Chapter 67 :

6 October, Monday, 2025
4:44 a.m.

Anvaya's POV

My eyes fluttered open at the sudden ache that spread across my lower back.

A sharp sting pulsed through the muscles, making me immediately squeeze my eyes shut again. My teeth sank lightly into my lower lip as I fought back the pained hiss threatening to escape. Even breathing too deeply seemed to aggravate it.

Slowly, I slipped my left hand beneath the duvet and pressed my palm against the sore spot. The warmth of my own touch did little to ease the discomfort.

A quiet sigh escaped me.

Every tiny movement reminded me of the strain. Turning, stretching, even shifting my weight by an inch sent another wave of soreness through my body.

"I'm sorry."

The low, husky voice came from directly behind me.

My eyes flew open.

For a moment, I'd forgotten I wasn't alone.

I tilted my head back slightly and found him watching me from where he had me tucked securely against his chest, one arm draped possessively around my waist.

"I thought you were asleep," I murmured, genuinely surprised.

The corners of his lips lifted faintly.

Not a smile.

Not really.

Just the slightest hint of amusement.

His dark eyes remained heavy with sleep as he lowered his gaze to mine.

"I was."

His voice was rough from sleep.

"Then I woke up to clean you."

The answer was simple, yet something about the way he said it made my stomach tighten.

His hand moved lazily along my side before settling once again around my waist.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"You said you'd be gentle."

His expression remained infuriatingly calm.

"Did I?"

I stared at him.

The audacity.

A scoff escaped me before I rolled my eyes.

"My back feels like it's falling apart."

His gaze traveled over my face slowly.

Far too slowly.

There was something dangerous about the way he looked at me sometimes. Like he enjoyed every reaction he pulled from me.

Every complaint.

Every glare.

Every flushed expression.

The faintest shadow of satisfaction crossed his features.

"You're exaggerating." I shot him a look.

"I'm absolutely not."

My voice dripped with disbelief.

"I can barely move."

His hand slid up my arm, fingers tracing absent-minded patterns against my skin.

"Yet you're still talking."

The nerve.

I stared at him in complete offense.

A quiet sound escaped him.

Not laughter. Nothing so careless.
Just a low breath that carried a trace of amusement. The kind that only made him look more dangerous.

"Do you want a massage?" He asked sitting up properly before resting his hand under my head.

"So that you can find another excuse to fuck me?"

He chuckled under his breaths. "I'm sorry, love. I just couldn't control myself."

"Yeah of course. Because it'll be me who'll limp around and whine in pain. Ass." I cursed under my breath before I turned away from him. A whimper left my lips when I moved too much to turn around.

But still I turned away from him with all the dignity I could gather.

At least, I tried to.

And immediately, his arm tightened around me.

The amusement vanished. His eyes darkened; amuscle ticked in his jaw.

"Easy."

The word came out quieter than before.

Still commanding. Still impossible to ignore.

I hated how quickly I listened.

For a few moments, neither of us spoke.

The room remained wrapped in the soft haze of early morning. Pale sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting muted shadows across the bedroom.

Everything felt strangely peaceful. And yet, lying in his arms never truly felt peaceful.

Not because he frightened me. Because he affected me.

There was something unsettling about how completely he occupied my thoughts.

How easily he could reduce me to silence with a single look.

How every soft moment somehow felt more dangerous than his cold ones.

I hated that.

And loved it just as much.

His fingers brushed through my hair.
The gesture was surprisingly gentle coming from him.

"What do you need?" he asked eventually.

His voice was quieter now.

Lower.

"I'll get it."

I blinked.

For all his darkness, moments like these always caught me off guard.

He never spoke softly to anyone.

Only me.

And even then, it felt less like tenderness and more like possession.
Like my discomfort personally offended him.

"A hot water bag?" he suggested after a pause.

I immediately groaned.

"It's boiling outside. I don't need to be cooked alive."

That earned another faint twitch of amusement from him.

His hand settled against the back of my neck.

"Then tell me what you want, Anvaya."

The way he said my name made my pulse skip.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Dangerously calm.

I smiled despite myself.

There was something strangely satisfying about seeing him like this.

Patient. Attentive. Almost guilty.
Almost.

"You could start by never bringing up this topic of having sex again."

His eyes narrowed instantly.

