Vows Of Vengeance

Chapter 27

This chapter is not edited so read at your own risk

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Author's POV

The silence between them stretched endlessly, pressing down like an invisible weight, thicker than stone walls and colder than the storm that had raged outside only hours ago. Zaviyar moved with slow, deliberate steps toward her side of the bed, his tall shadow looming over the lamplight.

He extended his hand toward the switch, intending to plunge the room into darkness, but before his fingers could brush against it, a smaller, softer hand suddenly caught his wrist.

His head snapped down, surprised and his eyes locked onto hers. Safiya’s gaze was wide, her pupils dilated as if she had acted on impulse without thinking. She shook her head quickly, her lips parting to form a whisper, almost inaudible yet firm enough to stop him in his tracks.

“Nahi karo.”, she said softly looking at the light switch like it would summon demons..

For a long moment, their eyes held each other’s, hers shimmering with a strange vulnerability and his dark with confusion and curiosity. Slowly, reluctantly, he nodded once, wordlessly obeying her unspoken request. The simple act of yielding made his chest tighten.

Safiya snatched her hand back as though burned, retreating beneath the blanket until only the top of her head was visible.

With an almost childlike swiftness, she tugged the sheet higher, covering her face till only her eyes peeked out and then even those disappeared.

It was her shield, her fortress, her way of hiding everything she felt but could not admit.

Exhaling through his nose, Zaviyar turned away.

His long strides carried him to the bathroom where he took a quick shower and then changed into a comfortable pair of sweatpants and tshirt.

Then he walked towards the cabinet across the room, where he pulled out extra bedding with mechanical precision.

As he spread the sheets on the sofa, the soft rustle of fabric was accompanied by another sound.

.. a faint shuffle. He glanced over his shoulder.

Safiya was tossing restlessly beneath her covers, shifting from one side to the other as though the mattress itself had turned against her.

And then it came.

A small, unmistakable sound of her stomach rumbling.

Zaviyar straightened slowly, his brows knitting together as his gaze fixed on her. Safiya’s face peeked out again, and when she realized he had heard it, a furious blush crept across her cheeks. She looked away instantly, clutching the blanket tighter as if it could swallow her whole.

His voice, low and controlled, broke the silence.

“Tumne… khana nahi khaya abhi tak?”

There was a sharp edge of disbelief in his tone and though he tried to hide it, she could almost hear the faint gasp beneath his words.

Safiya fumbled, her lips stuttering over excuses. “N-no… khayi thi sandwich aur… biscuits—”

His head tilted, his jaw tightening. “Kab?”

Her throat bobbed, her voice dropping to a small, guilty whisper. “Afternoon mein.”

For a heartbeat, he said nothing. His eyes searched hers, and in them she saw a storm far different from the ones she was used to. A storm of concern, frustration, and something he himself didn’t yet understand. Finally, he spoke, his voice softer but carrying an authority that brooked no argument.

“Utho. I’ll bring dinner.” He paused, his gaze sweeping over her stiff posture, the suit she still wore, her hair messy from restlessness.

His words came gentler this time, almost hesitant.

“Aur tum… you should go and change into something comfortable. Mere saamne hamesha suit pehenne ki zarurat nahi.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, suspicion flickering across her features. “Don’t look at me like that,” she said quickly, her tone defensive.

His lips pressed together and for once, Zaviyar Khan looked almost… awkward. He shook his head and clarified, “I don’t mean it like that. I mean… wear what makes you comfortable, Safiya. Not for me. For yourself.”

Her fingers tightened on the blanket, twisting the fabric. “Nahi, woh—”

He cut her off with a small huff, his voice carrying a rare hint of playfulness that startled even him.

“Ammi, Abbu, Khwaish aur Kabir ne agar dekh liya na ki unki pyaari Safiya dubli-patli ho gayi hai, toh mera khana band karwa denge. Aur mujhe pata hai woh log mere khilaf khade hone mein ek pal nahi lagayenge. Isiliye bol raha hoon—betho, I’ll bring dinner. ”

And that’s when her gaze finally lingered on him.

