Vows Of Vengeance

Chapter 26

This chapter is not edited so read at your own risk

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Zaviyar's Pov

The polished mahogany table gleamed beneath the chandelier, its surface a mirror of power and ambition.

The air in the room was heavy, thick with cigar smoke, the sharp scent of whiskey and voices that carried authority.

Men of influence leaned forward in their seats, their words laced with promises, demands, and veiled threats.

Every eye occasionally flickered toward me, waiting for my verdict, my decision, my approval.

I played my role with precision. Answers sharp, commands firm, every syllable weighted and deliberate. A meeting that had taken months to orchestrate and here I was in complete control. Or so it seemed until my phone buzzed.

Her number flashed across the screen. I hadn't saved her number and I never felt the need. Saving it would mean permanence, an admission I wasn’t willing to make. Still, my chest tightened for the briefest moment before I forced my expression back into indifference once again feeling eyes on me.

“ The tender will— ”, I started but was cut off again by the same buzzing of the phone.

The sound cut through their negotiations like a blade pricking at my composure.

I clenched my jaw, trying to drown it out with their voices but it persisted, each vibration echoing louder than the last. I opened my mouth only to be interrupted again.

. From the corner of my eyes, I caught sight of one bald man snicker making me glare at him .

Finally, I gave in. My hand shot forward, snatching the phone off the table. I pressed it to my ear, voice low but laced with steel.

“Stop irritating me. Get lost.”

Before she could even breathe a word, I ended the call. Switched the phone off and shoved it back into my pocket as if by doing so, I could shove her out of existence too.

The room’s noise pressed back in on me, but it felt distant now, muffled. My gaze fell on the phone in my hand, traitorously. And then caught sight of the golden wedding band shining on my ring finger, mocking me with its shine. Fuck.

Suddenly, the polished control I wore like armor cracked.

I raised my hand abruptly, signalling a break and rose from my seat.

The scraping of chairs, the murmurs of confusion, none of it registered as I stepped away from the table to answer a call.

Not only had i broken a rule but also gone against the very teachings of my grandfather.

Never let distractions invade you or affect you or your work.

But i couldn't help it. My mind was elsewhere, already with her and filled with her existence.

I dialed her number again. But this time cold silence greeted me. The line was switched off without even ringing. An ache settled in my chest, heavier with every passing second. She would never keep calling like that unless something was wrong.

“Waqas, wrap up the meeting,” I ordered, already striding to the door but stopped when Waqas's nervous voice reached me.

“But Sir, this meeting was possible after months—”, he said with sheer panic in his voice. And indeed, he was right. I was letting her, the one I claimed to hate invade and disrupt my work. For a nobody like her.

‘But she's your wife.’, somewhere in my conscience the sentence echoed.

Wife! Yeah, right. I had promised myself to never associate myself with her, to treat her like she deserved to be treated.

Like the trash she was, just like her father.

Yet, i couldn't help but be drawn to her. To have this soft spot for her.

“Jitna kha hain, utna karo.” My voice was final and I walked past Waqas making him follow me quickly after instructing everyone about a sudden rise of an emergency.

The night greeted me outside, wind whipping sharp against my face, the sky restless with rolling clouds. A storm was on its way. The village lights flickered in the distance, muted under the weight of the coming rain.

I slid into the car, pulling the door shut with a thud. My fingers worked furiously, dialing her number again and again, each attempt punished with the same response that her phone is switched off. The cars pulled out of the campus of the panchayat.

The unease in my gut turned darker, heavier, twisting like a noose around my chest. I dialed the landline at the house, only to be met with lifeless noise on the other side.

Then the guards, one after another yet all I received is no answer.

The silence screamed louder than any storm. Something was definitely wrong.

A thousand dark possibilities flashed through my mind, each worse than the last. My grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles turned white, the metal uncreased under my hold.

The city outside blurred past, rain beginning to splatter against the windshield, the storm breaking loose at last.

Safiya… just be safe.

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Safiya’s POV

The darkness stretched endlessly into every corner of the room, suffocating and alive.

