The morning sunlight crept through the sheer curtains, painting soft gold over the charcoal walls. But there was no warmth in it—not for Aira.

She lay in bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling like it held answers. But all it held were the ghosts of last night—his voice, his nearness, the threat wrapped in desire.

Her chest was tight. The memory of his whisper still clung to her skin like silk turned to chains.

After a while, she forced herself to rise. Her body was stiff, as though her dreams had been wars. She stepped into the bathroom, letting the hot water run over her like a silent prayer. Steam fogged the mirror. Still, she couldn't meet her own reflection.

Wrapped in soft beige lounge pants and a loose cotton tee that hugged her curves gently, she padded barefoot toward the dining room.

But peace was the last thing waiting for her.

Karan was already there—black shirt unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled, coffee in hand like sin incarnate. His gaze was unreadable, sharp like a knife hidden in velvet.

“You’re late,” he said coldly, not even glancing her way.

Aira stiffened. “I was tired… so I slept a little more.”

He turned slowly, finally meeting her gaze.
“From tomorrow, that won’t happen again.”

His voice was flat—lethal in its calm.

“I’ve dismissed the maids,” he added casually. “You’ll be handling all the housework now. Including my breakfast.”

Aira blinked. “What?”

He stepped closer, voice still like ice slicing through air.

“I follow a specific diet based on a chart. It’s on the fridge. You’ll prepare food according to it. No mistakes.”

His eyes locked with hers—unflinching. “Mistakes have consequences.”

She stood frozen, his words spinning like blades inside her head. Her hands trembled, but she forced her voice out.

“Why did you fire the maids? I’m here to stay, not serve you like a—”

Before she could finish, he was out of his chair and in front of her.

In one swift movement, he grabbed her wrist, yanking her forward until her body slammed against his chest.

Aira gasped, pain blooming where his fingers dug into her flesh.

“I told you,” Karan hissed, his tone low and deadly, “you don’t get to talk back.”

He held her like she was something he owned—his hand gripping her wrist, his other palm cupping her jaw, angling her face up to his.

“You don’t ask questions. You don’t argue. You do as I say. Or else the consequences…” he leaned in, his breath brushing her lips, “...will be worse than anything your little imagination can handle.”

Aira’s throat bobbed as she swallowed the lump that threatened to choke her. Her eyes shimmered, but she refused to cry.
Refused to give him the satisfaction.

He stared her down, breathing shallow.

“Do you understand me?” he growled.

She gave a slight nod, lips trembling.

Karan’s grip on her jaw tightened. “Words, sweetheart.”

Her voice came out strained, quiet. “Yes.”

“Good.”

He let go abruptly, like she burned him. Aira stumbled back, skin tingling where he’d touched her.

“For today,” he said, adjusting the cuff of his shirt like nothing happened, “have the prepared breakfast. Maya will walk you through your duties. Starting tomorrow, your work. Understood?”

Aira lowered her gaze, swallowing hard.
“Yes,” she said, barely above a whisper.
Karan left for his work, leaving Aira stumbled.

🥀🥀🥀

The day dragged on under the heavy, watchful silence of Karan's apartment.

After the harsh morning encounter, Aira barely had time to breathe. Maya, always calm but firm, guided her through every detail she needed to know—from the kitchen’s arrangement to Karan’s precise meal preferences, from the garden’s upkeep to how he liked his office kept when he worked from home.

By the time the clock struck four, Aira’s head spun.

She escaped to her room, limbs aching from exhaustion—not just physical, but emotional. Her fingers clutched the edge of the bed, eyes flicking to the faint photograph of her mother she kept tucked inside her drawer. A storm churned inside her chest.

I haven’t even seen her since I got here.

She couldn’t bear it anymore. With her work for the day done and the weight of her emotions boiling over, Aira stood, heading to the wardrobe.

She slipped into a white floral knee-length dress—soft, innocent, almost too light for the darkness she’d been living in.

A soft breeze brushed her cheek as she tiptoed past the sleeping guard at the main gate. She didn’t look back.

          🥀🥀🥀

The sterile air of the hospital felt oddly comforting. The beeping machines, faint whispers, and rustling of nurses were the sounds of a life she knew.

She stepped into her mother’s room—and everything crumbled.

“Mom,” she whispered, rushing to her, hugging her tight.
Tears fell before she could stop them.

Her mother gently pulled back. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

Aira shook her head, forcing a trembling smile. “N-nothing, Mom. I just… missed you. A lot.”

Her mother cupped her cheeks. “Why didn’t you visit, Aira? I’ve been so worried.”

She looked away. “There was just… a lot of work. It all happened so fast.”

