Chapter 33

Chapter 33

 — The Sound of Shattered Silence
The morning sun filtered weakly through the sheer curtains of the Venetian hotel suite, casting pale gold shadows on the tiled floor. The room was quiet—eerily so.
Vedika sat up slowly, her body aching in places she hadn’t known could hurt. The silk sheets clung to her bare skin as she moved, the touch too soft for the rawness she felt inside.
The hotel suite was bathed in the cold light of morning. Abhimaan lay on the other side of the bed, sleeping deeply, his chest rising and falling with a calmness that seemed cruel now.
Vedika’s breath caught in her throat.
It felt unreal—what had happened the night before. A blur of velvet shadows, whispered commands, and a kiss that had stolen not her breath, but her will. And now, silence.
She stood, legs unsteady, and reached for the discarded robe on the floor. Wrapping it tightly around herself, she moved toward the bathroom.
Each step echoed like betrayal on the marble.
She flicked on the light.
And there, in the mirror, she saw her reflection.
At first, she didn’t recognize the girl staring back.
Her lips were bruised. Her neck bore faint marks—impressions of a man’s possessive hold. There were red traces on her shoulders, along her collarbone. Lower, beneath the robe, she could feel more—hidden reminders of what she’d endured.
Not endured.
Submitted to.
She reached out, touching her reflection with trembling fingers, and whispered, “Who are you?”
The girl in the mirror didn’t answer. She just stared back—vacant eyes, flushed skin, haunted soul.
A sob clawed its way up her throat.
Last night hadn’t been a union.
It had been a taking.
And now, in this mirror, she saw the cost of being taken.
Tears spilled over, hot and helpless. She gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles white, chest heaving.
“I didn’t want this…”
But the mirror didn’t care. The walls didn’t care. And the man still sleeping in her bed… he didn’t seem to care either.
Her fingers brushed the bruise on her shoulder, and she flinched. It wasn’t the pain. It was the reminder—that every mark on her skin was a sentence she hadn’t agreed to.
She sank to the cold floor, back against the wall, curling into herself.
She had once been fire.
Now, she was ash.
The bed was a tangled mess of silk sheets and forgotten passion, but Vedika wasn’t there anymore.
She sat curled in the marble bathtub, her skin ghost-pale against the ivory of the tub, the water tinted pink.
Her wrists trembled slightly, blood mixing with the water in thin crimson swirls that looked almost like thread—unraveling thread. Her eyes were open, blank, staring at the faucet, unmoving. The ache in her limbs, the burn in her chest, the rawness inside her—all of it felt like it belonged to someone else now.
Last night had not been love. It had been surrender. And she hadn't even realized she was breaking until it was done.
She thought of her mother, her brother Kabir. Their faces floated through her mind like whispers in fog.
But in this moment—right now—none of it felt enough.

The golden morning light slipped through the sheer curtains of the Venice suite, casting slow-moving shadows over the bed.
Abhimaan stirred beneath the silk sheets, his arm stretching to the side—searching, reaching.
Empty.
He blinked, turning his head with a soft groan. The pillow next to him was untouched, the fabric cold. His brows drew together in confusion. He sat up slowly, scanning the room.
“Vedika?”
No response.
The robe she had worn the night before was gone from the floor.
He stood, running a hand through his hair, now tousled with sleep. The ache of last night still clung to him—deep, possessive satisfaction. But now, something else began to press down on his chest.
He walked toward the window, checking the balcony. Empty.
Then, he heard it.
The faint sound of running water.
The bathroom.
He moved toward the door, paused.
“Vedika?” he called again, knocking gently.
No answer.
He frowned, pressing his ear to the wood. The water was still running. No sound of movement. No splashing. No humming. Just… water.
A quiet unease slithered into his gut.
He knocked again—louder this time. “Vedika, are you okay?”
Still nothing.
He tried the handle. Locked.
His breath caught.
His knuckles banged against the door now, voice louder, impatient—tainted with panic.
“Vedika, open the door.”
Silence.
Something wasn’t right. He knew it. Felt it. The quiet on the other side wasn’t silence—it was a scream wrapped in stillness.
He stepped back.
And rammed his shoulder into the door.
Once. Twice.
On the third try, it burst open.

There was a sharp knock at the door.
"Vedika?"
No answer.
Abhimaan’s voice again, slightly louder, with a trace of irritation. “Vedika, open the door.”
Still, silence.
His tone shifted, taut with suspicion now. “Vedika… answer me.”
The handle rattled. Then a heavy thud—once, twice, thrice.
CRACK.
The door burst open, and what he saw froze him in place.
There she was.
In the water. Blood. Motionless.
For a terrifying heartbeat, his mind went blank.
“Vedika!”
He was on his knees, pulling her out, water sloshing onto the floor, his hands shaking as he wrapped a towel around her. His breath was ragged.
“Goddammit, Vedika! What the hell did you do?!”
But she didn’t answer. Her lips were parted, her breath shallow. Her eyes didn’t meet his.
“Don’t do this… don’t you dare!” he growled, his voice breaking as he lifted her out of the tub.
He carried her to the bed, wrapping her limbs in the comforter, pressing tissues and towels against the wounds. They weren’t deep—but deep enough to be a scream.
A scream he hadn't heard until now.
Vedika turned her face away.
“You did this,” she whispered hoarsely. “You made me into someone I don’t recognize.”
Abhimaan froze.
Her words cut deeper than the blood still seeping onto the sheets.
“I don’t want to live like this… with you… with this,” she croaked. “I’m not your possession.”
“I never wanted—”
She laughed bitterly. “You never wanted? You broke me just to keep me. That’s what you wanted.”
He knelt beside her, grasping her face between trembling fingers. “You don’t get to leave me like this.”
“I already left,” she murmured. “The night you touched me without love. The night you made me yours… without asking if I wanted to be.”
Tears finally slipped from her eyes—quiet, defeated.
For once, Abhimaan had no control. No words. No threats. Only the unbearable sight of the girl he claimed to love, broken because of him.
As he stood up, shaken, her whisper followed him like a shadow.
“You didn’t save me, Abhimaan… you destroyed me.”
And for the first time, the weight of his obsession turned into something darker—regret.