Chapter 67:

Kaaryaksh's POV

The shift didn't happen when my father announced the marriage.

It happened when he stopped pretending to be civil.

There's a tone he uses in board meetings - measured, polished, corporate like. There's another tone he uses when he wants obedience.

The words fell like a hammer. My blood froze for a second, hearing what he spat.

But David exploded instantly. Even before I could react.

"What the hell are you saying?" He looked between us. "She's my girlfriend!"

My father didn't even glance at him at first.

"Kaaryaksh will marry Viola," he repeated. "The alliance has already been discussed."

David's face turned pale. "Discussed with who?"

"With people who matter," my mother said sharply.

My gaze drifted to Viola for a second who stood silently.

Viola didn't look surprised. She looked prepared.

That realization hit me harder than the announcement. So my parents and Viola herself had already decided this post their discussion that too without David? Nice.

Something like this should've been expected from my family but I didn't think about this.

I never thought that they'd take away their favorite son's girlfriend just to marry her to me. Because they loved him and he had everything he ever demanded for. So this sounded unexplainable. This was unexpected.

But I guess, I really underestimated them.

"You knew," I said to her.

She held my gaze steadily. "Of course I did."

"You agreed?"

"Yes."

David stared at her like he didn't recognize her. "Viola?"

She finally looked at him.

"You are emotional," she said flatly. "He is useful."

David recoiled. He held her by her arm, turning her to face him. His eyes glowed with rage and betrayal as if he trusted her. Someone like him trusting someone was rare. And if he actually did, then I guess - he was heartbroken now.

"What are you even saying?" He sneered. "I have money, fame and what not. I'm the family's son and pride. Not him. He's insignificant and useless. He's just a mistake and you want a mistake as your husband?" His tone was shivering.

I chuckled softly as I looked away. I wasn't bothered by what he said. Years ago, I might've been moved by his words but now, I was used to this. Nothing new. Those same words. Same line thrown at me when he felt attacked.

My father finally addressed him. "If you want your inheritance, you will control yourself."

"You can't just trade her like property!" David shouted.

"Everything in this family is property," my mother said calmly. "Including you."

The room became suffocating.

I felt something inside my chest harden.

"This is about legacy," my father said, turning to me again. "Viola is disciplined. Educated. Strategic. She understands obedience. She understands presentation. She understands control." His eyes sharpened. "And you're slipping out of control."

He stepped closer.

"That girl can be molded. Managed. Directed."

Viola's lips curved slightly.

"I'm already aligned," she said.

"And Anvaya?" my father continued. "She would question. She would resist. She would humanize you."

"And that terrifies you," I said quietly. But annoyance and defiance was clear in my tone. I couldn't stay calm with them when it came to Anvaya. They didn't want a human. They wanted me to be like them-monsters.

I already was. I knew that. But there was stark difference between them and me.

Anvaya was the only reason for me to stay alive. And they couldn't see me living. They wanted me surviving and suffering.

"Yes," he replied without hesitation. "It does."

Then he took out his phone.

Tapped the screen and turned it toward me.

A live footage was glowing on the screen.

It was Anvaya's dorm.

Two of his men standing outside her door.

Not subtle.

Not hidden.

Just there.

My breath stalled. How had I not noticed them before?

"If you want her to remain unharmed," he said softly, "you will sign."

My pulse roared in my ears. Eyes burning from the sudden turn of tables that happened so swiftly that I didn't even notice this time. Casualty with her was never a thought but this time, he played the upper hand.

"You're threatening her life."

"I am demonstrating consequence of overestimating your freedom we gave."

"You would kill her."

"If necessary."

My mother folded her arms. "You are forcing this, Kaaryaksh. You are pushing him to extremes."

"You're all insane." I gritted looking at all of them. "Just because I'm an Oberoi, you don't get to go around controlling me like shit."

"Language, Kaaryaksh," my mother cut through, her eyes cold but strict.

I scoffed.

"No," my father corrected calmly. "We are strategic."

He signaled toward the door with a snap of his fingers.

It opened and a lawyer entered with a suitcase in his hand.

Documents already prepared.

Marriage registration forms.

Witness signatures printed.

Dates filled.

Everything arranged.

"You planned this," I said. Fury and disbelief now violently twisted inside me. Tolerating them was already a task and now this new shitty move they'd pulled on me had snapped my last straw of patience.

"Of course we did," my mother replied. "Did you think we would argue blindly?"

David looked broken. "Dad, this is sick."

