The night after Aryaman’s announcement didn’t feel real to Richa. It felt like a cage had silently closed around her.

The entire house was glowing.

Lights. Decorations. Preparations already in motion—as if her life had been decided without her consent.

“Wedding is tomorrow.”His voice still echoed in her ears.

Richa sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers trembling as she stared at the mehendi tray lying untouched beside her.

Tomorrow.Marriage.

To a man she didn’t love… a man she didn’t understand… a man who *terrified* her.

Her chest tightened.

“No…” she whispered to herself. “I can’t…”

Her eyes slowly shifted toward the balcony.And in that moment—something inside her snapped.

The night was silent as she climbed down.

Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure someone would hear it.

Barefoot. No phone. No plan.

Just… escape.

She ran.

Through the empty streets, her breath uneven, tears blurring her vision.

Freedom felt so close.

Until—

“Arre… ruk na…”A voice.

Then another.

Her steps froze.

Three men emerged from the shadows, their eyes scanning her in a way that made her stomach twist in disgust.

“Where are you going alone at night?” one smirked.

Richa stepped back. “Stay away from me.”

But they didn’t.

One grabbed her wrist.

She jerked violently. “Leave me!”

Another blocked her path.

Fear consumed her.

“Please… let me go…” her voice cracked, but they only laughed.

A hand tried to touch her face.

That’s when she screamed.

“ARYAMAN—!”Before she could even process what she had shouted—

A shadow moved.

The man holding her was suddenly thrown away like he weighed nothing.

A punch landed.

Then another.

Bones cracked.Screams replaced laughter.

Aryaman.

His eyes weren’t normal.

They were dark. Violent. Ruthless.

He didn’t speak.

One of the men begged, “Bhai… sorry—”

Aryaman grabbed his collar and slammed him against the ground, his voice low and terrifying—

“Touch her again…”

A brutal punch.

“I’ll bury you alive.”

Blood stained his knuckles.

The street fell silent except for the sound of their cries.

Richa stood frozen.

Shaking.

Safe.

When it was over, Aryaman turned to her.

His chest rose and fell heavily.

For a moment… just a moment… his expression softened.

“Are you hurt?”His hand reached for her face.

But she flinched.

And something in him changed instantly.

The softness disappeared.

Replaced by something far more dangerous.

Without a word, he grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the car.

“Aryaman, leave me! You’re hurting me—”

“Good.”His voice was cold.

She went silent.

Back in the mansion, he pushed her inside her room and locked the door behind him.

The same room.

He stood there, staring at her.

Not as someone who saved her.

But as someone who owned her.

“You tried to run.”His voice was calm—but it was the kind of calm that comes before destruction.

Richa swallowed. “I don’t want this marriage—”

Before she could finish, he grabbed her chin harshly, forcing her to look at him.

“You don’t get to decide that.”

Tears filled her eyes. “I’m not your property—”

A dark smile appeared on his lips.

“That’s exactly where you’re wrong.”

Her heart dropped.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper near her ear—“You screamed my name.”

Her breath hitched.

“When they touched you…” he continued, his grip tightening, “you didn’t call for help… you called for *me*.”

“I was scared—”

“And I came.”His eyes locked onto hers.“Because you’re mine.”

The words felt like chains wrapping around her.

She tried to push him away. “I hate you!”

That did something.

His expression hardened, jaw clenching.

“Then learn to hate me as my wife.”

Her eyes widened.

“No—”

“Tomorrow,” he cut her off, stepping back, “you’re marrying me.”

Her tears fell freely now.“I won’t"

He walked to the door, then paused.

Without turning back, he said quietly—

“Try running again…”

A chilling pause.

“…and next time, I won’t come to save you.”

The door shut.

The door had barely stopped echoing from his exit…When it opened again.

Richa’s head snapped up.

Aryaman walked back in.

Slowly.And this time—there was no restraint left in him.