He had changed into a pair of grey sweatpants that sat comfortably on his frame, paired with a loose T-shirt that stripped him of the intimidating aura of Zaviyar Khan, the brooding heir of the Khan empire she knew too well.

Instead, he looke ordinary, human, almost achingly simple.

Droplets still clung to his damp hair, a few strands falling over his forehead, forming a dark curtain that made him look younger, softer and adorably cute, in a way that unsettled her chest. For a fleeting moment, she almost forgot the distance and the battles between them, her heart betraying her with the urge to memorize this gentler version of him.

Her lips parted, stunned by the strange mixture of jest and sincerity in his tone. She didn’t even get the chance to reply before he turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

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The kitchen was quiet when he entered, and for a moment, Zaviyar simply stood there, staring at the gleaming steel pots and dishes arranged neatly on the counters.

His hands, accustomed to contracts, weapons, and power, looked oddly out of place hovering over ladles and pans.

Yet something inside him urged him forward.

He lifted the cooker lid, releasing a fragrant cloud of steam and carefully scooped rice into a china bowl.

His callous hand covering the bowl completely.

After fiddling around a bit he finally arranged everything neatly on a tray.

For a man like him, this should have been beneath his dignity because it was strictly taught to him that men shouldn't be in the kitchen, that it was laughable even but tonight, it felt like the most necessary thing in the world.

Unaware of him, a person from behind the pillar looked shocked and quickly pulled out their phone to record the rare occurrence.

Balancing the tray, he returned upstairs. The sight that greeted him made him falter mid-step.

Safiya was no longer wrapped tightly in her suffocating suit.

She now sat on the bed, her knees drawn up slightly, clad in a loose T-shirt that slipped gently off one shoulder and fell long enough to brush past her ankles.

It was simple, modest, unassuming and yet the way it framed her soft curves and delicate frame made his throat tighten.

Her long hair cascaded forward like a curtain, shielding her face as she nervously fidgeted with her bare feet, her toes curling against the sheet.

For one fleeting second, Zaviyar forgot the tray in his hands, forgot even to breathe. It was the first time he had noticed a side of her which was raw, fresh and unguarded.

Safiya noticed him and startled, quickly straightening and brushing her hair behind her ear as though guilty of being caught in such vulnerability.

He forced himself to move again, setting the tray down on the center table near the sofa with deliberate care.

But as he turned to approach her, his gaze dropped and froze.

Her foot, a glint caught his eye under the lamplight. A shard of glass embedded near the soft arch of her sole. A sharp breath escaped him, unbidden.

“Safiya…” His voice was hushed, urgent. “Tumhe… chot lagi hai.”

Before she could react, he crouched in front of her, his tall frame folding down effortlessly. His hands reached for her foot, but she jerked it back, alarm flashing in her eyes.

“No, no, it’s alright,” she rushed out, her words stumbling over each other. “You d-don’t need to do it.”

His hand, strong yet gentle, caught her ankle before she could retreat completely. His eyes rose to meet hers, steady and unyielding, his voice low but carrying a weight that silenced her protest.

“Stop, Safiya. Don’t tell me what I do or don’t need to do. You’re hurt. And I will take care of it.”

She swallowed hard, her chest tightening under the intensity of his gaze. Her lips trembled, caught between defiance and something far more dangerous.... trust!

For the first time since she had entered this house, she didn’t know whether to resist his touc or surrender to it.

Zaviyar’s fingers curled gently but firmly around her ankle, the warmth of his skin seeping into hers. Safiya froze, her breath hitching. The instinct to pull away was strong but the weight in his eyes dark, unblinking, unrelenting held her in place.

Why is he looking at me like that? she thought, her heart thudding wildly in her chest. As if my pain matters to him. As if I matter.

“No, really… it’s nothing,” she whispered, her voice shaky, more plea than protest.

Zaviyar’s jaw tightened. His thumb brushed lightly against her ankle, a touch so careful it contradicted the sheer strength in his grip. “Nothing? Safiya, you have a shard of glass lodged in your foot. That’s not nothing.”

He reached for her foot again, and she flinched, biting her lip.