I wanted to laugh at him. He always laughed at me for being the burden to the family and never their first choice. He mocked me for even existing and called me a mistake. But now he, himself, saw how selfish his own parents could get just for their reputation and control. He looked shocked beyond measure seeing his girlfriend chosen by his family for his younger brother. And even she agreed to marry me.

My family is psychotic. I knew that. Just kept discovering new limits often.

My father turned to him slowly.

"One more word and you lose your position in the company."

David went silent.

Defeated by greed. After all, he was their "favourite" son. He was one of them at the end.

Viola walked to the desk and picked up the pen.

"Kaaryaksh," she said, meeting my eyes. "This is not romantic. It is powerful. Don't worry, I'll simply teach you how to be in control. It's very important, you know."

I looked at the live footage again not paying her words a heed.

Anvaya's door.

Still closed.

Still unaware.

"You've never chosen me. Y'all have always hated me. Disregarded me then why? Why this sudden concern for whom I'm choosing? Why?"

"You were never meant to be chosen. You were meant to serve. Your choice concerns us because people will drag our name when they get to know you've married a commoner."

The words didn't hurt.

They clarified. They proved me how right I was always about their greedy nature.

I chuckled. "Y'all are disgusting."

"Yes we are. But it's better to be disgusting than emotional. You're showing emotions and emotions... are dangerous."

He leaned closer.

"Sign. Or she disappears."

I held his gaze.

"If I sign," I said slowly, "I sacrifice myself."

"You sacrifice nothing," he replied. "You become what you were designed to be."

"And if I refuse?"

He tilted the phone slightly.

One of his men raised his hand toward Anvaya's door.

My body went cold.

"Don't," I said.

"Then sign."

"You have embarrassed this family long enough."

The words didn't come loudly. They came quietly. Calmly. Which made them worse.

I stared at him. "Embarrassed?"

"Yes," he said, walking slowly around my desk again, reclaiming the space as if my success here was temporary. "You have always been unstable. Emotional. Reactive. You have always acted before calculating the consequences."

"I built this company without your funding," I replied evenly. "Without your contacts. Without your approval. That's unstable?"

"You built it because you were desperate to prove you were not a burden."

The word landed.

Burden.

He had used that before. Years ago. I had not forgotten.

"You were reckless as a child. Rebellious as a teenager. Detached as an adult. You refused to follow structure. You refused to align with strategy. You wanted freedom," he continued. "Freedom is a luxury of insignificant men."

David exhaled slowly, almost relieved that it wasn't him being dissected this time.

I stepped forward. "And yet here I am. Running a successful company alone. Expanding beyond what even you never predicted."

My father nodded once. "Yes. And that is precisely why this ends now."

I narrowed my eyes.

"You are no longer a useless second son hiding behind arrogance. You are now publicly associated with the Oberoi name."

The room sharpened at that.

There it was.

The real weight.

The Oberoi alliance.

The merger discussions.

The elite circle my parents so much valued.

"You have stepped into a different class of society," my mother added smoothly. "Investors are watching you. Media tracks your appearances. Your personal life is no longer private."

"Then I will handle it."

"No," she said coldly. "You won't. Because you don't understand how fragile reputation is."

Viola finally moved closer to the desk, her voice controlled but firm.

"The Oberoi circle is not forgiving," she said. "They tolerate ambition. They reward discipline. But they do not respect weakness."

I laughed once under my breath. "Loving someone is weakness?"

"Yes," my father answered immediately. "When it interferes with power."

He came closer now.

"You are not an ordinary man anymore, Kaaryaksh. You cannot afford ordinary attachments."

"She's not an ordinary attachment."

"She is a common girl," my mother said bluntly. "No family standing. No political connections. No strategic alliances. She adds nothing to the Oberoi lineage."

"She adds humanity. Not disgusting as y'all," I shot back.

"We do not trade in humanity," my father snapped. "We trade in influence."

The air tightened.

"You think this is romantic?" he continued. "You think marrying her proves strength? It proves recklessness. It proves you still don't understand your position."

"My position?" I repeated.

"Yes," he said sharply. "You are no longer the overlooked son. You are now a representative of a powerful family. Your marriage will be examined. Evaluated. Interpreted as a statement."

"And marrying Viola is the statement you want?"

"It is the only acceptable statement."

I looked at Viola.

She didn't flinch.

"You're comfortable being assigned like this?" I asked her.

She tilted her head slightly. "I am comfortable being placed where I gain the most power."

David let out a bitter laugh. "So I was just a stepping stone?"

She didn't even look at him.

"You were convenient," she replied.

David went silent again. Crushed by his own ambition.

I looked back at my father. "You've known about Anvaya for how long?"

A pause.

But it was too long.

