognizable.

Her eyes flickered—fear finally breaking through the obsession she’d always carried for him.

“You’re scaring me…” she admitted, barely audible.

For a split second, he stilled.

But instead of pulling away—

He leaned closer.

“Then be scared,” he whispered.

And then his lips crashed into hers.

It wasn’t a kiss—it was a storm.

Harsh, consuming, almost punishing. She gasped against him, her hands pushing at him at first, but the resistance didn’t last.

It never did with him.

Her fingers curled into his shirt instead, betraying her.

He pulled away just enough for her to breathe—only to drag his lips down her jaw, slower now, deliberate. Each mark he left behind felt like a brand, sending heat and confusion spiraling through her.

“You don’t get to belong anywhere else,” he murmured against her skin. “You don’t get to be touched by anyone else.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, a shaky breath escaping her.

She knew this was wrong.

Knew she should fight harder.

But her hands ,territories, desperate—clutched him tighter.

“I hate you…” she whispered, though it lacked conviction.

A dark, humorless smile brushed against her neck.

“No,” he murmured. “You don’t.”

And the worst part?

She didn’t.

That was the most dangerous thing of all.

Before she could proceed.... She tore her dress from her chest.... Her eyes widened in shock...

She couldn't process any of that .

Yes she was obsessed with him ...

But this ....

This actions.

She never thought he would do just such a thing .

" Please stop..... " She sobbed....

But to her point he didn't....

He grabbed her right breast gently yet harshly .

She tried to protest..... But he didn't stop.

He took her nipple in between her lips and bit her .... Her body jerked back .... And with the other hand he was pinching her left breast....

" Please..... " She cried as the next words dried inside her throat.

He sucked her nipples like a hungry beast.

And then he moved towards the left one . He did the same  ...

He kissed her , sucked her every inch of her upper body .

Now her upper body is covered in Hickeys....

As he was about to reach between her thighs.....

The room felt smaller now.

Too small for the storm building between them.

He had her cornered—his presence was overwhelming, his grip tight, his control slipping with every passing second. There was anger in him, something possessive, something broken… something that had been waiting too long to surface...

“Why do you push me to this?” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

She shook her head, her back pressing against the wall, confusion flickering in her eyes. “I don’t even understand what you want from me—”

“You,” he cut in, his voice raw. “Just you.”

His hand caught her wrist again, pulling her closer, his breathing uneven now. There was a moment—a dangerous one—where it felt like he might cross a line he could never come back from.

And then—

She sobbed.

Not loud.

Not dramatic.

Just one broken sound.

But it shattered everything.

His entire body froze.

As if someone had poured ice through his veins.

Her eyes had closed, tears slipping down helplessly, her expression twisting in a way that didn’t match the strong, defiant girl he knew.

“No… no, please…” she whispered, barely there.

And then it started.

Fragments.

Blurry. Disjointed. Painful.

Flashes behind her closed eyes.

Voices, fear, a feeling of being trapped… of not being able to escape. Her fingers curled tightly, her whole body trembling as something buried deep inside her mind clawed its way up.

“I don’t… I don’t know why this feels—” her breath hitched. “Why does it hurts like I’ve been here before…”

He stepped back instantly.

Like he’d been burned.

The haze in his mind cleared all at once, replaced by something far heavier.

Horror.

What had he almost done?

His gaze dropped to her—really looked at her this time. The tears. The trembling. The way she looked so… lost.

And suddenly, his chest ached.

Not with anger.

Not with possession.

But with something far worse.

Guilt.

Her tears felt like they were searing straight through him.

“I…” his voice faltered for the first time. “I didn’t—”

He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

She didn’t look at him. She just sat there, pulling herself inward, like she was trying to disappear from the moment entirely.

That broke something in him completely.

Without another word, he turned away sharply, dragging a hand through his hair as if trying to shake himself awake. He pulled out his phone, his voice harsh—but no longer at her.

“Send a dress. Now,” he ordered. “Something simple.”

There was no argument on the other end.

He hung up and stood there for a long second… before forcing himself to move again.

When he approached her this time, it was slower. Careful.

“Hey…” his voice dropped, quieter now. “Look at me.”

She didn’t.

Her silence hit harder than any words.

His hands hesitated before reaching for her, and when they finally did, they were nothing like before. No force. No urgency.

Just… restraint.

“I’m going to help you change, alright?” he said softly. “I won’t hurt you.”

She didn’t respond—but she didn’t stop him either.

That was somehow worse.

As he helped her, his movements were precise, distant, almost mechanical—like he was forcing himself to focus on anything except what his mind had almost turned into moments ago.

Yes, he saw her.

But this time, there was no hunger in his eyes.

