Here's the second update of the day.

Comment your thoughts please, guys?

Mythili's POV ~

The hours crawled by, each second heavier than the last. The darkness only amplified the pounding in my head, and my muscles screamed in protest from being tied for so long. The pain was almost unbearable, but the fear was worse. Baba hadn't stirred, and with each shallow breath he took, my panic grew.

I couldn't stop my mind from spiraling. Where was Shivaay? Did he even know what had happened to us? Was he out there looking for us, or were Kapoor and Shivaay's father still playing their sick game, leading him in circles?

The first night passed slowly. I had no sense of time—only the constant dread that lingered in the pit of my stomach. My lips were dry, and my throat burned from thirst. They hadn't given us food or water since we were dragged here. Dad's threats replayed in my mind over and over, his sickening smirk burned into my thoughts.

On the second day, I tried to loosen the ropes around my wrists, using what little strength I had left. But the knots were tight, digging deeper into my skin with every futile attempt. My wrists were raw, bleeding in some spots. Baba still hadn't moved. His breathing was labored, shallow.

I tried to focus on anything else to keep from losing my mind. But all I could think about was Shivaay. His face, the way he used to look at me, that quiet intensity in his eyes. He wouldn't let them win. He wouldn't let them hurt me. I had to believe that. It was the only thing keeping me from completely unraveling.

But the longer the hours dragged on, the more doubt crept in. What if they'd done something to him? What if he didn't even know we were here?

Just when I thought I couldn't take the silence anymore, the door creaked open again. The dim light flickered, casting long shadows across the room as his men entered, dragging in a tray of food—if you could call it that. A slice of stale bread and a glass of water.

I glanced at Baba, my throat tightening. He needed that water more than I did, but there was no way for him to drink in his current state.

One of the men noticed my gaze and, without a word, kicked Baba's side. I gasped, tears immediately welling up as the sight of him lying there so helpless crushed me. He groaned faintly, but he didn't wake.

"Eat," the man ordered, shoving the tray toward me.

I glared at him, swallowing the lump in my throat, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing my pain. But hunger gnawed at my stomach, and I knew I needed to keep up my strength, for Baba's sake. Reluctantly, I took a bite of the bread, each chew more difficult than the last as anger and helplessness twisted inside me.

The man grabbed my chin roughly, forcing me to look up at him. "Kapoor says you're running out of time, princess. Better start thinking about your options."

I jerked my face away, fury bubbling beneath my skin, but it was useless. He only laughed, stepping away with a sneer before leaving us alone again.

The second night was even worse. Baba's breathing had become more erratic, and I could feel my resolve crumbling. What if they were right? What if Shivaay never found us?

On the morning of the third day, as sunlight barely filtered through the small cracks in the walls, I heard the sound of footsteps. Heavy and deliberate. The door swung open again, and this time, Kapoor and Shivaay's father entered, their faces smug with confidence.

"Well, well," The man I refused to call dad anymore drawled, circling around me like a predator. "How are you feeling today, Mythili?"

I didn't answer, clenching my teeth.

He leaned down, his face too close, and I could smell the expensive cologne mixed with his cruelty. "It's really simple, you know. Sign over the mansion, and all this stops."

"I told you," I spat, my voice hoarse, "I won't do it."

His eyes darkened, and his hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of my hair. I winced as he yanked my head back, forcing me to meet his gaze. "You're a stubborn little thing, aren't you? You think your Shivaay is going to save you? Do you even know where he is right now?" He laughed bitterly. "Chasing shadows, Mythili. You're wasting your time."

I bit my lip, tasting blood again, but I refused to let him see my fear. I glared up at him, silently daring him to do his worst.

Shivaay's father stepped forward then, his voice colder than ever. "Your husband is a fool. He's running around, chasing clues that lead nowhere, while you and Baba rot here. If he wants to save you, he'll have to stop that wedding. But knowing Shivaay... I doubt even this will be enough to break him."

I swallowed hard, my heart racing. They were underestimating him. Shivaay wasn't a man who broke easily. He would find a way. He had to.

Kapoor released my hair with a harsh tug, sending my head snapping forward. I gasped, pain shooting through my scalp, but I forced myself to stay strong.

"We'll see how long you last, Mythili," Kapoor sneered. "Time's running out."