The reaction was immediate.

Sharp. Dangerous.

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from smiling.

Silence stretched between us.

Then-

"You're joking."

It wasn't a question.

The calmness in his voice somehow sounded more threatening than anger.

I pressed my lips together. The smile threatened to spill, but the sudden burst of excitement to tease him, pull some reaction out of him bit me.

"I am not."

His stare remained fixed on me.

Unmoving. Unblinking, like a predator assessing prey.

The look alone nearly made me laugh.

Nearly.

"Anvaya."

My name left his lips like a warning.

I lifted a shoulder innocently.

"What?"

"What do you mean 'what'?"

His hand tightened slightly around my waist. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind me exactly who I was teasing.

I grinned.

The look he gave me grew darker.

"You enjoy provoking me."

The statement came quietly like a matter-of-fact. As if he had already accepted it as fact. For sure, it was indeed a matter-of-fact.

"Maybe."

His eyes lingered on me for several long seconds. Then he leaned closer. Far closer than necessary. The air suddenly felt warmer.

"You should stop doing that."

His voice dropped lower.

The warning was unmistakable.

Instead of being intimidated, my smile widened.

The sight clearly didn't help his patience. A slow breath escaped him.
The kind people took when they were trying very hard not to lose control.

Unfortunately for him, that only made teasing him even more enjoyable. And judging by the look in his eyes, he knew it too.

I sighed through my nose.

This man was impossible.

One moment he was cold enough to make me question whether he possessed a heart at all, and the next he was apologizing like he'd committed a crime.

Carefully, I attempted to turn around.

The second he noticed, his hands were already there.

One arm slid behind my back while the other steadied my waist, helping me shift positions without a word.

I hated how naturally he anticipated my movements.

The moment I sat upright, however, a sharp ache shot through my body.

A hiss escaped my lips before I could stop it.

The pain was immediate and unforgiving. My entire body protested the movement.

His expression darkened instantly. His hand moved toward my waist again.

I slapped it away.

"Don't fucking touch me."

The warning came out sharper than I'd intended.

His hand stilled.

For a brief moment, neither of us spoke, as I adjusted the oversized shirt hanging from my shoulders instead.

It was his.

Of course it was.

The fabric smelled like him.

He must have dressed me after cleaning me up because I certainly didn't remember doing it myself.

"I'm sorry, love."

His voice was low.

Rough.

The kind of voice that always made it difficult to stay annoyed for long.

I lifted my gaze to him.

The guilt on his face almost made me smile.

Almost.

Shit. It was so hard to stay mad at him, even if it was for the sake of enjoying his reactions. This man had spellbound me in a way i didn't wish to break free from.

I forced myself to maintain the glare.

"It won't work. You've literally hurt me."

His jaw tightened slightly.

I pointed accusingly at him.
"I won't talk to you."

His eyes remained fixed on me.

"I won't let you come near me."

There was no reaction. So I continued.

"I won't even let you see me again."

The words were meant to be teasing.

Nothing more.

A joke.

A harmless attempt to make him squirm the way he'd made me suffer all morning. But the moment the sentence left my lips, something shifted.

The amusement vanished.

Completely.

I blinked.

His face hadn't changed. His posture hadn't changed. Yet suddenly his eyes looked empty.

Not angry. Not hurt.

Just blank.

Dangerously blank.

The kind of stillness that made the air feel heavier.

My smile faltered.

For the first time since waking up, uncertainty crept into my chest.

He looked away.

It was brief. Barely a second.

Yet it startled me more than anything else.

He never looked away. Not from me at least.

Then his gaze returned.

Slowly. Deliberately.

The silence stretched. And without warning, he moved closer.

His hands found my waist before I could react. Strong. But careful.

His arms wrapped around me securely, pulling me toward him until there was barely any distance left between us.

The hold wasn't painful.

But it wasn't gentle either.

It felt possessive.

Like he was reassuring himself that I was still there.

Still within reach. Still his.

My pulse skipped.

His eyes remained locked on mine.

Unwavering.

"I'll apologize to you a thousand times if I have to."

His voice was calm - too calm.

"I'll spend the rest of my life apologizing if that's what it takes."

His fingers tightened slightly against my waist.

"But don't ever joke about leaving me."

The words weren't loud. They didn't need to be. Every syllable carried enough weight to silence me.