The air crackled between us while I held his blank stare. He hated being questioned back and that's exactly what I always did.

My mother answered instead.

"Six months."

The words punched through my ribs.

"You've been monitoring her," she continued. "Her background. Her family. Her education. Her financial status. We allowed it to continue because we assumed you would eventually realize she was unsuitable."

"You investigated her?" I asked slowly.

My father's expression didn't shift. "Of course we did. Did you think we would allow a stranger near our name without evaluation?"

"She is not a transaction!" I no longer had my calm. I could not longer talk calmly to them when all they was to get on my nerves.

"She became one the moment you made her important."

The fury inside me burned hotter now - not explosive, but controlled.

"You had no right."

"We have every right," my mother said sharply. "You carry our surname."

"I built my own company!"

"With the network that our surname opened," my father cut in. "Don't romanticize independence. You benefited from association whether you admit it or not."

"And now you think I owe you my marriage?"

"You owe us stability," he corrected.

I stepped closer, voice low.

"You've always treated me like a defect. A liability. A mistake. Now suddenly I matter because I'm useful."

His eyes darkened.

"You have always been difficult to shape," he said. "That was your flaw."

"I am not clay."

"You are my son."

"And that means?"

"It means I decide the framework within which you operate."

Silence pressed against my ears.

"You want control," I said quietly.

"Yes."

There was shamelessly no hesitation.

"Yes," he repeated. "I want you under control. I want your impulses contained. I want your image refined. I want your marriage aligned with our objectives. I want predictability."

"You want obedience."

"I want discipline."

"You want to own my choices."

"I want to prevent you from destroying what we built."

I held his gaze.

"You built something," I said slowly. "I built something else. You hate that you can't fully control it."

He smiled thinly.

"You think building a company makes you powerful? Power is not revenue. Power is perception."

He gestured toward Viola.

"Viola understands this. She understands presentation. She understands compliance. She understands how to stand beside you and enhance your authority."

"She understands how to submit. She understands how to control," I said coldly.

Viola's eyes sharpened.

"I understand how to survive," she corrected of her own accord. "And survival in this circle requires alignment, not defiance."

"Alignment with tyranny?"

"With structure."

I turned back to my father. My blood boiling.

"And if I refuse?"

He walked toward my desk slowly.

"You disappoint me again."

"I've always disappointed you."

"Yes," he said plainly. "You have."

The room froze for the next few seconds but the tension was felt now. It wasn't silent anymore.

"You were impulsive. Emotional. You chased validation. You craved something soft in a world that requires steel."

"And now?"

"Now you have finally built something respectable," he said. "And you will not ruin it by marrying beneath your standing."

The word beneath hung heavy.

"She is not beneath me."

"She is," my mother said sharply. "Socially. Financially. Strategically. Emotionally. She would destabilize you."

"She stabilizes me. She'll be my wife and not be your business."

"That is weakness," my father snapped. "You are not allowed to need someone."

My eyes narrowed at his words.

"You are not allowed to need someone."

Because needing makes you vulnerable.

And vulnerability can be controlled. That was exactly what they were doing. Using someone whom they considered was only my vulnerability.

"You think forcing me into marriage makes me stronger?" I asked.

"It makes you aligned," he replied.

He took out his phone again and the live footage returned.

It was Anvaya's apartment hallway this time. His men waiting were waiting there too.

"You want to test how much control I have?" he asked softly.

My throat tightened.

"If you touch her-"

"If you sign, she remains untouched."

"You're not protecting reputation," I said quietly. "You're proving dominance."

"Yes," he replied, agreeing so proudly as if it was the one of the biggest things that held his head high.

And that was the truth of it.

This was not just about the Oberoi alliance.

This was about reminding me who holds the leash.

He leaned closer.

"You have always resisted me. Always questioned me. Always tried to carve independence. This marriage ends that illusion."

"It ends nothing," I said through clenched teeth.

"It ends your defiance."

"No," I replied, staring straight into him. "It ends your illusion that you can control what I become."

He studied me for a long moment.

Then he said -

"Sign. And become powerful. Refuse. And become alone."

The room was silent except for my breathing.

Control was winning. Reputation was winning.

Love was bleeding out on a screen in front of me.

And they all watched.

Waiting to see if I would bend.

And for the first time in my life - I understood something terrifying.

They were not asking me to sacrifice Anvaya. They were asking me to sacrifice myself. This sacrifice would keep their control over me.

And they knew I would.

Because I wanted her more than I hated them.

"Then let's do a deal." I didn't care it cost me my life if that would ensure she remained safe and unrelated to my family. I didn't want any of my family member to even touch her.

