Throne and Thread

Chapter 43 Every God Has His Hell

What do you call a night that never ends? Memory.

- Author

Adhrita felt wetness on her face. Consciousness returned slowly, like surfacing from a deep sea. When she opened her eyes, Vritant was sitting beside her.

"Hrita..." his voice broke somewhere between fear and relief.

She sat up and threw her arms around him.

"I'm sorry," she heard him whisper - words that only made her cry harder. She clutched his shirt, sobbing until the silence between them grew heavier than her tears.

After a while, she pulled back. He wiped her face gently, thumb lingering on her cheek as if memorising her pain.

Then, without a word, he stood, took her hand, and in one swift motion, lifted her into his arms - like a bride - and carried her to the washroom.

He set her down on the marble slab, the sound of water running somewhere between them like an unspoken promise to wash it all away.

He moved with a quiet urgency, his hand slowly reaching for the edge of her kurti.

He looked at her face, his gaze searching, before gently and deliberately pulling the fabric away from her skin.

He then bathed her face with water, wiping away the grime and sweat, and carefully dried it.

Next, he removed her soiled bottom wear, replaced it with a soft, thick bathrobe, and tied it securely around her.

Carefully, he helped her step down from the cold slab and guided her into the dressing room.

He quickly pulled out a pair of his own shorts and a soft t-shirt, dressing her in them.

Leading her out, he settled her on a chair, poured a glass of water, and offered it to her. She raised it to her lips, taking a small, shaky sip, and he gently took the glass back, placing it on the table.

"Aap thik hai?" he whispered-Are you okay? She simply nodded, a slight, almost imperceptible movement.

"Ant... he forced me," she whispered back, the words catching in her throat, and then continued. "You dropped me home and..."

She took out the wooden pieces, one by one, arranging them on the squares. Picking up the queen, she noticed her name etched onto the base. Just as she was about to set it down, a sudden presence made the hairs on her neck rise.

"Tum aagaye?" she asked, turning with a hopeful smile that instantly froze. Ashish Deshmukh, Vritant's cousin, was standing behind her.

(You came back?)

"Bhabhi, kaise hai aap?" he asked-How are you?

"Ashish?" Her surprise was evident.

"Bhabhi, aapko dekh kar acchha laga," he replied-Bhabhi, it's good to see you. Adhrita offered a stiff, awkward smile.

"Kaisi hai aap?" he pressed again.

(How are you?)

"Thik hoon," she managed awkwardly, and tried to move away, but he closed the distance between them.

(I am fine.)

"I understand, Bhabhi. You had a forced marriage, and your husband is Vritant-he'd never accept you as his wife. I know you're his wife only on paper, while he's busy with his own life, racing and gambling," he said, his voice dripping with fake sympathy.

"It's not like that, Ashish," she countered, taken aback by his invasive assumption. She barely knew him, and here he was, in her room, talking about her marriage.

"I know, Adhrita, you're in a loveless marriage. But I can give you the happiness you're missing, you know." He reached out to touch her cheek, but she immediately took a sharp step back.

"Stay away," she said, her tone suddenly firm.

He picked up the wooden queen piece from the table and began to fiddle with it between his fingers.

"You're lonely, Adhrita, and I can't stand to see you like this. Don't worry, forget about that bastard. Look, I can make you happy." He slowly slipped the queen piece into his pants' pocket and moved closer.

"Shut up and leave!" she hissed, attempting to slap him. But his reflexes were too quick; he caught her hand before it could connect.

"Such hands should be behind my back scratching while I take you roughly the way you like," he said with a vile grin, and Adhrita's entire body went rigid with horror.

"Ah, now you understand my love, sweetheart," he purred. She struggled to free her hand, but he was physically stronger. With a sudden, savage snap, he tore her kurti from the shoulder. As he moved to kiss her, she managed to slap him with her free hand and then delivered a swift, hard kick.