Each shadow looked like it held eyes, watching me, waiting for me to make one single movement, to let my guard down before it attacked me.

My sobs came in uneven waves, spilling from me uncontrollably, the silence of the house pressing heavier on my chest with every second.

There was no sound, no presence. I was surrounded just by the howl of the wind outside, the deep growl of thunder rolling across the sky and the occasional whip of lightning that clawed its way through the windows.

Another thunderclap cracked, sharper this time, rattling the glass and I squeaked, clutching my arms tightly.

I had squeezed myself into the narrow gap between the shelf and the wall in the living room, knees pulled to my chest. Sitting on the sofa had felt too exposed, too dangerous.

As if at any moment, unseen hands would reach from behind me and drag me away.

At least here, wedged in the dark, I could pretend I was hidden.

Then—BANG!

The deafening noise of fists pounding against the main door tore through the silence. My breath hitched, my body went rigid. And before I could even process it, a slight movement on the staircase caught my eyes. A dark figure shifting in the gloom.

A raw scream ripped out of my throat. “Aaahhhhhh!”

My mind betrayed me, flooding with ghastly images.

Faces which were pale with hollow-eyed, crawling closer.

Ghosts climbing the pillars, the twisted figure from 1920 slithering upward, its head jerking unnaturally.

Ya Allah… mujhe bacha le… (Oh Allah, save me…) My heart raced violently against my ribs.

Aaj aalas mein zuhr ki namaaz nahi padhi thi…

maaf karde Ya Allah! (I skipped my prayer today out of laziness… forgive me, Ya Allah!)

And suddenly I felt a brush on my arm. A faint tickle against my arm.

I gasped sharply, the air tearing my lungs. “Aaahhhhhh!” , a low, muffled scream split the darkness, trembling and broken. My vision blurred with tears as I pressed harder against the wall, sobbing.

Images of ghost after ghost clawed into my mind. The crooked nun from The Conjuring. Jinn with hollow sockets for eyes, whispering my name. My breaths came in short, panicked bursts, each one hurting.

“Mummaa… Baba…” I sobbed, the words tumbling out helplessly. My chest ached, terror burning through me, shaking me until I thought my bones would shatter. I didn’t want to die. Not like this, not tonight. I still had to watch a million dramas, read books pending on my shelf and go ons trip.

I curled tighter, nails digging into my arms, sweat cold against my forehead. The house creaked. Another sound, closer this time. I screamed again, pressing my hands against my ears to block it out. Don’t listen. Don’t listen. Don’t look.

And then — light.

A harsh, sudden brightness flared into closed my vision. For a fleeting second, hope sparked inside me. Maybe the electricity was back. Maybe I wasn’t alone. My heart leapt desperately toward that thought.

But when I blinked, adjusting to it, I saw them. A pair of shoes.

I froze with fright. My breath turned shallow and uneven. My body screamed at me to run but I couldn’t. I shrieked again as cold, wet hands brushed around me, clutching me. Every nerve in my body set ablaze with horror.

“Please… please… don’t kill me… please!” I sobbed, thrashing weakly, trying to push away. “Don’t… pleas—”

“Safiya.”

The voice spokd. It was deep, familiar. Too familiar but i remembered how my mother told me that ghosts call out your name three times and you are not supposed to answer the call.

I cried harder, shaking my head. “No… no… don’t trick me! Don’t—”

“Safiya, mein hoon. Hosh mein aao.” (Safiya, it’s me. Come to your senses.)

The voice thundered, sharp enough to slice through my hysteria. My body jolted, recognition breaking through the fog. And then arms. Warm, solid and firm wrapped around me, pulling me against a chest that wasn’t cold but burning.

I gasped, clutching at the fabric, my sobs muffled against him. His heartbeat thudded against my ear, steady and grounding, dragging me back from the edge of madness.

If it was a ghost, then it was the kindest ghost I’d ever met. A ghost that smelled like cologne and rain. A ghost whose arms caged me like I belonged there.