“You don’t have to do this,” she murmured, her voice small, almost breaking. ‘If I let him… if I let him this close, what will it mean?’

Zaviyar exhaled slowly, his breath fanning across her skin. His voice dropped to something softer, steadier, almost coaxing. “I know I don’t have to. But I want to. Let me.”

For a long, silent moment, her eyes met his. Something in the way he said it. the uncharacteristic tenderness, the stripped-down honesty made her resistance crumble. Her foot, tense and curled back, relaxed slightly in his hold.

Taking that as silent permission, Zaviyar shifted closer. His large frame nearly engulfed her as he bent down, inspecting the small wound. The shard of glass glistened under the lamplight, tiny but cruel. His chest tightened.

How careless have I been? he berated himself. She lives under my roof, my responsibility and here she is, bleeding, hiding her pain, starving herself. And I didn’t even notice. No matter hai kuch he hated her, she deserved to be atleast treated with respect but he was blinded by rage and the past.

Carefully, he reached out, his fingertips brushing against the delicate arch of her foot. Safiya gasped, her fingers clutching the sheets tightly. Heat shot up her leg, not entirely from the pain. She bit her lower lip hard, trying to keep her composure.

Why… why does his touch feel like this? It’s just him tending to a wound. That’s all it is. Then why does it feel like he’s touching something deeper than my skin?

Zaviyar worked in silence, his brows furrowed, his breath shallow. With practiced precision, he pinched the shard and pulled it free in one swift motion. Safiya let out a small cry, her hand shooting to cover her mouth.

Unbeknownst to him, he started blowing at her foot like it would erase the pain making her shiver.

She bit her lip trying to suppress the scream that almost left her mouth.

“Easy… easy,” he murmured, his thumb stroking her ankle absentmindedly, as if to soothe her.

“It’s out. Just one more moment.”, Zaviyar noticed how his own hand was shaking for a moment while pulling the shard.

He who had pulled out a bullet from his own arm at the age of 25 but today he suddenly started feeling the piercing pain of a glass slicing through the skin.

He reached for the water jug on the tray and poured some into his palm, rinsing the small cut. The cool liquid made her shiver. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to flinch, but when she opened them again, she found his gaze fixed on her face instead of the wound.

Their eyes locked and neither looked away.

Zaviyar’s inner voice screamed at him. Don’t.

Don’t look at her like this. Don’t let her see how much you want to keep her safe, how much you want to undo every harsh word you’ve ever spoken.

But he couldn’t stop. She looked fragile, breakable, yet there was a stubborn strength in the way she held her chin high despite the pain. It made his chest ache.

“Does it hurt much?” he asked quietly, his tone carrying a gentleness she had never known from him.

Safiya’s lips parted. “Not… not anymore.” At least, not the wound. It’s something else that’s hurting now. Something I can’t name.

He reached for the bandage from the drawer nearby, folding it with meticulous care before pressing it lightly against the cut.

Then he bound it gently, his long fingers surprisingly deft.

When he was done, he held her foot for just a second longer, reluctant to let go, as if the contact itself tethered him to something he wasn’t ready to release.

Finally, he placed her foot back on the bed, almost reverently. He straightened, their faces now at level, closer than they had been in weeks. The lamplight painted shadows across his sharp jaw, his dark eyes softer than she had ever seen them.

“You should have told me you were hurt,” he said, his voice rough with restrained emotion.

Her throat worked. “And since when do you care, Zaviyar?”

The words came out sharper than she intended but her voice trembled, betraying her.

His lips pressed into a line. For once, he didn’t react with anger or cold dismissal. He simply looked at her, his silence heavy, his eyes speaking what his pride couldn’t. Finally, he said, “Since I realized what it means to almost lose you without even knowing it.”

Her breath caught. The sincerity in his tone was undeniable, dangerous. She turned her face away, unable to bear the intensity.

Zaviyar leaned back, pulling the tray closer. “Enough for tonight. You’re eating.” He slid the plate toward her, his movements deliberate. “and this time, you won’t argue.”

