Before losing my family, the only fear I had was getting too close to anyone. Even after growing up with Vansh, I was always certain that he would never cross any boundary or touch me inappropriately. But then that day happened the day when everything began to change.

It was when I was in 10th grade, and he was in 12th. Out of nowhere, Vansh confessed his love for me. I was too young to understand what love even meant. He wanted me to accept his proposal, but I couldn't bring myself to say yes because of the fear that always lived inside me. I kept rejecting him throughout that year until one day, he did something that left me cornered.

He went down on one knee in front of our entire class. Everyone was there friends, classmates. They all started cheering and clapping, urging me to say yes. I had no idea how to handle that pressure. My heart was racing, and I tried to refuse, but the more I denied, the louder the hooting got. Vansh knew I wouldn't agree easily, so he went all out. With everyone's eyes on me, I felt suffocated and helpless. I finally gave in and said yes.

From that moment, Our relationship started. At first, it was innocent and sweet, like the first love most teenagers experience. As time passed, I started understanding what love was and began to feel genuinely happy with him.

But then came college. I went away to pursue my bachelor's degree in humanities, and Vansh stayed back, preparing for competitive exams as a math student. He was incredibly intelligent. The long distance started affecting us, though. Rumors reached me-friends and even strangers telling me they'd seen Vansh with other girls at restaurants or parks. I didn't want to believe it, but doubt crept in. Sometimes He used to ask me to send nudes, and I kept refusing, which led to fights between us. Our fights became frequent and intense. The strong bond we once had weakened bit by bit. But I was blind in love-it was my first love, after all. I ignored his mistakes, convinced that love was about forgiveness.

In my second year of college, Vansh secured a job at a corporate firm, thanks to his father's connections. I was genuinely happy for him despite our growing issues. Then one day, he came to my house unexpectedly. I never allowed him to come over, not because I didn't love him but because I respected my family's boundaries. That day, however, he knew I was home alone. He brought gifts and seemed overly cheerful, but there was something different about him-a strange glint in his eyes that unsettled me. He didn't seem like the same Vansh I had fallen for.

After some casual conversation, he suddenly pulled me close and whispered, "I've waited for this day for so long. Can we...?"

His question froze me. I never expected him to ask something like that. Yes, he was my boyfriend, but we'd never even kissed because I had always been scared of physical intimacy. My childhood trauma made me terrified of any physical touch.

I tried to pull away and said, "No, Vansh. You know I-"

I couldn't even complete my sentence before he lost control. His demeanor changed entirely. It was as if my refusal had triggered something dark in him. He tried to force himself on me, disregarding everything I had ever told him about my fears. I was petrified, but somehow, I gathered the strength to slap him. The sound of that slap echoed in the room. I reminded him of my childhood trauma, thinking he would understand. But his pride was hurt. He grabbed me angrily and said, "How long will you resist? You are such a stupid person."

He moved closer again, but at that moment, my phone rang-it was my father. With trembling hands, I answered the call, and my father said, "We're at the gate, beta. Open it."

Relief washed over me. Vansh realized what was happening and left through the back door. We didn't speak for a month after that. He apologized endlessly, begged for forgiveness, and after much hesitation, I forgave him. But something inside me changed-I stopped trusting him. Then came the worst day of my life-the day I lost my family. Everything after that was a nightmare I could never wake up from.

Now, sitting here in a wedding dress, staring at my reflection in the mirror, only one thought consumed my mind:

What if my life after this wedding becomes even worse than before?



Naina sat silently in her bridal attire, lost in her thoughts. A team had already prepared her look, and despite Ishaan's stern warning about having only thirty minutes, it was clear that his words were more about intimidation than a strict deadline. The room was now empty, except for Naina and her overwhelming silence.

She stared blankly at the mirror, her face void of any emotions. Her beauty, however, was undeniable. Light makeup adorned her soft features, simple diamond jewellery and a delicate maang teeka rested elegantly on her forehead. A sheer, net dupatta draped over her head added a divine charm. She looked ethereal-like something out of a dream.

The door creaked open softly, and Ishaan stepped inside. His gaze immediately landed on her reflection, and for a brief moment, his breath caught in his chest. He had seen countless beautiful sights in his life, but nothing compared to the vision before him now. Everything else seemed dull in comparison.

