Ayesha’s back was pressed into the mattress, her silk slip riding dangerously high on her thighs as Rudra hovered over her. The room was dim, moonlight slicing through the curtains, bathing his face in silver shadows. His jaw was clenched so tight, it looked like his teeth might crack, and his dark eyes gleamed with something terrifyingly possessive.

“You think you can just sleep beside me and pretend nothing happened?” His voice was low, rough with whiskey and rage. “You think this bed will ever belong to you alone?”

Her heart hammered against her ribs. “Rudra, please—”

“Please?” His laugh was cold, cruel. “You begged me once — for love. Now you’ll beg for mercy.”

Without warning, he grabbed her wrists, slamming them above her head, his grip bruising. His body pressed into hers, thigh wedging between her legs, forcing them apart. Ayesha’s breath caught, panic rising like a wave.

“Stop!” she cried, struggling beneath him. “You’re my husband, not my captor—”

“Oh no, wife,” he sneered, his lips brushing her ear. “I’m both.”

His free hand slid down her body, fingers curling into the delicate strap of her slip, yanking it hard enough to snap. The thin fabric slid down her shoulder, exposing the soft curve of her breast. Rudra’s gaze darkened, breath hitching for a second — before he bent his head and took her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, punishingly.

Ayesha’s body arched instinctively, a traitorous heat curling low in her belly even through her fear. “Rudra, no—”

“Lie to me again,” he growled, releasing her skin with a cruel bite. “Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me your body doesn’t still remember mine.”

His fingers slipped beneath her slip, finding her bare thigh, tracing the skin with deliberate slowness. She clenched her legs shut, but he forced them open with brutal ease, settling himself between her thighs.

Tears welled in her eyes. “Please, don’t do this.”

He cupped her jaw, fingers digging into her cheeks, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You did this, Ayesha. The day you left me, you turned me into this monster. Now you get to live with him.”

His lips crashed down on hers, all teeth and tongue, stealing her breath, her voice, her fight. His hand tore at the rest of her slip, ripping it clean off until she lay bare beneath him — trembling, vulnerable, helpless.

She tried to cover herself, but he grabbed her wrists again, pinning them above her head. “No hiding,” he ordered. “You wanted a rich man, right? Wanted luxury? Well, here’s your price, wife — your body, your submission, your goddamn soul.”

His mouth traced a punishing path down her throat, over her collarbone, down to her stomach. Each kiss was sharp, each bite leaving marks like a signature across her skin.

When his fingers slid between her thighs, she jerked, thighs clamping shut again — but his knee forced them open with ease. “So shy now? You weren’t shy when you rode me all night long in my old apartment, were you?”

“Stop it!” Her voice cracked. “You’re hurting me!”

“Good.” His fingers found her softest place, sliding between her folds — and despite everything, her body betrayed her, slickness coating his fingers. “Look at that,” he whispered darkly. “Your mouth says no, but your body? Your body remembers me.”

She sobbed in humiliation, but Rudra’s touch didn’t stop. He stroked her roughly, not with tenderness, but with the intent to remind her who owned every inch of her skin.

Without warning, he spread her thighs wider and pushed into her — no teasing, no preparation, just ruthless possession. Ayesha cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders, pain and unwanted pleasure crashing together inside her.

“Fuck,” Rudra groaned, head falling to her shoulder. “Still so tight… just like I remember.”

Tears slid down her cheeks, but her body responded in ways that betrayed her heart — stretching to accommodate him, heat pooling in her core despite the pain. She hated him. Hated her own weakness even more.

He moved inside her, hard and fast, each thrust punishing. “Three fucking years,” he growled in her ear. “Three years without this. Without you.”

Ayesha turned her face away, biting her lip to silence her moans, but Rudra grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Don’t you dare hide from me,” he said. “I want to see every tear, every gasp, every time your body remembers it still belongs to me.”

She shuddered beneath him, helpless under his relentless rhythm. When his thumb found her clit, circling roughly, her body arched into his touch against her will. Pleasure ripped through her like shameful lightning, and Rudra caught her moan with a brutal kiss.

“See?” he whispered darkly. “Your body knows who it belongs to.”

His thrusts grew harder, deeper, the headboard slamming into the wall with every stroke. Ayesha clung to him, not out of desire, but out of survival — because if she let go, she might shatter completely.

When he came inside her, it was with a guttural groan, his body collapsing onto hers, skin slick with sweat and sin. For a moment, the room was silent — only their ragged breaths filling the air.

Then Rudra rolled off her, leaving her cold and aching, and walked to the balcony, lighting a cigarette. He didn’t look back.

Ayesha curled into herself, pulling the sheet around her trembling body, tears sliding silently down her cheeks.

This wasn’t a marriage.

It was a prison.

And the man she had once loved was now her jailer.