The kick only enraged him further. He pulled her roughly, binding both her hands behind her back before she could pull the pin from her hair.

He forcibly kissed her. Then he shoved her hard against the wall.

Adhrita looked at him, and the only thought tearing through her mind was Vritant.

Please, Vritant, come home, she silently pleaded.

Just then, something in her mind snapped. Her husband's words echoed back: There is no greater weapon than manipulation.

"Ashish, you're right," she said softly. The sudden compliance made him loosen his grip slightly.

"I am not happy with him. I don't know why my father forced me to marry him," she continued, allowing a genuine tear to track down her face.

"And his mother? She never accepted me. What should I do, Ashish?" she asked, letting another tear fall. Ashish, now convinced, completely released her hands.

"Adhrita, you..." he started, his voice a bewildered mix of lust and false empathy.

"I'm not happy, Ashish. He never accepted me as his wife.

" She dropped a few more tears, slowly retreating from him, and sank onto the bed.

She cradled her head in her hands, acting out deep sorrow.

When he moved to sit beside her, she silently, swiftly pulled the blade hidden in her hair bun and stabbed him in the hand before he could touch her.

The pain made him scream in pure rage. He lunged at her, but she began throwing anything she could grab at him. As he reached the study table, she pulled her bag toward her and secretly took out Chhalava.

"You think anyone can save you from me? Nobody is home. Sweetheart, It's just me and you," he laughed, a chilling, evil sound. Adhrita removed the lipstick cap-which was, in fact, a taser-and leveled it at him.

"You think you're alone? Think again, Ashish," she said, her voice hard and steady, utterly devoid of the fear he expected.

He sneered, dismissing the object. "What is that? A toy?" But before he could finish the sentence or lunge at her, Adhrita pressed the button.

A fierce blue arc of electricity spat out from the taser and struck him on the shoulder and chest.

Ashish Deshmukh roared, a primal sound of pain and shock. His muscles seized, throwing him backward a few steps, but the powerful jolt did not render him unconscious. He stumbled, shaking his head violently, spitting out curses, his eyes blazing with a terrifying, absolute rage.

"You BITCH!" he screamed, his voice distorted, and he started moving toward her again, driven by fury.

Just as he lunged, a sudden, heavy object sailed through the air from the doorway and struck the wall next to Ashish's head.

"Leave this house, you snake!" a fierce, commanding voice boomed.

Ashish froze, and Adhrita looked up in disbelief. Asha Tai, stood in the doorway. In her hand, she held a kitchen knife-the source of the earlier flying object. Her eyes were narrowed into slits, radiating a cold, deadly purpose.

Asha Tai didn't wait. With a grunt, she hurled the knife. It spun end-over-end, a flash of steel, and struck Ashish with a sickening thud-not in the face, but grazing his upper arm, drawing blood instantly.

Ashish screamed again, clutching his wounded arm. His lust and anger were instantly overwhelmed by the shock of the attack and the fear of Asha Tai's presence. He knew her reputation for severity. He glanced wildly between Adhrita and the furious woman blocking the door.

He wheeled around and bolted, stumbling over his own feet as he scrambled out of the room, down the hall, and out the front door, disappearing into the evening.

Asha Tai lowered her stance, her eyes still fixed on the empty doorway, her breathing ragged. Adhrita dropped the taser, her legs finally giving out, and sank onto the floor, pulling the tattered remnants of her kurti around her.

"Adhrita," Tai called her name, her voice strained.

Adhrita didn't reply, her gaze fixed on the blood spot on the floor.

Tai called her name again, stepping closer and reaching out to touch her.

But the moment Tai's hand brushed her shoulder, Adhrita flinched violently and sank further onto the floor, curling into herself.

"Vedashree Tai," Asha Tai muttered, realizing she needed help, someone calmer. She rushed out of the room.

The moment the lock clicked behind her, Adhrita scrambled up and threw the bolt on the door.

The sound of the lock snapping into place was the only thing that felt solid.