My fingers gripped him tighter, terrified he might vanish if I let go. His warmth seeped into me, unraveling the terror, replacing it with something just as dangerou. Something that made my chest ache and my breath hitch.

Because in that moment, wrapped in Zaviyar’s arms, trembling against him, fear bled into something else entirely.

Something I couldn’t name.

Something that felt too much like… home.

( Yeh likhte samay mujhe khud dar lagne laga. Ek touh room mein akeli?????? Mere paas touh Zaviyar jesa koi hain bhi nhi jouh mujhe apne baahon mein yu chhupa leh. )

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Zaviyar’s POV

As soon as the convoy of cars rolled into the driveway, an unsettling weight pressed against my chest. My brows drew together instinctively as my eyes scanned the mansion that had always stood as a symbol of wealth and power.

The Khan Mansion was never dark. It was famous for its brilliance, its glow spilling over the horizon like a lighthouse, visible from miles away.

Even during storms or power cuts, the solar-powered generators ensured that the lights never faltered.

The mansion stood for strength, for continuity, for permanence.

But tonight, it was swallowed in pitch blackness.

The sight sent a sharp unease crawling through me.

I stepped out of the car, the gravel crunching beneath my shoes, my jaw tightening as I took in the lifeless silhouette of the estate.

It didn’t even look like a home, only a hulking shadow looming in silence.

The guards around me, sensing my agitation, quickly switched on their torches.

Thin beams of light cut through the darkness, revealing more of what I had already feared.

At the staircase, the men who were supposed to be standing alert, vigilant, prepared for anything werent even there.

Mu guards were instead slumped carelessly.

Bottles of liquor surrounded them, glinting in the torchlight, the stench of alcohol wafting through the air.

One of them attempted to stumble to his feet, his words slurred and broken.

“Sa…sahab… aaap… yaha…”

His voice scraped against my nerves, as unwelcome as the vile stench of liquor that hit me when he leaned forward.

My entire being recoiled. Rage seared through me, so hot that it burned the back of my throat.

These men were entrusted with my home, with the duty of protecting what was mine.

Protecting her in my absence. And they had chosen to drink themselves into uselessness.

‘Shes your responsibility not theirs.’, my conscience spoke but I waved it off.

Before my temper could unleash itself, Waqas shoved the man aside, his disgust matching my own.

I did not spare them another glance because if I did then the white marvel would be painted red and I already had enough work on my hand.

. They were beneath my fury now, unworthy even of my reprimand. My focus was already elsewhere.

The heavy double doors creaked open under my hands, their rattle echoing into the cavernous silence of the mansion. I stepped inside and the world became darker still.

Her name slipped from me in a whisper, almost like a prayer. “Safiya…”

The silence that answered me was unbearable.

The kind of silence that suffocated, that pressed against the ribs until every breath felt like a battle.

I raised the torch from my phone and swept the light across the hallway.

Shadows stretched long across the walls, curling and twisting as though mocking me.

I forced myself to move, my footsteps loud in the emptiness.

Each step brought memories clawing back, dragging me into the past. The smell of dust, the oppressive weight of darkness, the memory of being locked away as a child in rooms without light, screaming until my throat tore, begging for my mother to come.

Nobody came. Eventually, I grew used to it.

I learned to embrace the dark. Learned to love what had once terrified me.

But I knew what it did to those who feared it.

And Safiya, after the days I had spent with her, watching the way her body stiffened at a flicker of the lights, the way her eyes darted anxiously in shadows.

I knew her fear of darkness was real. It wasn’t weakness, it was terror. And I had left her alone in it.

My chest tightened painfully as I called out, louder this time. “Safiya! Where are you?”

The sound of my voice bounced back at me from empty walls. The kitchen was bare. The library was dark. The lounge echoed with my footsteps but no response. Panic coiled tighter around my gut. The mansion, always buzzing with staff was hollow, abandoned as though life itself had drained out of it.

Something cracked beneath my shoe and I stilled. Tilting the light downward, I saw the shattered fragments of a vase scattered across the floor. My heart lurched. Something had happened here. She must have been here.