Dressed in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, Ishaan's appearance was magnetic. The intricate embroidery on the lapels glimmered subtly under the room's soft lighting. A luxurious Patek Philippe watch gleamed on his wrist, complementing his polished look. His hair, slightly tousled, framed his face, and a few strands casually fell onto his forehead, enhancing his suave aura. He exuded the charm of a high-profile model walking straight out of a fashion magazine.

He moved toward Naina, his footsteps soft and deliberate. Standing in front of her, he knelt gracefully, his eyes never leaving her face. But Naina's gaze remained fixed on the mirror, refusing to meet his eyes. Her silence was louder than any words she could have spoken.

Ishaan reached into the inner pocket of his tuxedo and pulled out a royal blue velvet box. Gently, he lifted Naina's right leg and placed it on his knee. Opening the box, he revealed a simple yet exquisite diamond anklet. The design was minimalistic but breathtaking-delicate diamonds spaced elegantly apart, each shimmering with rare brilliance.

He clasped the anklet around her ankle with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with his usual demeanor. His fingers brushed against her skin as he secured it in place. Then, he lowered her foot gently and repeated the gesture on her other ankle.

Naina remained unmoved, her eyes still fixed straight ahead. She didn't want to look at him-couldn't bring herself to.

Undeterred, Ishaan lifted her hand from her lap and pressed a gentle kiss on it, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary. Leaning back slightly, he looked directly at her and said in a voice filled with raw emotion,

"You will be the reason for my death someday."

The words slipped from his lips effortlessly, almost as if they had been waiting to be spoken. For someone as powerful as Ishaan-a business tycoon and a feared mafia leader-death was never a fear. But love, this love, had left him vulnerable.

It wasn't just Naina's beauty that captivated him; it was everything about her-the way she averted her gaze, the silent strength she carried, the grace with which she moved, and the subtle smiles that would occasionally grace her lips. Her very existence was enough to shatter the walls he'd built around himself.

And in that moment, Ishaan knew: Naina was the only thing in this world powerful enough to destroy him.

Naina sat motionless, her silence louder than any words she could utter. Ishaan continued to gaze at her for a few more moments, as if memorizing every delicate feature of her face. Finally, he stood up, his movements gentle yet resolute. Without a word, he leaned down and effortlessly scooped her up into his arms, as if she were the most fragile and precious thing in the world.

Naina's face remained expressionless. Ishaan's strong arms held her securely as he walked toward the door.

Outside, a line of luxury cars gleamed under the dim lights of morning. His bodyguards stood alert, their expressions stoic. The morning was silent except for the faint rustle of leaves. The atmosphere was heavy with anticipation.

They were heading to a private banquet-not a grand wedding venue filled with family and friends. This was an intimate, highly guarded affair, with only Ishan and his trusted guards present.

Ishaan walked with steady steps, carrying Naina as though the weight of the world couldn't faze him. His tuxedo was perfectly tailored, and his aura exuded power and dominance. In that moment, he looked nothing less than a model stepping straight out of a luxury photoshoot.

Naina, nestled in his arms, finally lifted her eyes to look at his face. The sharp angles of his jawline, the subtle stubble, and those intense eyes that seemed to hold secrets only he knew - he was undeniably handsome, but there was a darkness in him that made her heart ache.

A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye. She knew there was no point in resisting anymore. Every fight, every plea had been exhausted. At the end of it all, she was going to marry -Ishan Mehra.

Her fate was sealed.

🥀

The sacred fire crackled as Ishaan stood beside Naina, her delicate hand firmly enclosed in his. The priest's chants echoed through the mandap, their rhythmic cadence marking the beginning of the pheras. Each step was a vow, binding them in sacred promises that transcended mere words.

Ishaan led the way, his grip on Naina's hand unwavering. Her steps were hesitant, her heart burdened with emotions she couldn't voice. With each circle around the sacred fire, the weight of tradition and destiny pressed down upon them. The first vow, protection. The second, companionship. The third, prosperity. The fourth, happiness. Each promise etched into the very air around them.

Ishaan paused. Without a word, he swept Naina off her feet, lifting her effortlessly into his arms, carrying her as though she were the most precious thing in the world. The sacred vows were complete as they stood before the priest once more.

The priest announced solemnly, "Now the groom will tie the mangalsutra."

Ishaan was handed a beautiful black-beaded mangalsutra adorned with delicate gold motifs. His gaze softened as he gently leaned forward, carefully tying it around Naina's neck. The weight of the sacred thread rested on her collarbone, a tangible reminder of the bond they had just sealed.