With that, they turned and left, their footsteps echoing in the cold, empty room. The door slammed shut behind them, leaving me once again in silence. I blinked back the tears that threatened to spill, biting down on my trembling lip.

I couldn't give up. I wouldn't.

I just had to hold on until Shivaay came. And deep down, despite everything, I knew he would.

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Morning turned to afternoon and eventually the night and eventually the farmhouse door burst open with a deafening crash, the sudden intrusion startling me from the depths of my exhaustion. For a moment, I thought I was dreaming—the familiar figure framed against the light of the open doorway, his silhouette cutting a commanding presence.

Shivaay.

He stood there, with his eyes blazing in fury, but I could see the concern and desperation etched across his face. His breath was ragged as if he had run straight from hell to get here. Behind him, the police flooded into the room, their weapons drawn, efficiently moving to surround Kapoor's men.

My heart thudded painfully in my chest, disbelief and relief swirling inside me in equal measure. He had come. He had found us.

And then, dragged in behind him—beaten, bloodied, and barely recognizable—were my father and his father, their hands bound tightly behind their backs. Their faces were swollen, covered in bruises and cuts, evidence of Shivaay's rage. They stumbled as they were pushed forward by the police, collapsing to their knees in front of me, their once smug and arrogant expressions reduced to nothing but pain and fear.

The sight of them—broken, vulnerable—brought a sick satisfaction to my core. They had caused us so much pain, so much anguish, and now, they were paying for it.

Shivaay didn't waste a second. His eyes swept over me, taking in my bound wrists, my bruised skin, and the way I sat next to Baba. The cold fury on his face deepened, but there was a tenderness in his gaze when he looked at me.

He crossed the room in quick, long strides and knelt down beside me, his hands immediately working to untie the ropes around my wrists. "Mythili," he murmured, his voice rough, raw with emotion. "I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry I couldn't get here sooner."

Tears stung my eyes, but I held them back. "You found us," I whispered. "That's all that matters."

As the ropes fell away, I winced at the pain in my wrists, but the relief of being free washed over me. Shivaay's hands moved to my face, cupping my cheeks as he leaned in, resting his forehead against mine for a brief second, his breath uneven.

But then his gaze shifted, and he pulled back slightly, his eyes narrowing as they swept over my face, then down to the bruises on my arms. His expression changed instantly—his tenderness was swallowed by a dark, seething anger. He brushed his fingers along the raw, chafed skin of my wrists, his jaw tightening as he saw the rope marks that dug deep into my flesh.

"Who did this?" His voice was low, barely controlled, the fury bubbling just beneath the surface.

I didn't need to answer. His eyes flickered to  unconscious Baba beside me and the barely touched tray of stale food. He glanced at the cuts on my lips, the bruises along my arms and neck and his hands clenched into fists, trembling with barely suppressed violence.

"Who. Did. This. To. My. Wife?" He growled, each word sharper than the last.

Before I could stop him, before I could say anything, he was already on his feet. His gaze snapped to dad's men, who had been lined up by the police. Without warning, Shivaay lunged toward one of them, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him against the wall with such force the man let out a gasp, his eyes wide with terror.

"You dared to lay a hand on her?" Shivaay's voice was deadly, low, and cold as ice, but the fury burning in his eyes was anything but. His fist connected with the man's face in a blur, and I heard the sickening crack of bone.

The man cried out, crumpling to the floor, but he wasn't done. He turned to the next, his movements swift and merciless. "Who touched her?" he demanded, his fist already striking again. "Who hurt her?!"

The men in the room who had been so smug, so confident were now trembled with fear.

Even the police let Shivaay continue without stepping in between. He grabbed another man by the neck, lifting him off the ground and throwing him across the room as if he weighed nothing and crashed into the far wall with a groan of pain.

I tried to speak, to call out to him, but my voice caught in my throat. I had never seen him like this—so raw, so unhinged. He wasn't just angry; he was consumed by rage.

"Shivaay!" I finally managed to call out, my voice hoarse. But he didn't hear me. His focus was solely on them, his vision red with vengeance.

"Who hit her?" He growled, storming toward another man who was backed into a corner. "Who hit my wife?" He struck the man hard, sending him crashing to the ground. Blood splattered the floor, and still, Shivaay didn't stop. He kicked him once, twice, each blow more vicious than the last.

