It was 6 a.m., and the soft morning light filtered through the sheer curtains. Aira, still tangled in the haze of sleep, shifted to the other side of the bed - Karan's side.

Unknowingly, she crawled into his warmth, her arms wrapping around his torso, her cheek resting against his bare chest.

The rise and fall of his breathing lulled her further, drawing her deeper into the moment.

A sleepy, dark voice murmured above her, "Good morning, sleepyhead," as he lazily wrapped one arm around her waist.

"Mhm... good morning," Aira whispered back in a sweet, sleepy tone, snuggling deeper into his warmth.

But reality hit her fast.

Her eyes flew open in panic as she realized what she was doing - curled up in her captor's arms.

She lifted her head slightly, gasping in shock. Her body stiffened as she tried to pull away, but before she could distance herself, Karan tightened his hold around her, drawing her even closer.

There was no space left between them.

His eyes bore into hers as he raised a brow with a smirk dancing at the corner of his lips. "You do remember your task from today, hmm?" he hummed, his voice thick with teasing darkness.

Aira's lashes lowered, and she nodded softly, "Yes."

"Good." He lifted her chin between his fingers, making her meet his gaze.

"I'll be downstairs by 8. Don't make any mistakes. Or else..." He left the rest unsaid - but his smirk, his tone, and his eyes finished the sentence for him.

She gulped and nodded in silent obedience.

Karan finally released her waist, letting her slip off the bed and head back to her previous room to get ready - her things were still there.

After a quick shower, she dressed in a soft purple knee-length dress and tied her hair into a messy bun.

Her body ached - especially her backside, sore from last night's punishment.

Her heart was heavy, her mind cluttered, but she gathered every ounce of strength and stepped into the kitchen.

Her eyes scanned the diet chart taped on the fridge - his precise clinical handwriting making every item like a surgeon's plan.

Tuesday: Oats pancake with egg whites, avocado smoothie, black coffee - no sugar.

She took a deep breath and began.

Her fingers trembled as she opened the cabinets and began pulling out ingredients. Trying to make no mistakes, she started preparing.

Mixing the oats batter, separating egg whites, slicing avocado with care, checking every detail twice.

Her hands moved mechanically, but her thoughts were far from calm. She kept glancing over her shoulder as if he might appear at any moment, silently watching, judging.

The smoothie whirred in blender.
The scent of crisping oats filled the kitchen air.

By 7:50, the breakfast was ready and plated neatly. Coffee poured. Smoothie blended. Table set. Working in the café had helped her develop cooking and plating skill, but this wasn't a customer.

This was Karan.

Then, she heard it - his footsteps.

Karan entered, dressed in a grey fitted shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, veins visible - just like the ones she saw last night when anger had surged through him. But today, he was calm. Composed. Unreadable.

He sat at the head of the table, looking down at the plate before him.

From the kitchen island, Aira watched him, heart thudding in her chest. She kept her hands clasped in front of her, trying not to tremble.

He took a bite of the pancake. Chewed slowly.
"Did you follow the chart?" he asked flatly, eyes still on the plate.

"Y-Yes," she whispered. "Exactly as written."

He took a sip of the coffee. Then finally looked up, straight into her eyes.

"Next time, I want the coffee hotter," he said, pushing the mug slightly away. "And the smoothie thinner. You'll learn."

Then he stood up and walked toward her.

She instinctively stepped back.

But he didn't stop. He reached up, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing her cheek - leaving a trail of goosebumps.

"Shift all your things into our room. Today itself." His voice was low but firm.

And just like that, he walked away - leaving her trembling in the silence.

It hadn't been a disaster.

But it hadn't been safe either.

This was just the beginning.

🥀🥀🥀

After Karan left for work, Aira ate her breakfast quickly, cleaned the table, did the dishes, and began moving her things.

Her belongings were few: some clothes which karan already brought for her before she came here, a few personal items, her makeup, and bathroom essentials.

She folded everything neatly, placing them in the same closet where Karan's expensive shirts and suits hung.

It took nearly two hours.

Exhausted, she collapsed on the bed, legs dangling off the edge, facing the ceiling mirror above. Her own reflection stared back - red-eyed, messy-bun, drained.

"Do I really deserve this?" she whispered.
A single tear slid down her cheek.

"What if I can't survive the month? What if he doesn't pay... and my mother -"

Her mother.

The thought made her sit up suddenly. She couldn't cry now. Not when her mother was fighting for life.

She wiped her face, glancing at the clock. It was 4 PM.

Outside, the sky had turned a soft orange-pink, the air cooler.

Aira stepped into the garden with a watering pot.

Roses of red, white, and light pink swayed gently in the breeze. Blue and pink hydrangeas bloomed beside the bold hibiscus, their fragrance light and calming.

She made herself a warm cup of coffee and sat on the garden swing. The view was beautiful - almost peaceful.
Too peaceful for the storm inside her.

Because she knew... her softness wouldn't last long in this hell.

🥀🥀🥀

By 6 p.m., Aira walked back inside and started cleaning the living area - fluffing pillows, arranging magazines. Then she headed to the kitchen.

She didn't know when Karan comes home usually, but maya had warned her clearly:

"he usually comes home by 7. Dinner must be served by 8 sharp. No excuses."

Tuesday (Dinner): Grilled chicken, steamed broccoli and carrots, boiled sweet potato, lemon water.

She worked with mechanical focus- grilling the chicken, steaming the vegetables, boiling the sweet potato. No extra salt, no oil, no errors. Her hands moved fast but cautiously, careful not to overcook or under-season.

At 7 PM sharp, she heard the door click.

He was home.

His white coat resting on his wrist, grey shirt clinging to his muscular frame, jaw sharp as ever. He didn't look at her - just went straight to his room.

At 8 PM, the dining table was set, and he entered like clockwork. The plate was already prepared. His eyes found hers for a moment- cold, unreadable then dropped to the plate.

They ate in silence.

No praise. No complaints.

Just a cold voice at the end, "Clear the table, and come to our room. Don't make me wait too long."

Aira nodded silently. "Yes."

Why does he keeps calling it our room.

Her fingers trembled around the plate, not because of the weight - but because of what was waiting next.

Because no matter how beautiful the sunset looked...

Her nights in the Devil's home were always darker than the sky.

🥀🥀🥀

Author:- Do you guys liked this chapter ?

Let's see what happens in their room, in the next chapter....😌❤️

Till then have a great imagination. 🤪