His gaze hardened.
"Don't even think about it."

For a moment, I simply stared at him.

The seriousness in his voice caught me off guard.

It wasn't possessiveness born from arrogance.

It wasn't control.

It was fear.

A fear he hated exposing.

A fear he'd rather bury beneath coldness and authority than ever admit aloud.

And somehow that made my chest ache. I never thought a simple sentence intended for tease would turn out this way. Guilt pricked under my skin.

My expression softened.

Slowly, I reached up and touched his jaw.

His eyes followed every movement.

"I'm not leaving you anytime soon."

My voice came out quieter now.

Softer.

The tension in his shoulders eased just slightly.

I smiled. To was a real smile this time.
"Never."

His gaze searched my face as if trying to determine whether I meant it.

I did.
"I'm sorry."

I brushed my thumb lightly against his cheek.

"I was just trying to tease you."

I didn't want to over-explain it. I knew he'd understand what my intentions were and that I was sorry for the things that happened the other way around. So I kept my words clear.

There was just silence from his side.

His eyes lowered briefly before lifting again.

For a moment, he simply looked at me.

As though memorizing my face.

As though reassuring himself that I was real.

Then he leaned forward.

A long kiss landed against my forehead.

Not rushed. Not casual.

Lingering.

His eyes closed for a moment.

When he finally spoke, his voice had dropped lower than before.

Rawer. More honest.

"It scares me."

The confession surprised me.

Perhaps because men like him weren't supposed to admit fear.

Not openly. Not willingly.

His forehead rested against mine.

"I spent too long wanting you."

His arms tightened around me again.

"I spent too long convincing myself I couldn't have you."

His jaw clenched.

"And now that you're here..." A slow breath escaped him, "I can't imagine a life without you in it."

For once, there was no coldness.
No darkness. No sharp edges.

Just a man admitting the one thing powerful enough to terrify him.

Losing me.

My heart melted instantly.

A small smile found its way onto my lips as I leaned into him. And for the first time that morning, neither of us said anything.

We simply stayed there.

Wrapped around each other while the sunlight slowly filled the room.

"Okay," I whispered, brushing my fingers lightly against his wrist. "I won't disappear."

For a few moments, neither of us spoke.

The tension that had settled between us gradually loosened, though his arms remained around me as if he wasn't quite ready to let go yet.

Carefully, I shifted.

A faint ache immediately reminded me to move slower.

His hand instinctively moved to support my back, but this time I didn't stop him.

With his help, I settled properly against the headboard.

The pillows sank beneath me as I adjusted my position until I was finally comfortable enough to breathe without wincing every few seconds.

Only then did I tilt my head and look at him.

He was watching me.

Not openly. Not intensely.

But in that quiet, unnerving way he always did.

As if he couldn't help keeping track of every expression that crossed my face.

Every movement. Every breath.

Something about it made my heart beat a little faster.

"Can I ask you something?"

His gaze didn't leave mine.

"Anything."

The answer came immediately.

Without hesitation. Without conditions.

Yet instead of speaking, I found myself looking away.

My eyes drifted toward the wall opposite the bed. Toward absolutely nothing. Because suddenly finding the right words felt far more difficult than I'd expected.

I didn't want to sound insensitive towards what I was about to ask. It might be just a question to me but the answer he had would have its effect on him.

The room fell quiet.

I could feel his eyes on me.

Waiting. Patient.

The silence stretched long enough that he seemed to realize whatever was on my mind wasn't a simple question.

His expression sharpened slightly.

Not impatient. Attentive.

"What's wrong?"

I shook my head.
"Nothing."

There was a pause. Then I sighed.

"It's just..."

My fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket.

The words felt heavier now.

More complicated.

Maybe because of everything that had happened between us.

Maybe because we had just shared one of the most important nights of whatever existed between us.

Or maybe because I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to hear the answer.

He noticed my hesitation immediately.

Of course he did.

He always noticed.

His hand settled over mine.

Large. Warm. Steady.

The gesture wasn't particularly affectionate.

It felt more grounding than anything else. As though he was silently telling me to continue.

To say whatever was on my mind. No matter how unpleasant it might be.

"Ask."

His voice was calm. Low. Certain.

I swallowed and then looked back at him.

His eyes met mine instantly.

Waiting. Unwavering.