Safiya blinked, startled. “I’m not hungry—”

“Safiya.” His voice was low, firm but not harsh. It was a plea disguised as command. “Don’t starve yourself. Not in front of me.”

She hesitated, her fingers twisting in her lap. He picked up the spoon, scooped a portion of rice and curry and extended it toward her.

Her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” His tone was matter-of-fact but his eyes betrayed the nervous flicker beneath. “I’m feeding my wife.”

Her breath hitched again. “Zaviyar, I can eat myself—”, she looked shaken seeing her husband holding out the spoon for her like a mother duck. His callous hand holding the spoon, his eyes zeroed on her made her fidget in nervousness.

“I know you can,” he cut in softly. “But tonight… let me.”

The spoon hovered between them, steam curling up gently. For a long, tense moment, she stared at him, at the man who had always been stone and steel now sitting before her with a tray of food, waiting patiently. Her chest tightened painfully.

Finally, with trembling hesitation, she leaned forward and accepted the bite. Their eyes never broke contact.

And in that silent exchange, something unspoken passed between them... something fragile, dangerous, and impossibly new.

The first spoonful lingered between them longer than it should have. Safiya chewed slowly, every movement deliberate, as though stalling the inevitable. Zaviyar’s gaze didn’t waver. It was unwavering, fixed, almost reverent, like every small act of hers was suddenly something sacred.

“ Did you eat? ”, she asked to which he nodded hesitantly. She knew he was lying so she pulled the spoon from his hand, scooped up some rice for him to eat but didn't look at him, feeling her cheeks redden somewhat at the intimate gesture.

She thought he would deny but was shocked when she saw him lean down and eat the spoonful, “ Subah se kuch nhi khaya tha ”, he said scratching his neck making the corner of her lips curl into a ghostly smile which she tried hard to mask.

And after a few minutes they were eating alternative bites sharing the same platform and the same spoon. But Safiya suddenly felt like everything was going too easy. She was growing closer to him and he didn't even realise or repent for his mistake.

“See?” he murmured, his lips curving ever so slightly. “Not so difficult.”

Her eyes flicked up at him, a quick glare to mask the storm inside her chest. “Don’t act like this is some sort of achievement. Feeding me doesn’t change anything, Zaviyar.”

Then why does it feel like it changes everything? she thought, her fingers curling into the blanket on her lap.

He ignored her protest and scooped another spoonful, holding it out steadily. His hand didn’t tremble, but his heart did. Will she push me away again? Will she finally let me in?

Safiya hesitated, the weight of his patience heavier than any command.

Finally, she leaned forward again, her lips brushing the edge of the spoon as she took the bite.

His breath faltered. Watching her like this, vulnerable, trusting him despite herself was undoing him in ways he hadn’t prepared for.

“I could’ve done it myself,” she whispered after swallowing, her eyes lowered.

“I know,” he said simply, almost too gently. “But let me do this for you, Safiya. For once… just let me.”

Her throat tightened. She wanted to snap back, to tell him that he didn’t have the right, that kindness now couldn’t erase the hurt before. But the earnestness in his tone.. so rare, so raw robbed her of words.

He fed her again, then again, the silence between each spoonful filled with the sound of her breath, his breath and the faint clink of metal against porcelain. Each bite felt heavier, charged, as if more than food was being passed between them.

Finally, unable to bear it, she asked, “Why are you doing this, Zaviyar? Why now?”

The question hung in the air like smoke.

He set the spoon down, his dark eyes locking on hers.

His voice, when it came, was low, unsteady, as though dragged out from a place he’d kept hidden.

“Because I’ve been blind. Because I’ve been cruel.

Because I’ve hurt you more than I ever meant to.

And tonight, seeing you like this… it scared me, Safiya. It scared me more than I can admit.”

Her chest constricted, her pulse loud in her ears. He… he’s admitting it?

She swallowed hard, forcing steadiness into her tone. “You think one apology and a few spoonfuls of rice will erase everything?”

He leaned forward, his hand unconsciously reaching out, pausing inches away from hers. “No. Nothing can erase it. And I don’t expect forgiveness tonight… maybe not ever. But let me at least try to take care of you now. Let me try to be the man I should’ve been from the start.”

