Chapter 48

Chapter 48


Yash stood at the edge of Raaz’s private study, his posture rigid, the faintest trace of hesitation in his eyes. The air between them was thick, as though the walls themselves had absorbed the tension. Outside, the faint rustle of the monsoon wind filtered through the heavy curtains, but inside, it was all stillness—stillness before a storm.

Raaz leaned back in his leather chair, one hand gripping the armrest, the other swirling the amber liquid in his glass. His jaw was set, his gaze fixed on the man in front of him. “You said you had news,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “Speak.”

Yash exhaled slowly. “I’ve found out who sent the threat. The person who dared use… her name to get to you.” He paused deliberately, gauging Raaz’s reaction.

The faint clink of ice in the glass was the only sound. Raaz’s eyes darkened. “Who?”

“It’s Karthik.” The name dropped like a stone into a silent lake, rippling through the room. “He’s planning something. I don’t have the exact details yet, but it’s clear—he wants to harm you. And he thinks…” Yash’s voice tightened, “he thinks using Aanya will break you.”

For a heartbeat, Raaz didn’t move. His grip on the glass tightened until his knuckles whitened. Then, slowly, he set the drink down on the table beside him, the action deliberate, almost calm—but the calmness was only on the surface. His eyes burned, his breath deepened, his entire presence brimming with the promise of violence.

“Karthik,” he repeated, tasting the name like venom on his tongue. “He’ll regret the day he even thought of her.”

Yash didn’t speak. He knew the man before him well enough—Raaz’s fury wasn’t loud. It was cold, focused, lethal. The kind of fury that didn’t burn out quickly, but instead became sharper with every passing second.

Raaz stood, pacing toward the window. His reflection in the glass was all sharp lines and shadow, the faint city lights in the distance nothing but a blur behind him. “Locate him,” he said finally, each word measured. “I want to know where he sleeps, what he eats, who he talks to. And when I’m done with him…” He turned slightly, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “No one will find what’s left.”

Yash nodded once. “Understood.”

But Raaz wasn’t finished. His mind was already running through possibilities—security around Aanya, tighter restrictions, more men. The thought of Karthik’s hands anywhere near her made his chest tighten in a way he hated to admit was fear. No, not fear—rage.

Yash hesitated before leaving. “Raaz… she can’t know. Not yet.”

Raaz’s eyes narrowed. “She won’t. This isn’t her burden to carry.”

Outside, the day was wrapped in a soft, pale haze. The fog that Lonavala was famous for rolled lazily across the grounds, the lush greenery blurring into a muted watercolor of greens and greys. The farmhouse backyard stretched out like a small paradise, fenced in with manicured hedges, the faint scent of wet earth in the air from the morning drizzle.

Aanya stepped out quietly, almost as if she didn’t want the house to notice. She’d been restless all morning, the rooms feeling too still, too quiet. The moment her bare feet touched the damp grass, something inside her loosened. The cool breeze lifted the edges of her pale blue kurti, her hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders. She took a slow breath, letting the air wash over her.

At the far end of the yard, the gardener was at work, trimming the hedges. Beside him, a small bundle of energy—a golden-brown puppy, barely a few months old—was clumsily chasing its own tail, its ears too big for its head. The moment Aanya noticed it, something warm spread through her chest.

She hesitated for only a moment before walking toward it. The puppy, as if sensing her approach, bounded toward her in awkward leaps, its tail wagging furiously. Aanya crouched down, and before she could say anything, the little creature was licking her hands, nipping playfully at her fingers. She laughed—a sound so rare these days it startled even her—and scooped him up into her arms.

“You’re so tiny,” she murmured, scratching behind his ears. The puppy leaned into her touch, licking her chin. She held him closer, feeling the rapid thump of his small heartbeat against her own. “Do you live here? Hmm? Or are you just visiting like me?”

The gardener looked up briefly, offering a small smile before going back to his work. Aanya stayed there for a while, sitting on the grass with the puppy in her lap. He kept pawing at her, tumbling clumsily over her knees, and every so often she’d catch herself smiling without thinking. For a few fleeting moments, the heaviness in her chest felt lighter.

