Morning sunlight streamed through the sheer white curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. The gentle rustle of leaves outside blended with the faint flutter of the curtains swaying in the breeze. Naina slowly opened her eyes, her gaze fixing on the golden light filtering into the room. She felt a weight on her body-a warm, steady presence that wrapped around her protectively.

Lowering her gaze, she saw Ishaan's arm draped around her waist, holding her as though she were something precious, fragile, and irreplaceable. His breath was calm and rhythmic, a soft melody that filled the space between them.

For a few moments, Naina lay still, her body frozen in contemplation. The events of the previous day played on a loop in her mind-her marriage to Ishaan, the chaos, and the turmoil. Her heart ached, heavy with sorrow. Yet, amidst the turmoil, there was one small consolation-he had promised to take her back to her parents' home, to Shalini and Karan.

She sighed softly, her fingers trembling as she lifted Ishaan's hand. Gently, without waking him, she moved his arm away and carefully sat up. Her heart raced for a moment when Ishaan stirred, shifting slightly in his sleep. Naina held her breath, her eyes fixed on his face. He remained asleep, his features relaxed and peaceful.

Relieved, she stood up quietly and turned toward the mirror. Her reflection caught her attention-she looked exhausted. Her eyes were swollen from crying, her cheeks flushed red, and her hair disheveled. When she noticed her unbound hair, a realization dawned upon her-she hadn't removed her hairpins last night. Her gaze drifted back to ishan and then toward the side table, where Ishaan had neatly placed her jewelry-the necklace, earrings, and maang tikka.

Her eyes softened as she glanced back at Ishaan, who was still fast asleep. The Ishaan Mehra-the man everyone feared and respected-looked so different now, vulnerable and peaceful in sleep. Shaking the thought from her mind, she quietly picked up a set of clothes from the walk-in wardrobe and headed to the washroom.

The sound of running water echoed as Naina stood under the shower, letting the warm water wash away the remnants of the previous day. After some time, she changed into the fresh clothes and returned to the room. Ishaan was still sleeping soundly, his arm sprawled across the bed-she never imagined someone like Ishaan could sleep so deeply.

Without making a sound, she left the room and walked toward the painting room. The familiar scent of paint and canvas greeted her. Naina stood in front of a blank canvas, the brush in her hand hovering uncertainly. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions, and yet her creativity seemed paralyzed. She wanted to paint but couldn't decide what to create. Her gaze lingered on the empty canvas, reflecting the void she felt inside.

Meanwhile, back in the bedroom, Ishaan's eyes slowly fluttered open. He instinctively reached out for Naina, but his hand met only the cold emptiness of the sheets. Frowning, he sat up, his eyes scanning the room. Naina's absence was palpable, and a strange unease settled in his chest.

He stood up, moving toward the washroom. Pushing the door open, he found it empty. His eyes landed on the basin, where Naina had placed her bangles and mangalsutra. Ishaan's jaw clenched as he stared at the items. Picking up the mangalsutra, he let out a long breath, frustration mingled with a sudden fear he didn't want to acknowledge.

Determined, he walked toward the corridor and look toward painting room. As soon as he opened the door, his gaze landed on Naina, who sat quietly in front of the blank canvas, lost in thought. Her hand gripped a brush, but it was clear she was struggling to create.

Ishaan's steps were slow, deliberate. He walked up behind her, his presence commanding yet gentle. Naina sensed him but didn't react. She simply placed the brush down, her shoulders tense.

Without a word, Ishaan reached for her hand, stopping her movement. His touch was firm but tender. Naina's body stiffened at the sudden contact, but she didn't pull away.

He carefully set the brush on the table and slowly lifted her hand, guiding it to her side. His fingers trailed up her arm until they rested on her neck. Leaning closer, his voice low and soft, he whispered, "Why aren't you wearing the mangalsutra?"

Naina didn't respond. She turned her face away, avoiding his gaze.

Ishaan exhaled deeply. In his left hand, he still held the mangalsutra. With a determined expression, he gently swept her hair over her shoulder, exposing the delicate curve of her neck. His movements were slow and deliberate as he secured the mangalsutra around her neck, the cold metal resting against her skin.

Lowering his head, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her neck. His lips barely grazed her skin as he whispered, "Don't ever take this off.... Naina"

Naina's heart skipped a beat, her emotions in turmoil. Her silence was her shield, but Ishaan's presence chipped away at it with every passing moment. He was relentless, possessive, yet tender-an enigma she couldn't decipher.

Ishaan's gaze lifted from Naina to the blank canvas before them. His brow furrowed as he broke the silence. "What were you trying to paint?" he asked softly.