She stumbled to the bed and sank onto the floor beside it, her back against the cool mattress, immediately and completely reliving every terrifying second of Ashish's attack.

Asha Tai returned quickly and began knocking on the door, calling her name anxiously, but Adhrita was lost, trapped in the repeating loop of the memory, unable to respond.

Flashback ends

Just then, Vedashree entered the room - and froze. Her eyes widened at the sight before her.

"Adhrita..." she whispered, rushing to the bed.

The moment Vedashree sat beside her, Adhrita broke - she hugged her mother-in-law tightly, sobbing into her shoulder.

"Mummy..." she cried, voice trembling with exhaustion.

Vedashree's palm instinctively found her hair, fingers moving in slow, calming strokes. Then her gaze shifted - cold and distant - to the wall behind Adhrita, as if she were already calculating her next move.

"Vritant, bring her dinner," she ordered quietly.

He obeyed without a word. When he returned, Vedashree took the plate from his hands and sat beside Adhrita again.

"Eat," she said firmly.

Adhrita shook her head weakly.

"Eat."

The sharpness in her tone left no room for disobedience.

Adhrita opened her mouth, and Vedashree fed her - one trembling bite at a time. When she was done, Vritant made her lie down and covered her gently with a comforter.

A doctor arrived soon after, checked her vitals, and injected a mild sedative.

"Mental trauma," the doctor murmured. "She needs rest."

Vedashree nodded, dismissing her.

As the door closed, Aasha Tai entered.

"Don't leave her alone," Vedashree instructed. Aasha Tai nodded.

Vedashree turned to her son. "My office. Now."

The phone was already ringing when they entered.

Vedashree placed it on speaker. Samarjeet's voice filled the room.

"Tai... there's a situation. Ashish was drugged - he committed a grave mistake."

Vritant's jaw tightened, but before he could speak, Vedashree raised her palm. Silence.

"Where is Ashish?" she asked, her voice deceptively calm.

"Tai, he's scared, hiding somewhere. But I swear - he was heavily drugged. Someone wanted to ruin our reputation."

"I trust you," she said flatly - then hung up and hurled the phone across the room. It shattered against the wall.

"Vritant!" Shaurya's voice thundered as he entered. "What happened to her?" he demanded.

Vritant stood by the window, silent.

"Vritant, I'm talking to you!" Shaurya's voice cracked with fury - until another voice broke through.

"I'm here, Papa."

Adhrita stood at the door, pale but steady. She walked straight into Shaurya's arms and collapsed against him.

"Papa..." was all she managed before she broke again.

Shaurya guided her to the sofa, his hand trembling over her shoulder. Vedashree sat beside Adhrita, silent - the picture of restraint.

As Adhrita haltingly narrated what had happened, Shaurya's expression hardened with every word.

"How can you be so calm?" he snapped at Vedashree, then turned to his son. "I'll kill that bastard myself."

Just then, Vritant's phone rang again.

"Mama ji," he said quietly.

"Vritant," Samarjeet's voice came through, "Ashish was drugged. He lost control. Someone spiked his drink to target our family. Please, beta - he's ashamed. Don't punish him. I'll personally come and apologize to Adhrita."

There was silence.

"I promise, Mama ji," Vritant finally said. "I won't even touch Ashish."

The line disconnected.

Shaurya stepped forward, disbelief flashing into anger. "Have you gone mad?" he shouted - and before anyone could stop him, his hand landed across Vritant's face.

"Tell Ashwin Adani he can take his daughter," Vritant said coldly, straightening his collar.

The room went still.

Adhrita's eyes widened. She stepped closer, voice shaking with rage.

"How dare you?" she spat. "What am I, a parcel? You married me when it suited you - and now, when I need you, you want to send me away?"

She grabbed his collar, tears streaking down her face.

"If you couldn't protect me, why did you marry me?"

Vritant didn't answer.

Her hands fell away, and she turned, running back to her room.