Her breath hitched, her heart screaming against her carefully built walls. ‘Don’t believe him. Don’t melt. He’s Zaviyar. The man who left you alone, who shut you out, who made you feel unwanted.’

But another voice whispered inside her, softer, traitorous. And yet, look at him now. Look at how his eyes tremble when they meet yours. Look at how his hands, so capable of power and command, are trembling only because they’re afraid to lose you.

Safiya turned her face away, blinking rapidly to fight the sting in her eyes. “You should’ve thought of that before, Zaviyar.”

He nodded slowly, accepting the blow, though it cut deeper than he showed. “I know.” His voice cracked at the edges. “But I’m thinking of it now. And I can’t stop.”

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until finally, she dared to glance back at him. Their gazes collided, burning, unflinching as both of them fought the demons from within.

For a moment, it felt as though the world shrank down to just them. The tray of food was forgotten, the room dim, the air heavy with something fragile and dangerous.

Zaviyar spoke first, almost in a whisper. “Tell me you don’t feel this, Safiya. Tell me this—” his hand brushed against hers lightly, testing, trembling “—means nothing to you, and I’ll stop. I’ll never touch the subject again.”

Her fingers twitched under his but she didn’t move away. She couldn’t move away, like something was binding her close. Her lips parted but no words came. What do I even say? That I don’t feel it? That I don’t feel this storm inside me every time he’s close?

Her silence was its own confession.

Zaviyar’s eyes darkened, his breath uneven. He didn’t push further, didn’t claim what wasn’t his. Instead, he picked up the spoon again, his voice steadier this time. “Eat, Safiya. Just eat. We’ll talk about the rest later.”

Her heart ached at his restraint. She opened her mouth for the next bite, and as he fed her again, she realized this wasn’t just dinner. It was a truce. A fragile, dangerous, beautiful truce, stitched together with spoonfuls of food and unspoken feelings.

The last bite slid past her lips but she didn’t notice the taste anymore.

The food had long turned into something else.

Like thread binding them in a fragile, wordless truce.

Zaviyar set the empty bowl back onto the tray with careful hands as though afraid even the sound of porcelain clinking would shatter the moment.

Without speaking, he picked up the jug and poured water into a glass. The steady trickle was the only sound in the room. He held it out to her but she didn’t take it immediately. Her gaze flickered from the glass to his face, searching, questioning.

“Drink,” he said softly, almost like a plea rather than an instruction. “You’ll feel better.”

She hesitated, then reached out, her fingers brushing his in the process. The contact was fleeting, accidental, but it made her pulse stumble. She sipped slowly, trying to calm the storm in her chest but when she lowered the glass, he was still watching her.. too intently, too adoringly.

“What?” she asked, her voice sharper than intended.

Zaviyar blinked, startled, and looked away for the first time that night. “Nothing,” he muttered. “I just… I was making sure you’re okay.”

Why now? she wanted to scream. Why tonight? Why after everything? Instead, she only tightened her grip on the blanket and turned her face away.

But he couldn’t stop watching her. The way her hair had fallen into soft waves around her face, the way her lashes trembled when she blinked too quickly, the way her lips pressed together when she was holding back words.

She was beautiful... not in the way people described beauty but in the way that beauty made his chest hurt.

He wanted to say it. To tell her. But he knew he hadn’t earned the right. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Instead, he stood and picked up the tray, setting it aside. When he turned back, she was still awake, still pretending not to notice him. He moved closer, almost on instinct, pulling the edge of the blanket higher over her shoulder like a shield.

Her eyes widened, startled but she didn’t push his hand away.

“You’ll catch a cold,” he said, his voice rough, betraying more than he intended.

She swallowed, her throat dry. “You don’t have to—”

“I know,” he interrupted quietly. “I don’t have to. But I want to.”

For a second, neither of them breathed.

Safiya’s chest rose and fell rapidly under the blanket, her mind at war with itself. Don’t soften. Don’t give him that satisfaction. He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t...