Naina remained quiet for a moment, her eyes fixated on the emptiness in front of her. "I don't know," she whispered, her voice fragile and hollow. There was a haunting brokenness in her tone, as though she'd lost the very colors that once defined her.

Ishaan's heart clenched at the sight of her. She looked like a shadow of herself, weighed down by pain and memories. Determined to ease the tension, he gently reached for her hair, his fingers brushing against the soft strands. Naina shivered slightly at his touch but didn't pull away. Ishaan began to twist her hair delicately, forming it into a messy, elegant bun. His movements were gentle, almost reverent, as though he was handling something precious.

Picking up a brush from the nearby stand, he secured the bun carefully. "Saw Maa do this," he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Naina understood the meaning behind his words. He wanted to ensure she didn't misunderstand-that his touch wasn't born out of experience with other women. her silence wasn't because of jealousy-it was because of everything that had been torn away from her.

Ishaan moved to kneel beside her, his arm resting gently on the back of her chair. He look up at her and tilt her face toward him with the tips of his fingers. "I love you," he said with raw sincerity, his voice trembling slightly.

Naina blinked, her gaze lifting to meet his. His eyes, filled with intensity, searched hers as though trying to find the fragments of her heart scattered by his actions. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, the weight of unspoken emotions threatening to overflow.

"Ishaan..." Her voice broke. "You forced me into this... You married me against my will... You took me away from my family... You kept me here like a prisoner..." She whispered slowly, her words were fragmented, heavy with grief.

Ishaan's jaw clenched. Her words were knives slicing through his resolve. He'd never been a man easily shaken, but seeing Naina like this, hearing the heartbreak in her voice-it was unbearable. His breath hitched, and he pressed his thumb against her trembling lips, tracing her lower lip gently. "The first time I saw you, I didn't believe someone could be so beautiful," he said, his voice raw with emotion. "And now that you're in front of me, I can't believe that beautiful face is mine."

Naina's tears streamed down her face as she shook her head. "The person you fell in love with... and the person sitting in front of you now are two different people. You've changed me, Ishaan... You've taken everything from me," she said, her voice cracking.

The words hit Ishaan like a punch to the chest. His heart ached, and he bit down on his lip, struggling to keep himself together. He couldn't bear to see her this way. "No," he whispered fiercely. "I'll change that perception of yours one day, Naina. I swear I will."

Without giving her a chance to respond, Ishaan scooped her up in his arms. Naina gasped, startled, but he didn't let her protest. His grip was firm yet gentle, as though carrying something fragile.

He walked out of the painting room and toward downstairs into the dining hall, his steps unwavering. Naina's heart raced, caught between her anger, sorrow, and the strange sense of security Ishaan's presence always brought-even when she didn't want it. He carried her like she was the most important thing in the world, and despite her broken heart, Naina couldn't ignore the way his love enveloped her like a relentless tide.

For Ishaan, this wasn't just a gesture-it was a vow. A promise to heal what he'd broken and bring back the colors that once defined her world.

Ishaan gently placed Naina on the dining chair, the one right next to his main seat at the head of the table. His movements were deliberate, as though placing a fragile vase that might shatter at any sudden touch. After settling her, he took his seat beside her, observing her silently.

Naina sat stiffly, her face devoid of expression, but the turmoil within her was palpable. She began eating quietly, her movements mechanical as if fulfilling a mundane obligation. The clinking of cutlery was the only sound filling the heavy air between them.

Ishaan glanced at her, sensing her restlessness. He knew the question that lingered on her tongue even before she voiced it. And sure enough, after a few bites, Naina could no longer hold it in.

"When will you take me home?" she asked, her voice soft but steady.

Ishaan's jaw clenched, and he pressed his teeth together in an attempt to contain his rising frustration. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the table. He didn't want to hear that question-not now, not ever. He wanted Naina to forget the world she came from and accept this place as her home. But deep down, he knew she wouldn't stop asking. Her resolve was as fierce as his.

"Soon," he said through gritted teeth, his tone curt.

Naina lifted her eyes to him, studying his face for any sign of sincerity. After a moment, she looked away, choosing to remain silent. Her focus returned to her plate, though the food tasted like ash in her mouth. She forced herself to eat, knowing she needed the strength.

Ishaan watched her for a moment, his expression softening despite his frustration. He hated that their conversations always circled back to this-her wanting to leave. But he also knew it was inevitable.

Breaking the tense silence, he spoke again. "I have some work outside today," he informed her casually, then added in a firmer tone, "And... don't even think about running away."

Naina's hand froze for a second, but she didn't look up. Her expression remained blank as she continued eating.

