I watched her drift back into sleep, her body relaxing against mine. The room was quiet except for the soft rhythm of her breathing. It was a sound I found strangely comforting, a contrast to the chaos she often brought into my mind.

I ran my fingers through her hair, gently brushing it away from her face. Her vulnerability was something I cherished, but only when it was just the two of us. Anyone else trying to break her would face consequences they couldn't even imagine. She was mine to protect, mine to keep. And if that meant keeping her scared enough to stay, so be it.

My thoughts wandered to how things had spiraled. She hated me, that much was clear, but she would come to see that, in time, there was no escape from me. She would have to accept that I was the only one who truly knew her, the only one who could keep her safe.

Her breathing hitched slightly, and she stirred, her eyes fluttering open. The fear was still there, shadowing her gaze, but there was something else too- curiosity, perhaps? Or maybe a sliver of hope that things could be different. I met her gaze.

"What is it?" I asked softly, my voice low, careful not to alarm her.

She hesitated before shaking her head, "Nothing." But her eyes betrayed her. She was thinking about something, and it bothered her.

I tightened my grip around her waist, pulling her closer. She didn't resist, but her silence spoke volumes. There were so many things left unsaid between us, and I was determined to unravel every secret she held.

"Why do you want to become a lawyer?" I asked, my tone casual, though the question was anything but.

She blinked, surprised. "How do you know that?" she whispered.

A small chuckle escaped my lips.

"There's nothing about you that I don't know, Naina."

She fell silent again, her gaze distant. Then, almost as if talking to herself, she murmured, "It was my father's dream for me to do an LLB and become a judge."

"And what about you? What's your dream?" I pressed, watching her closely.

"Painting," she admitted softly.

I already knew that. I had seen her work, admired the passion in every stroke. But hearing it from her made it real. I wanted to see her lose herself in her art, to watch her create something beautiful out of nothing. I wanted to be a part of that world, to be the one who understood her like no one else could.

Her voice trembled as she added, "Shalini Aunty and Karan Uncle don't know where I am. They must be worried." Her words stirred something in me- annoyance, perhaps? The thought of anyone else occupying her thoughts was infuriating. "Does it matter?" I asked, my lips brushing against her neck in a featherlight kiss. Her body tensed, a soft sob escaping her lips. It should have made me stop, but instead, it only spurred me on. There was a strange satisfaction in knowing she was entirely dependent on me now, that she had no one else to turn to.