But her heart whispered something else entirely. He’s trying to be the better person. For once, he’s truly trying.

She closed her eyes tightly, shutting him out, shutting herself out. “Go to sleep, Zaviyar. Please.”

His lips pressed into a thin line but he nodded. He stepped back, letting the silence reclaim the room. For once, he didn’t argue or push forward his commands or wishes.

Instead, he walked to the sofa, dragging his tall frame down onto it heavily.

The cushions groaned under his weight, far too small to hold him comfortably.

He didn’t care. His eyes wandered back to her.

Her body curled up on the bed, her face half-hidden beneath the blanket, her breaths uneven like she was still holding back tears.

His chest tightened at his gaze focussed on her. He wanted to cross the distance, to kneel by her side, to beg until she finally looked at him. But he didn’t move. He stayed, at a distance away that felt like miles.

For the first time in his life, Zaviyar Khan chose silence over power, restraint over demand and her comfort over his pride.

The room darkened only a littlewhen he switched off the lamp on his side but his gaze didn’t leave her. Not once. Even as exhaustion tugged at his body, even as his limbs protested against the sofa, he lay there quietly, watching her from across the room.

She’s right there, he thought bitterly. A few feet away. My wife. And yet… it feels like she’s a thousand miles from me.

Safiya, with her eyes shut tight, could feel it. His gaze, his presence, his silence. She told herself not to care, not to think, not to feel. But the thought slipped in anyway. He’s not leaving. He’s not turning away. He’s here.

Her chest ached at the unfamiliar truth.

And so they drifted into the long, heavy night with her on the bed, him on the sofa. Only a few feet apart. Yet worlds away.

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The Next Morning

Sunlight streamed into the room, soft golden rays falling across Safiya’s face. She blinked awake slowly, her body heavy from exhaustion, her throat still raw from crying. For a moment, she forgot where she was. She reached out instinctively to the other sofa only to find it empty.

Her heart lurched violently. Panic clawed up her chest as flashes from the previous night stormed her mind. The darkness, the noises, the suffocating fear. Her breaths quickened as she sat up abruptly, eyes darting around the room.

“Zaviyar?” Her voice cracked, fragile and echoed only to be greeted with silence.

Her chest constricted painfully as she threw the sheets aside and hurried to the wardrobe.

She brushed her teeth and pulled out a fresh kurta, her trembling fingers fumbling with the buttons.

She needed to move. She needed to see him.

She couldn’t stand the thought of being alone again.

When she finally opened the bedroom door, the sound of raised voices met her ears. She froze at the top of the staircase, her heart thudding, before slowly descending the steps.

And then she saw him. Zaviyar stood in the middle of the grand hall, his towering presence almost monstrous in its fury.

His sharp voice reverberated through the air as he lashed into the staff.

The guards and the staff stood in a line, heads bowed in shame, while the household servants trembled at the edges.

Broken glass and overturned chairs were evidence of his rage.

“You were drinking while my wife was inside this house alone?!” His voice was thunder, his eyes burning. “The landline was dead. The house was dark. Where the hell were you all?”

One of the guards stammered, “S-sahab… hum… galti ho gayi—”

“Galti?” Zaviyar roared, taking a menacing step forward. The guard flinched. “If anything had happened to her last night… I would have buried every single one of you alive.”

The hall fell into a suffocating silence, so still that not even a breath dared to break it. Every servant stood frozen in place, their eyes lowered, their bodies rigid with fear. From the staircase, Safiya clutched the railing, her heartbeat hammering against her ribs as her gaze locked onto him.

Zaviyar Khan stood in the center of the room like a storm contained in human for.

His jaw clenched, his veins straining against his neck, his shoulders rigid as if the sheer weight of his anger could crush anyone who came too close.

His presence was overwhelming, his fury a living thing that made the air thick.

Yet beneath the terrifying rage, she saw it.

Something most would miss. The guilt flickering in his eyes.

The desperation buried deep under his harshness.

He wasn’t angry because of defiancs or furious because someone had disobeyed him.

He was furious because his wife been left unprotected.