Adhrita zipped her bag, trembling, her eyes red and furious. When she turned, Vedashree was already standing at the door - poised, composed, her presence enough to halt a war.

"Going somewhere?" Vedashree's tone was calm, not curious. It was the kind of calm that came before a storm you'd never see coming.

"Mummy, please... I can't stay here anymore," Adhrita's voice cracked.

Vedashree stopped in front of her and took her hand, gentle but firm - like a leader about to seal a deal.

"You will not leave this house."

"Mummy-"

"Because running away gives them their victory," she cut her off, eyes suddenly cold. "They want you quiet. Broken. And if you walk out now, you'll prove them right."

Her tone lowered - quieter, strategic.

"Samarjeet is lying."

Adhrita froze.

"He's too desperate, too polished when he talks - and when a Deshmukh man starts sounding emotional, it means he's hiding rot under sugar."

She released Adhrita's hand and straightened her saree, every motion deliberate.

"I will handle the politics. You will handle yourself. Eat, sleep, recover. Let them think you're weak."

Then, almost whispering,

"Because weakness is the best disguise for vengeance."

Vedashree stepped toward the door but stopped again, her profile lit by the hallway light.

"You're not just my daughter-in-law anymore, Adhrita. You're part of a storm they don't see coming. And I don't lose my storms."

She left without waiting for a reply. Adhrita stood still, tears mixing with something sharper - the first flicker of fire.

??? V ? A ???

"I failed to protect her again," Vritant said quietly as soon as Vedashree left the office.

"Vritant, this is not the time to be weak. Sending her back to Ashwin will be our biggest defeat," Shaurya said.

"At least she was always safe there," he muttered.

"Adhrita will not go anywhere," Shaurya replied firmly, then left the office without another word.

The room fell silent. Vritant sank to the floor near the sofa, his elbows on his knees, his head heavy with guilt.

He could still hear her broken voice - "He forced me."

It echoed like a curse he couldn't undo.

"It's good to see Vritant Vardhan on the floor," came Vedashree's voice from behind.

He didn't look up. Not this time.

"You were right," he said after a long pause, voice hollow. "You were right... mujhe nahi lana chahiye tha usse humare ghar mein. Aap sahi thi - main usse protect nahi kar paya, toh laya kyun..."

(I shouldn't have brought her into our home. You were right - if I couldn't protect her, then why did I bring her at all.)

Vedashree tilted her head slightly, watching her son break in silence. Then she spoke, tone sharp enough to cut through him.

"Again self-pity? Then divorce her," she said coldly. "I'm sure she'll find someone stronger."

Vritant's head snapped up. "VEDASHREE VARDHAN!" he roared.

Her expression didn't flicker. Not fear. Not guilt. Nothing.

She simply raised a brow. "Good," she said, almost amused. "At least your voice still has some strength left in it. Use that where it matters."

He stared at her, breath uneven - unable to read whether she was mocking him or provoking him back to life.

And like every time before, she left him there - with more questions than comfort.

He took out his phone and dialed a number.

"Where is Ashish?" he asked.

"Secured. Underground," came the voice on the other end.

"So that bastard thought I wouldn't find him?" Vritant asked bitterly, his tone low and venom-laced.

"And what about my dear Mamaji?"

"He's still in Delhi. Probably on his way to your house," the voice replied.

"And Sunita Mamiji?" Vritant's tone hardened further.

"She's in Mumbai. Security around her was just increased."

He cut the call. His jaw clenched so tightly it could've cracked bone.

Aasha Tai entered quietly, her face pale.

"Samarjeet Bhau..." she started, but her voice faltered.

(Brother)

He understood without another word.

Vritant walked downstairs - each step echoing like a slow countdown.

In the living room, Samarjeet was already there - kneeling, touching Adhrita's feet, his voice breaking.

"I am sorry, beta. He was drugged, he lost his senses..."

Behind him, Ashish stood, face bruised, eyes hollow.

