Outburst

Chapter : 15 Outburst

Kanika was sitting on the edge of the bed, hugging her knees tightly to her chest, her face buried in them as quiet sobs racked her fragile frame. Her breaths were shallow-broken. It was the kind of crying that came after all strength had left the body. Her sobs had no sound now, only tremors... as if even her tears were too exhausted to fall.

After what felt like hours, the door creaked open.

Anakveer stepped in, holding a plate full of food. His eyes immediately landed on her curled form. He stood silently for a few moments-watching. He knew he was the reason for her shattered state. And though his face remained impassive, somewhere deep inside, something clenched. He was disturbed by her condition-but never guilty.

The heavy sound of his leather boots echoed through the silence as he walked in and locked the door behind him. Every step radiated authority, but there was a softness in the way he approached her.

He stopped right in front of her and called out, voice low, gentle, almost unfamiliar:

"Ani... eat something. You haven't had a single bite since morning."

No response.

Her body didn't even flinch. It was as though she hadn't heard him-or worse, had chosen not to.

He crouched down slowly in front of her, bringing himself to her eye level. He lifted a hand, about to touch her shoulder... but paused. His fingers hovered for a moment before retreating. Instead, he spoke again-this time even softer, almost pleading:

"Ani... at least a little. Your migraine will only get worse."

Still nothing. Not even a flicker of reaction.

He exhaled slowly, defeated, and said with quiet resignation:

"Okay. I'm leaving the plate here... along with your migraine meds."

"You don't want to see me. Fine. I get it. I'm going."

"But... please don't go to sleep without eating, Ani."

He placed the plate carefully on the velvet table near the bed, carefully.

Then he rose to his feet, his movements heavy. As he turned toward the door, he paused for one last glance. His eyes lingered on her broken form-memorizing the curve of her sorrow like it was punishment carved for him to carry.

And then... he walked out, shutting the door quietly behind him.

The room once again fell into silence.

Only the low hum of the AC remained... and the sound of her muffled sobs echoing into the darkness like a heart breaking in slow motion.

After a while, Kanika slowly lifted her head. Her face was streaked with dried tears, her eyes swollen, lips trembling. With shaky fingers, she reached out for her phone lying beside her on the bed-almost afraid to touch it, yet desperate for a thread of hope.

Kanika's POV:

What if... what if Papa and Maa don't know what really happened to me?

Maybe... maybe uncle didn't tell them anything... and they must be thinking I'm still at Randhir's wedding, enjoying the celebration. That's why they haven't tried to contact me... right?

She swallowed hard. Her heart clung tightly to the lie her mind was crafting. She knew deep down-knew it in her bones-that this illusion was as fragile and hollow as her forced marriage. But still... there was a desperate part of her, a bruised corner of her soul, that refused to accept the truth.

They couldn't just abandon me... not like this... not without even hearing my side of the story.

With trembling hands, she dialed her father's number.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

And again.

Every time: Not reachable.

Her heart began to pound in panic. The screen blurred as fresh tears pooled in her eyes. She tried her mother's number next.

No signal.

Her brother.

Switched off.

Her sister.

Out of reach.

No one.

No one was reachable.

The device slipped from her fingers, landing silently on the ground as her chest tightened, her breathing grew shallow.

A fresh stream of tears spilled from her swollen eyes, burning like acid trails down her cheeks. The silence of the room seemed to echo just one truth-they knew. They all knew what had happened.

And they still chose to cut her off.

To block her.

To abandon her.

A broken whisper slipped from her dry, quivering lips, barely audible-

"My own very family ... Has blocked me ...."

A whisper of disbelief left from her trembling lips..

Was I really that unwanted?

Does my presence... or absence... mean nothing to anyone?

Her body, already weak from the day's storm, began to tremble violently. Her chest tightened, her throat burned. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry her soul out. But just like everyone else in her life-her own body betrayed her too.

She couldn't scream.

She couldn't cry loud.

She couldn't even breathe right.

A crushing pressure squeezed her chest, making her gasp for air as though the oxygen around her had turned to stone. Her migraine flared viciously, throbbing in waves that made her vision blur and her throat sting from the silent agony. Her limbs trembled uncontrollably, as if they were giving up on her, just like the people she once called her world.

Her heart pounded like a war drum inside a body that no longer had the will to fight.

And then... the darkness began to spread.

A deafening silence swallowed the pain. Her vision blackened. Her consciousness faded.

And her fragile body collapsed onto the bed-limp and unresponsive.

Time: 1:03 AM

The room was still.

The AC hummed.

Outside, the world continued to move.

But inside, Kanika lay unconscious in a world that had completely abandoned her.

Anakveer walked in, the soft thud of his boots echoing against the silence. His eyes landed on her lying still on the bed. At first, he didn't realize anything was wrong. He just stood there, watching her delicate frame curled into the mattress.

Unaware that her body wasn't sleeping.