And somehow that made my chest tighten even more. Because I knew there was a chance he wouldn't like what I was about to ask.

There was a chance it would ruin the softness of this moment.

But moments like this were rare.

Truly rare.

Most days life moved too quickly around us. There were interruptions.

Responsibilities.

People constantly demanding pieces of him. And difficult conversations always ended up postponed for another day.

Then another.

Then another.

Until they never happened at all.

Not this time.

This mattered too much.

So I gathered my courage and drew in a slow breath.

And finally prepared to ask the question that had been sitting quietly in the back of my mind for far too long.

•

Kaaryaksh's POV

"Why does Viola love control so much? She seems... obsessed," she asked.

I knew this was coming some day. And never i felt hesitation for once with just the thought opening up to her.

My eyes previously locked with hers moved to the wall in front of us. The paintings didn't catch my attention anymore because my thoughts spiraled back to the initial days of my marriage.

With Viola Dokuhana Moriyard.

Five years ago

It was another random day at my office. I was sitting at my desk, typing on my laptop while glancing at the tablet open on the table just beside my laptop. The screen was glowing focused on a cabin, precisely, the person in the cabin.

Anvaya Shaurya.

Dr. Anvaya Shaurya, Cardiologist by profession. Still a student.

I leaned back against my chair, my eyes focused on her figure so concentrated on the files spread on her table. Notebooks scattered, a pencil swinging between her fingers as she focused on the things written on the notebook in front of her. Her glasses rested on her nose bridge.

This wasn't unusual for me. I always watched her like this. Through my set up secret camera during the hours when she'd be in her dorm, I'd watch her. Except for when she changed clothes or went for bath.

I even had my camera in her cabin. How could I survive without watching her when she worked?

The corner of my lips twitched.

I was about to zoom in when the door of my cabin opened. I looked up to find my secretary holding the door open. He had an apologetic look on his face showing his helplessness in the moment. Behind him stood my father-the man who resented me more than anyone-along with his wife, and his "only son" stood there. They were my biological family.

Just "biological". Not familiarly family.

My father stood outside my glass cabin like he had been carved there. Immaculate suit. Hands clasped behind his back. Calm. Dominant. As if the building itself reported to him instead of me.

Behind him stood my mother - expression blank. David beside her, restless.

I just gave him a nod to let them in.
I remained seated with a blank face, staring at them through my glasses.

I couldn't understand their sudden arrival at my office today. They never cared to visit me until it was necessary for them.

Beneficial.

They walked inside and then I saw a woman walking behind them.

Viola. My brother's girlfriend.
A businesswoman like no one else. She was cunning, sharp and silent.

Viola didn't look at me.

She was looking at the city below.

Like she was already calculating the skyline she would one day own.

"Son," father called me as he sat down on the sofa with the rest of them.

I frowned slightly hearing him addressing me like that.

Son?
Was he high?

I silently waited for him to continue.

The first thing I noticed was the silence in the hallway.

My office floor is never silent. Phones ring. Assistants walk briskly. Conversations echo faintly through glass partitions. But that evening, when the elevator doors opened, the corridor outside my cabin was unnaturally still.

People were watching.

Not openly. Not rudely. But in that careful way employees do when something powerful is happening behind closed doors.

And then I already saw why.

My pulse didn't spike. It slowed.

That was always my first instinct before battle. In my parent's presence, I never could sit comfortably. I was a man of power but power doesn't heal trauma.

"To what do I owe this coordinated invasion?" I asked lightly.

My father's lips curved in something resembling a smile.

"Is that how you greet your family?"

I watched the door close behind them as my secretary stepped out. The click echoed more than it should have.

"I'm adjusting," I said. "You don't usually visit unless something is benefiting you... or ruining you."

He didn't respond, but just walked around my office slowly, inspecting. Running his fingers along my desk. Looking at my framed certifications. My awards. My achievements.

Things I built without him.

"How have you been, Kaaryaksh?" he asked casually.

The question was so foreign that I almost asked him to repeat it.

"I'm alive," I replied.

"And thriving?"

"Define thriving."

He gave a short breath through his nose. "Your tone suggests dissatisfaction."

"My tone suggests observation."

He sat down in the chair opposite my desk.

My father never sat in that chair before.

He always stood.

Today, he sat.