Dad's men lay in a heap, their faces bloodied and swollen, all sense of arrogance beaten out of them.

"Shivaay, stop!" I called out, this time louder, pushing myself to my feet, my body swaying from exhaustion. "Please... stop."

At my voice, he froze mid-strike, his knuckles covered in blood, his chest heaving with exertion. His head whipped around to face me, his eyes wild, as if he didn't recognize me for a moment. But then, slowly, he dropped his arm, the anger in his eyes melting into something else—something far deeper, rawer.

He was at my side in two quick strides, his hands gentle as they cupped my face again. "Mythili..." His voice cracked, thick with emotion. "I—"

I shook my head, tears finally spilling over. "It's over, Shivaay. You found us. You saved us."

His forehead pressed against mine once more, and this time, his breath was steadier, though the tension in his body hadn't entirely dissipated. His hands trembled slightly as he held me, his heart pounding against my chest as if he were trying to hold onto the fact that I was real, that I was safe.

"I'll never let them touch you again," he whispered fiercely, his voice like a vow. "Never."

His hands, still shaking with rage, caressed my bruised cheeks so softly it almost broke me. I couldn't stop the tears anymore—after everything, it was the first time I let myself cry.

He pulled me into his arms as if he needed to make sure I was real, that I was still here. His arms wrapped around me so tightly, it almost hurt, but I didn't mind. I clung to him just as fiercely, the flood of emotions—relief, fear, exhaustion—crashing over me all at once. His warmth, his presence, was the only thing keeping me from falling apart entirely.

I buried my face against his chest, allowing myself a brief moment of weakness, letting the weight of everything we had been through settle over me. But then I remembered Baba. My heart squeezed painfully in my chest.

Shivaay must have sensed the shift in me because he loosened his hold slightly, just enough to look down into my face, his eyes filled with concern. I didn't need to say anything. His gaze followed mine, landing on Baba's still form.

Without another word, Shivaay gently released me and immediately knelt beside Baba. His expression shifted from anger to deep worry as he placed his fingers on Baba's wrist, checking for a pulse. I stood frozen, barely breathing, my hands trembling as I watched him.

Shivaay's jaw clenched tightly, and I could see the tension in his body as he waited for a sign, any sign. His fingers pressed against Baba's neck next, his brows knitting together in concentration.

Seconds dragged by, feeling like an eternity.

Finally, Shivaay's shoulders relaxed just slightly, and he turned to me with a solemn nod. "He's alive. His pulse is weak, but he's hanging on."

A shaky breath escaped my lips, the crushing weight of fear easing just a little. "We need to get him out of here. He needs medical attention," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Shivaay nodded, his focus sharp and determined. "I'll call for an ambulance. We'll get him help, I promise."

The next few hours blurred together. The sound of sirens, the flashing lights of the ambulance, the rush to the hospital—it all felt like a whirlwind. I barely registered anything until we were inside, Baba being wheeled away, doctors shouting orders.

I sank into one of the hospital chairs, my body drained of every ounce of strength. Shivaay stayed beside me, his hand gripping mine, grounding me in a way only he could.

Just as my mind started to drift into the fog of exhaustion after the doctor had looked after my cuts and bruises, I heard hurried footsteps, and then a familiar voice called my name.

"MYTHILI!"

I looked up, and there she was—Maa. The relief that flooded her face when she saw me was overwhelming. She rushed toward me, pulling me into her arms, her embrace warm and comforting. "Thank God you're safe, beta," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

I felt tears sting my eyes, and I hugged her tightly, the dam of emotions finally breaking. I had held it together for so long, but now, in her arms, I let myself fall apart.

When she pulled back, Anamika and Nupur were right behind her. Anamika was in tears as she threw her arms around me, squeezing me as if she'd never let go. "Mythili," she sobbed, her voice shaking. "We were so scared. We thought..."

I shook my head, trying to smile through the tears. "I'm okay now," I whispered, but my voice cracked, betraying the fear that still lingered inside me.

Nupur joined the hug, her quiet strength calming us all. "You're safe now, Mythili," she said softly, her hand resting gently on my shoulder. "We're all here for you."

I nodded, too choked up to speak, but the love and relief in their eyes said more than words ever could.

"I am so so sorry Anamika, Nupur. You had to cancel the wedding because of me." I said, holding their hands in mine. It was such a special day for them and it got ruined.