Ishaan leaned forward slightly, his voice dangerously low. "The security here is top-notch. If you try anything, they'll find you-no matter where you go."

Naina's heart thudded at his words, but she masked her emotions well. She kept her eyes fixed on her plate, chewing slowly and deliberately. She refused to let him see any reaction, knowing that was exactly what he wanted.

Ishaan's eyes lingered on her for a few more seconds, his gaze filled with a mix of frustration and determination. He hated issuing warnings to her, but he was desperate to keep her close-even if it meant being the villain in her eyes.

As they sat there, the weight of unspoken words hung heavy between them. Ishaan knew that winning Naina's heart wouldn't be easy, but he was prepared to fight for it, no matter what it took. And Naina, though bruised and battered by his actions, held on to the hope that one day she'd return to the world she knew-even if that hope seemed to dim with each passing moment.

Ishaan's eyes were fixed on Naina as she ate quietly, her movements delicate and graceful. The way she held the spoon, the slow and thoughtful bites she took-it was as if time slowed down around her. He found himself mesmerized by even the simplest of her actions. This was what he had always wanted: Naina close to him, just his and no one else's.

Her presence filled a void in his life that he hadn't even realized existed until she came along.

A few strands of Naina's hair fell forward, framing her face beautifully. Lost in her thoughts, she seemed oblivious to the world around her. Her mind raced with conflicting ideas-should she try to escape? But where would she go? This was an unfamiliar place, far from anyone she knew. The fear of being alone in an unknown city gnawed at her resolve.

Before she could drown deeper in her thoughts, she felt a gentle touch. Ishaan's fingers brushed her face as he carefully tucked the loose strands behind her ear. His voice was low, intimate. "You're beautiful.," he whispered, his tone sincere and filled with admiration.

Naina's breath hitched. She swallowed hard, still refusing to meet his gaze, her eyes fixed stubbornly on her plate. Her heart was heavy with emotions she couldn't untangle-resentment, pain, confusion, and an undeniable warmth at his touch.

Ishaan never missed an opportunity to admire her. No matter how much she distanced herself, Naina was the most enchanting thing he'd ever seen. His words came naturally, uncontrollably, as if praising her was a reflex he couldn't suppress.

He knew Naina wasn't ready to accept his love or his touch, but that didn't deter him. If anything, it only made his resolve stronger. He was determined to make her see that she belonged with him, that he wasn't the villain she perceived him to be-just a man hopelessly in love with the woman sitting right before him.

Ishaan's voice softened, carrying a vulnerability that rarely surfaced. "For the first time in days, I slept so peacefully," he confessed, his words lingering in the air. "Sleeping next to you gives me a kind of peace I never knew existed."

His gaze remained fixed on Naina, searching for any sign that she was listening. And she was-every word sinking into her heart, despite her attempt to remain indifferent. But her silence was louder than words. She kept her eyes on her plate, eating quietly, as if hoping the moment would pass without requiring a response.

Ishaan observed her closely. He knew she had heard him. The subtle shift in her breathing, the faint tension in her fingers gripping the fork-it was all there. Yet she remained silent, as though she had no words left to give.

Ishaan understood that Naina wasn't going to say a word. No matter how much she tried, the resentment and bitterness she harbored for him sealed her lips shut. Her silence was her shield, and Ishaan knew better than to push her.

Moments later, Ishaan's phone vibrated on the table. The name flashing on the screen caught both their attention-Karan Malhotra. Naina's eyes widened in shock. Ishaan stole a quick glance at her before picking up the call, placing the phone to his ear with his left hand.

"Hello?" Ishaan voice was calm, though there was an edge to his tone.

There was a brief pause before Karan spoke, his voice heavy with disbelief. "Is it true... what I've heard?"

Ishaan's eyes flickered back to Naina, who was staring at him intently. "What did you hear?" Ishaan asked, feigning ignorance.

"Is our Naina with you?" Karan demanded.

Ishaan tilted his head slightly, his expression hardening. "Yes," he confirmed without hesitation.

Naina couldn't hear Karan's words, but she could sense the gravity of the conversation. Her throat tightened, and she swallowed hard, her eyes never leaving Ishaan.

"You might be the CEO of our companies," Karan said, his voice rising with anger, "but that doesn't give you the right to keep someone's daughter in your house!"

Ishaan remained silent, his gaze fixed on Naina, who now looked away, her emotions hidden behind a stoic expression.

"I want to speak to her right now," Karan demanded.

Taking a deep breath, Ishaan responded firmly, "I think you're forgetting something, Mr. Malhotra. She's with me right now, not you."

There was a stunned silence on the other end.