That was deliberate. And this proved only one thing - this conversation was far from concluding soon.

"How is the company you're managing?" he asked, folding one leg over the other. "I reviewed the quarterly reports. Acceptable. Not exceptional."

"You didn't come here for quarterly reports."

David shifted. "Can we just get to it?"

My mother shot him a look. "Let your father speak."

Her voice was smooth. Controlled. There was no discomfort in it. No hesitation.

She wasn't dragged here. She was part of this. She always stood by her husband regardless of what decision he was taking - whether against their children or not. People admired them for their loyalty towards each other.

I could scoff. Loyalty.

My father's gaze moved to my tablet, unfazed by the words shared between his wife and son.

It was on the desk.

Unlocked.

Anvaya's live footage still on screen.

He stared at it first without reacting as if he was already known to this.

He picked it up.

Things had started to look different now. It was already unusual for them to visit unannounced and now not even surprised seeing a girl on my tablet - this wasn't something light.

And then he scrolled through something. That irked something in me. It wasn't like the device had anything about my business. It was solely bought for the purpose of observing each moment of her life. But anything he did in my life irritated me.

He didn't ask permission.

He never does.

He studied her face in silence for a long time.

Too long.

"She's pretty," he said finally.

I didn't answer.

"Soft features. Unpolished. Innocent." He tilted his head slightly. "Vulnerable."

I stood up slowly.

"Put that down."

He ignored me.

"How long have you been watching her?"

"That's none of your concern."

His eyes flicked to mine.

"That's interesting," he said calmly. "You think you have concerns that do not overlap with mine."

"She is not connected to you."

He placed the tablet down with deliberate care. Then his sharp eyes turned back to me. Those black eyes always bore resentment for me because I was always the useless son of the house. And that today I was making profits in billion without his involvement in my life, he suddenly had business to do with me.

"She is connected to you. And you are connected to me. Therefore, she is connected to me."

The logic was simple.

Possessive.

Disgusting.

Hungry for control as always.

"Fine. Listen to me clearly then, father." I said clearly, tucking my hands inside my pockets. I never had respect for them.
"I will marry her," I said evenly. "That ends the discussion."

He laughed.

Not loud.

Not dramatic.

But deeply condescending.

"You will do no such thing."

"I wasn't asking."

"You were not deciding."

The temperature in the room shifted.

My mother walked closer, heels clicking against the marble floor.

"Kaaryaksh," she said softly, but there was steel under it. "We allowed this... distraction to continue because we believed it would fade. But it has not faded. It has grown obsessive."

"Obsessive?" I repeated.

"Yes," she said. "Monitoring her. Assigning men to watch her. Tracking her daily routine. That is not love. That is instability."

So they already knew I was keeping an eye on Anvaya? Since when?

My family's obsession with keeping tags on me despite hating me was getting on my nerves slowly.

Viola finally spoke. It wasn't very usual for her to speak in family matters even though she'd marry my brother someday.

"And instability does not suit the Oberoi name."

Her voice was calm. Almost analytical.

I looked at her.

"And what suits the Oberoi name?" I asked.

My father answered.

"Control."

Silence stretched.

"You will leave that girl," he continued. "Immediately."

"No." My answer was instant yet firm.

David scoffed. "You're willing to burn everything for some middle-class girl who doesn't even know what family she's stepping into?"

"She doesn't need to," I replied coldly. My tone was cold and calm the whole time but now it was shivering from beneath. Things were taking direction towards something I definitely wouldn't like.

"She would be eaten alive," Viola said coolly. "By us. By the board. By the press. She would crumble."

"Then I protect her," I said.

My father's eyes darkened.

"We do not protect liabilities."

"She's not a liability."

"She is nothing," he said sharply. "She offers no alliances. No strategic partnerships. No influence. She dilutes our bloodline."

I stepped closer to him. My jaw tightening with controlled rage now. I didn't have anything to fear from when it came to my family. They'd already taken what had been mine once.

"She makes me human."

"And that," he said coldly, "is precisely the problem."

The shift happened then.

The friendliness evaporated completely.

This was no longer a conversation.

It was positioning. I knew something like this was coming. I knew they wouldn't visit me until it was something shaking their control on me. They really didn't have much control over me and they hated this. But the little they had was shaking finally and it didn't sit with them.

"You will marry Viola."