Her breath hitched. “W-what now…”

He didn’t answer.He locked the door again.That sound alone made her heart start racing uncontrollably.

“You think this is a joke?” he finally spoke, his voice dangerously low.

Richa pushed herself up from the floor, stepping back instinctively. “I just wanted to leave—”

“Leave?” he let out a hollow laugh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “You think you can just walk out of my life like that?”

“I’m not in your life!” she shot back, her fear now mixing with anger. “You forced your way into mine!”

In a second—he was in front of her.Too close.

His hand slammed against the wall beside her head, trapping her.

“Careful,” he warned, his voice dropping to a whisper that felt more threatening than a shout. “Don’t test how far I can go.”

Her chest heaved. “Then let me go!”

His jaw clenched.

And for the first time—he lost it completely.

“LET YOU GO?” he roared, the sudden volume making her flinch hard.

His hand gripped her arm harshly, pulling her toward him.

“I ruined deals, bent people, brought your father back from the verge of collapse—FOR YOU!”

His words hit like blows.

“And you think you can just run away like I mean nothing?!”

“I didn’t ask you to do any of that!” she cried, struggling against his hold. “You did it because you’re obsessed!”

A dangerous, suffocating silence.

His grip tightened.

“Say that again.”

She froze.

But tears streamed down anyway. “You’re… obsessed… not in love.”

That was it.

He shoved her back onto the bed.

Not gently.

A controlled kind of violence.

“You still don’t understand, do you?” he said, climbing over her, his presence overwhelming, caging her beneath him.

Her hands pushed against his chest. “Aryaman, stop—”

He caught both her wrists in one hand, pinning them above her head effortlessly.

“You think I don’t know what I am?” his voice turned eerily calm again. “You think I don’t see the way I look at you?”

His face moved closer.

“You’re right,” he whispered. “I’m not in love.”

Her eyes widened slightly.

For a second… hope flickered.

Until—

“I’m worse.”

Her breath stopped.

He grabbed her chin again, forcing her to look at him.And this time, his voice dropped into something darker than before.

“You don’t have to accept me, Richa.”His thumb brushed harshly against her lower lip.

“I’ll make you.”

Her entire body went cold.

As he reached the door again, he stopped.

This time, he turned slightly—just enough for her to see his profile.

“And Richa…”

Her eyes slowly lifted to him.

“If even a single thought of running crosses your mind again…”

A pause.

“I won’t just break the world outside for you.”His gaze flickered toward her.

Dark. Promising.

“I’ll break you.”

CH 12- WEDDING

The mandap was glowing under soft golden lights, flowers cascading from every corner like a celebration of love that didn’t exist.

Richa sat still, draped in a heavy red lehenga, her hands resting lifelessly on her lap. The intricate mehendi on her palms carried Aryaman’s name—but it felt like a mark of possession, not affection.

Around her, people smiled, laughed, whispered blessings.

Inside her, everything was quiet.

Broken.

Her eyes lifted slightly when she heard the distant sound of the baraat. The drums. The music. The announcement of his arrival.

Aryaman.

Her fingers clenched slightly.

A part of her still remembered the way he had saved her that night… the way he had beaten those men without mercy. But that same man had also looked at her like she was something he owned.

Not loved.

Owned.

The mandap.

Aryaman stood there, dressed in an ivory sherwani, looking every bit powerful and untouchable. His gaze was fixed on the entrance… waiting.

For her.

When Richa finally walked in, escorted by her family, the noise faded for him.

He only saw her.

And something dark, possessive flickered in his eyes.

She looked beautiful.

And completely unhappy.

He noticed.

Of course he did.

As she sat beside him, her eyes remained lowered. The priest began chanting, rituals starting one by one.

Aryaman leaned slightly closer, his voice low enough for only her to hear.

“Stop looking like you’re being sacrificed.”

Richa’s fingers tightened over her dupatta.

“I am.”

