Chapter 43 :

Anvaya's POV

I frowned, "What?"

A gasp tore through my mouth when he stood up and in an instant, pulled me up on his desk. My heart went down with a thud, eyes widened in shock.

He made me sit on the edge of the table, while he stood between my legs. His arms were on my waist, but my hands were on his shoulders out of instinct.

I panicked, knowing someone might come in and seeing me like this, might tag me as someone I wouldn't like to be.

"M-Mr Oberoi, please let me down. Someone might come in and — " he silenced me with his lips on mine.

I froze.

First pulling me out of the blue on his office table, now kissing me without any warning — made my nerves freeze. His hands on my waist squeezed me, bringing me back to reality.

His lips moved in a perfect movement, deliberate yet devouring. His strong cologne had invaded my mind, blurring the rough line of sanity I'd drawn yesterday's whole day. I'd decided to stay away from him, but I guess it was all futile.

He's going to claim me however he wants.

Pressing on his shoulder blades, I pushed him away, breaking the kiss. My lips were sealed the whole time — never kissing him back — causing the infuriated curves on his face. His piercing gaze slit through me, voicing his frustration for denying him access.

"Don't kiss me," I said, as I wiped away his saliva from my lips.

He didn't respond, just started in icy stillness.

"I don't want to be your mistress," I said, looking straight into his eyes. I didn't get down on my feet, for I might lose my balance under his straight gaze on me. My knees might buckle.

He stepped closer, like a menace, before his arms came around my waist, pulling me closer. I gulped just as I looked up into his eyes because of the way he looked at me. His silence held fury, his abyssal gaze held dominance and his skin carried sins, whose prints he always left on me.

"Who told you?"

I scoffed, "Why need someone else to name it? I'm not dumb enough to not know this."

His jaw twitched.

"Aren't women like me, who stay in the same house as the man who's married, get involved with him sexually behind his wife's back, named mistress? Aren't we? And if not, then what am I to you?" my voice held nothing, but just exhaustion and pain.

I didn't even feel anger anymore. I had no strength to yell at him for doing that to me. I always pushed him away but his relentless presence in my life had made me become weak now.

In reality, sometimes, we can't keep fighting. It exhausts you, from inside.

It wasn't a war just about rights or dignity. It was also about status. I belonged to a world far away from him — calm, ordinary and very peaceful. But his — it had money, power and lust.

I didn't even know if he knew what love was.

My eyes teared up, but I didn't let them fall down. I didn't want to cry.

And suddenly, my eyes were teary again, heart heavy with disgust for myself. Everything I'd been thinking suddenly came crashing back into my mind.

"I—" my throat felt tighter, "I can't continue... like this. You won't be blamed. I'll be. I'll be blamed for your broken marriage. I'll be accused of letting you do this to me because of your money. I'll be blamed and accused for everything and at the end... I'll end up as your mistress. No respect, no value, nothing. And I... I didn't work my whole life to be someone's mistress. If so, I could've been just a prostitute in a brothel," my tongue felt bitter at the mention of that word.

Prostitutes have their own dignity and self respect. No offense. But that wasn't someone I wanted to become. I worked hard to be who I am — was — and not to be ruined just because of someone's obsession with me.

It didn't shatter me when I thought about that tag. It was just in my mind. But now that I said it, my stomach twisted in disgust, tongue tasted the bile that had slipped up my throat. It wasn't something I could bear.

The society would trample over me like I was nothing. I'd have no place to go.

And I was very much scared of that.

My lips trembled, as I looked down to gulp down my sobs.

"For how long are you keeping me alive like this?" I whispered, as I bit on my lower lip.

Tucking my chin between his fingers, he made me look up into his eyes. Those cold orbs held something else right now, maybe softness or maybe something else. He just looked into my eyes for a moment, before he held my nape in a soft grab.

"In my awake, no one can even point their finger at you. Let alone tagging you," he muttered. The shadow in his eyes, stilled me for a moment.

In the moment, I realised how deep his obsession for me ran. He wasn't going to let me free in this birth. His possessiveness towards me wasn't very sane or pure. His every feeling for me was illegal, toxic and unhealthy. But I, myself, couldn't find my way out of the labyrinth he'd weaved.

I was stuck.

For forever. Maybe.

I didn't know if he knew what he was doing wasn't very right. I didn't know anything about how he thought about everything and me. But I could see that whatever he said to me, were never lies. His eyes never lied.

I chuckled bitterly, "It's easy said than done. You can demand respect but forced respect would implement its consequences on me. I'm not rich, you are. You can shut mouths but they'll spit on me anyway."

He didn't respond. But his eyes stayed on mine. For a long moment.

"Tell me," he muttered against my lips, "What do you want to be in my life?"

My breath hitched. I didn't see this coming.

What did I want to be?

Wife? No. It wasn't something I was ready for. I hadn't even imagined it.

Girlfriend? I don't know.

Then what?

I'd been thinking about asking for a good position in his life but did I ever  think what I wanted to be? No. I was always just stuck to respect that I just forgot about this.

"I don't know," I whispered, my eyes switching between his orbs.

He stepped back, creating the distance between us. My body didn't like the lack of his heat, and I hated it. I hated the way even my body betrayed me.

"You're my obsession. For eternity."

"I've become something I don't even understand."

He didn't move. Didn't blink.

But when he spoke, it came like the edge of a blade.

"You were never meant to be understood."

A pause slipped in. My heart sank deeper into that silence.