It had completely... shut down.

He walked closer to her and noticed her lying awkwardly-legs dangling off the bed, her arms limp by her sides, head tilted at a painful angle. His steps slowed as he reached her, his brows pulling together at the sight.

Leaning down, he gently called out, "Kanika... so gayi aap?"

No response.

His eyes briefly flickered to the untouched plate and the migraine medicine sitting right where he left them on the velvet table. He let out a sigh of disappointment and whispered to himself, "Kam se kam dawa to le leti..."

He exhaled slowly, crouched beside her, and without hesitation, slid his arms beneath her delicate form. With effortless ease, he scooped her up and gently laid her down properly on the bed, her head now resting on the pillow. He ran his fingers lightly across her tear-streaked cheeks, wiping away the remnant of pain left behind. His hand paused on her face-her skin was unusually warm.

He adjusted her body with care, tucking the comforter around her, but a strange feeling gnawed at his gut. Something was off. Too off.

Too still.

She wasn't just quiet-she was motionless. And he knew her. Knew her well. She wasn't a heavy sleeper. Never had been. Even the sound of a phone notification or the creak of a door used to startle her.

And now-nothing?

He leaned closer and gently shook her shoulder.

"Ani... utho... Ani?"

No response. Not a flinch. Not a sigh.

His heartbeat quickened as his gaze shifted to her chest, watching it rise and fall-too slowly. He placed the back of his hand against her forehead.

Burning.

A jolt ran through him as the truth hit.

She wasn't sleeping.

She was unconscious.

And running a dangerously high fever.

He immediately ran to bathroom and came back with icy- water bowl and towel. Quickly,climbed back onto the bed beside her, kneeling close, his fingers trembling slightly as he dipped them into the bowl of cold water. With urgency laced in every motion, he sprinkled the icy droplets over her flushed face.

"Ani, wake up..."

His voice cracked slightly, the calm composure he wore like armor all day now slipping with each unanswered call.

The silence was unbearable.

He shoved the towel back into the water, wrung it out with impatient hands, and began wiping her face-her burning skin sizzling against the chill of the cloth.

"Ani baccha, jaldi aankhein kholo..."

His voice thickened, laced with a rushed desperation. Gone was the dominating, aloof version of him. This was just a man-terrified and helpless-kneeling beside the woman who meant more than he could admit.

He moved to her neck, then her palms and feet, wiping and rubbing with the cold towel followed by a soft cloth to draw out the heat. He worked tirelessly, not stopping for even a breath.

And then-finally-a flicker.

Her lashes twitched.

A slight, almost imperceptible shudder coursed through her limbs.

He instantly leaned in closer, eyes wide with hope as he cupped her fragile face.

"Ani!" he whispered breathlessly, holding her against him. "Aap thik hain? Aap behosh ho gayi thi... Ani uth jaiye, please... kuch kha lijiye."

But her eyelids, though fluttering, only half-opened-glazed, distant, and void of clarity. Her body was still too limp in his arms, too lifeless. The fever hadn't let go of her yet.

And then-

"Arghh..."

A painful groan escaped her lips as her eyes closed again, her body sinking deeper into the weight of exhaustion and burning heat.

Anakveer's breath hitched.

He held her tighter.

Anakveer's POV:

Fuck!

She's unconscious again.

He stared at her limp body, a wave of anxiety surging through him, laced with frustration. If she keeps slipping in and out like this, her condition will only get worse.

His fists clenched.

He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to stay calm. His breathing had grown uneven, monstrous-the kind that echoed more of panic than rage now. Gently, he laid her back down on the bed and rushed to the dresser. Within seconds, he grabbed her fever medication, his hands trembling despite his rigid composure.

Returning quickly, he sat on the edge of the bed and lifted her frail body into a seated position. Her head lolled weakly onto his shoulder.

He cupped her cheek, his voice low but thick with concern.

"Ani... dawai le lo. Bas ek baar. Phir jitna marzi so jao..."

She let out a weak groan-"Arghh..."-barely audible, her lashes flickering faintly at the sudden shift in posture.

But that was it.

No resistance.

No acknowledgment.

Nothing.

And that scared him more than her anger ever did.

She wasn't reacting anymore. Not even to him.

Maybe she didn't want to fight back anymore.

Not with him.

Not with the world.

Not even with her own collapsing body.

A hollow ache tightened in his chest.

Still, he didn't let it show. Not on his face. Not in his actions.

He stared at the tablet in his hand.

Then at her fevered, unresponsive face.

Now his patience was hanging by a thread.

Anakveer's jaw tightened. The calm in his voice had evaporated, leaving behind a growl coated in raw frustration.

"Either you take it, Ani, or I'll make you take it-

my way."

With one hand, he gently pressed the tablet against her lips, while the other held the glass of water steady. But even in her barely conscious state, she turned her face away-using the last ounce of resistance she had left.

