Chapter Eight
Author's POV
The Delhi sun had begun to set, casting a golden hue over the crowded streets of Shahdara as Ria Malhotra stepped out of her college gates. Her day had been long - lectures, a brief library session, and a meeting with her literature club.
Her phone buzzed just as she reached the curb.
Siya: "Where are you? I'm at the market, waiting!"
"On my way!" Ria replied, smiling. Of course Siya would be impatient.
She looked stunning without even trying - wearing a yellow chikan kurti that danced softly in the wind, paired with silver jhumkas that glinted against her cheeks. Her long braid swayed with every step, her skin glowed with nothing but a light touch of lip gloss. She wasn't trying to turn heads.
But she always did.
Still, she never let it get to her. Compliments didn't make her proud - they made her quieter. Because she believed beauty was only skin deep.
And she was more than just a face.
She flagged down a rickshaw and instructed the driver to stop at the market where Siya was waiting. As she sat, her eyes wandered to the trees swaying gently along the road, the colors of sunset bleeding into the sky. Her heart felt peaceful.
She didn't notice the two black SUVs creeping behind them.
---
The rickshaw jolted to a sudden halt.
"What happened, Bhaiya?" she asked, startled.
The driver didn't respond.
Two men stepped out of the SUVs - tall, muscled, dressed in black. Before Ria could scream, one grabbed her wrist while the other clamped a chloroform-soaked cloth over her mouth.
Her vision blurred. Her body went limp. The sounds of the market vanished into blackness.
---
Ria's POV
I woke up with my head pounding.
The air smelled like rust and oil. Cold metal pressed against my back. I blinked slowly, adjusting to the light.
Where am I?
My wrists were tied. I was on a chair in what looked like a warehouse - walls made of concrete, ceiling high, only one door in sight.
Then I saw him.Wearing a black shirt, sleeves rolled up, a wristwatch hugging his tanned forearm. The fabric clung to him like second skin. He stood with lethal stillness, like a storm right before it breaks.
Aansh Rathore, everyone in Asia knew who he was.
He was-gorgeous.
But that wasn't what caught my breath.
It was the hatred in his eyes.
He looked at me like I was the reason the world had wronged him.
"Why... why did you kidnap me?" I managed to scream. "Let me go!"
He stepped forward slowly, the gravel beneath his feet crunching ominously.
"You're the girl chosen to burn in my hell."
"W-What?" I stammered, heart racing. "What are you talking about?"
His voice sharpened.
"Because of you, I saw the most helpless version of my grandfather today."
"Do you know what it feels like to watch the strongest man you know look broken?"
I blinked, confused.
"I-I didn't even know-"
"You didn't care to know!" he snapped. "That's the problem with your kind. Pretty face, middle-class charm, waiting to trap the next rich man to rescue your family from mediocrity."
I flinched. "That's not true."
"Isn't it?" He laughed bitterly. "You and your family trapped my grandfather to think you were good enough for me, your just a gold digger."
I tried to stand, but the ropes were too tight.
"I don't believe in love. Or marriage. Or family dinners," he spat.
"But you? You've now become the punishment for my past. A souvenir for my grandfather's fading hopes."
I looked into his eyes. There was no mercy there.
Just a void.
"Get the priest," he barked. "Prepare the room."
"You have ten minutes," he added coldly to his guards before storming out.
---
Ten minutes later...
The warehouse door creaked open.
Two men walked in - and grabbed me by both arms.
I screamed, kicked, begged, "Let me go! Please!"
They didn't respond.
I was dragged into another room, dimly lit by oil lamps and decorated hastily with marigold strings. In the middle, an altar sat on a red carpet - and at it, Aansh Rathore waited. Still. Calm. Demonic.
"What is this?! No!" I cried. "You can't do this-"
"Shut up," he said. "You lost the right to speak the moment your family disrespected mine."
I fell to my knees as they shoved me beside him.
"Please... I beg you," I whispered. "Don't do this. My family-"
"Your family?" he repeated. "Say another word, and I'll bring their heads to you on a silver platter."
I stopped breathing.
I believed him.
Because the Rathores never made threats they didn't carry out.
I stayed quiet.
I stopped resisting.
Because now, it wasn't about me. It was about saving them.
---
The rituals began.
The priest chanted hesitantly, sensing the tension, but he didn't dare disobey. The fire crackled as ghee was poured.
I could barely hear anything.
My body sat there, but my soul had run away.
Then came the final step.
"Put the sindoor on her forehead," the priest said quietly.
Aansh hesitated for one second.
I looked up.
And I saw it - the pure hate in his eyes.
Then he grabbed the box of red powder.
With one swift motion, he dragged the sindoor across my hairline, pressing it roughly into my scalp.
I flinched, eyes closing tightly.
Tears poured down my cheeks.
All my dreams - of a wedding filled with music and love, of a man who'd look at me like I was his whole world - shattered in that moment.
And now, I belonged to a devil disguised as a man.
---
As soon as the last mantra was done, Aansh stood up without looking at me.
"Take her to the mansion," he said to his guards.
And then, he walked out.
Just like that.
---
I sat there alone.
Still. Broken. Married.
Tears streaming down my cheeks as the fire continued to burn beside me.
"My family must be worried, will I ever go back home again?"she thought to her self
But deep down, I knew the truth.
That home was gone.
And now... my fate belonged to hell.
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