CHAPTER 49
— AANYA
When Raaz said those words, his voice was calm. Too calm. It was the kind of calm that wrapped around you like velvet but had steel underneath. The kind that made my chest tighten, because I could never tell whether he meant it as comfort… or a warning.
The puppy—Milo—was still bent over his small bowl of milk, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me. I crouched beside him again, stroking his soft fur, partly to calm him… partly to steady my own trembling hands.
Raaz was leaning against the counter now, glass of something dark in his hand. He wasn’t watching the drink. He was watching me.
“I thought…” I hesitated, my voice barely above a whisper. “I thought you wouldn’t want—”
“He’s yours.” His tone didn’t change, but I felt it, like he was saying something far bigger than just the words. “And so are you.”
I swallowed hard, not daring to ask what exactly that meant in his world. I’d learned the dangerous way that Raaz’s definitions of love, possession, protection—they were… different. Twisted and fierce and impossible to untangle from the man himself.
The day slipped into evening without me realizing it. At some point, I noticed the sky outside the kitchen window had shifted from pale gold to deep indigo. The lights in the farmhouse clicked on automatically, spilling warm pools of light over the marble floors.
I should’ve gone to my room, but Raaz stayed there in the kitchen with me, silent, until finally he straightened and said, “Come. Dinner’s ready.”
It wasn’t really a request.
The dining room in Lonavala was different from the one in the city house. Bigger, with high ceilings and long windows that looked out into the dark silhouette of the surrounding hills. The air smelled faintly of wood polish and rain.
Raaz was already at the head of the table by the time I sat down—three seats away from him, instinctively keeping space. But his eyes found mine, and after a slow sip from his glass, he said, “Come here.”
My fork stilled over the plate. “I’m fine here—”
“Jaan,” he said softly, but there was iron in it. “Sit. Beside me.”
The chair to his right might as well have been a throne and a trap all at once. I moved slowly, my pulse loud in my ears.
When I sat, he turned slightly, his knee brushing mine under the table. “Everything here is as you like,” he said. “Eat.”
The food was beautiful—steaming rice, rich curries, fresh roti—but I couldn’t taste much. My appetite was a ghost, flitting away every time I felt his gaze linger too long.
I don’t know what made me ask. Maybe it was the thought of Milo asleep alone upstairs. Maybe it was the image of Samay and Tara, still locked away somewhere, their faces pale and hopeless. But the words slipped out before I could stop them.
“What about Samay and Tara?”
The temperature in the room dropped instantly. Raaz’s jaw tightened, his fork pausing midair.
“They’re alive,” he said finally. His voice was quiet, almost too quiet. “As of now.”
My fingers gripped the edge of the table. “And if—”
“If they try to take you from me again,” he interrupted, setting his fork down with deliberate precision, “they won’t be.”
My stomach turned, the food on my plate suddenly heavy and impossible to swallow.
“You are my life, Aanya,” he said, leaning closer. “And no one—no one—takes you from me.”
I dropped my gaze, not trusting my voice. The silence after that was thick enough to choke on.
Halfway through the meal, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it once, then rose from his chair, muttering, “Eat.”
I watched him cross into the living room, the low rumble of his voice carrying back to me. At first, I tried not to listen. But my ears were desperate for anything—any hint of what he was planning.
“Where is he now?” Raaz’s tone sharpened, the softness from dinner gone. A pause. “Karthik won’t see another sunrise if I have my way.”
My blood went cold. Karthik. That name was like a stone thrown into still water—the ripples were fast, jagged, dangerous.
I leaned slightly, trying to catch more.
“…don’t let him vanish. I want him in front of me, Yash. Alive long enough to regret breathing my wife’s name.”
The line went dead. Raaz stood for a moment, still as a statue, then came back to the table. I forced myself to straighten, to look like I hadn’t been listening, but my heart was a wild drum in my chest.
After dinner, I went outside, claiming I needed fresh air. The farmhouse backyard stretched wide and open under a moonlit sky. The air was cool, carrying the distant scent of wet grass.
Milo was already there, chasing something in the shadows near the garden. The gardener was trimming the hedges, his shears making a soft, rhythmic sound.
I knelt, calling softly. “Milo.”
He bounded over, tail wagging furiously, and I scooped him into my arms. His tiny tongue darted against my cheek, and for a moment, the heaviness in my chest eased.
I stayed there a long while, playing with him, laughing softly when he tried to chew my hair. It was the first real laugh I’d let out in weeks.