"I almost killed him for the sin he committed, Tai," Samarjeet said.

Vritant's blood roared in his veins. He could hear nothing but that one word - sin.

Adhrita froze as Vedashree stepped beside her, calm as ever.

"Beta, forgive him," Vedashree said softly.

Adhrita shook her head violently. Vedashree's voice turned firmer.

"Adhrita. Forgive him. He wasn't in his senses."

Ashish fell to his knees again, voice trembling.

"I'm sorry, Bhabhi. Please- you're like my mother..."

Before he could touch her feet, Vritant pulled her back with a sharp tug.

Adhrita looked up, her voice breaking. "I... forgive you."

Ashish rose, trembling.

"Samarjeet, I don't want Ashish in this house," Shaurya said, his tone carved from rage.

Samarjeet nodded quickly and took Ashish away.

The door hadn't even closed before Shaurya's fury burst through the silence.

"You did wrong again, Vedashree! I am not forgiving that man!"

"Shaurya-" Vedashree tried, but he cut her off.

"I've killed a terrorist before, Vedashree," Shaurya said, his voice low and deadly. "I don't mind killing a devil again."

"Adhrita will get justice," Vritant interrupted, voice cold, detached. "But my way."

Adhrita turned toward him, startled by the calm in his tone - the kind that made her shiver more than his anger ever could. His eyes were burning, red and merciless.

"You promised Samarjeet you wouldn't touch Ashish," Shaurya snapped.

"I won't," Vritant said flatly. "I don't break promises."

He held Adhrita's trembling hand, led her out of the Vardhan mansion, and opened the car door for her. She sat silently - her heartbeat loud in the quiet.

As he slid into the driver's seat, the engine roared to life, but his voice was calmer than ever.

"Justice doesn't always need touch, Papa. Sometimes, it just needs power."

The car stopped with a sharp halt in front of Mriga Trishna - their lake house, named after the mirage that fools even the desert. The night air was heavy, quiet, and cold - almost reverent in its stillness.

Vritant stepped out, eyes fixed on the reflection of the moon trembling in the dark water. Even the moon shakes when the truth surfaces, he thought bitterly.

Adhrita followed silently, her steps hesitant. She looked around - the house stood still, its wooden walls mirroring both of them: her fragility, his fury.

He walked ahead, unlocking the door, and said without turning,

"Go inside."

She obeyed. He stayed out for a moment longer, looking at the still lake. Then his voice came, low and steady - the kind of calm that precedes ruin.

"When I promised Mamaji I won't touch Ashish, I meant it."

A pause.

"But I never promised I won't destroy everything he breathes for."

Inside, the sound of water rippling against the shore filled the silence.

He set his phone on the flat stone by the water's edge, thumb working the screen like a surgeon.

A few taps later he switched the network, opened a voice?modulation app and altered the pitch until the voice could belong to Vedashree Vardhan.

He stayed by the lake, the moon slashed white across the water.

He dialled Sunita Deshmukh.

"Sunita... Ashish..." he said, the voice identical to his mother's gentle register.

There was a small, anxious pause. "I know, Tai," Sunita answered, brittle.

"Vritant has some proofs," he - speaking as Vedashree - continued, "and you know my son..."

A tiny, panicked sob. "He will kill my Ashish," she whispered.

He let the line go thin with false sympathy. "I can help. Meet me near Pizza by the Bay, Marine Drive."

"Okay," she agreed, and the line clicked dead.

He ended the call, then used Vedashree's number to make the approach feel official - every detail staged to pressure, to panic.

Without hesitation he switched networks again and dialled another number.

"Pizza by the Bay. One hour. Sunita Deshmukh," he said, voice back to his own - cold, precise. "Roll the red carpet for her at the Hall of Fame. Make it look...urgent."

He hung up, listening for the lake's quiet. The plan had started to move.

He went inside the house and found her sitting quietly on the bed.