And that was it.

Something snapped inside him.

His eyes darkened. His chest heaved. And with a jaw so tight it could crush bone, he crushed the tablet between his fingers until it turned into bitter powder. He dropped it into the glass, stirring it a few times with measured fury until it dissolved.

Then, without a second thought, he threw the water into his mouth-but didn't swallow.

He leaned in-slow, deliberate. Dangerous.

One hand gripped her jaw firmly, fingers pressing into her fever-warmed skin, forcing her mouth open.

She groaned softly, a pained whimper escaping her lips. Her body was limp, her lids heavy with exhaustion and fever, her spirit far too shattered to react.

But he didn't stop.

In a swift, unhinged motion, he brought his mouth down to hers-too close, too possessive, too raw-and poured the bitter liquid into her mouth, not in lust, not in tenderness-but in desperation.

She choked slightly in reflex, but before she could spit it out, he pinched her nose shut, forcing her to swallow.

Every drop.

He waited till her throat bobbed under his palm.

Then and only then, he let her go.

Her body slumped back immediately, too weak to resist, too numb to care.

No protest. No glare. No disgust.

Nothing.

She was just... there.

And the silence that followed was louder than any scream.

His eyes lingered over her agonized face-flushed, damp, delicate in its silence. Then they drifted downward, halting at her lips, still wet from the force-fed medicine. A single droplet of water trailed down from the corner of her mouth to her jaw.

He inhaled sharply.

His throat clenched, his chest rising with the pressure of a thousand unspoken things. Without another word, he gently laid her down, tucking the edge of the blanket around her like she was made of glass.

Then he stood and walked away-his boots thudding against the floor in slow, tired steps. He dragged a palm across his face, trying to wipe away the overwhelming frustration clawing at his insides.

Without wasting another second, he disappeared into the bathroom.

Under the icy torrent of the shower, Anakveer stood still.

Letting the freezing water crash over his head.

His face.

His sins.

He wanted it to numb him. Wash away the tension of the day, the voices, the silence, the guilt he didn't want to name.

When he returned, clad in grey sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt, his hair damp and clinging to his forehead, he moved wordlessly toward the bed. He bent down, his fingers gently brushing Kanika's forehead.

The fever had gone down.

A breath escaped his lips-one of momentary relief. He straightened, cracked his neck, and walked to the window. In one swift motion, he pulled the massive curtains aside, then slid open the windows, allowing the sharp night air to pour into the suffocating room.

Because this room...

This grand, luxurious master bedroom now felt like a cage.

Too many emotions.

Too many unsaid words.

Too much weight.

It was strangling him.

His hands gripped the edges of the window pane for a moment before he slowly stepped out onto the balcony. And then he looked up.

There it was-

The moon.

Bright. Full. Untouched. Distant.

He stared at it, chest rising and falling slowly.

Its light spilled across the bed behind him... illuminating the fragile form of the woman he'd just made his wife.

His heart... despite its silence... turned toward her.

Toward the broken moon

lying over his bed.

After some time, he walked back to her again.

This time, he picked up her migraine medication-and did exactly what he had done with the fever tablet. Crushed it. Mixed it. And fed it to her.

With the same silent determination.

Once that was done, he went through the process one last time-this time, a multivitamin. She hadn't eaten a single bite since morning, and he knew her body was running on nothing but heartbreak.

He crouched beside her, brushing back the strands of hair sticking to her forehead. "At least let this help you regain some strength," he whispered, more to himself than to her.

With her limp form still lost to sleep, he made her swallow it gently, patiently... never losing his temper this time.

Once he was done, he exhaled deeply. His eyes scanned her body-withered, exhausted, almost sunken into itself. She looked... caged.

Not just emotionally, but physically too.

The heavy bridal jewelry.

It was weighing her down more than anything else now.

So, without saying a word, he reached out and began removing them-**gently, carefully**, as though each piece held the weight of her grief. One by one, he undid the ornate earrings, the embellished mathapatti, the armlets, the anklets, the waist chain.

Only three pieces remained untouched:

**The mangalsutra around her neck,

the crimson chooda on her wrists,

and the two delicate toe rings.**

Everything else, he tucked away quietly into the designated portion of her closet-hers now, forever.

He stood there for a moment, eyes lingering on her bridal attire. The lehenga looked as if it was stitched with centuries of tradition and a hundred pounds of burden.

But he knew his boundaries.

He wasn't going to touch her clothes.

Not tonight.

So he let it be.

By the time the clock struck 4 AM, he finally turned off the lights, allowing only the moonlight to pour in from the half-open balcony.

He walked to the other side of the bed and lay down, keeping a respectful distance between them. The silence of the room was thick, and sleep was nowhere in sight for him.

Because how could he sleep...

When his eyes never once stopped watching her face-

Studying every flicker of pain,

Every twitch of her lashes,

Every line of weariness.