When I finally stood to take him inside, a prickle ran up my spine. I turned slightly… and there he was.
Raaz.
Standing on the far side of the garden, hands in his pockets, watching us.
I didn’t know how long he’d been there. Maybe he’d seen everything—the smile, the unguarded moment, the way I’d hugged Milo like I couldn’t let him go.
I turned and walked toward the house, Milo cradled against me. My chest ached, because I already knew what would happen. Raaz wouldn’t let me keep him. Not when he hated anything that made me look away from him.
But he didn’t stop me. Didn’t speak. He just watched me walk past, his eyes unreadable.
Back in my room, I curled on the bed with Milo beside me, my heart heavy. The moonlight spilled across the floor, and in its glow, I could almost pretend the world outside this room didn’t exist. Almost.
Milo fell asleep quickly, his tiny breaths puffing against my palm. I lay there on my side, watching him, tracing the outline of his little paw with my fingertip. For a while, that was enough to quiet my mind. But the quiet didn’t last.
Somewhere in the distance—a muffled voice. Deep. Familiar.
Raaz.
I sat up slowly, careful not to wake Milo, and moved toward the window. The balcony doors were slightly ajar, letting in the night air. Beyond the garden, I could see the faint outline of the driveway, one of the security cars idling there. But the sound wasn’t from outside—it was below. The study.
I pressed my ear against the cool wood of the balcony door frame, listening.
“…I don’t care if it takes the entire night,” Raaz’s voice was low but laced with a fury that made my skin prickle. “Find Karthik. I don’t want his excuses. I don’t want his apologies. I want him on his knees.”
My stomach twisted.
A pause, and then: “No, Yash. He doesn’t get to breathe my wife’s name. He doesn’t get to think about her. Do you understand me? I’ll cut out the thought from his skull if I have to.”
The words were knives, each one deliberate and dangerous. I should have pulled away, shut the doors, tried to shut it out. But I couldn’t. I stood there, heart in my throat, listening to the quiet rage of the man I was bound to.
“…Yes. Alive long enough to regret it. After that… do what you want with him.”
The call ended. Silence.
I stepped back quickly, my heel knocking softly against the edge of the bed. Milo stirred, stretching, and I froze.
Footsteps. Slow. Unhurried. Coming closer.
My door opened without a knock.
Raaz stepped inside, his eyes going first to me—standing there with my hair loose around my shoulders—then to Milo, curled up on the bed.
“You’re awake,” he said, voice unreadable.
I nodded once. “I couldn’t sleep.”
His gaze lingered on the puppy. “He kept you company.” It wasn’t a question.
I waited for him to tell me to get rid of Milo. To say something sharp, something that would remind me he decided everything. But instead, he walked toward the bed, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt as he moved.
He sat down beside Milo, one large hand resting on the blanket, inches from mine. “You like him.”
The air between us felt fragile. “Yes.”
A pause. His eyes lifted to mine, something unreadable passing through them. “Then he stays.”
The words caught me off guard. “You mean—”
“He’s yours.” His voice softened—not much, but enough for me to hear it. “Like you are.”
The weight of that sank into my chest, heavy and complicated.
He reached out, brushing a strand of damp hair from my cheek, his fingers lingering just a second too long. Then he stood, buttoning his cuffs again. “Sleep, jaan. Tomorrow will be a long day.”
I wanted to ask—long day for what? For Karthik? For whatever storm was building in him? But the words stuck in my throat.
He left as quietly as he came, the click of the door locking behind him the only sound.
I lay back down, Milo warm against my side, but sleep didn’t come. Not with Raaz’s voice still in my head. Not with the image of him standing in the moonlight, making promises that felt more like threats to the world—and strange, twisted vows to me.
I should’ve been afraid. And I was. But under the fear was something else. Something that made my breath catch whenever I thought about the way he’d looked at me in the garden. The way his voice had dropped when he said yours.
Morning came slowly. I woke to the sound of rain on the balcony, the air cool and damp. Milo stirred, licking my hand before bounding to the edge of the bed.
I followed him, pushing open the balcony doors. The view was a watercolor of mist and green—hills blurred by fog, the earth dark with rain.
For a few minutes, I just stood there, letting the damp air cling to my skin. Milo padded around my feet, chasing raindrops.
Then movement in the garden caught my eye. Raaz.
He was standing near the old stone wall, phone pressed to his ear. Even from here, I could see the set of his shoulders—calm but coiled, like a predator waiting for the right moment.
And somehow, I knew. Today wasn’t just going to be a long day. It was going to be a dangerous one.