He knelt beside her feet. "Sorry... I couldn't protect you," he whispered, his voice barely audible, weighted with guilt. First the riots, and now this - he had failed his wife again.

"I don't want to talk to you," she murmured, moving away and lying down on the small bed.

Vritant rose, then gently lay beside her, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

"Maaf kardo na... please," he pleaded, resting his head over hers. A tear slipped from his eyes, tracing down to her cheek. She turned to look at him, startled.

(Forgive me)

"How could you say that?" Her voice broke.

"What can a loser say?" he muttered.

She exhaled, hugging him in return. "Don't say like that..." she whispered.

"Don't love me so much," he murmured, "that every time I suffer, you have to bear your own pain just to explain mine..."

She softened, sitting up slightly. "Okay then... don't do anything to Ashish," she said, stepping out of his embrace.

"Ace..." he said, his voice suddenly stern.

"Why? Why love me so much?" she asked, turning away and closing her eyes, trying to divert her thoughts. "Oh yes... you never said you love me."

He reached out, gently touching her cheek. She closed her eyes, letting herself feel the moment.

"He touched me there..." she whispered, her voice small.

He froze.

"Then... let's remove his touch," he murmured, voice low and deadly calm.

He rose, took her hand, and pulled her up. Guiding her to the washroom, he made her stand under the shower, adjusting it to a hot, cleansing stream.

The hot water ran over her, steam curling around them like smoke, masking the lake house in a private haze. Adhrita closed her eyes, letting herself feel the warmth, the safety, the rare quiet of his presence.

Vritant stood behind her, steady hands on her shoulders, guiding her gently. His face was calm, almost detached - but inside, a storm raged.

This is just the beginning, he thought. Every hand that touched her... every person who dared... will pay. Not because I'm angry, but because I know how to make them hurt - strategically, painfully, irreversibly.

He adjusted the water so it ran hotter, letting the sensation wash away the fear lingering in her body, while he whispered softly:

"Breathe, Jaan. This is just water... nothing else can touch you now."

She shivered, clinging to him slightly, and he felt the sting of guilt sharpen into cold clarity.

No more half-measures. No more leaving anything to chance.

Once she had steadied herself, he guided her out of the shower, wrapping her in a large bathrobe. Every motion was calm, tender - but behind those careful movements, his mind was already racing.

He helped her dress in his clothes, made her sit, and handed her a glass of water. Every gesture was soft, almost loving. Yet his eyes, dark and sharp, scanned the room, tracing invisible lines between every threat, every weakness.

"Sleep," he said. "Tomorrow, the world starts paying its debts."

She looked at him, trying to read his face - the man she married was gone. What stood there now was colder, quieter, and infinitely more dangerous.

Outside, the lake shimmered faintly under the moonlight - a mirage, beautiful and deadly.

And somewhere between that reflection and silence,

??? V ? A ???

His eyes opened. Adhrita was clinging to him, the soft glow of candles flickering across her calm face. She had been through hell, yet here she was, trusting him completely.

He picked up his phone and saw a text from his mother:

"Sunita called. It seemed you used my name..."

He smirked faintly, typing back:

"I'm sure you can be useful sometime..."

Then he switched apps, opening the camera feed. Sunita Deshmukh appeared on the screen, tied to a wall in the Hall of Fame. Panic etched her face. She cried out to his men, "What's my fault?"

Vritant's gaze sharpened. What was my wife's fault?

He turned slightly, pressing his foot against hers - a small, deliberate touch - grounding himself, reminding himself of what he was protecting.

His fingers moved over his phone again, this time opening the dark-web messenger. He typed a command with precision:

"Jam Mumbai local trains tomorrow morning."

The reply came almost instantly: "Are you sure?"

He tapped the screen without hesitation.

"I don't like to be questioned."

A calm smile played on his lips as he looked at Adhrita sleeping peacefully beside him. One life to protect, one world to punish - and Vritant Vardhan had already begun to orchestrate both.