There was no guilt in his gaze.

But there was something else-**an untold, unspoken weight.**

One he couldn't name.

One that was beginning to anchor itself inside his chest.

Next Morning - Around 7 AM

Outside the Rajput Palace, a long caravan of luxury cars began to pull up, one after the other. The loud beats of dhols and nagadas echoed through the grand gates, rattling the quiet of the early hour. The grand arrival had begun.

At the center of it all, Randhir finally arrived-his sherwani crisp, face beaming, and his newly wedded bride Ridhima seated beside him, shyly adorned in red. Behind them, a fleet of relatives followed, the courtyard brimming with excitement, laughter, and thunderous beats that could be heard across nearby alleys.

The palace buzzed like a hive.

But inside...

Inside a certain locked room at the far end of the mansion, time still stood painfully still.

Kanika hadn't moved from the bed. Still asleep, wrapped in silence and shadows, under the unwavering gaze of the man seated on the couch before her-Anakveer.

He hadn't slept.

Not even for a moment.

His eyes were fixed on her face, tracing each movement in her breath... watching her like a man who couldn't decide whether he was the sinner or the savior.

His posture was still-one leg crossed over the other, hand beneath his jaw-a calm predator, or maybe a silent protector. Even he didn't know anymore.

But the outside chaos soon seeped in.

The pounding drums. The booming dhols. The ululations of women. The shouting of relatives.

Anakveer's jaw twitched in annoyance. His face contorted as if the sound personally offended him. He shot up, stormed to the balcony, and yanked the sliding door shut. Then the windows. Then the main door. One after the other, trying to trap the silence back inside.

But it was already too late.

When he turned back, he saw her-

Kanika stirred.

A pained groan escaped her dry throat as her eyelids fluttered open, the heaviness of fever and fatigue still dancing in her lashes. Her hand reached instinctively for her throbbing temple. She tried to sit up, anchoring herself on one elbow-

But her body betrayed her.

She collapsed back onto the pillow with a faint gasp, as though even gravity pitied her today.

Anakveer's calm posture shattered. He rushed to her side in seconds, gently but firmly sliding one arm beneath her shoulders, lifting her just enough to cradle her upright.

"Ani..." his voice dropped into a low, concerned whisper, "Aapko kuch chahiye ho to mujhe boliye... Aap abhi bahut kamzor hain. Don't try to move unnecessarily."

She blinked slowly, her lashes wet from unshed tears, but her face tried to remain blank. Her hands, cold and trembling, attempted to push him away-feeble, unsure, stubborn.

But her strength couldn't match her attitude.

The push didn't even budge him. She ended up collapsing into him more instead.

Despite the anger radiating from her fragile frame, Anakveer didn't flinch. Her fits, her silence, her weak resistance-none of it moved him away.

Instead, with unusual gentleness, he leaned down and tucked away a few disoriented strands of hair that clung stubbornly to her damp, pale face. His thumb grazed the curve of her cheek for a fleeting second.

His voice, calm yet matter-of-fact, broke the silence.

"Look, I know you're angry with me..." he murmured, eyes pinned on hers, "...and you have every right to be."

He paused, scanning her exhausted features.

"But right now, I think you need to brush your teeth first." A faint smile ghosted over his lips, quickly gone. "I'll go get you something to eat. Meanwhile, you can freshen up. Okay?"

-"Later, you can fight me as much as you want. But do you even realise? You passed out multiple times last night."

And with that, before she could argue or even blink in defiance, he leaned forward, scooped her up once again-as if her weight meant nothing to him-and carried her inside the washroom.

She barely had the strength to protest. Or perhaps she'd already given up trying.

He made her stand steadily near the washbasin, careful not to let her sway, then stepped back.he turned around and shut the bathroom door behind him, leaving her alone.

Kanika took slow, hesitant steps toward the full-length mirror and the faint ache inside her chest-all blurred together.

She stood still in front of her reflection.

And then, she saw herself.

A bitter, pained smile crept onto her lips-the kind that doesn't reach the eyes, just lingers somewhere between grief and mockery. Her throat tightened. The mirror offered no mercy-only truth.

A fresh streak of tears trickled silently down her cheeks, cutting through the dried ones like rain over dust.

This was the first time she'd truly looked at herself since the moment everything changed. Since the moment she became someone's wife.

Her eyes roamed slowly, taking in the heavy golden bridal lehenga wrapping her like a silken shroud-glistening, suffocating. Each thread felt like a chain, an anchor keeping her bound to a fate she never chose.

Then her gaze shifted upwards to the vermilion smeared boldly along her hairline. Vibrant. Loud. Unapologetic. It sat there like a scarlet brand, not of love-but of possession.

"You're not free anymore," it seemed to whisper mockingly.

Her eyes dropped to her wrists. Chura-clad arms, once a symbol of celebration, now looked like handcuffs carved in red and gold.