I spun around, the beam jerking wildly and that was when I saw them.

A pair of small feet, tucked into the shadow between the wall and the shelf.

I moved without thinking, my entire being thrumming with urgency.

And there she was. Safiya. Huddled against the wall, her knees pulled up to her chest, her head buried as if she could will the world away.

Her hands clamped tightly over her ears, shutting out everything, shutting me out too.

Her body shook uncontrollably, tremors running through her as though she were caught in the middle of a storm.

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. She looked so small, so breakable like the faintest touch might shatter her into pieces.

“Safiya…” My voice came out softer than I intended almost unrecognizable even to myself. I crouched down to her level, reaching out with hesitant hands. The moment my fingers brushed her shoulder, she shrieked. A sound so raw, so filled with terror, that it pierced through me like a blade.

“Please… please… don’t kill me… please…” Her words tumbled out between sobs, each syllable soaked in despair. She pushed at me with trembling hands, fighting me with what little strength she had, as if I were the very monster she feared. Maybe I was.

My composure broke. My heart clenched violently and for the first time in years, panic gripped me. I had faced panchayat meetings filled with vultures, enemies with knives drawn, storms of politics and business that could crush dynasties. But nothing, nothing had prepared me for this.

“Safiya, stop… it’s me…” My voice cracked, trembling with desperation. But she shook her head, her sobs wrecking through her. Her hands, trembling while she tried to push me away “Please… please…”

She looked at me as though I were a stranger as though my presence meant danger, not safety.

And I knew in that instant, this was my doing.

I had ignored her. Cut her off. Left her to drown in her fear.

I had abandoned her when she needed me most. And though I had vowed to break her but instead of breaking her, I felt something break within me.

I felt like someone was ripping my heart apart, stabbing me with a dagger every time a choked sob left her throat.

“Safiya, it’s me. Mein hoon! Hosh mein aao.” My words came louder now, breaking through the cage of hysteria she had trapped herself in. Her body stilled for the faintest moment. Her breathing hitched sharply. And then, as though she had nothing left, she collapsed forward.

I caught her before she could hit the ground. My arms wrapped around her instinctively, pressing her against me. She melted into my chest, trembling still but her sobs muffled into my shirt.

“ shh... I'm here now.. ”, I caressed the back of her head.

But I was caught off guard when she suddenly took me in a bone crushing hug, her hands pressing to my back and head buried into my chest. At first, I hesitated whether to hold her or not.

But seeing her trembling form, I tightened my hold, pulling her closer, trying to steady her breathing with the rhythm of my own.

Her small frame fit against me too easily, fragile in a way that made something inside me twist painfully. Safiya, who always met me with fire in her eyes, with stubborn pride in her words, now clung to me as though I was the only thing anchoring her to this world.

Her breaths grew shallower, weaker. Panic surged again as her body sagged, her head lolling against me.

“Safiya… Safiya!” My voice cracked with fear I hadn’t known I was capable of. Without wasting another second, I held her tighter and pulled out my phone.

Waqas picked up instantly. “Sir—”

“I want the lights restored now. And call Dr. Nilind to my wing immediately.” My tone left no room for delay.

“But Sir, how—”

I cut him off before he could finish. I didn’t care about excuses. I cared about the girl in my arms. The girl who happened to be my wife, my responsibility..

Her weight was light against me as I lifted her, too light, as if she hadn’t eaten in days. I carried her carefully, my grip firm as though I could shield her from the darkness itself. Every step was an agony of helplessness.

When I finally laid her down on the sofa, my torchlight fell on her face and for the first time in years, my breath faltered.

Her kajal had smudged into black streaks, her cheeks stained with dried tears.

Sweat clung to her temples and her lips trembled even in unconsciousness.

She looked haunted, exhausted, broken. And all because of me.

Ten minutes later, the mansion blazed back to life. Chandeliers glowed, lamps flickered, the house exhaled into light again. Relief coursed through me but when I looked down at Safiya, it was swallowed by guilt. Her condition wasn’t the darkness’s fault. It was mine.