The calm in his voice belied the storm he had unleashed. Outside, the lake shimmered under the moonlight, a perfect mirror to the man who sat there - part protector, part predator, all Vritant Vardhan.

By morning, the world would have learned a simple truth: cross Vritant Vardhan, and there would be no witnesses.

??? V ? A ???

Early morning, Vritant rose while the first pale light of dawn touched Mriga Trishna. He moved silently, like a shadow in the sprawling house, and opened his encrypted channels.

Within minutes, AI-generated images of Sunita Mami, seemingly badly injured, were sent to Ashish and Samarjeet Deshmukh. Every detail was crafted to perfection - bruises, blood, panic in her eyes.

Along with the pictures, a message appeared:

"Sorry Mamaji... you saved my life, but Ashish touched my Jaan..."

Vritant's lips curled slightly. The panic would spread instantly - confusion, guilt, fear - just the way he wanted.

Almost immediately, a voice note pinged on Samarjeet's phone - seemingly from Sunita's number. Vritant had used the modulation app to mimic her voice perfectly.

"Don't believe anything... I'm safe," the message trembled with fear, every inflection engineered to make Samarjeet hesitate.

Vritant watched silently, fingers tapping the table like a metronome. The truth no longer mattered; perception was the weapon. Good, he thought. Fear, doubt... both will make them dance exactly where I want.

He moved to the small kitchen, moving with quiet precision as he prepared tea and breakfast for her. He soaked the poha, chopped potato and onion with practiced ease, and began cooking. Occasionally, his gaze flicked toward Adhrita, who was watching him with sleepy curiosity.

"You know how to cook?" she asked softly, her voice still heavy with sleep.

He smirked, the corner of his lips twitching.

"You manipulator," she said, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at him. He ducked instinctively, grinning, then poured the tea into a mug.

Adhrita went to the washroom, and when she returned, she found him serving poha on the floor. He set the plate and mug in front of her, and they both sat down. True to form, he began feeding her, gently, attentively.

"I still haven't forgiven you," she said, pouting.

"When will you be wife?wife?" he teased, his eyes dark with amusement.

"Am I not?" she asked, a small challenge in her tone.

"If you were wife?wife, you wouldn't forgive me so easily," he replied, his voice low and teasing.

He leaned closer, feeding her carefully, when she spoke softly, almost trembling:

"You're not loving me," she whispered. "Now... you think I'm not worthy?"

His hand froze mid-air. The spoon slipped from his fingers. Shock, disbelief, and an unfamiliar ache crossed his chest.

"How... how can you say that?" His voice was low, almost broken, as he moved closer to her side.

Gently, almost reverently, he brushed the hair from her shoulder, letting his fingers linger on her skin.

"You think I don't love your landmine... my Hritmine?" he murmured, his lips hovering near her shoulder before he started lightly nibbling the skin around her moles, as if memorizing every mark, every curve.

Adhrita shivered under his touch, a mixture of surprise and longing. His hands were gentle, yet every motion carried a quiet intensity - the kind of intensity that left no doubt where his heart, and his obsession, truly lay.

Adhrita's breath hitched as he trailed kisses and nibbles along her shoulder, mapping the tiny constellations of her moles with a deliberate, possessive precision.

"You... you love me?" she whispered, voice trembling.

He paused, fingers still on her skin, and let his gaze meet hers. There was no hesitation, no doubt. Only a storm - equal parts adoration and fury.

"You can see my love in the mirror," he said with a teasing wink.

Adhrita's laugh rang softly through the quiet halls of Mriga Trishna, warm and light, chasing away some of the lingering shadows.

He chuckled and leaned closer, resuming feeding her with the same careful, deliberate attention, each bite a silent promise: he was hers, and he would never let anything harm her again.

The lake outside shimmered under the early sun, but inside, their small world was filled with laughter, whispered teasing, and a quiet intensity that only they shared.

Poha in one hand, revenge in the other - multitasking, Vardhan style.

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