I held her tighter, whispering against her skin, "Sleep now." She needed rest, and I needed time to think. To plan how I would make her see that there was no life without me. Not anymore.

~~~×~~~

She had fallen asleep after some time, her breathing steady, a stark contrast to the chaos earlier. I reached for my phone and called Faris. He answered quickly, his voice heavy with sleep.

"Where is Vansh?" I asked, my tone cold and controlled.

"Sir, we... we threatened him and sent him away," Faris replied cautiously.

I felt a surge of anger rise within me, my jaw tightening as I removed my arm from around Naina's waist and quietly stepped out onto the balcony. The cool air did little to temper the fire burning inside me.

"Did I tell you to let him go?" I hissed, the venom in my voice unmistakable.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Faris knew better than to make excuses, but he tried nonetheless. "Sir, we thought-"

I cut him off sharply. "I don't pay you to think. I want him on the island, and no mistakes this time."

There was a moment of silence, followed by a hesitant acknowledgment from Faris. I ended the call, my grip tightening on the phone as I stared out into the night. My mind was already planning the next steps, ensuring that nothing and no one would come between me and what was mine.

And now, I'm not going to leave Naina anytime soon. I texted Shalini Malhotra, saying,

"Naina is with me."

She was probably asleep, as she hadn't read the message yet. I didn't care. Whoever is in my world now, there's no chance of them being with anyone else.

I went back inside, where Naina was still peacefully sleeping on the bed. Her soft breathing broke the silence of the room. I slowly approached her, pulling her closer. Her soft body pressing against mine brought an unusual sense of peace. The way she was with me, in my arms, gave me a strange sense of comfort.

I closed my eyes, holding her close. In that moment, everything felt perfect. I knew this wasn't going to end. Naina was mine now, and I wasn't ever going to let her go.



My eyes opened to the morning light streaming through the glass window, its rays falling directly on the bed. For a moment, I couldn't remember what had happened, and then suddenly, fear coursed through my body. I turned around, checking to see if he was still there, but there was no one. Just emptiness... silence filled the room.

I slowly lifted my body, letting my feet touch the floor. I didn't bother with slippers, just walking across the room. I tried to open the door, thinking he must've locked it, but I was wrong. The door was already open. I pushed it further and stepped outside.

I looked both ways in the corridor, but it was empty. The dim lighting seemed to add to the mysterious feel of the place, like a luxurious house where light was intentionally kept low, and every corner had glass panels, paintings, and curtains. I started walking slowly, careful, knowing that deep down, I was afraid he might return, stopping me from leaving. His fear had settled inside me, making me second-guess every step.

But something was strange. Last night, when he asked me those simple questions, I felt something different-a strange sense of calm. It was odd, how small things like that made me feel lighter, but I couldn't understand why. Why had his behavior shifted, even just a little?

I couldn't hear any sounds, the silence almost felt suffocating. Then, I saw a door ahead of me, slightly ajar. I could just glimpse the edge of a large painting inside, the rest of it covered. Curiosity nudged me forward. I walked slowly towards it and pushed the door open, revealing the painting. But, it was still half-hidden by a white cloth. Inside was a vast room filled with paintings, but most of them were covered with white cloths, like precious items carefully preserved. I stepped closer to the painting, my heart racing with curiosity, I reached out to pull the cloth away, and when I did, my breath caught in my throat. The painting before me wasn't just any piece of art-it was me. My face, my eyes-those lake-like depths, the crimson lips, a single tear falling from one eye, and my hair cascading down to my chest. It was so realistic, so haunting. I felt a chill run through me.

At the bottom, where an artist's name usually resides, there was just one word: Mine.

I couldn't breathe. It wasn't just a painting. It was a part of me captured forever in a way I never could have imagined. I stood frozen, unable to comprehend what I was seeing. I never imagined that someone could care for me so much that they would capture me in a painting, in their own unique way. To think that someone felt the need to immortalize me like this was beyond anything I had ever thought possible. It was as though I had been seen in a way I never had before-The thought that I was the subject of such an intimate creation left me with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, each one more complicated than the last.

I slowly began to peel back the white cloths from the paintings, revealing more and more of them, and with each one, there I was. In each piece, a different version of me-a part of myself I never fully acknowledged or saw. My slender waist captured in a moment of grace. One with my eyes, looking down, with a hint of vulnerability and introspection. The way I tucked my hair behind my ear, as if hiding something, a secret even from myself. And my lower lip, caught between my teeth, as if to stop myself from speaking the thoughts I never shared.

Each painting was an echo of a part of me that I hadn't realized others could see, let alone care enough to preserve. It was as if someone had taken every fragment of my identity, the quietest parts of myself, and turned them into art. It was overwhelming to witness, and in a way, it felt like I was facing my own reflection for the first time-vulnerable, raw, and strangely beautiful in its imperfection.

"Did you like it ??"

The voice caught me off guard, forcing me to turn. And there he was, standing by the door, casually leaning against it. My breath caught in my chest, and for a moment, I was lost. I had no words left to say. The realization hit me hard-here I was, vulnerable, exposed, and unsure of what to do next.

Should I submit to this moment, to him, and let myself be consumed by whatever this was? Or should I run, escape from the chaos, and try to hold on to whatever was left of my sense of control? His presence was like a pull, drawing me in, making my mind race with questions, but no answers. My heart pounded in my chest, torn between wanting to fight and wanting to surrender.

He took a step towards me, his presence growing stronger with every movement. I could feel the tension in the air as he came closer, his gaze never leaving mine. Standing just a few inches away now, he spoke softly, yet his voice held an undeniable power.