"You weren't made to be seen by the world."

"You aren't my wife because I can't cage you in that name. You aren't my mistress because I never borrowed you. You aren't my doctor because I never planned to heal."

"You were given to me."

"And now you're mine."

My breath caught.

Not because of the words, but the weight of them — how they held no softness, no hope.

Only inevitability. The only destiny he'd decided.

"I want to be someone," I said, forcing the words through my clenched throat.

"I want a place. A name. I want something that the world can understand. This world values words, position and status. Not something tag less."

He came closer, stopping just inches from me.

Then, with the cold calm of a man who owns every breath I take —

"The world doesn't get a say.

You want a name?"

"Then know this — you're the part of me that can't be cleaned. I'll kill anyone just to keep that place there."

His eyes roamed over my face as if something in him was getting restless. This wasn't something I'd seen in him. "You're not someone."

"You're everything they'll never touch."

“You are not just an obsession. You are my idée fixe — and even you don’t know how deep that runs.”

I didn't speak after that.

Because deep down, I already knew—

I hadn't fallen in love.

I had fallen into him.

He’s the centripetal force I never saw coming; I thought I was just passing by, but now I’m spiraling into his center.

And there's no way out of a man like that.

"You think I let the world decide what you are?"

"You think I care if they point?"

"But they'll point, Kaaryaksh." I muttered. He wasn't understanding what I meant. "They'll demand my relation with you. And when I can't answer? They'll tag me. And I can't fight against the world like that. You can say that to me but you can't make the world understand."

His eyes turned darker. "Let them point, Anvaya. Let them choke on your name when I give it to you. The world never mattered to me. But if it does to you, then I'll give you what you want."

His grip tightened — enough to still my breath, not enough to stop it.

"You'll have the name you deserve."

"Not because they demand it."

"Not because I owe it to you."

"But because you want it."

"And I don't deny you what's already yours."

I tried to speak, but the words collapsed in my throat.

He didn't wait.

His mouth was on mine — rough, punishing, like he was sealing a vow through the way he consumed me. There was no comfort in his kiss. Just possession.

A reminder that I'd never belonged anywhere else.

"You want a title?" he spoke between the kiss.

"Then earn it with your body, Anvaya."

"Let the bruises write what the world won't say. Why hide something that defines why you stand strong still."

What was I supposed to say to this?

He wasn't lying. I wasn't standing still till today not because of nothing. I had scars too but probably, he didn't know what scars I've been hiding for longer than he knows.

And I didn't resist.

Because I was too far gone to walk away.

Too marked to forget.

Too deeply his to still pretend I wasn't. I didn't want this. I didn't want anything I was getting. Not this obsession, not this sin, not this self hatred… nothing. But I was getting it all.

I guess, my life's all about getting whatever I never asked for.

The work I was here for was long forgotten, for I was now too enthralled by his captivation, his alluring dark nature and his effect on me. I had no way out, and even if I had, I don't want to go back anymore.

I couldn't understand what I wanted to do anymore. Running away from him for a free and better life sounded so much better. But if I ran away, I'd have nothing of my own. I've lost my identity. Everything I built for years was in ruins now. I wasn't the same person I used to be before.

I can move on, but I'm not sure if I'll succeed.

And if I stayed, I'll end up giving him whatever's left in me. He'll hold me, he'll be there when I'm getting ruined till I'm no more fixable. And that sounded better than standing alone in a road where I'd be breaking at each point.

But was this right?

Should I stay?

Or should I run away already?

It felt so much suffocating that I just wished to collapse now. It's so hard to try to be strong when the person you think could be your shelter intends to break you.

He said he wanted to break me to mend me in his ways.

What am I supposed to do now?

Why's this so confusing?

Sometimes I catch it—just for a second.

The way everything in me bends back to him.

I’ll be thinking about something else, anything else, and somehow it circles back. What he’d say. What he’d think. Whether he’d like it. Whether he’d stay.

And in those moments, I know something isn’t right.

I know this isn’t what love is supposed to feel like.

So I tell myself—I could leave. I could walk away, cut him off, choose myself for once.

But then what?

I already know the answer, and that’s what stops me.

Because even if I leave, he won’t leave me.

He’ll still be here—in the way I think, in the way I hesitate, in the way everything I do somehow asks for his approval even when he’s not there to give it.

My mind will still revolve around him.

My soul already does.

I could run as far as I want, build a whole new life, pretend I’m free… and still, he’d be there. Quiet, constant, unavoidable.

I try to imagine it. A life where I don’t wait for his one glimpse, don’t measure my day by his moods, don’t feel that drop in my chest when he pulls away.

It should feel peaceful.

It doesn’t.

It feels… blank.

Like stepping into a place where nothing exists. No highs, no lows, no him. And somehow, that scares me more than everything he’s put me through.

Because at least with him, I feel something. Even if it hurts. Even if it breaks me a little more each time.

Because now, even in my own head, leaving him doesn’t feel like freedom.

It feels like disappearing.

And maybe that’s what he wanted all along.

Not to keep me beside him — but to make sure I’d never really be without him.

"Then ruin me. Ruin me... to protect me." I whispered, resting my head on his chest, closing my eyes. I was tired.

"Ruin me so that I don't run away. Ruin me to the point that I'm not alive like I used to be. Then resurrect me to make me stay."

"Ruin me to hold me, otherwise... I'll collapse."

"And you might never get to hold me again."