The mangalsutra dangled against her chest like a verdict, its black beads whispering,

"You trusted the wrong person."

And finally-her gaze reached her own face.

Hollow eyes. Swollen lids. Pale skin.

No makeup. No glow. Only a girl, stripped of hope, standing in the golden prison of tradition.

Her reflection wasn't a bride-it was a survivor of her own wedding.

A quiet sob tore out, almost soundless.

And as her vision blurred, her trembling lips parted to whisper-not to the mirror, but to herself.

"Maybe... the only sin I committed was being born a girl.

And at this moment, Kanika wanted to break.

She wanted to scream, sob, fall apart-anything, just to release the ache inside her chest. But the pain was so vast, so tangled, that she couldn't even decide what to cry for first.

Should she weep for the best friend who turned into a stranger with a sindur?

Or the family who abandoned her like she was a shameful mistake?

Or maybe for the cruel truth she could no longer deny-

That being a girl was enough reason for the world to treat her like her existence didn't matter.

She leaned forward.

With trembling hands, she splashed water onto her face, cold and ruthless, as if hoping it would wake the girl in the mirror-

The girl who refused to meet her own eyes.

The one who looked back at her but kept flinching away, unable to bear the reflection of her own hollowed soul.

Half an hour passed.

Kanika was still in the bathroom.

Still standing. Still staring.

But her reflection? It stood stiff too, equally shattered, almost as if it was trying not to look into her own eyes-

Because even the mirror couldn't hold her grief.

The air inside the tiled room was heavy, stifling.

Toothbrush untouched. Bathing essential untouched. Clothes untouched.

It wasn't as if she didn't have what she needed. Anakveer had arranged everything. Her toiletries were placed neatly. Her change of clothes folded on the counter. Her towel hung precisely where it should be. The closet outside held jewelry boxes she hadn't asked for.

But what no one could arrange for her-

was her will to live.

The spark was gone.

Snuffed out the moment her calls went unanswered.

The moment her own parents-her blood-shut her out of their lives, without even hearing her side.

Without asking if she was safe. If she wanted this.

Without even a message that said:

"Come back. We're still here. We still care about you."

She used to be the kind of girl who couldn't go a day without bathing twice.

Who'd spend hours in the bathroom-massaging conditioner into her hair, exfoliating her skin with fragrant scrubs, humming her favourite songs . Her shelves were lined with serums, face masks, and moisturizers-each bottle a little piece of her self-love.

But now...

She didn't even bother to change out of her day-old bridal lehenga.

She didn't comb her hair. Didn't touch her skincare.

Didn't even look in the mirror again.

The weight of three back-to-back medications had begun to make her drowsy, her limbs giving in to exhaustion. Her eyes stung, not from tears anymore, but from the absence of them.

She opened the bathroom door slowly and dragged her feet out.

Her hands clutched the edge of the duvet-her only instinct now was to sleep and disappear again.

But just then, Anakveer entered.

He walked in silently, holding a steaming plate of food, the aroma rich and full of warmth. Without a word, he placed it gently on the velvet side table beside the bed.

His voice was calm, quiet.

But there was an underlying urgency to it.

"Kanika, come... have it while it's still hot. It'll replenish your energy."

But she didn't look at him.

Didn't respond.

Instead, she grabbed the duvet tighter and began pulling it over herself, wanting to bury deeper inside the bed and away from everything-including him.

His warm gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, but this time, the warmth quickly faded...

Replaced by something colder. Harder.

His eyes dropped to her clothes-and what he saw stirred something inside him:

She was still in that bridal lehenga.

The same one she wore since yesterday.

The fabric now slightly crumpled, jewelry still hanging like remnants of a crime scene, sindur dull under her disheveled hair.

His jaw tensed.

Without saying anything, he picked up the plate again, walked around, and this time brought it right to her face.

"Have it. Please."

His voice was soft, but there was steel beneath the surface.

Kanika didn't flinch.

Didn't lift her head.

But for the first time in hours, she spoke.

And the words came out low, hoarse, but clear.

"Mr. Rajput, please take it away from my face..."

Her voice cracked-like dry leaves underfoot.

"You know I don't like disrespecting food."

It wasn't just defiance.

It wasn't anger.

It was something far worse-

Exhaustion. Defeat.

A quiet cry that she didn't have the strength to scream.

Something inside him shifted the moment that word slipped from her lips-

"Mr. Rajput."

It fell cold, hollow, distant...

Foreign.

As if she didn't recognize him anymore.

As if he was no longer her Anakveer-the friend she laughed with, the shield she trusted.

But just some stranger she was now caged with.

His jaw locked.

His palms clenched into tight fists at his sides, the knuckles going stark white.

His teeth ground against each other with pressure he didn't even realize he was applying.

But even with all that boiling under the surface...

He didn't yell.

His voice came out calm-too calm for the storm inside him.