I gathered her into my arms once more and started up the stairs. Voices broke my focus, Kabir, with his ever-present smirk, trailed by Waqas, pulling his luggage along side.

“Ohoo, bhai… bhabi. Kya romance hai.”, The casual tease in his tone snapped something inside me. My glare was sharp, my voice biting. “Tameez se baat karo.”

I turned her face into my chest, shielding her from their eyes, from their laughter, from their ignorance.

They would not see her like this. She was my wife and I won't let anyone see the vulnerable side she had tried so hard to confide.

Without sparing them another glance I climbed the stairs.

I could tell Waqas and Kabir were shocked, or rather appalled at the PDA but i walked away anyways.

In our room, I kicked the door open and laid her carefully on the bed. I found a damp towel, wiped the streaks from her cheeks, adjusted the AC, and switched on every light until the room glowed warm and steady. I wanted the brightness to cradle her, to remind her she was safe.

For a long while, I sat beside her, watching the tension ease from her features. She looked peaceful now but it was a peace carved from exhaustion, not comfort.

Dr. Nilind arrived, inspected her and reassured me with polite calm. “inka bas pressure thoda low hai. Baaki sab theek hai... ”, he said before turning to me and adding, “ But she has gone through a lot of stress for her to faint. Take care of her. ”

I nodded, dismissing him quickly. His words brought no comfort. My guilt was louder than his reassurance. Later, when the house fell into silence again, I noticed her phone peeking out of her pocket. I pulled it free, set it to charge and watched the screen come alive.

Suddenly my phone started chimming with messages after message and when I checked my phone i couldn't helpt the guilt that clawed within me.

~ Please come home.

~ Please Zaviya ci wasem heom.

~ Plzzs pless.

~ Come home.

~ Even if I was dying?

~ Would you not show up?

The messages never got delivered because her phone had already switched off before it could do.

The words blurred in front of my eyes. I clenched my jaw, my throat burning.

She had begged for me. Pleaded like her life depended on it.

And I had ignored her call. I had shut her out when she needed me most.

The fury I felt at myself was unbearable. My fist slammed into the mahogany table, the crack of impact echoing through the room. I turned back to her, my breathing unsteady.

She stirred slightly in her sleep, her face scrunching as though the nightmares hadn’t let her go.

My hand hovered uncertainly above her but before I could touch her, her fingers shot out and clutched mine.

Her nails dug into my palm, sharp, grounding, painful.

The same nails that had marked me on the day of our nikah.

I will have to cut her nails, they could make anyone blind. But then I looked down at her and my chest ached at the sight of her clinging to me even in her unconscious state. She was holding on to me, even when I had failed her.

I leaned forward, resting my forehead on the edge of the bed.

Exhaustion dragged at me, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her.

I let her keep my hand, her grip binding me to her in a way I couldn’t deny anymore.

As my eyelids grew heavy, guilt wrapped itself around me, suffocating yet inescapable.

And for the first time in years, I fell asleep with regret heavy on my chest, her hand locked in mine.

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Safiya’s POV

I blinked against the harsh brightness filling the room, my lashes fluttering until my eyes finally adjusted.

The light was steady, golden, pouring warmth into every corner, so different from the suffocating darkness I had been trapped in.

For a moment, I thought I was dreaming until my gaze fell on him.

Zaviyar.

He was only a few inches away, his tall frame leaned awkwardly against the chair beside my bed.

His head rested on the edge of the mattress, his face turned toward me, his breaths slow and steady.

A faint snore escaped his lips, so soft I almost thought I had imagined it.

For the first time, I saw him without the weight of authority, without the sharpness of his gaze.

He looked… human. Tired. Almost vulnerable.

But what stole my breath wasn’t his face but our hands. His large palm engulfed mine, his grip iron-like even in sleep. My fingers twitched instinctively, trying to pull away but his hold only tightened as if even in unconsciousness he refused to let go.

My heartbeat stumbled. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

I stared at him, searching any slight movement in his features just then his lashes suddenly lifted.