He smirked faintly.

“Dramatic.”

Her jaw clenched. “You forced this marriage. What did you expect? Smiles?”

He tilted his head, eyes scanning her face.

“I expected resistance. You’ve been quiet today.”

“Because nothing I say matters.”

A pause.

Then his voice dropped, colder.

“It mattered enough for you to run away.”

Her breath hitched slightly.

He leaned even closer, his tone turning dangerously soft.

“And look where that got you.”

Her eyes flickered with anger, but she said nothing.

The rituals continued.

At one point, as she struggled slightly with her heavy bangles, Aryaman caught her wrist.

His touch was firm.

Possessive.

For a brief second, his fingers adjusted the bangles carefully, almost… gently.

Richa looked at him, confused.

Their eyes met.

Something unspoken passed between them.

Then he let go, just as quickly, his face turning unreadable again.

During the varmala, she hesitated.

Just for a second,Aryaman noticed.

Everyone noticed.

He stepped closer on his own, bending slightly so she wouldn’t have to try.

A murmur went through the crowd.

Richa’s hands trembled as she placed the garland around his neck.

When it was his turn, he didn’t hesitate at all.

As he placed it over her, he leaned near her ear again.

“You’re mine now, Richa.”

Her heart pounded.

The pheras began.

With every round around the sacred fire, the knot tightened—binding them in a relationship neither of them fully stood on equal ground in.

Halfway through, Richa stumbled slightly.

Aryaman’s hand instantly gripped her arm, steadying her.

His grip lingered.

“Careful,” he muttered.

“I don’t need your help.”

“You clearly do.”

She tried to pull away, but his hold tightened just a fraction.

“Don’t create a scene,” he warned under his breath.

Her eyes burned with silent anger.

But she complied.

Finally, the moment came.

Sindoor.

The entire mandap fell silent.

Aryaman picked up the vermilion, his gaze fixed on her parted hairline.

The final mark.

The final claim.

For a brief second… his hand paused mid-air.

Then his expression hardened.

And he filled her maang.

Red.

Permanent.

Mangalsutra followed.

As he tied it around her neck, his fingers brushed against her skin.

Richa shut her eyes tightly.

A single tear slipped out.

Aryaman saw it.

His jaw tightened.

But he said nothing.

“You may now consider yourselves husband and wife,” the priest announced.

Cheers erupted.

As they stood for blessings, Aryaman’s hand rested on her waist, holding her close for appearances.

But his grip wasn’t just for show.

It was firm.

Richa whispered, barely moving her lips—

“I will never love you.”

Aryaman didn’t react immediately.

Then slowly, he leaned down, his voice brushing against her ear.

“You don’t have to.”

A pause.

His grip tightened slightly.

“But you will stay.”

Her heart sank.

His next words were even quieter.

“And one day… you’ll stop hating me too.”

Richa looked ahead, her expression blank.

But inside—

A storm had just begun. whispered, barely moving her lips—“I will never love you.”

Aryaman didn’t react immediately.

Then slowly, he leaned down, his voice brushing against her ear.

“You don’t have to.”

His grip tightened slightly.“But you will stay.”

His next words were even quieter.“And one day… you’ll stop hating me too.”

Richa looked ahead, her expression blank.

CH 13- WEDDING NIGHT (18+)

The grand doors of Aryaman’s mansion opened slowly.

Richa stepped in, her bridal bangles softly clinking, her face calm… too calm. The kind of calm that wasn’t peace—but surrender.

“Welcome home, bhabhi!” Anika’s cheerful voice broke the silence as she rushed forward and hugged her.

Richa forced a small smile. “Thank you, Anika…”

His mother approached next, eyes warm yet observant. “You are part of this family now. Be happy here.”

“I will try,” Richa replied politely, lowering her gaze.

Aryaman stood a few steps away, watching everything. Every fake smile. Every controlled breath. Every moment she pretended.