"Look Kanika..." he said through gritted composure.

"Whatever happened between us... I know it wasn't normal. But can't you, just for a moment, stop taking your anger out on food? On your health? Why can't you eat like a normal human being?"

But he shouldn't have said that.

Because that-that was the final hit.

The final crack in the dam that had been bubbling inside her since last night.

The moment where pain finally collided with rage.

"Normal?!"

Her voice tore through the silence like a slap.

She jerked his hand away with the last remnants of energy left in her trembling body.

Eyes bloodshot.

Hair disheveled.

Chest heaving with every broken breath.

Her eyes blazed. Her limbs shook.

But her rage marched her forward like a woman possessed.

"What the fuck do you mean by 'normal,' Anakveer Rajput?"

She stormed across the room, toward the carpeted spot near the dresser-where her phone had fallen the night before.

She snatched it up from the floor, dust sticking to its cracked screen, and shoved it into his chest with brutal force.

"Yeh dekho ! Look at what you did to a 'normal' family!"

Her voice cracked, her pitch rising dangerously high as she screamed into his face.

"Because of you, my family- MY own very parents who gave birth to me-BLOCKED me!"**

Tears poured freely now, her whole frame trembling.

"You think this is normal?! That this is something I'll just adjust with?"

She stepped closer-too close. Her finger jabbed hard against his chest.

And for once, even the unshakable Anakveer flinched.

"Because of you, everything-every single thing in my life is ruined."

Her voice dropped, but the venom in it only thickened.

"You knew I'm the second daughter, right? My elder sister isn't even married yet."

Her shoulders trembled with the weight of that unspoken truth.

"But you-YOU still married me. Do you even realize what kind of sin you've forced me into?"

Her hand curled into a fist. Her chest heaved.

"Do you even have the faintest idea what kind of character assassination you've invited onto me? On her? On our whole family?"

She looked him straight in the eyes. No flinching. No hiding.

And then-she roared, almost nose-to-nose with him, her breath shaking:

"Do you even understand what her fiancé and his family will think of us now?"

"What they'll say about her, about me, about my family?"

Kanika's voice shook now-not from weakness, but from the sheer volcanic force that had been simmering beneath her flesh since last night.

"Do you even know what it means-when the elder daughter of a family is still unmarried and the younger gets married?"

Her voice quivered with pain, rage, humiliation.

"You destroyed our reputation in the society, Anakveer. You destroyed everything in my life."

Her breathing grew erratic.

She wasn't just crying now-

She was bleeding in silence, from wounds no one could see.

"Do you think, Mr. Anakveer Rajput," she spat his name like venom,

"that anything normal is left in my life, that I should act normal anymore?"

She wasn't even yelling anymore-

Her words were landing like whiplashes.

Her chest rose and fell violently.

Her eyes had turned red-bloodshot from the pressure inside.

Her face had flushed an angry hue, and her body trembled with an incoming storm.

And then-her voice choked on air.

Something inside her snapped.

Her hands balled into fists by her sides, nails digging into her skin until her knuckles turned bone-white.

She took a shaky step backward, only to stagger forward again like a wounded predator.

And then-with all the rage, all the humiliation, all the betrayal laced in one motion-

She raised her hand.

And SLAPPED him.

Hard.

The kind of slap that left a sharp, burning echo in the silence that followed.

Anakveer's face turned to the side with the impact-his jaw clenched, unmoving.

Kanika stood there, panting like she had just come out of a battlefield-

But her battlefield was her soul.

And then, her scream tore through the room, louder than the slap that came before it:

"DO YOU THINK I'M NORMAL ANYMORE?"

Her voice cracked with the sharp, shrill shatter of a soul breaking.

"Kya lagta hai tumhe?! Ke main waise hi zinda rahungi jaise kal tak thi?! Main marr chuki hoon, Anakveer Rajput! You ruined me completely!

Locking her red furry eyes with his silent one .... She questioned him...

You tell me... what was my fault, haan? Was it that I trusted you? Or that I stood by you like a fool-loyal, devoted, blindly calling you my best friend when all you did was ruin me?"

Her eyes were wild, voice rising into a scream as tears blurred her vision.

"Fucking tell me, Anakveer Rajput! Why the hell did you destroy my life?! Why?!"

Author pov:

Kanika snapped.

She began throwing everything-vases, pillows, the sheets from the bed-her hands moving without thought, just fury.

Furniture clattered. Glass shattered. Her breaths came like gasps between screams.

It was like a storm had possessed her-

Not a girl.

Not a woman.

But a force.

As if a satanic soul had entered her bones, ripping apart every thread of sanity she had clung to.

All of her pain, every betrayal, every ounce of humiliation that had boiled beneath her skin since yesterday-

was finally erupting.

She grabbed at the red bridal chunri still clinging to her head, yanked it down and threw it across the room like it was poisoned.

