VOTE TARGET - 50❤️

"Strip," Shaurya ordered, his voice calm yet laced with authority.

Her lips parted in shock, and she stared at him as if she'd misheard. "W-what?"

"Don't make me repeat myself," he said, his tone chillingly even. "Take off your clothes."

Fear gripped her, making her movements slow and hesitant. Her fingers trembled as they undid the saree, her tears falling silently. She stood there, vulnerable and exposed, feeling the weight of his gaze on her battered skin.

Shaurya's expression didn't soften, but he walked over to the cabinet and pulled out the first aid kit. He returned to her side, his jaw tightening as he knelt down and began cleaning her wounds.

She winced as the antiseptic stung her cuts, but she didn't dare make a sound.

"This wouldn't have been necessary if you'd just listened to me," he muttered, his voice low. "Why do you always have to test my patience, butterfly?" He sighed exhausted as he wiped off her tears making her flinch at the contact.

"I didn't mean—"

"Stop," he interrupted, his tone firm. "I don't want to hear your excuses. You went out without my permission. That alone is reason enough for what happened today."

Her tears spilled over, her lips trembling. "I... I only wanted to—"

"Enough," he said sharply, dabbing at the last of her wounds before tossing the used cotton into the bin. He stood up and walked to the closet, pulling out a soft nightdress. He handed it to her. "Wear this."

She quickly slipped it on, her body trembling as she avoided his gaze.

Shaurya's fingers brushed against her cheek, and she flinched at the contact. His hand paused for a moment before he resumed, his touch strangely gentle. "You're my wife, Meera. Do you understand what that means?"

She nodded silently, too scared to speak.

"That means you belong to me," he said, his voice softer now but no less commanding. "Your actions, your decisions—they're all tied to me. If you dare to leave this house without my permission again, things will be far worse than what happened today."

Her breath hitched as he leaned closer, his eyes boring into hers. "But," he continued, "if you behave like the good devoted wife you're supposed to be and stay away from hurting Ishani, I'll treat you like a queen.Do you understand me?"

Meera managed a small nod, her voice barely a whisper. "Yes."

He smiled faintly, patting her head. "Good girl. Now, rest. I'll make dinner for us."

She blinked at him in disbelief, her lips parting as if to protest and tell him to never come back and show himself again.

But before she could say anything, Shaurya stood and walked out, leaving her alone trembling in the suffocating silence of their room.

.
.

"Did you get to see her? Meera, how is she? Is she okay? Shaurya... did he do something to her?" Vikrant asked Vardhaan as soon as he entered his cabin, his voice thick with urgency and worry.

"She's fine. Shaurya didn't do anything to her," Vardhaan lied, keeping his tone measured. Guilt gnawed at him, but he knew the truth would only worsen the situation.

If Vikrant found out the extent of Shaurya's rage, it would ignite an enmity between them so fierce, it would span generations. Bloodbaths weren't uncommon between two royal families, especially when they were each other's sore enemies.

Hearing Vardhaan's reassurances, Vikrant sighed in relief, though a shadow of doubt lingered in his eyes.

Trying to shift the conversation, Vardhaan asked, "How's Ishani now? And what are you doing here instead of being at the hospital with her?"

Vikrant's expression darkened. He turned to glare at Vardhaan. "I don't care about her," he snapped, his voice cold and dismissive.

Vardhaan sighed in exasperation, pulling off his blazer and throwing it onto the couch. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident.

"You and Ishani are married now, Vikrant. Have some respect for the relationship, at least. You need to accept Ishani as your wife. And you need to stop thinking about Meera. She's Shaurya's wife now."

"I love Meera," Vikrant hissed, his voice breaking. "I fucking love her. And I can't even think about anyone else besides her, let alone love someone else."

"Vikrant," Vardhaan began, his voice softer now, as he stepped closer and placed a hand on Vikrant's shoulder. "You need to move on."

But Vikrant jerked his hand away, his eyes blazing. "Don't, Vardhaan. Don't lecture me. Tell me this—are you able to forget Dhara? How many years has it been since you married Aradhya? Huh? She's been taking care of your son like her own, fulfilling every duty as a wife without ever asking for anything in return. Did you accept her as your wife? Did you give her the place that once belonged to Dhara? It's clear and everyone just thinks of her like she's nothing but Aarav's caretaker. Do you even realize what she must have been going through these past two years? Treated like a stranger by her own husband?" Vikrant pushes him making Vardhaan silent. He was truly left speechless.

"And you dare judge me? If you think I'm in the wrong, then you're worse than me, Vardhaan. You weren't forced into your marriage. There was no betrayal involved. In fact, if I'm not wrong, you were the one who —"

"Enough, Vikrant!" Vardhaan's voice cut through like a whip, his face hardening. "I didn't come here to discuss my personal life. My life stays within the walls of my house. I'm not from some royal family with blood feuds spilling into public.

"But you and Shaurya... You two come from strong bloodlines. A rift between you could spark a generational war. Do you really want that? The Rajvanshis and your family barely managed to reconcile after the last incident. Don't create another rift—especially not with the Agnivanshis.

"And remember," Vardhaan added, his voice softening, "for the sake of the friendship you and Shaurya have shared... let it go. Move on, Vikrant. Let Shaurya move on too.

"His temper is bad, I know. But I also know Meera can change him. She can give him something he's never had—someone to truly love and care for him. Let him have that chance."

Vikrant turned away, his jaw tight, his fists clenched. Vardhaan's words cut deeper than he wanted to admit. He didn't want to let go of Meera—he couldn't. But now, the weight of his dilemma felt unbearable.

He shared a bond with Shaurya like no other. Shaurya had always been like a brother, someone who had his back no matter what. But with Meera in the middle, Vikrant felt torn apart.

Vikrant didn't even know if he would ever be able to back off even if Meera was truly happy with Shaurya. And if she wasn't—he didn't know even if Shaurya so much as dared to ruin her life—would he ever be able to destroy Shaurya.

Vardhaan watched Vikrant closely, recognizing the storm brewing behind his eyes. He chose to say nothing more, turning back to gather his blazer from the couch. But as he adjusted the cufflinks on his sleeves, the flicker of something darker crossed his face.

No one truly knew what went on behind Vardhaan's calm demeanor. His marriage to Aradhya was a mystery even to those closest to him. And Dhara? No one dared to ask him about her. The name was a whisper of the past, a ghost he carried silently. Yet, there were cracks in his facade, and Vikrant's accusations had struck a nerve.

But Vardhaan knew how to bury his emotions. He always did. After all, secrets were what he lived with—and what he lived for.

A NEW BOOK
Part 2 - Deception Series
WILL START 2025