His jaw tightened slightly.

His father placed a hand on his shoulder. “Take her inside.”

Aryaman didn’t respond. His eyes never left Richa.

She was acting.

And he hated it.

The room door shut behind them with a heavy thud.

Silence.

Richa didn’t turn immediately. She stood there for a second… then slowly began removing her jewelry. One by one. Calm. Detached.

Aryaman leaned against the door, watching her like a predator watching prey.

“Say it,” he finally spoke, voice low. “How much do you hate this?”

Richa let out a hollow laugh. “Does it matter?”

She turned to face him—and without hesitation, she began untying her dupatta, letting it fall.

“If you forced me into marriage…” she said, her voice steady but eyes burning, “then you can take everything else too.”

Aryaman didn’t move.Her hands moved to the zipper of her blouse.

“I won’t fight,” she continued. “Isn’t that what you want? Control? Ownership?”

The zipper slid down slightly—

And suddenly—Aryaman was in front of her.

His hand caught her wrist mid-motion. Hard.

“Stop.”The word came out like a warning.

Richa looked up at him, unflinching. “Why? Isn’t this the next step of your obsession?”

His grip tightened.

“You think this is what I wanted?” His voice dropped dangerously. “A lifeless woman standing in front of me like she’s offering herself as punishment?”

Richa’s lips trembled—but she didn’t look away. “You didn’t give me a choice.”

“I gave you *every* choice,” he snapped. “You just never chose me.”

Silence filled the space between them—thick, suffocating.

He stepped closer.

His fingers moved from her wrist to her chin, lifting her face slightly.

“Look at me and say it,” he demanded. “Say that I disgust you.”

Richa’s breathing faltered.

“…You do,” she whispered.

A dangerous smile appeared on his lips.

“Good.”

His thumb brushed against her lower lip—not gentle, not soft—just enough to make her freeze.

“I don’t want your body like this,” he said, his voice quieter now, but far more intense. “I want the same fire that slapped me that day.”

Her eyes flickered.

“I want the girl who fought me… not this broken version trying to provoke me.”

Richa swallowed.

“And if I never become that again?” she asked softly.

Aryaman leaned in, his forehead almost touching hers.

“Then I’ll bring her back,” he murmured. “Even if I have to break you further to do it.”

Her breath hitched.

His hand dropped.

“Get dressed,” he said coldly, turning away. “You’re my wife. Not my charity.”

He walked toward the window, his back facing her.

Richa stood there… frozen.

For the first time since the wedding—

She didn’t feel powerless.

She felt… shaken.

Richa stood still for a long moment after he turned away.

Then silently… she picked up her clothes and walked into the washroom.When she came out, she was no longer the bride.

No heavy jewelry. No red veil.

Just a simple, soft outfit… her hair loose, her face bare.

Aryaman had changed too—now in a plain shirt, sleeves slightly rolled, his presence somehow even more dangerous without the formality.

The room felt quieter.

He was already lying on the bed, one arm under his head, staring at the ceiling.

“Sleep,” he said without looking at her.

Richa hesitated… then slowly walked to the other side of the bed.

She lay down, keeping distance between them.

Silence stretched.

Minutes passed.

But sleep didn’t come.

Her fingers curled slightly over the bedsheet… her thoughts loud, restless.

Then slowly—She turned.

Her eyes landed on him.

His eyes were still open.

“Why didn’t you…” she started, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aryaman turned his head toward her. “Didn’t what?”

“Take what you wanted,” she said.

A faint smirk appeared on his lips.

I told you,” he replied calmly, “I don’t take what’s handed to me without resistance.”

Something in his tone stirred something uneasy inside her.

Before she could think—She moved closer.

Then more

Until the distance between them… disappeared.

Aryaman’s expression changed instantly. His jaw tightened.

“Richa…” his voice dropped, warning.

But she didn’t stop.

Aryaman’s control snapped.