She screamed-voice guttural, breaking:

"Do you think by dressing me up like a damn doll in bridal wear, you'll make me your wife?! Then you're dead wrong, Mr. Rajput!"

Her hands moved to her dupatta next-grabbing, pulling, yanking it off her body until she stood in just her blouse and heavy lehenga.

She didn't care anymore.

Her mind was chaos. Her body was rage.

She wanted to destroy everything that claimed her...

Everything that marked her as his.

Then her eyes fell on her chura-clad hands.

Red. Bridal. Claiming.

She raised her trembling hands, stared at them with wild, maddened eyes-

Then whispered, almost in a curse:

"I will destroy everything that says I'm yours."

And with that, she lifted her hand-high-ready to smash it against the wall, shatter the chura, shatter herself if needed.

But-

He moved.

Anakveer-who had been silently watching, absorbing every scream, every shattered sentence-

leapt forward and came between her and the wall in a flash.

Her hand, meant for cement, slammed hard against his chest.

The sound echoed in the room.

Her eyes met his-burning with madness. His-haunted with pain.

The hit was harsh. Brutal.

But he didn't flinch.

Didn't react.

He just stood there. Letting her burn. Letting her break. Letting her hit.

Kanika stared at him for a breathless moment... and then-

She began pounding on his chest.

Fist after fist, weak but wild, her screams muffled and wet with tears:

"Why did you betray me, Anakveer?!"

Why did you make me feel so unwanted by my family?!"

Her eyes question him for his betrayal...her pained gaze beg him for answer.

"You made me characterless in front of everyone... you made me dirty in their eyes... Why?!"

But instead of stopping her-

Instead of blocking her fists or silencing her madness-

He stepped forward and wrapped her tightly into his arms.

A protective cage. A surrender. A prayer.

She resisted at first, her hands still trembling with rage, fists still lightly pounding his chest like dying echoes of a storm-but he didn't flinch. He simply held her closer.

"It's okay, Ani... shhh..." he whispered into her ear, his voice painfully gentle.

"You can hit me all you want. You can scream. You can hate me... but please..."

He paused, his voice cracking slightly-

"...please don't hurt yourself. Just don't do that to yourself."

His fingers moved up to the back of her head, cradling it tenderly, the other hand rubbing slow, soothing circles across her back.

"I promise..." he murmured again and again, as if trying to write his penance on her soul with whispered ink,

"I will fix this... I will make everything fall back into place.

No one... no one thinks you're characterless.

You are the purest soul I've ever known."

And he kept whispering those words-

Softly. Steadily. Repeatedly.

As if his voice could hold her together.

Gradually, her rage began to wane,

But her pain... didn't.

Her legs gave up beneath her. She collapsed-slow and heavy-her knees folding to the ground.

And he went down with her, still holding her close, not letting go.

Then it came-

The scream.

It wasn't a cry.

It wasn't a sob.

It was a scream from her soul.

"AAARGHHHHHHH-AAAAAAHHHH-AAAAHGGHHHHH!"

The kind of wail that echoed not from throat but from wounds that were never given words.

The kind that bled straight into the air, begging the universe to finally acknowledge her grief.

She screamed until there was nothing left to scream.

And he didn't stop her.

He held her even tighter.

Felt every tremor in her chest. Every gasp. Every broken sound.

His eyes stared blankly at the floor, wide and stung.

Then a tear slipped down his cheek.

Just one.

Silent. Clean. Unnoticed.

The first tear Anakveer Rajput had shed since the age of seven.

Not for himself.

But for her.

Because nothing had ever hurt him like her pain.

Minutes passed-maybe hours, maybe only moments.

Her wailing dissolved into hiccuped sobs.

Then-quiet, broken sniffles.

Then-nothing.

Her body slumped.

Fainted. Again.

And he caught her. Again.

Anakveer held her broken frame gently, carefully, as if even the slightest pressure might shatter her completely.

He lay her down on the bed with the tenderness of someone placing down sacred ruin, then turned away-not because he wanted to, but because he had to. He needed to gather himself. To breathe. To act.

He returned moments later, a bowl of water in hand, a clean towel draped over his forearm.

Silently, he crouched beside the bed.

Not as a husband.

Not as a bestfriend.

But as a man who had just watched the girl he adored,cared shatter beyond recognition-because of him.

He dipped the towel, wrung it gently, and brought it to her face. She was still unconscious, her lashes heavy against her pale cheeks, her lips slightly parted, breaths uneven.

With practiced care, he wiped her tear-streaked face, tracing the ruins of her breakdown-kohl smudged, cheeks clammy, strands of her disheveled hair sticking to the dampness. He patted them dry gently, trying to erase the evidence of her devastation, knowing all too well that no cloth could reach the pain etched inside her.

The coldness of the water touched her skin-and she stirred.

Her heavy lids fluttered open slowly.

But no words passed between them.

Not a gasp, not a question, not a complaint.

