Mrs. Pandey (Mrs #2)

Prologue

I offered her a way out. I gave her the chance to walk away, to stay far the fuck away from me. But she didn't take it. No. She came back. And when she did, I made damn sure she saw what I'd become.

The version of me no one else sees. The monster that crawled out of hell with rage in its eyes and rot in its soul.

Because I was no longer that charming, golden boy anymore. That man died a long time ago. He bled out in silence, alone, buried beneath the wreckage of everything he lost.

What's left now?

Something unrecognizable. A shadow. A twisted version of who I used to be, made up of rage, regret, and a darkness so deep, it claws at my insides just to be felt.

For three months, I lived in torment. I saw things no one even wished to see that in their nightmare. I saw things I was unable to erase from my mind. I couldn't escape that and I couldn't escape me. Those three months changed me. Unmade me.

There were nights I wanted to rip my own skin off. Just to stop feeling and just to breathe.

But the mind? It's a prison. You don't escape it but you rot in it.

When I slammed the door open that night, I wasn't expecting to see her there. But of course she was.

Sitting on my bed like she belonged. Her back was straight, and chin high. She looked regal and defiant. Like a fucking queen taking back her kingdom.

She didn't flinch, and didn't move. Just stared at me like I was the villain in her story.

And maybe I am.

But she wrote this script.

She had the chance to walk away. The choice to leave me buried in peace. But she came back again.

Maybe she wanted the war. Maybe I did too.

Ira.

She was wrapped in a violet saree like temptation personified. She looked wild, beautiful, and untouchable. But I knew her. Underneath that icy calm, she was trembling. Because tonight was our first night as husband and wife. And I wasn't the man she remembered.

"Prashant, listen..." She stood up.

She barely got the words out before I crossed the room, closing the space between us in two strides. My presence cast a shadow over her. My silence was louder than any scream.

"You wanted to marry me?" My voice was quiet. It was too quiet, the kind of quiet that precedes a storm.

"Yes." Her voice was barely audible.

"Then why didn't you say yes three years ago?" I murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She shivered at my touch. A response she couldn't fake.

"Because..."

I cut her off. "Because Aryan was still around, right? Because he didn't reject you. Because he worshipped the ground you walked on. Because he was your perfect boyfriend. Because he loved you."

"Prashant, please..." she whispered, her jaw trembling as she fought to hold herself together.

But it was too late for mercy.

I smirked. She was the storm once. Now she was facing a hurricane. And the most fucked-up part of it all? I still wanted her.

Even in this chaos. Even after everything. Even when hate wrapped itself around my spine like armor... there was a small part of me that wanted her to never leave again.

And that was the part I hated most.

I gripped her shoulders, my gaze drilling into hers.

"You've used me again, Ira. Always. Like a discarded tissue.

When your precious boyfriend was out of the picture, you craved me to sate your dark fantasies, no strings attached.

Now he's married to Avni. And now you want me back?

You've always been selfish, Ira. You toyed with my heart, my damn feelings, my very body. "

"Prashant, I was so confused..." Her voice, a choked whisper, caught in her throat, her eyes brimming with a theatrical display of tears.

But I wouldn't be swayed by that performance.

They were fake, just like every fleeting emotion she'd ever shown.

She'd probably just slither into the arms of the next fool who offered comfort.

"Turn around," I commanded, my voice flat. A faint frown creased her perfect brow.

"Uh..."

"I said, turn around, now," I barked, and she instantly obeyed, a tremble running through her.

"Are you comfortable having sex with me?

" I asked, my fingers already gathering the delicate fabric of her saree, lifting it to expose the sliver of pink lace beneath.

God, she was flawless, breathtaking in her unwilling surrender.

"Yes." A sharp gasp escaped her lips as I yanked her underwear down her legs, then squeezed the soft curve of her buttock. "But not like this."

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