His dark eyes snapped open, locking on mine with a sharpness that made my lungs seize.

For a long, suspended moment, neither of us moved.

Then, just as quickly, he pulled his hand back as though burned by the intimacy of the gesture.

The absence of his warmth stung far more than I wanted to admit.

I jolted upright, scooting away from him, my heart pounding erratically. And then it all came rushing back. The storm, the power cut, the suffocating silence, my phone calls unanswered, my screams swallowed by the dark. His absence, hiis indifference to my call.

Of course. He had carried me here. He had placed me in his room.

But none of it erased the truth. He hadn’t been there when I needed him most. Rather he had abandoned me like he promised he would do.

And I, being the fragile, vulnerable and weak girl had begged him to come rescue me.

I had expected safety from him, from the man who had reminded me from the very first day that all he would give me in this bond was rejected and hate.

And yet, I had succumbed to his comfort, confided in his arms.

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Author’s POV

Zaviyar rose from the chair, his movements sharp, almost defensive as if trying to cover up the vulnerability she had just witnessed.

He crossed the room swiftly, poured water into a glass and pulled open the drawer at the far end of the cabinet.

From it, he retrieved a small white packet.

Safiya kept staring at him but shut her eyes tightly when she felt a piercing pain in her head.

Without hesitation, Zaviyar tore it open, the fine powder spilling into the glass.

He stirred briskly and then turned back toward her, extending the drink in his hand.

Safiya’s brows knitted together. Her gaze dropped to the packet in his other hand and recognition flickered.

It was a rehydration solution and energy restoration as well.

For a heartbeat, her chest softened. He had thought of this? He had been worried enough to prepare something to steady her? Her hand even lifted halfway, ready to accept it. But then as quickly as the warmth came, it was drowned by the crashing tide of memory.

‘Stop irritating me. Get lost.’

The cruel echo of his words resounded in her head, pulling her back to the suffocating night where she had begged and begged, only to be dismissed like she was nothing. Her hand recoiled sharply and she glanced down at her lap. She, then noticed her trembling hand still shaken.

Zaviyar’s forehead creased, worry etched into his features even as his face remained stoic. But her heart refused to believe it.

‘Why would he worry? He told me to get lost.’, she thought and looked aside refusing to meet his gaze.

.she was tired, tired of these everyday fight.

Tired of trying to make her presence known.

Maybe she was no better than those typical girls in serials because she was trying her best to blend into the environment of the house.

“Here. Drink this,” he said simply, stepping closer, his tone gruff but not unkind. She glanced up and when she finally looked at him ger anger snapped. However she tried to control it and simply shook her head.

“ No need. ”, she said, feeling her throat running dry as she barely got the words out.

He insisted once again and this time with a sharp flick of her wrist, she knocked the glass from his hand.

It crashed to the floor, water spreading across the polished wood, the sound loud and final in the charged silence.

“Stay away from me,” she spat, her voice trembling, low with exhaustion and almost inaudible yet laced with rage and exhaustion. For the first time, Zaviyar faltered. His brows drew tighter, his lips parting in something like disbelief. “Safiya—”

“Don’t.” She cut him off, her voice breaking as she pushed herself to her feet. Her legs were unsteady but she forced them forward, her fury giving her strength. She shouldn't be here, near him or his stuff.

With staggered steps, she closed the distance between them, looking up at him with eyes still glistening from the night’s tears. She shoved at his shoulder, the impact barely moving him but the force of her emotion made up for her weakness.

“Don’t you dare show me concern now, Zaviyar!” Her voice cracked as she shoved him again, this time harder. “Where were you when I was calling you non-stop? When I was begging you? Huh? Tell me!” Her fists balled, her stance but relentless.

Every time he tried to move closer, she pushed him back again, desperation spilling from every hit. Her voice rose, trembling but loud enough to shake him.

“Kahan the tum? Batao, kahan the!”

Before she could strike again with her balled fists, Zaviyar caught her wrists mid-air, his grip firm but not cruel. His jaw was tight, his eyes unreadable but there was something else there now— something that flickered dangerously close to regret and concern.