Her mother’s face fell, guilt flooding her expression. “This is all because of me.”

“No, Mom,” Aira grabbed her hand, shaking her head. “This is not your fault.”

“Yes, it is,” she whispered. “If I hadn’t fallen sick, you wouldn’t be breaking yourself like this. You should be in college, not… not doing God knows what to take care of me.”

Tears welled again. “Stop,” Aira said gently. “Don’t say that. It’s just a rough phase. We’ll get through it. I’ll take you home soon. I promise.”

Her mother cried silently, and Aira held her again, whispering soft reassurances.
Hours passed in quiet comfort, until the sky began to dim.

🥀🥀🥀

As Aira stepped toward the bus stop, a voice called out.

“AIRA!”

She turned—and for the first time in days, her lips curled into a genuine smile.

“Mira? Ayaan?!”

Mira and Ayaan—her friends, her café family. They had all worked together at Café Velvet, built their bond over burnt pastries and caffeine-fueled chaos. Mira was loud, beautiful, wild, and loyal. Ayaan was calm, effortlessly charming, with the kind of face that turned heads without trying.

“You freak ass!” Mira panted, reaching her and smacking her arm. “Where the hell have you been?!”

“Awch! That hurt!”

“Good,” Mira huffed. “That’s what you get for ghosting your girl.”

Ayaan chuckled, stepping in. “Alright, alright. Let’s not kill her in public. Let’s grab a coffee and talk.”

As they reached the café near the bus stop, the golden hue of dusk painted soft strokes on the windows, casting shadows across the walls. The air smelled like roasted beans and warm sugar.

Ayaan held the door open for both girls like he always did—effortlessly kind. He had that boy-next-door charm: clean-cut, lean frame, always smelling faintly of mint and cologne. His tousled black hair curled slightly at the edges, and when he smiled, his deep-set honey-brown eyes glinted with the kind of warmth that made you feel safe.

He wasn’t dramatic or loud like Mira. He was soft-spoken, dependable, and disarmingly handsome. Aira had always noticed, but never dared let it grow into anything more. Not now. Not with her world held hostage.

They chose the table near the window, the one they always used to sit at during after-shift hangs.

They sat, ordered their usual coffees and a cheesecake, and the questions started coming.

“So?” Mira leaned in. “Where the hell were you?”

Aira fumbled. “Ah… I got pulled into some family drama—my dad’s side. Property mess. That’s why I had to go stay there.”

Mira raised a brow, not fully convinced, but didn’t push. “You could’ve texted, drama queen.”

“I know,” Aira murmured, eyes lowering. “I’m sorry.”

Ayaan gently tucked her hair behind her ear, his touch soft. “Just don’t do it again. We missed you.”

Aira blushed faintly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I won’t.”

He placed his hand over hers—firm, reassuring.
Aira didn’t pull away. But she didn’t return the pressure either. Not because she didn’t like Ayaan—she did. He was good, too good. That was the problem.
She couldn’t afford sweetness.
Not when she was surviving poison.
They sat in silence for a second too long before Mira broke it with a loud ugh.

Mira rolled her eyes. “Ugh, you two are so soft. Can we go before I throw up this cheesecake?”

Ayaan chuckled, pulling back. Aira smiled faintly.

He did like her. Always had. But Aira never gave a sign—never let him in. Her world wasn’t made for soft boys with kind hearts. Not now.
They laughed, paid, and stepped outside.

But as Aira turned to glance across the street, a chill ran down her spine.

Someone was watching her.

She scanned the area—no one. But the feeling lingered, heavy.

“What is it?” Mira asked, catching her staring.

“Nothing,” Aira said too quickly. “Just thought I saw someone.”

But someone had seen her.
Across the road, seated in a black SUV with tinted windows, Karan sat, jaw clenched, his knuckles white around the steering wheel. He had only meant to drive by on his way back from the hospital.

But then he saw her.

Smiling. Laughing. With another man brushing hair off her face like it belonged to him.
A fire lit behind his eyes.

He said nothing.

But when she came home… she would feel it.

🥀🥀🥀

By the time Aira got home, it was nearly 6 PM. She slipped inside, unseen, her dress brushing her knees, the scent of hospital still clinging to her skin.

In her room, she changed into soft pajamas, wiped her face clean, and sank into her bed, a book in hand.

The pages blurred. Her eyes grew heavy.
Sleep came fast.

She didn’t see the clock tick past seven.
Didn’t hear the front door open.

Didn’t sense the storm brewing down the hallway.

She had no idea.

what was coming for her.

🥀🥀🥀

Author :- hey there...this chapter is little long.😉

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