"Tell me," he said, his words lingering in the stillness between us, The way he said it, with that tone, made it feel as though he already knew the answer. It left me even more uncertain, trapped in a whirlwind of emotions. Should I speak the truth, or stay silent? Would it make a difference, or would it just lead me further down this dangerous path?

I didn't even realize the words escaping my lips, but they were out before I could stop them. "You can't create someone's painting without their permission," I said, my voice shaky, but firm.

A smile crept onto his face, one that was both teasing and slightly menacing. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, and the atmosphere around us thickened with tension. "Did I ask for your permission when I brought you here ?" he said, his voice low and smooth, dripping with a mixture of control and amusement.

His words hit me like a cold wave. I stood there, rooted to the spot, trying to find the right response, but the questions kept swirling in my mind. Why was I here? Did it even matter anymore? The way he said it, so casually, made it seem like it was never about asking for permission. It was just about taking what he wanted.

His eyes never left mine, and in that moment, I felt an unsettling mix of fear and something I couldn't quite place.

I held my hand out in front of him, trying to create a barrier, and said, "Stop. Don't come any closer." My voice was shaky.

He paused for a second, his gaze flickering between my hand and my face. A slow smirk crept across his lips as he took a step closer, ignoring the distance I was trying to impose. "You think this will stop me?" he asked, his voice calm but laced with an unspoken promise of control.

I couldn't tell if I was more scared of him or the way I felt when he looked at me like that.

I quietly said, "You said you would take me home today..."

He paused for a moment, his expression unreadable, before stepping closer and replying, "Of course." His voice was low, almost as if he was savoring the moment. Then, without warning, he reached out, grabbing my waist, pulling me towards him, and bringing his face dangerously close to mine.

My heart raced, and I froze, unsure of what to do next. I could feel his breath on my skin, and the distance between us seemed to vanish completely. It was as if he had completely taken control of the space around us.

I turned my face away, my voice trembling as I whispered, "No..."

But he wasn't having it. With a firm hand, he gently but firmly turned my face back towards him, his eyes locking with mine, as if he were making sure I couldn't escape.

His presence felt overwhelming, like there was nowhere to hide. He placed his hand behind my neck, gently yet possessively, pulling me closer to him. His other hand remained on my waist, holding me firmly, as if he was making sure I couldn't move away. The way he touched me felt so deliberate, so controlling, yet there was something in his grip that made it impossible for me to resist.

I could feel my heart racing, my breath catching in my throat as his presence enveloped me. The more he held me, the more I was caught between fear and something else I couldn't quite understand. His face was so close to mine, his eyes burning with intensity. "You can't escape me, Naina," he murmured, his voice low and almost possessive.

And with that he pressed his lips gently against mine, it was soft yet intense. The moment felt like time had stopped, and everything around us faded away. For a brief second, it felt like we were the only two people in the world, connected in a way that was so intimate. My body was frozen, unsure of what to feel or do, as his kiss lingered for a moment longer than I expected.

It wasn't just a kiss; it felt like a message, a declaration of control, and an unspoken understanding between us. My heart raced, my mind filled with confusion, as his grip on me tightened, and I was left standing there, caught in the tension of what was happening.

After a long, deep kiss, he slowly pulled his face away from mine, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. There was a mixture of possessiveness and something else in his gaze-something I couldn't quite place. He didn't say anything immediately, but the silence between us felt heavy, charged with unspoken words.

His breath was still uneven, and I could feel his presence all around me, almost suffocating in its intensity. I stood there, unsure of what to say, the weight of his eyes making me feel exposed, vulnerable. I wanted to move, to step away, but I couldn't. The connection was too strong, pulling me back in every time I tried to pull away.

He spoke softly, his voice almost a whisper as he said, "Naina... you won't run away, will you?" There was something in his eyes, a kind of fear or desperation, like he was terrified of losing something precious, something he couldn't afford to let go of.

I felt a lump form in my throat, but no words came out. I couldn't answer him. His gaze was so intense, so full of a vulnerability I wasn't ready to face. It made me want to look away, to shut down, to protect myself from the weight of his expectations.

But he didn't let me. He gently cupped my chin and turned my face toward him, forcing me to meet his eyes. The intensity in them was overwhelming, as if he was searching for something inside me-some kind of answer, some reassurance that I wouldn't leave him.

I turned my face away again, my heart racing with fear. I couldn't let myself become so exposed. I couldn't let myself be that vulnerable. I couldn't bear the thought of breaking down in front of him, of losing my strength, of losing control.

His grip tightened as he turned my face back toward him, his eyes burning with intensity. Before I could protest, he kissed me again, this time with more force. It wasn't gentle; it was demanding, as if he was trying to assert control over something-something he feared losing.

I tried to pull away, but his arms held me firmly in place. My heart raced, and a whirlwind of emotions flooded through me. I felt trapped, unable to escape the grip of his kiss, but I couldn't deny the way my body reacted. I was caught between fear and something else I didn't fully understand.

His lips were relentless, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The room, the tension, the uncertainty- it all blurred as I was overwhelmed by the sheer force of his presence.

After that he enveloped me tightly as he pulled me against his chest, his voice low but firm, carrying a threat that sent a shiver down my whole body. "If you run," he whispered, "I'll find you. No matter where you go, no matter what I have to do. I'll track you down, and I'll bring you back."

His words were sharp, filled with possessiveness and an intensity that made me feel both cornered and strangely helpless. The way he held me-so tightly, as if I were a possession he couldn't bear to lose-made my heart race with a mixture of fear and something I couldn't place.

I didn't know how to respond, my mind swirling with confusion. How had things become like this? I wanted to push him away, but a part of me... feared what would happen if I did.

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