"Shivaay bhai, did she get hit on the head or something?" Nupur asked and Anamika started to search my head for something.

"What? No!" I said, confused looking at them.

"Then why are you talking like a fool?" She asked, giving me the sternest look possible.

Anamika chuckled softly, still checking my head just in case. "Mythili, you've been through hell and you're worried about our wedding?" Her voice was warm, laced with love and amusement.

Nupur grinned, shaking her head. "Exactly. You're acting like a total idiot." Her eyes softened, though, and she gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Our wedding isn't more important than you being safe. We can get married anytime, but you... we can't replace you."

Tears welled up in my eyes again, but this time they were from gratitude, not fear or pain. "But it was your big day..." I protested weakly, my voice breaking.

Anamika knelt down beside me, her hand cupping my face gently. "You're our family, Mythili. No wedding, no party, no event is bigger than that. The day will come again, don't worry about it." She smiled, her own eyes glassy. "And when it does, you'll be there to celebrate it properly—with a lot of laughter and no drama."

I let out a small laugh, feeling the tension in my chest begin to release. "You guys are amazing."

"And you, Mythili," Nupur said, her tone shifting from playful to serious, "are one of the strongest people I know. Don't you dare apologize for needing us. That's what family is for, right? We've got you. Always."

I looked around at the people who had become my family, my heart swelling with a mix of love and relief. This was my safe space—where I belonged.

Once the doctor said that Baba was completely out of danger, maa and the girls forced Shivaay and me to get home.

I was exhausted, but the moment we walked through the door of our home, the tension in my body began to unravel as I could feel the warmth of Shivaay's presence beside me. The silence between us wasn't heavy; it was comfortable, filled with all the unspoken words we didn't need to say.

Shivaay's hand brushed mine as we stepped inside, sending a shiver down my spine. I glanced up at him, meeting his steady gaze. His eyes, always so intense, softened as they settled on me, and for a moment, the world outside faded away. It was just the two of us.

"Come here," he whispered, his voice low, as though speaking any louder would break the fragile moment between us. Before I could respond, his arms gently wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I rested my forehead against his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him—woodsy and warm, like home. His heartbeat was steady beneath my cheek, grounding me in a way nothing else ever could.

"You're tired," he said softly, his fingers trailing up and down my back in slow, soothing strokes.

I nodded, not trusting my voice. My hands slid up to rest against his chest, feeling the heat of his skin even through the fabric of his shirt. His hand moved to cup the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair as he tilted my face up to meet his gaze again.

His eyes were searching mine, filled with that emotion which always caught me off guard. There was something in the way he looked at me that made me feel like the centre of his universe. Like nothing else mattered but this, us.

"I'm not tired anymore," I whispered, my voice barely audible, but the way his lips quirked up in that small, knowing smile told me he'd heard me loud and clear.

He didn't say anything. Instead, he lowered his head, his lips brushing mine in the softest of kisses. It wasn't rushed or urgent, it was a slow, deliberate caress that made my heart race. My hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer as I melted into him. His kiss was gentle, but it was the way he held me, as though I was something precious, that made my knees weak.

When we finally broke apart, I rested my head against his chest again, breathing in deeply, trying to steady my racing heart. His fingers traced lazy patterns on my arm, the touch light but electrifying.

"You're my everything, Mythili," he whispered into my hair, his breath warm against my skin. "I can't even begin to tell you how much."

I closed my eyes, my heart bursting with emotion. "You don't have to," I whispered back. "I feel it in everything you do."

Shivaay pulled back just enough to look at me, his hand cupping my cheek. His thumb brushed softly across my skin, and the look in his eyes made my breath hitch. He leaned in again, kissing me slowly, his lips lingering on mine as though he had all the time in the world.

His hand slid down my back, pulling me even closer until there was no space left between us. I could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his skin seeping into mine.

"I love you," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.

Shivaay smiled softly, his forehead resting against mine. "I love you too, more than you'll ever know."

We stood there for a long moment, wrapped in each other's arms, letting the world fall away. Here, in his embrace, was my safe space. This was where I belonged.

Hey guys! This is the next chapter. I hope you all like it.

Please vote and comment! Motivates a lot!

I love you all. Until next time. Byee!!❤❤