"Now apply the sindoor," the priest instructed.

Ishaan picked up the silver dish containing the vibrant red sindoor. Turning toward Naina, he gently moved her maang teeka to the side, revealing her bare hairline. Their eyes met-hers filled with unshed tears, his unwavering with determination. The world seemed to fade as time froze in that moment. A single tear slipped down Naina's cheek, glistening under the soft mandap lights.

Ishaan's hand moved forward, dipping carefully into the red powder. With deliberate care, he traced the sindoor along her parted hairline. The vibrant color marked the culmination of their union. Naina close her eyes, the pain of her shattered dreams reflected in that simple action. Her heart was heavy, burdened by emotions she struggled to comprehend.

Ishaan's leaned forward and pressed a gentle, lingering kiss on her forehead, as though silently promising to shoulder her pain. His lips lingered there, sealing his vow.

The priest's voice broke the stillness. "Vivah sampan hua."

The weight of those words hung in the air. Naina's life had changed forever.

🥀

It was a cold, quiet evening. The shadows stretched long in Ishaan’s vast backyard as he stood still, his sharp jaw clenched in thought. Faris, his trusted right hand, stood before him, face grim.

“Sir, Nikolai Volkov's men ambushed and killed our operatives in Crimea. They were working undercover for you.” Faris's voice carried a weight that only years of violence could bear.

Ishaan rubbed his temple, his frustration evident. His usually calm demeanor cracked at the edges. “Are you sure it’s Volkov?”

“Yes, sir. He’s been after you ever since you killed his top man. And now, it’s personal for him,” Faris confirmed.

Ishaan’s eyes darkened, cold resolve settling over his face like an impenetrable shield. He exhaled slowly, the breath heavy with unspoken rage. "Alright. We leave for Crimea in two days," he said with deadly finality.

Faris nodded. "Understood, sir," he said before retreating into the shadows.

Meanwhile, inside the room, Naina sat motionless on the edge of the bed. Her bridal lehenga, heavy with intricate embroidery, clung to her like chains. Her fingers trembled slightly as she traced the fabric absentmindedly. The world around her blurred into an indistinct haze. Her breath was shallow, and her eyes stared blankly at the wall ahead.

The silence pressed down on her, suffocating and relentless. But inside her mind, there was chaos. The memory of Ishaan showing her those hanging bodies surfaced like a nightmare she couldn't escape. Her body shuddered involuntarily. That day, she'd seen the man Ishaan truly was—dangerous, ruthless, capable of ending lives without flinching. And now, that same man had claimed her for himself, dragging her into this marriage that felt more like a life sentence.

A part of her wanted to cry, to scream, but the tears wouldn't come. All that remained was numbness—a hollow, endless void.

Ishaan walked through the corridor, his shoes echoing against the marble floor. He switched on his phone for the first time since the wedding. The screen lit up with countless calls from Shalini and Karan. Both had been out of the city for work and were unaware of the events that had unfolded in their absence.

Ignoring the calls, Ishaan pushed open the door to the room. His eyes immediately found Naina, sitting still in her bridal attire. Her face was pale, and her eyes seemed lost in a world he couldn't reach.

He knew this sight all too well. Knew it because he had imagined it. Naina wasn't just upset—she was shattered. Her hatred was palpable, lingering in the air between them like a thick fog.

Ishaan took a slow breath and approached her, each step deliberate. He sat beside her on the bed, his presence overwhelming the space. Still, she didn't move, didn't flinch, didn't acknowledge him. Her gaze remained fixed on the wall.

The silence gnawed at him.

He reached out hesitantly, placing a hand on her foot. Her reaction was immediate. She pulled her foot back as though his touch burned her.

A bitter smile tugged at his lips. "I'm willing to live with your hatred," he murmured, his voice raw with unspoken emotions.

Naina’s body tensed further. She wanted to run, to escape this prison of a marriage—but where would she go? She was trapped, bound by circumstances beyond her control.

Ishaan's voice broke through her spiraling thoughts. "Ask for anything today, and I'll give it to you. Whatever you want."

Naina's heart thudded in her chest. Slowly, she turned to face him. Her eyes blazed with fury, pain, and a hint of something more—defiance.

"Anything?" she asked, her voice sharp, cutting through the tension.