“Safiya, I was in a meeting. And I got angry because—”, Her laugh cut him off. It was bitter and chocked.

“You are always angry, Zaviyar.” Her voice dropped lower, trembling, stripped of all strength. “From the moment you wake up… until you close your eyes at night. Always angry. Always cold. From the very start”

Her words silenced him. Slowly, with all the strength she could muster, she yanked her wrists free.

The sting of his grip lingered on her skin but she refused to let him see her falter.

Taking a step back, she turned her face away, her chest heaving, as if the room itself was too heavy to stand in anymore.

For the first time her words didn't consist of curses or screams, rather softly spoken words which pierced right through him.

For the longest time, there was only silence between them.

Safiya stood stiff, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, her breaths uneven.

Zaviyar remained where he was, frozen, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

He had no idea what to do. His iron will, his calculated composure, none of it had prepared him for this moment.

Finally, he inhaled sharply and forced the words out.

“I’m sorry.”

The sound was so low, so rough, that it almost didn’t sound like him. He was a man who commanded meetings, who silenced enemies with a look, who never admitted defeat. Yet here he was, the mighty Zaviyar Khan, apologizing and letting his pride stripped bare.

Safiya’s breath hitched but she didn’t look at him. She turned her face away, blinking furiously, refusing to let him see her break.

He took a hesitant step forward, his voice softer this time, almost pleading. “Safiya… I should have answered your call. I should have been here.” He raked a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding into his words.

“I told myself you were just… irritating me, that you were trying to disturb me. I didn’t think—”, he tried to reason but got cut off..

“You never think,” she whispered, her tone sharp, slicing through him. “Not when it comes to me.”, His chest tightened painfully at the truth of it. He had nothing to counter her words. Her eyes finally flickered to him, but they held no warmth, no relief. Only hurt and pain.

“You told me to get lost, Zaviyar. Do you know what that felt like?” Her voice cracked, the memory clawing at her throat. “In the dark… with no one around… I thought I was going to die. And the only person I could call… didn’t want to hear me.”

Her words were daggers, each one embedding itself into him deeper than the last. For the first time in years, Zaviyar felt helplessa.

“Safiya—” He tried again, his voice cracking despite his efforts to keep it steady. “I swear, I didn’t mean—”

But she lifted her hand, cutting him off with a gesture that was final.

“No. Don’t you dare stand there and try to make this better with words.

Words don’t mean anything to you. Not when they’ve already pushed me away i was stupid enough to expect that you'd come.

You were clear since the very first day.

I don't mean anything to you and that I shouldn't expect anything from you. You were eright. ”

She looked away, and was ready to walk past him but suddenly her steps falter. She felt her surroindings hazy and before she could even say anything she felt like she was falling.

Before she would collide face first to the ground, a strong arm shot out and wrapped around her front side of the waist. Her hitched when she felt a strong grip on the sip of her waist. Zaviyar without much effort pulled her towards him and gently set her on the bed.

He held her back with one hand while he arranged the pillows behind her to let her rest.

He quickly popped a pill inside her mouth and urged her to drink the water which she did reluctantly. After a good few minutes she could feel her energy returning and this time she turned to Zaviyar who was sitting opposite her on the edge of the bed.

Safiya’s hands stiffened beneath his touch, her eyes snapping open in disbelief as Zaviyar’s warm fingers gently slid over hers.

She stared at him, shock widening her gaze, but his expression was unrecognizable from the arrogant, cold man she knew.

His eyes were lowered, his voice softer than a whisper, almost trembling, as though he was speaking to something fragile that could break at any moment.

“Please… just listen to me once,” he said, carefully, his tone almost pleading. His thumb brushed against her knuckles, hesitant and uncertain.

Her lips parted, but no words came. The weight of his sudden gentleness felt foreign, alien to her.

“I’m… I’m truly sorry for what I did,” Zaviyar continued, his voice thick with regret. “I shouldn’t have done it, Safiya. I don’t even know what I was thinking.”, Her lashes lowered, shadows flickering across her face. A bitter laugh escaped her lips, short and sharp.