She simply stared.

At the ceiling.

At nothing.

Her stinging, swollen eyes stared through the vastness above her as if searching for a god who had long abandoned her. As if she was still mid-conversation with the pain she couldn't find words for.

Anakveer sat there, frozen, helpless.

His heart clenched painfully at the sight in front of him-

She lay on the plush, king-sized bed-a lifeless frame in a lifeless room.

Golden bridal lehenga still draped around her now-weakened form like armor too heavy to carry.

Jewels dimmed with grief.

Her long hair splayed like fallen silk across the pillow-unbrushed, tangled, forgotten.

Her face...

God.

Her face looked hollow.

The pale skin.

The kohl-smeared eyes-now drained of emotion.

The swollen eyelids pulled down by the weight of countless tears.

Her pillow slightly damp where the remnants of her breakdown still lingered.

And above all-

Her gaze.

That hollow, unblinking, lifeless stare at the ceiling.

As if she was there... but had already left.

A shattered soul beyond repair.

Anakveer's hands clenched by his sides.

His chest burned.

His throat choked.

And for the first time... he wanted to cry without shame.

Because what he had wanted to protect forever... was lying right in front of him, destroyed-

by his own hands.

He couldn't stay indifferent anymore. Not when the weight of her silence was louder than any scream.

With a slow, defeated motion, he slid down beside her, and in complete, wordless surrender, laid his head softly on her bare stomach. A part of him shattered as he did so-the strong, unreadable Anakveer Rajput giving in to the storm inside him.

His arms snaked around her waist, clutching her fragile body to himself as if letting go would unravel them both beyond repair. He closed his eyes-not to sleep, but to breathe... just breathe in the proof that she was still here. Still alive. Still his.

He held on tighter, his every breath syncing with hers.

Clinging to her not as a husband, not as a protector-but as a broken man... whose entire existence now hinged on the rhythm of her chest rising beneath his cheek.

As if her breath alone was keeping him alive.

And finally, the mask shattered.

The rough, composed man everyone feared-the same Anakveer Rajput who ruled silence like a sword-broke.

His voice cracked, choked in the storm of tears he had buried for far too long, as he whispered against the soft curve of her belly,

"Ani... tumne kaha tha main tumhari zindagi se bhi zyada important hoon... toh fir main tumhari zindagi kyun nahi ban sakta?"

The rawness in his words bled into the air-thick with pain, soaked in the weight of everything he should've done differently.

Not regret for marrying her-never that-but for marrying her like this.

Silent tears spilled from his lashes, soaking through her bridal fabric, dripping onto her skin like a confession he couldn't say aloud.

He didn't move. Didn't lift his head. Just stayed there, wrapped around her, letting his unspoken emotions finally have a voice in the form of his grief.

On the other side, Kanika lay eerily still, her eyes open but dry-too dry. Neither she shoved him away nor embrace him.

No tear.

No scream.

No emotions.

Not because the pain was gone, but because the tears had simply run out. Her stare fixed at the ceiling, blank and silent, as if her soul had gone quiet after screaming her heart out .

He finally sat up, exhaling a heavy breath as if the act of peeling himself off her was physically painful. He gently ran his hand across her cheek, his thumb tracing the dry path of where tears had once flowed.

"Ani, I swear I will make everything good..." his voice barely above a whisper, raw and breaking, "but please... don't punish yourself because of me. Please have something."

He stood slowly from the bed, turned to look at her again-into those vacant, dead eyes-eyes that once sparkled like the stars in his night sky, now hollow like a dried well.

"Ani, please uth jao..." he pleaded softly. "You don't like my presence, fine... I won't wander around you. But please, have something, just for yourself." His voice cracked again. "Okay... I'm going to grab something healthy for you."

He leaned in and pressed a kiss on her forehead-gentle... not romantic, but protective. Desperate. A promise he couldn't say aloud.

But before he could take another step, her voice stopped him.

"Anakveer... were you waiting for this moment only?"

He froze. Frowned. Turned halfway, confused.

She was still lying in the same position, but now her eyes were on him-not dead, but darker. As if the ashes of her pain had ignited into cold accusation.

Her voice came again, emotionless yet laced with sharp edges.

"Did you marry me because of my body? Were you waiting all this while... so you could use me whenever you wanted? Just like now... you kissed me ! Without my consent."

A heavy silence filled the room.

She continued, calmly.

"And I didn't forget how you fed me medicine last night. I might not have been fully in my senses... but I was aware of my surroundings."

Something inside Anakveer shattered.

A sound escaped him-a dry, bitter scoff-followed by a mocking laugh that held no humour, only pain.

He looked at her with wounded eyes, voice sharp but low, "Ani... you didn't need to make me feel like a criminal."

And without another word, without defending himself further, he turned around and walked out.

The door clicked shut behind him, but the echo of her words stayed behind-louder than any scream could've been.

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