Her throat tightened, her heart betraying her with a twist of pain. The bitterness of his past betrayals still clung to her chest like chains, yet a shiver traced down her spine at the realization. This time, his wrath wasn’t against her rather iy was for her.

She saw him move, his steps slow but deadly, like a predator closing in.

The sight made her breath hitch. The veins in his neck strained as he raised his hand and before she could think, her feet moved on their own.

In a rush of courage or perhaps weakness, she descended the last few steps and crossed the hall in quick strides.

Her fingers wrapped around his arm before her mind even caught up with her body.

His head snapped toward her instantly, eyes blazing at whoever had dared to stop him but then…

they softened. The fire extinguished, dimmed, melted into something else the moment his gaze fell on her delicate hand resting against his bicep.

For a second, he simply stared at the touch, as though it had anchored him back from the edge.

His chest rose and fell in a deep breath, an attempt to leash the beast inside him.

“Leave.” His voice was sharp, commanding, echoing through the hall. The staff scattered immediately, bowing their heads in relief. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added more calmly, “Serve the breakfast.”

When the last of the servants disappeared, the silence returned, heavy but different now.

Zaviyar’s fingers wrapped around her wrist, firm yet not forceful and without giving her a chance to protest, he tugged her toward the long dining table.

She stumbled slightly but followed, her pulse thrumming with confusion at his sudden gentleness.

Instead of taking his usual seat at the head of the table, he guided her into it, pressing her down into the cushioned chair with a subtle insistence.

She blinked, startled at his actions. That was his chair, his throne of dominance.

She wanted to ask why but his unreadable expression made her bite the words back.

It wasn’t until the maids entered with trays that she realized how unusual and out of practice this all is.

Their eyes flickered to her, startled, whispering silently with their stares.

Heat rushed to her cheeks, her skin prickling under their scrutiny.

What was he doing? Why was he seating her there?

Zaviyar, unfazed by the awkwardness, moved with an ease that made her chest tighten further.

Without summoning a servant, without hesitation, he reached for the silver platter and placed warm chapattis onto her plate.

He ladled curry next, his movements oddly careful, almost domestic, before filling a glass of water and sliding it toward her.

Her breath caught at the sight of Zaviyar Khan. The man who commanded empires and instilled fear with a glance, serving her breakfast like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And though she lowered her gaze quickly, cheeks flushed, she couldn’t hide the way her heart betrayed her, trembling at the smallest taste of a tenderness she had never expected from him.

She hated her traitorous heart but started eating while he gestured for her to eat. Without any protest, she picked up her fork and lowered her eyes to her plate. The silence of the dining room pressed around them, broken only by the clink of cutlery and the faint hum of the ceiling fan.

Yet, no matter how she tried to focus on the food, she could feel the weight of a gaze burning into her skin. From the corner of her eye, she caught him watching her intently.

“Eat, Mr. Khan.” The words slipped out before she could stop herself, light but edged with nervousness.

His brow arched at the honorific, lips twitching into the faintest smirk. “Mr. Khan?” His tone carried a low amusement, teasing, as though he was savoring the sound of it.

She quickly dropped her gaze, pretending to busy herself with the curry. But the moment her eyes fell on it... okra and capsicum, her fork paused. He hated this dish and she maybe instructed the cooks to make exactly that but now she kind of regretted it.

Before her mind could catch up, her voice betrayed her heart. “Zaviyar ke liye ek egg toast kardo.” (Make an egg toast for Zaviyar.)

The air shifted around them making him look up at her. The maid nodded and left but Zaviyar didn’t speak. He just leaned back, studying her with unreadable eyes. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost intimate.

“You remembered.”

Her breath caught in her throat as dhe gripped her fork tighter, forcing her tone to sound indifferent. “It’s not that hard to remember someone’s dislikes.”

His smirk deepened, though his eyes softened in a way that made her stomach twist. “No. But it’s harder to care enough to act on them.”

Her heart skipped at his words yet again making her roll her eyes. She stabbed at her food, feigning nonchalancebut her ears burned. Why does he always notice the things I don’t want him to?