But reality always had a way of creeping back in. As the puppy curled up in her lap, drowsy from play, a thought pressed into her mind—Raaz would never allow her to keep him. He controlled every corner of her life. The idea of even asking made her heart sink. She imagined his cold refusal, the dismissive way he might tell her it wasn’t practical. Her smile faded, replaced by a small, almost invisible frown. She pressed a kiss to the puppy’s head before setting him gently on the grass.

“Be good, okay?” she whispered, watching him trot back toward the gardener.

From the upstairs balcony, Raaz had been watching the entire scene. He hadn’t intended to—he’d come out to clear his head, to think about Yash’s report—but then he saw her. Saw her kneeling in the grass, laughing, her hair catching the light in a way that made it look almost golden. Saw her holding that puppy like it was the most precious thing in the world.

Something twisted in him—not quite jealousy, not quite guilt, but something that made his grip tighten on the railing. She looked… happy. And when she thought no one was looking, she looked sad again. That sadness was like a thorn under his skin.

As she walked back toward the house, her head bowed, Raaz’s gaze didn’t leave her. She thought he wouldn’t let her have that puppy. She thought he wouldn’t notice her sadness. She didn’t know yet—when it came to her, he noticed everything.

Raaz remained on the balcony long after Aanya disappeared inside. The fog pressed closer to the house now, as if the whole world outside had shrunk to just the two of them. He lit a cigarette but didn’t smoke it—just let it burn slowly between his fingers, his mind fixed on the image of her sitting in the grass with that puppy in her arms.

It bothered him more than he wanted to admit—that flicker of joy on her face, followed by the shadow that dimmed it. He knew exactly why her smile had faded. She didn’t think he would allow her something so small, so harmless. And in truth, maybe she was right. Control was second nature to him; it was how he’d built his life, how he’d kept everything—and everyone—where he wanted them.

But Aanya wasn’t everyone.

He ground the cigarette out in the ashtray and turned on his heel. There was no hesitation in his stride as he descended the stairs, the weight of his decision already made. He didn’t pass her on his way through the hall; she was probably in her room by now. Good. He didn’t want her to see this until it was done.

Outside, the gardener looked up in surprise as Raaz approached. “Bhaiya?”

“That puppy,” Raaz said, his voice low but firm. “Bring him to the main house. Feed him. Bathe him. And don’t let him out of your sight.”

The man nodded quickly. “Yes, Bhaiya.”

Raaz crouched for a moment, letting the puppy sniff his hand. The little creature wagged its tail, unafraid, and in a strange, unguarded moment, Raaz found himself almost smiling. “You’ve already got her attention, haven’t you?” he murmured. “Good. Keep it.”

Upstairs, Aanya sat at the edge of her bed, still in her damp kurti from the backyard. Her hair clung to her neck, the air cool enough to make her shiver. But she didn’t move. She just stared at the floor, replaying the morning in her head. The way the puppy had curled up in her lap. The way it had looked at her with complete trust. And the way she’d had to set it down and walk away.

She hated how much that small thing had hurt. It was ridiculous—after everything she’d endured, after all the ways Raaz had closed her world around her—why did a puppy feel like the line between loneliness and comfort?

The sound of footsteps broke her thoughts. Heavy, measured, unmistakable. She lifted her head as the door opened.

Raaz stepped inside without knocking, his presence filling the room in that way she could never ignore. In his arms, to her shock, was the golden-brown puppy, freshly bathed, wrapped in a small towel.

For a moment, she just stared, unsure if her mind was playing tricks on her. “You… brought him?”

“I don’t repeat myself, jaan,” Raaz said, his voice softer than she expected. He walked over, placing the puppy gently in her lap. “He’s yours.”

The puppy yipped once, wriggling against her, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around him. She didn’t realise she was smiling until she looked up and saw Raaz watching her—really watching her.

“Why?” she asked quietly. “I thought—”

“You thought I wouldn’t,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “That I don’t notice what you want. But I notice everything, Aanya. Everything.”

Her breath caught. There was something unsettling about the way he said it—half a promise, half a warning. She wanted to thank him, but the words stuck in her throat.

Raaz reached out, brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek. “Don’t look so surprised. You’re my wife. What’s yours is yours. And what’s yours… is mine to protect.”