“But you already did, Zaviyar.”, He flinched at her words, as if struck.

“Sorry doesn’t mean anything when you don’t care about me,” she said, her voice steady but her throat tight. “You’re apologizing now, but what about tomorrow? Or next week? If this happens again… what then?”

His jaw clenched, desperation flickering in his eyes. “I won’t let it happen again. Safiya, I—”

She cut him off, shaking her head. “It’s okay, Zaviyar. I won’t expect anything from you anymore. I’ll learn to distance myself. I’ll—”

Before she could finish, his hand shot up, covering her mouth. His palm pressed gently against her lips, halting the cruel words that stabbed at him like knives. Her lips brushed his skin, sending an unexpected shiver down his arm but his expression remained pained.

“Shhh…” his voice cracked with restraint. “You don’t need to do any of that. Don’t push yourself away from me.”

He took a step closer, his grip loosening but when he reached for her hand, she recoiled sharply, stepping back as though his touch burned her.

She turned her face aside, refusing him even the dignity of her eyes.

Guilt would be an understatement, he felt like someone had shot him right in his chest.

“I was being… stupid,” he admitted reluctantly, his pride warring with the truth. His chest rose and fell unevenly as he forced the words out. “But tell me… where the hell was everyone? Where were they when you needed them? They should have been here—protecting you.”

Her lips trembled and for the first time, her voice softened not with affection but with quiet hurt. “I didn’t marry them, Zaviyar. I married you.”

The words silenced him. He had no defense. The air between them grew heavy, dense with unspoken emotions.

“I’ve been… strict with you,” he muttered at last, his gaze falling to the floor as guilt shadowed his face.

“Too strict. I see that now. And for that… I’m sorry.

Safiya, please… please forgive me. I- i thought I could deny this marriage.

.. I could avoid you if I was rude to you.

I didn't want you to have expectations from me. ”

Her chin lifted, her eyes finally meeting his. There was no anger there now, only a calm resolve that was far more frightening.

“Forgiveness isn’t so easy, Zaviyar. I never expected anything from you, I tried not to. I'm not asking anything from you but mutual respect and I shouldn't be the one telling this to you. ”

He swallowed hard, nodding slowly. “I understand. This marriage… it may not be out of love but from now on, I’ll try. I can’t promise you love, not yet but I will promise to try and be a good husband. That much I owe you. ”

Her lips parted, trembling faintly as if her heart wanted to believe him but her mind would not allow it.

“You’re the man I’m supposed to look up to,” she said, her voice a broken whisper. “The first relation I have in this house… and yet…”

Her words trailed away, choked by the storm inside her chest. She almost but her self squre ok the face for behaving so desperate. But, she couldn't think straight. All the fearz, conflict, bottled emotions and expectations which she had veiled inside her heart had surfaced.

Safiya turned sharply, her dupatta brushing past him as she moved toward the door. She didn’t glance back. Her silence was louder than any rejection.

But Zaviyar’s hand caught her wrist gently. “Wait,” he said firmly, though his voice lacked its usual steel. “You don’t have to run away from me. From tonight onwards, you take the bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa. You don’t need to leave this room.”

She froze, her back to him, her breath hitching. After a pause, she whispered bitterly, “I don’t need your sympathy, Zaviyar.”

He stepped closer, desperation creeping back into his tone. “It’s not sympathy… it’s the least I can do. Let me fix what I've broken... give me a chancee. ”

But she pulled her wrist free, her silence deafening.

Her footsteps carried her back toward the bed instead of the door.

Without another word, she climbed onto it, her movements mechanical, her face turned deliberately away.

She pulled the sheet tightly around herself like armor, her back rigid, her breathing uneven.

Zaviyar stood rooted in place, staring at the fragile curve of her body beneath the sheets. He simply stood there, crushed beneath the weight of her rejection.

‘I know I've hurt you but I'll try to mend things, Safiya. ’

_______________________________________

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