Ishaan's breath caught. He hadn't expected this fire, this boldness. But he nodded. "Anything," he affirmed.

Her lips quivered, but her gaze never wavered. "Kill me," she said, her voice cold and steady. "Right now."

Ishaan's world stilled. Her words hung in the air, suffocating him. For a moment, he said nothing, simply staring at her with an intensity that mirrored her own.

He moved closer, his hand close slightly as he took hers gently in his. "That's the one thing I can't give you," he whispered, his voice rough. "Even you don't have the right to hurt yourself..... because you belongs to me now."

There was a finality in his words that left no room for argument.

Naina's breath hitched. She knew Ishaan was a man who kept his promises—every single one of them. And now, he was making it clear that not even she had the right to harm herself.

Her frustration boiled over. She turned her face away, her voice shaking with suppressed rage. "Let me go home," she demanded, her tone desperate.

Ishaan's eyes softened, but his resolve remained firm. "Is that what you really want?" he asked quietly.

Naina didn't meet his gaze, but she nodded, a single tear slipping down her cheek.

Ishaan reached out, cupping her face with gentle hands. His voice was calm yet unyielding. "Fine," he said. "If that's what you want... I'll take you home."

The room was quiet, illuminated only by the soft moonlight streaming through the glass window. Outside, the trees swayed gently in the breeze, their shadows dancing on the ground. The white curtains fluttered slightly, as if mirroring the silent rhythm of the night. Naina lay on the bed, her back turned toward Ishaan. Her face was expressionless, but her eyes stared blankly at the swaying trees. Her mind was numb, a hollow space where emotions no longer thrived.

Ishaan stood silently, watching her fragile form. Without a word, he turned and walked into the washroom. The sound of running water echoed in the silence as he stood under the shower, the warm stream cascading down his body. He placed his hand on the glass wall, his head tilted back as the water hit his face.

A slow, triumphant smile crept onto his lips. After all the chaos, the battles, and the relentless pursuit, Naina was finally in his life—on his bed, as his legal wife. The satisfaction was profound, filling a void he hadn’t realized existed. His heart had claimed her the moment he saw her, and tonight that desire was sealed forever.

He closed his eyes, letting the water wash away the tension of the day, but not the overwhelming contentment settling in his chest.

After some time, Ishaan stepped out of the washroom, his body dripping and towel in hand. He dried his hair absently, his gaze immediately seeking Naina. She was still lying in the same position, her breathing soft and steady. Ishaan knew she had fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion. The turmoil she'd endured over the past days had drained her completely. Sleep was her only escape.

He dropped the towel onto the couch and quietly walked toward the bed. Careful not to disturb her, he sat down beside her. For a moment, he stared at the ceiling, his mind restless despite the stillness of the night. Then, unable to resist, he turned toward her.

Her back was to him, her delicate body frame perfectly outlined by the soft folds of her bridal attire. Even in sleep, she was breathtaking. Ishaan's gaze softened. There was something mesmerizing about seeing her this way, still adorned in her wedding jewelry, yet completely vulnerable.

He leaned closer, his hand gently resting on her waist. The warmth of her skin under his touch made his heart race. He pulled her closer, his movements tender yet possessive. Her jewelry must have been uncomfortable, but she hadn’t bothered to remove it in her state of numbness.

Ishaan took it upon himself. With slow, careful movements, he unclasped the necklace from around her slender neck, the cold metal slipping into his hand. He placed it quietly on the bedside table. Next, he reached for her earrings, his fingers brushing against her soft skin as he removed each piece. Finally, he lifted the delicate maang tikka from her forehead, his eyes lingering on her serene face.

Placing the jewelry aside, Ishaan returned his gaze to her. Her hair was tied tightly, and he couldn’t bear to see her restrained even in sleep. Gently, he undid the pins, letting her long, silky hair cascade down. The fragrance of her hairs filled the air, intoxicating him.

He leaned in, breathing in her scent, his face buried in the softness of her hair. Time seemed to stand still. The world outside faded, leaving only this moment—just Naina and him.

She was his. Entirely his.

The realization was overwhelming, and he surrendered to it completely. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he held her close, his face nestled against her hair. Her warmth seeped into him, lulling him into a state of peacefulness he hadn’t known before.

And just like that, in the quiet embrace of the night, Ishaan's eyes grew heavy, and sleep claimed him, his heart content and his soul at ease.

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