She lowered her gaze, burying her face in the puppy’s fur, but her mind was spinning. He had given her this without her asking. Without a fight. It made her heart ache in a way she didn’t want to admit.

Raaz stayed there for a while, watching her cradle the puppy. But behind the rare softness in his eyes, the fury toward Karthik still simmered, waiting for its moment.

The rain had stopped by the time Raaz left her room, but the air still carried that faint, wet-earth scent. It clung to him as he walked back to his study, closing the door behind him. Inside, the heavy drapes muted the light, casting shadows across the desk where a crystal glass of whiskey waited.

He didn’t sit. Not yet. His hands were restless, fingers tapping against the back of the leather chair. He could still see her in his mind—barefoot on the balcony earlier that morning, hair falling into her eyes, the momentary lift in her face when she’d held that puppy. It had been such an unguarded expression, one he rarely saw. He wanted more of it… but he also wanted to burn away the fear that lingered in her gaze every time she looked at him.

And that’s where Karthik’s name slammed back into his thoughts.

Yash’s words from earlier echoed like steel in his head. “It’s Karthik. He’s the one who sent the threat.”

The glass rattled slightly as Raaz’s hand closed around it. Karthik hadn’t just thought about coming for him—he’d dared to use her. His jaan. His wife.

There were lines Raaz could overlook in business, rules he could bend if the profit outweighed the risk. But when it came to Aanya, there were no lines—only walls, high and impenetrable, and anyone who tried to scale them had to be destroyed. Not defeated. Destroyed.

He took a slow sip, the whiskey sharp and smoky on his tongue, his mind already sketching the plan. Yash would find Karthik. And when he did, there would be no negotiations, no warnings, no escape routes. Raaz would make sure Karthik’s last breath carried the realisation that touching Aanya had been his greatest—and final—mistake.

In the meantime, Aanya sat cross-legged on the bed, the puppy now dry and drowsy in her lap. She ran her fingers through its soft fur, feeling the tiny heartbeat beneath her palm. It was such a simple thing, this little life, and yet it made the room feel less like a gilded cage.

She had named him without even thinking—Milo. Whispering it felt strange, like sharing a secret.

Every now and then, her gaze drifted toward the door Raaz had left through. She didn’t know what to make of him in moments like this. He could be cruel and unyielding, yet today he had done something so unexpected it had unsettled her more than his anger did.

The sound of a car starting in the distance pulled her attention. She rose, carrying Milo to the balcony, just in time to see Yash crossing the driveway and climbing into one of the black SUVs. Her stomach twisted. Whatever Raaz had learned from Yash earlier, it had set something in motion—and she had a terrible feeling it wasn’t going to end quietly.

Back in the study, Raaz finally sat, the weight of the leather chair grounding him. He picked up his phone and dialed without hesitation.

“Yash,” he said when the line clicked. “Every shadow Karthik hides in—pull it apart. I want him out in the open. And when he’s there, you bring him to me.”

“Yes, Bhai,” Yash’s voice was steady but carried a note of caution. “You want him alive?”

Raaz’s lips curved in something that wasn’t a smile. “Long enough to understand why he should have stayed away from my wife. After that…” He let the silence finish the sentence.

When he hung up, he leaned back, staring at the ceiling. The thought of Aanya—safe upstairs, probably still with that puppy—calmed him in ways he didn’t like to admit. But the thought of her not being safe? That was enough to sharpen every instinct he had into a blade.

Downstairs, later that evening, Aanya carried Milo into the kitchen, searching for something he could eat. The house was quiet except for the soft padding of the puppy’s paws on the tile. She found a small bowl, poured milk into it, and set it down.

As Milo lapped it eagerly, she crouched beside him, stroking his head. “At least you’re here,” she murmured. “At least you don’t expect anything from me.”

She didn’t hear Raaz enter until his reflection appeared in the glass of the kitchen window. Straightening, she turned to face him, unsure of what he might say.

But he only glanced at the puppy, then back at her. “He’s staying,” Raaz said simply, as if reading the question she hadn’t voiced. “And so are you.”

Her throat tightened. She couldn’t tell if it was comfort or captivity he was promising. Maybe it was both.