Only a heavy, suffocating weight.

Regret.

Shame.

Something unfamiliar that twisted uncomfortably in his chest.

When he was done, he stepped back immediately, creating distance—as if he no longer trusted himself to be close.

Silence filled the room again.

But it was different now.

Broken.

He turned toward the door.

Paused.

And then, slowly—

He walked back.

Before she could react, he lowered himself in front of her.

Kneeling.

Her eyes widened in shock, confusion flickering through the remnants of fear.

He didn’t look like the same man anymore.

Not the one from moments ago.

“I messed up,” he said quietly, his voice stripped of all arrogance, all control. “I crossed a line I should never have even approached.”

She stared at him, unable to process what she was seeing.

“You scared me…” she whispered, her voice still shaking.

His jaw tightened, guilt flashing across his face. “I know.”

A pause.

Heavy.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he continued, his gaze dropping briefly before meeting hers again. “But I’m asking for it anyway.”

Her fingers clenched in the fabric of the dress.

“Why?” she asked softly. “Why does it matter to you now?”

That question hit deeper than anything else.

He exhaled slowly, like the truth itself was difficult to carry.

“Because seeing you like that…” his voice lowered, rougher now, “it felt like I was destroying something I was supposed to protect.”

Her breath caught.

Silence stretched between them again.

Then, softer—almost breaking—

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Not as a command.

Not as an excuse.

But as something real.

He didn’t say anything when he lifted her.

Not this time.

No anger. No force.

Just a quiet, heavy silence as he carried her to the car, as if every step weighed more than the last. She didn’t resist either. She just rested there, still, her mind too tangled to make sense of anything anymore.

The drive passed in a blur.

Streetlights flickered across her face, each one like a passing thought—there, and then gone.

When they reached her house, he finally spoke.

“We’re here.”

His voice was distant. Careful.

He helped her out, his touch brief, almost hesitant now—as if he was afraid of crossing that line again.

She stood there, looking at him.

For a moment, something inside her stirred.

Stay.

The word sat at the edge of her lips.

But she didn’t say it.

And he didn’t ask.

He stepped back instead, creating that same distance he had forced between them earlier.

“I’ll leave,” he said quietly.

Her fingers twitched at her sides.

“Okay,” she replied.

Just one word.

Too simple for everything she was feeling.

He gave a slight nod… then turned and walked away.

And just like that—

He was gone.

------------------------------------------------

The silence inside her room was deafening.

She locked the door behind her, the click echoing louder than it should have. Her back pressed against it as she slid down slowly, her head beginning to pound.

The memories.

Blurry. Broken.

But louder now.

Her eyes squeezed shut as fragments flashed again—feelings more than images. A pull toward him. A want she didn’t understand, didn’t remember choosing… but felt deep in her bones.

Her breath hitched.

And then it hit her.

Hard.

“I wanted…” her voice trembled in the empty room. “I wanted him…”

Not like that.

Not forced.

But willingly.

On her own terms.

That realization crashed into her chest, knocking the air out of her.

Because it meant something worse.

Something she couldn’t run from.

She couldn’t hate him.

No matter how much she tried to.

And that—

That made her hate herself.

A broken sound escaped her as she stood abruptly, the emotions turning sharp, overwhelming, unbearable.

“No—” she whispered, shaking her head. “No, no, no—”

Her hand grabbed the nearest object and threw it across the room.

It shattered on impact.

But it didn’t help.

Another thing followed.

And another.

Each crash echoed the chaos inside her.

“I fucking hate it !” she cried out, her voice cracking. “I should—”

Glass broke.

Wood splintered.

The room slowly turned into a reflection of her mind—destroyed, scattered, out of control.

Her breathing grew heavier, uneven, until finally—

There was nothing left to throw.

Silence returned.

But it was worse now.

Because there was nothing to drown out her thoughts.

She stood there in the wreckage, chest rising and falling, eyes unfocused.

Empty.

She took a step forward—

And flinched slightly as something sharp pressed against her foot.

She looked down.

But the pain didn’t register the way it should have.

It was distant.

Muted.

Like her body had decided it couldn’t handle anything more.

So it simply… stopped feeling.

A hollow numbness spread through her instead.

She didn’t even bother to move it away.

Didn’t care enough to.

Slowly, she walked to the bed, each step unsteady but indifferent, like she wasn’t fully present in her own body anymore.

She lay down without changing, without thinking.

The ceiling blurred above her.

Her head still throbbed.

Her heart still ached.

But everything else…

Felt nothing.

Her last thought before sleep dragged her under was the same one she couldn’t escape—

I can’t hate him…

And somehow—

That hurt more than anything else.

_______________________________