This is update 3 of the day. Please read chapter 25 and 26 in case you skipped. I will try my best to write Shattered and caged tomorrow. I am facing another writer's block with those two.

Shaurya stepped out of the bathroom, his wet hair falling over his forehead as he rubbed a towel along his neck. The room was dim, lit only by the soft moonlight filtering through the curtains. Meera's silhouette was still on the bed, curled into the blankets as though she had fallen asleep waiting for him—again.

He smirked darkly, knowing well she hadn't sleep tonight. His little butterfly had finally realized the depth of his control. He could break her down, build her up, and mold her into whatever he wanted.

Crossing the room, he placed the towel on the chair and slid under the covers. His body tensed instinctively when he felt her hand wrap around his waist.

It wasn't fear or discomfort—it was triumph.

Her touch, once hesitant and unsure, was now desperate, clinging. It was everything Shaurya had been waiting for.

He reached down to remove her hand, but Meera only held him tighter.

"I'm sorry, Shaurya," her voice cracked as she whispered into the silence. "I'm so sorry for talking back and raising my voice at you. Please forgive me. I can't live like this anymore. I'll be the perfect wife. I promise I'll never disappoint you again."

Shaurya smirked, his lips curling in satisfaction.

"Chhodo mujhe, Meera," he hissed coldly, turning his head to face her. "Tumhe toh mujhse suffocation hoti hai, hai na?"

(Leave me Meera, I and this relationship suffocates you right?)

"No! Please, Shaurya!" Meera cried, clinging to him like he was her last breath. "I was wrong, I was so wrong! Please don't leave me like this. I'll do anything for your forgiveness. Just... please talk to me. I can't bear this anymore. I'll die if you leave me like this. Please, Shaurya!"

Her sobs grew louder, shaking her body as she buried her face into his chest. Her words were frantic, her desperation raw.

Shaurya watched her crumble, every ounce of her defiance stripped away. He could feel the power surge through him as he saw the once spirited Meera reduced to begging.

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, wiping her tears away. "You skipped dinner?"

Meera broke into another round of sobs, but this time, relief flooded through her. Someone had finally spoken to her after a month. She clutched him tighter, holding on as if he might disappear.

"Answer me, butterfly." His voice was calm, yet sharp. He cupped her chin, forcing her to look into his piercing gaze. "Did you or did you not?"

Meera nodded. "No. I saw the sleeping pills in the kitchen. I realized the maids were mixing them in my dinner. I wanted to apologize to you tonight, so I skipped it."

Shaurya's lips curled into a smile, though his eyes remained calculating. It was his plan anyways for her to find those sleeping pills. He leaned forward, placing another kiss on her forehead. Meera leaned into his touch, her heart clinging to this small moment of comfort after a month of torment.

"So..." His voice was soft, yet it carried a commanding edge. "Is my butterfly hungry?"

Meera nodded again, this time with a hint of shyness.

"Then let's make something for you, okay?"

Her eyes lit up, a faint smile forming on her face. All the loneliness, all the suffocation of the past month melted away in that single moment.

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Shaurya's POV

I carried her out of the room, her delicate frame fitting so perfectly in my arms. The way her blush deepened with each passing second made me smirk. Ah, my butterfly, so easily swayed by the smallest gesture of tenderness. She thought this was care. She thought this was forgiveness.

It wasn't.

"Shaurya... please let me cook. You must be exhausted from work," she said softly, her wide, pleading eyes looking up at me.

I traced my thumb along her cheek, watching her flinch ever so slightly before settling under my touch. So pliable. So fragile. Just the way I wanted her.

"You realized your mistake, butterfly," I murmured, keeping my voice gentle, almost affectionate. "This is your reward."

Her cheeks turned crimson, her gaze dropping shyly. She didn't even realize the weight of my words. That was the beauty of it. I had molded her so completely that she could no longer tell the difference between affection and manipulation.

I placed her on the kitchen counter, the sight of her nervously adjusting her night dress making me bite back a chuckle. She still had a sliver of resistance left, but it didn't matter. That, too, would crumble soon.

I reached for the ingredients, deliberately brushing past her, so close to her, that I could feel her breath hitched. Perfect.

"Relax, butterfly," I said, my tone laced with softness that barely concealed the control beneath. "I told you. Tonight is about you."

She didn't question it. She never would. Not anymore.

As I prepared the food, I fed her small bites with my own hands, watching her face light up with gratitude. Gratitude—for what? For breaking her, for isolating her, for turning her into a woman I want?

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and I could feel the raw need radiating from her. She needed me. Completely. Desperately.

Good.

This was exactly what I wanted.

"Good girl." I praised kissing her cheek. Her eyes down casted with shyness.

I studied her as she sat before me, clinging to my every word, every movement. She looked at me as though I were her entire world. And I was. I had made sure of it.

It had taken weeks of careful planning, of calculated cruelty, to get here. Ignoring her, isolating her, turning the entire household against her—it wasn't easy, but it was necessary.

And now, she was mine.

Completely.

The Meera who dared to defy me, who dared to speak back, who dared to think of someone else, was gone. In her place was this fragile, obedient creature who lived and breathed for my approval.

I smirked, the taste of victory bitter and sweet on my tongue.

Tomorrow the world would see especially Vikrant.

Vikrant. The man who had once been the center of her thoughts. The man who had occupied a space in her heart.

He would see her now—broken, submissive, and wholly mine.

Meera Shaurya Pratap Agnivanshi.

My Meera.

I leaned closer, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. She shivered under my touch, a soft smile spreading across her lips.

"Eat up, butterfly," I said, my voice low and deliberate. "You'll need your strength tomorrow."

She smiled back, oblivious to the storm brewing in my mind. She thought this was a new beginning for us, a chance at redemption.

Foolish, naïve Meera.

This wasn't redemption. This was submission.

Tomorrow, she would stand before Vikrant—not as the woman he once knew, but as the woman I had created. The Meera who had no space left in her heart for anyone but me.

And Vikrant would see it. He would see how thoroughly I had molded her.

I smirked as I watched her take another bite of the food I had prepared. She looked so content, so happy.

My butterfly, so fragile, so breakable. And now, so utterly mine.

What do you think about these three chapters?

Any ideas for Vikrant to save Meera??