"And one more thing," Ishaan added, his voice dropping to a colder tone. "She's not just your daughter anymore. She's my wife now."

Naina's breath caught in her throat. She turned her head away, her face stoic but her heart racing.

There was a sharp intake of breath from Karan, as though he had just been struck. "What did you just say?" Karan asked, disbelief thick in his voice.

"You heard me," Ishaan said, switching the phone to his other hand.

"You'll regret this," Karan fumed. "I won't let you get away with this!"

Ishaan stood up slowly, his movements calculated and composed. Walking towards the window, he said with a calm but dangerous tone, "Then you'll have to face me first... Sasur ji."

Without waiting for a response, Ishaan ended the call, his lips curving into a smirk that hinted at defiance. The room was filled with tense silence. He turned back to see Naina sitting stiffly, her expression unreadable.

Naina was watching Ishan closely, observing his changing demeanor. He shot her a glance and then quietly went upstairs to his room. Naina was a bit surprised by his behavior but somewhat relieved that he didn't say much. However, a lingering fear gripped her-what would Karan uncle say, and how would Shalini aunty react?

She stood up, and just then, an older maid entered and began clearing the table. Naina had never spoken to any maids or bodyguards before. She deliberately avoided talking to anyone associated with Ishan. But today, she softly asked, "You... how long have you been here?"

The maid, surprised, looked at her. "Me, ma'am?"

Naina nodded slowly with a warm smile.

The maid smiled warmly. "I've been here for ten years, ma'am. My son also works for sir."

Naina asked hesitantly, "And Savitri aunty? She's not here?"

Before she could finish, the maid quickly responded, "Oh, ma'am, she's at the main house. Ishan sir prefers staying here alone. It was Savitri ma'am who sent me here to take care of him."

Naina offered a faint smile and nodded.

The maid then asked curiously, "You know, ma'am, you're the first woman I've seen in this house. No one ever comes here-only guards and maids. And Ishan sir himself."

Naina's brows furrowed. "No one at all?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The maid shook her head. "No, ma'am, you're the first. Sir himself told us that if you ever need anything, we should ask you directly and said that you don't like talking much."

Naina didn't respond, merely staring at the maid as her mind raced. Has Ishan really never brought another woman here? The thought lingered as uncertainty flickered in her eyes.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps descending the stairs caught both their attention. They turned to see Ishan coming down, dressed in fresh clothes. His appearance was striking-he wore a black formal suit, with top button opend, His hair was styled neatly, with a few strands rebelliously falling over his forehead. The faint scent of his cologne seemed to linger in the air even from a distance. A stylish watch adorned his wrist, completing his effortlessly charming look.

He appeared engrossed in his phone, scrolling through something as he descended. His sharp jawline tensed slightly with focus. When he finally looked up, his piercing gaze inadvertently met Naina's. Startled, she quickly averted her eyes, pretending to be interested in something else.

But Ishan had already caught her subtle reaction, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he continued down the stairs.

Ishan walked down slowly, his presence commanding the room. As he approached Naina, she instinctively turned toward the maid, hoping to avoid any interaction. But Ishan wasn't one to be ignored. He gently but firmly placed his hand around her waist, making her stiffen.

Naina kept her gaze fixed away from him, her heartbeat quickening with a mix of anxiety and uncertainty. Ishan's intense gaze shifted to the maid, who appeared nervous under his scrutiny. His voice was polite but firm.

"Can you give us some privacy, ma'am?" he said with a calm yet authoritative tone.

The maid hesitated momentarily before gathering the remaining items and scurrying out of the room. Naina swallowed nervously, her mind racing with thoughts of what Ishan might do next. She tried to step back, but his hold tightened subtly.

With a sudden but graceful move, Ishan pulled her closer. Caught off guard, Naina instinctively placed her hand on his chest, trying to create some distance. Ishan's lips curled into a smirk as he glanced down at her trembling hand. His right hand covered her hand, preventing her from pulling away.

He leaned in, his warm breath brushing against her ear. His voice was low and intimate.

"I'll try to come back soon," he whispered.

Naina remained silent, her breath hitching slightly. Ishan's gaze softened as he looked at her face. Then, without warning, he pressed a feather-light kiss on her cheek. The unexpected gesture made her freeze.

As if that weren't enough, he gently lifted her hand from his chest and placed a soft kiss on it, his eyes never leaving hers. The tenderness in the gesture was both unsettling and disarming.

"I left a gift for you in the room," he murmured. "I hope you'll like it."

Naina's stay silent, and no words came out. Ishan gave her one last lingering look, his expression unreadable. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out of the house, leaving behind a storm of emotions swirling inside her.

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