He lifted his glass, tilting it slowly, watching her over the rim. Then, with mock seriousness, he said, “Why does it seem like, it was you who instructed the cooks to make okra today. ”

Her head snapped up, startled. He was smirking faintly, eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of catching her off guard.

“No, I didn't,” she said flatly, though the corner of her lips betrayed her, twitching against her will.He chuckled under his breath, the sound low and rich, sending a shiver down her spine.

“So now my meals depend on your mood?”

Her gaze finally met his, steady despite the storm in her chest. “Yes, you'll eat what I want you to. ”

For a moment, silence. But it wasn’t empty—it was charged, alive, the kind of silence where every unsaid word pressed close between them.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table, his eyes never leaving hers. “Then I should make sure you’re always… pleased.”

Her breath hitched. Heat rushed to her cheeks and she quickly looked away, pretending to be entirely focused on her plate. But her traitorous mind whispered, he’s flirting. And worse she didn’t hate it.

Across from her, Zaviyar allowed himself the faintest smile. Watching her avoid his gaze, watching the way her fingers fumbled with the fork. he knew she felt it too, the pull, the tension. The invisible thread neither of them dared to name.

The maid returned with his toast, breaking the spell for a moment. He accepted the plate but his eyes lingered on Safiya. He didn’t touch the food right away. Instead, he said casually, as though it didn’t matter, “This… tastes better when you order it for me.”

Her hand froze mid-motion. She didn’t look at him but her chest tightened, betraying her.

“Stop talking nonsense,” she muttered but the softness in her tone ruined the sharpness of her words. He only smiled, finally taking a bite of the toast as if he had won a small, secret victory.

And though she tried to ignore it, her heart betrayed her again beating too fast, too loud, too hopeful.

Dinner ended in a silence that was anything but silent.

She pushed her chair back, gathering her composure, refusing to let him see how her pulse was still racing.

“I’m done,” she murmured, wiping her hands, her tone clipped and polite.

He leaned back leisurely, still finishing his toast, his eyes following her every movement.

She stood, ready to leave the dining hall, desperate to escape the intensity of his gaze.

But just as she stepped past his chair, his hand moved.

Her breath hitched, when his fingers gently wrapped around her.

She didn’t turn immediately, afraid her eyes would betray her.

“What is it?” she asked, voice steadier than she felt.

He rose slowly, his height casting a shadow over her smaller frame.

His hand slid away from her wrist, respectful, yet leaving behind a ghost of warmth.

“You didn’t eat enough,” he said softly, almost like a scolding, but gentler than she had ever heard from him. “A few bites aren’t dinner.”, She frowned, refusing to look up at him. “I’m not hungry.”

“Liar.” His voice was low, teasing now, with that edge of smug certainty that always disarmed her.

Finally, she glanced up, ready to snap back, but his eyes caught hers.

He stood too close for her liking and it made her nervous.

Her lips parted but no words came. Her heart betrayed her again, racing like it wanted to leap into his chest.

Zaviyar tilted his head slightly, studying her as though searching for something beneath her stubborn exterior. Then, with the faintest smirk, he leaned down just enough for his words to brush her ears.

“Next time… eat properly. Otherwise, I’ll have to feed you myself.”

Her eyes widened, and she instantly stepped back, breaking the tension. “Don’t you dare,” she hissed, though the heat in her cheeks gave her away.

He only chuckled, low and amused, clearly enjoying her fluster. He moved back to his chair, picking up his glass with deliberate ease as though the moment hadn’t just left her heart in chaos.

Safiya turned quickly, forcing her steps toward the door. But even as she walked away, she felt his gaze following her like a touch she couldn’t shake off. And deep down, though she hated herself for it, she knew… she didn’t want to.

_______________________________________

I apologise for the late update. I've been struggling with Wattpad to update these.

Everytime I try to publish the chapters.

They dont let me. ????? It's such a struggle.

Not to mention it doesn't open in laptops as well.

Also, she has not forgiven him. Yes, she might have considered it but she has not forgiven him yet.

If you’ve got any queries, feel free to DM me on Instagram at @arnoirverse

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