My blood was boiling. I had endured all their cruelty towards me and chugged down every humiliation and mockery thrown at me. I remained silent because I was powerless. But now I'd risen to power.

Yet, they found my only weakness. They found her. And at the moment, I couldn't do anything to stop them from hurting her. Without my knowledge, they'd got their hands on her and silently worked to get their control back on me.

"I marry Viola but you're unrelated to Anvaya anymore. Y'all don't know her and she's nothing to do with you. She remains untouched by your sins."

I picked up the pen lying on my desk that felt heavier than anything I've ever held.

I looked at Viola.

"You will never have me," I told her quietly. Rage boiled in my heart, under my skin. I wanted to burn them alive for doing this.

She didn't flinch.

"I don't need your affection," she said. "I need your name."

I signed.

Not because I agreed. But because I calculated.

Because I knew my father.

Because I knew he would follow through.

Viola signed next.

The lawyer swiftly gathered the documents the moment Viola and I stepped back.

"You both are legally married," he announced.

My father adjusted his cuffs.

"The Oberoi legacy continues."

I watched the footage until his men walked away from Anvaya's door.

Only then did I breathe.

They thought they won.

They thought they controlled me.

But control works both ways.

And they had just given me something far more dangerous than freedom.

They had given me motive.

This marriage was not loyalty.

It was strategy.

And I would not forget what they forced me to become.

Present

I looked at Anvaya, who sat silently staring at me. Her eyes were shimmering with tears, as if she felt the pain I thought I had buried long ago - the pain I had convinced myself no longer existed. She wasn't reacting, not dramatically, not loudly.

But her eyes... her eyes always said the unsaid. They held questions, accusations, and something far softer - understanding.

I couldn't hold that gaze for long.

Pulling her closer, I wrapped my arms around her, pressing her against me as though I could shield her from a past that had already happened.

"Don't cry," I said calmly, even though something inside me felt anything but calm. "At least that kept you safe."

She sniffed away her tears, but her voice trembled when she spoke. "At the cost of your freedom?" She pulled back slightly to look at me. "What kind of love is this even?"

I held her gaze.

"I don't know," I admitted. "But your safety is priceless, so I couldn't risk it. Not even for my own freedom."

She stared at me as if trying to measure the weight of that sacrifice.

The truth was - I didn't actually know what love was back then. I didn't understand its meaning, its depth, its madness. I just knew she was the girl in my dreams. The one who appeared in the quietest corners of my mind when everything else faded.

"I just knew I wanted you," I said quietly. "My soul craved for you. My heart desired you. I wanted you in ways even I couldn't define."

Her fingers tightened slightly in my shirt.

"So I gave up whatever I had," I continued. "Just for you."

There was no regret in my voice. Only fact.

She swallowed. "What happened after the marriage?"

My eyes flickered for a second. The memories didn't come gently - they dragged themselves forward.

"I don't even remember when the day started and the night ended," I said slowly. "Or maybe it was the other way around. Everything blurred. I lost control over myself."

I paused, searching for the right words.

"I just worked. And existed."

"Existed?" she echoed softly.

"Yes," I said. "That's all it was. Meetings. Contracts. Decisions. I functioned like a machine."

"And me?" she asked carefully.

"And you..." My voice lowered. "I stared at you."

Her brows drew together.

"Through my tablet. My laptop. Through my guards. Sometimes from a distance. Without letting anyone from my family - or even my wife - know."

"You were watching me?" she whispered.

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"For as long as I could."

Silence fell again, heavy but not hostile.

"I was controlled by Viola," I continued, my jaw tightening at the memory. "She used to feed me antipsychotics."

Anvaya stiffened in my arms. "What?"

"I even remember the white bottle with a label," I said. "I remember the name printed on it. I remember the weight of it in my hand."

"Then why?" she demanded softly. "Why would you take something you knew was controlling you?"

"Because I was used to being controlled," I replied. "It didn't feel foreign. It felt normal."

It actually did. First my parents, and then the woman they go me married forcefully. Control actually never felt unfamiliar. Had it been something softer or kinder, then it'd have felt unfamiliar.

She shook her head slowly.

"I thought it'd be better to forget things even if for a few hours if I could still have you."

For a moment, Anvaya simply stared at me. Then something in her expression broke.

Not anger. Not shock.

Pain.

The kind that comes from realizing someone suffered quietly while convincing themselves it was normal.

"Aksh..." she whispered.

I looked away. I hated that look.

That look people gave when they pitied me.

But she wasn't looking at me with pity.

That somehow made it worse.

Her fingers moved to my jaw, gently turning my face back toward her.

"No," she said softly. "That wasn't normal."