In one swift motion, he pulled her closer, his hand gripping her waist firmly.

“Don’t play games you can’t handle,” he muttered, his voice rough now.

But he didn’t push her away.

He couldn’t.

His restraint—already fragile—completely broke.

His face lowered, his lips brushing against her skin, slow at first… then more intense, more consuming.

Richa’s breath hitched sharply.Her fingers tightened against him.

Her voice came out softer this time. “Why are you stopping?”

Aryaman let out a low, almost frustrated breath.

“Because,” he said, lifting his face to look at her, eyes darker than ever, “if I don’t… you won’t be able to look at me the same way again.”

Their eyes locked.

He kissed her harder, leaving no air to pass,pouring days of starvation.Her eyes, forehead,lips, throat touching every inch of her body.

Her hands fisted in his hairs , pulling him closer and in the amount of orgasm she pressed her body to his making him look clearly in his eyes.

He lifted making her sit on him,his hands working on her clothes removing step by step.her hairs rolled down.

He flipped her gain on bed making her back rest on bed naked.He removed his clothes too leaving himself in boxers only.

He looks at her eyes,seeing no anger,just desperation and surrender.He kissed her mouth mixing saliva ,his two middle finger,he barged into her mouth, wetting it.And same into her core entering it not gently, tearing her apart,her back arched ..with moans--- ahhhh...

He put his hand on her stomach keeping her in place which is almost of her double size.

"You started it,and now you will take it,after that I know you're gonna hate me"He whispered biting her jaw.

He looked at her face again,her face flushed,her eyes hazy and desperate.Her body trembling under him.

Then he added his third ginger, stretching her apart basically preparing him.

"You 've been hating me for days,and now you want it ....Admit it Richa...you need me"His voice slow,dangerous,while his fingers pulled out just for setting in again.

"Shutup,I don't" She said with her trembling voice,her eyes totally shut.

His thumb find her clit, circling it,and she exploded.

He again started, circling it in rhythm,her hips grinding against his fingers.

He pulled out,his hand reaching for nightstand, pulling out condom from drawer.His hands too trembled tearing it with teeth.

"Wai...wait..." Her voice echoed .

His gaze went to her straight "what??"

"I ...I am virgin..I mean ..I don't know..just be gentle"Her voice trembled.

"You are asking from beast to be gentle" His smirk never leaving him" still I will try".Making it wear around my hardness wrapping it, positioning myself at entrence.

He pushed forward.

Just a tip at first,letting her feel,the stretch.She gasps,her hands reaching to my shoulders,her nails digging in.

" Breathe...baby...breathe" He said caressing her cheek,when a tear oozed out .

She does,and he push deeper,feel the moment her hymen gave up, tearing her.

She sobbed with moans, tears rolling down,blood on his,just a little to confirm..

What he already knew..

He is her first and only.

"Fuck" He muttered biting his own lip," you are fucking tight,and perfect ".

"Shhh...it hurts"She whispered.

" Relax,it will be ok ..." He said caressing her thighs.

He bent down, kissing her slowly, giving her time to adjust according to intrusion.His hands slide between her, finding her clit, rubbing slow circles .

"I am ok" She exhaled.

He pulled back,then thrust forward hard, claiming her, marking her as his.

She screamed,her body arching,her nails grazing around his back enough to leave deep marks.

"Now,say it you are mine" He said.

" Never" She whispered only to him thrust even deeper.

He growled,slamming again .As she moaned from pleasure.

Increasing his pace, harder, deeper.Her core gripping his cock to claim all of it.

Her inner walls starting to flutter ,his thumb pressing against her clit.

His orgasm crashes through with devastating force. Because this isn't just sex,it's claiming marking her.

He slammed into her one last time. Waiting there for a moment catching up their breaths.

He pulled out, removing condom,disposing it quickly and cleaning himself.

He brought wet towel, cleaning her too, pulling her in his arms.

They dozed off...