I didn't answer.

"Being controlled isn't normal."

Silence.

"Being forced into marriage isn't normal."

More silence.

"Taking medication just so you could survive your own life isn't normal."

My throat tightened.
"You don't understand."

"Then explain it to me."

I laughed quietly. It was a hollow sound. No emotions or feelings attached.

"What is there to explain?"

"Everything."

I looked at her. Really looked at her.

At the tears still clinging to her lashes.

At the hurt she carried for me.

At the way she sat here listening to every ugly part of my life instead of walking away from it.

"People always think there's a breaking point," I said finally.

She remained silent.

"They think one day everything becomes too much and you collapse."

My voice lowered.

"But that's not what happens."

I leaned back against the headboard.

"When you're raised inside something broken, you stop recognizing that it's broken."

Her eyes never left mine.

"You adapt."

I sighed faintly though my nose.

"You learn which words will get you punished and which won't."

My fingers tightened around hers.

"You learn how much pain is acceptable."

My chest felt nothing. Just empty as if speaking about everything didn't at all feel hard. Nothing.

"You learn how to exist without expecting kindness."

The room became quiet again.

Then Anvaya moved.

Without warning, she climbed into my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck.

I froze.

She buried her face against my shoulder.

Holding me. Just holding me.

As if she could somehow reach the version of me that had signed those papers years ago.

The version that stood alone in that office.

The version that nobody protected.

My eyes closed. Slowly.

For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.

I could feel her heartbeat.

Steady. Warm. Real.

"So stupid," she muttered suddenly.

I opened one eye.
"What?"

She sniffed.
"So unbelievably stupid."

A small smirk tugged at my mouth.
"There she is."

She pulled back immediately.
"I'm serious."

"I know."

"You sacrificed your freedom."

"I know."

"You let them ruin your life."

"I know."

"You married another woman."

I sighed.
"Yes, I was present for that part."

She smacked my shoulder. Hard.

I blinked.
"Violence?"

"You deserve it."

Another hit.

"That one felt personal."

"It was."

Despite everything, I laughed.

Actually laughed. A real one. Not loud. But it was there. And we heard it.

The sound surprised both of us. Because for a moment, the darkness wasn't winning.

For a moment, the memories weren't stronger than the present.

For a moment, it was just her and me.

The way it should have always been.

Anvaya's expression softened immediately when she heard me laugh.

The anger vanished.

The tears returned. This time quieter.

"I hate what they did to you," she whispered.

The laughter faded.

I brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
"I know."

"I hate that you had to go through all that alone."

Something tightened unknowingly in my chest. Because that was the part that still felt strange somehow.

Not the marriage.

Not the threats.

Not even the control.

The loneliness. The unbearable loneliness. I was used to it when I became an adult. But not when I was just a child.

"I wasn't completely alone."

Her brows furrowed.

"What do you mean?"

I smiled faintly. Just its ghost lingering on my lips.

"You were there."

Confusion flashed across her face.

"Aksh, I wasn't."

"You were."

I tapped a finger gently against her heart.

"Here."

Then I touched my own chest.

"And here."

Her eyes immediately filled again.
"Don't."

"It's true."

She shook her head.

"You make everything sound poetic despite being so cold." She said almost like complaining like a child, that-somehow - clicked something inside me.

"No."

I looked at her quietly.

"You kept me alive."

The room fell silent.

No jokes. No teasing. No deflection.

Just truth.

"You gave me something to return to."

My hand slid into hers.

"When everything else became unbearable, I thought about you."

I sighed softly.

"The girl who laughed too loudly."

She glared.

"I do not laugh loudly."

"You absolutely do."

"I do not."

"You sound like a malfunctioning alarm system."

She gasped.

I smirked wider this time.
"There it is."

Her eyes narrowed.
"You're changing the topic."

"Maybe."

She groaned. But she didn't let go of my hand.

Neither did I.

Outside, the city continued moving.

Cars. Lights. People.

Entire lives unfolding beyond those walls.

But inside the room, everything felt still.

Peaceful.

Not manipulative. Not controlled. Not bound.

The past had finally been spoken aloud.

Not all of it. Never all of it.

Some wounds take longer.

Some memories refuse to leave quietly.

But tonight, a weight had shifted.

Not disappeared. Just shifted.

Anvaya rested her head against my chest again. And this time, neither of us spoke.

We simply sat there.

Together.

No threats. No contracts. No signatures. No families.

Just two people who had somehow found each other despite everything designed to keep them apart.

My chin rested lightly on top of her head.

And for the first time in a very long time - the memories didn't feel stronger than the future.