-• suffer •-

[ October 28, 2006]

The entirety of the polished, lavish lobby falls into a hushed silence when the young, willowy woman walks through the revolving doors. Dressed modestly in high waisted wide legged trousers, cropped blouse, a fitting, full sleeved blazer, sans any jewelries excluding the vintage watch clasped around her slim wrist, she catches attention the minute her pointed stilettoes go click-clack past the reception.

Sara Rajawat is always the one to own the room every time she walks in. She is known to own her presence like the throne owns a royal court. Even in the absence of flashy ornaments or branded accessories on her lithe figure, Sara Rajawat has the ability to stand apart from the crowd despite being a part of it. Part of the reason could be because she rarely makes public appearances, the remains of it her being the King of Jaigarh's wife.

The latter is about to change.

Yuvraaj looks up from his desk upon hearing the unmistakable sound of heels enter his office without his permission. He meets the golden hues, glazed with heat, fury settling there like home. Ignoring the obvious presence of his beautiful young wife, his gaze slithers back to the papers in his hands. She comes to stand in front of his desk, arms crossed on her chest, waiting for him to drop his work and pay her attention.

"What are you doing here? You must go back to Rajawat palace. You've served the public with enough rumours to last us a lifetime." His eyes don't part ways from the documents, emphasising where his priorities lie. "I'll drive you back home tonight. Be ready with your belongings."

Sara grits her teeth. Never had this man ever considered that communication works two ways. He only understands the part where he's to speak, never staying to hear the other person. Honestly, speaking to a wall is a lot less witless than speaking to this man, at least the wall isn't the first to walk out in the middle of a conversation.

"I believe I sent you something."

"It's in the dustbin of my study if you're wondering." He replies.

"Did you not read the documents?" She slaps her hands on the desk edge, finally trapping the colder onyx eyes in her burning golden ones.

"I did."

Her brows snap together. "Is English hard for you to understand? Should I spell it out. They were divorce papers."

"I'm not a lawyer, but I fathomed that much." He counters snarkily.

"So you just decided to ignore."

"Ignore?" He leans back in his chair, exuding the air of superiority, chin aloft, he looked at her like he was looking down at her. "No, little rebel, I rejected it."

Jaw clenched, Sara stands straight, takes a deep breath and unzips her Chanel bag, fishing out the rolled documents and straightening them on his desk. Then she snatches a pen from the holder, leans over the desk and takes his hand, slapping it in his palm before she points at the paper. "Sign them." She commands.

He simply drops the pen and leans back, again, relaxed and nonchalant.

"Yuvraaj, sign the God damn papers!"

"No."

She looks up at the ceiling, anger building up to the point she's afraid it'll spiral out of her control and she'll end up strangling the man with her bare hands. Tears of frustration brim her eyes, she digs her teeth into her tongue, struggling to hold them back. The men in her life had always decided for her, had manouvered her like she is a docile, helpless cow, but she has had enough. She has a purpose now. And she's not giving up this early in the fight.

"Please, sign them." She looks down at the man, he appears unbothered, not moved the slightest by the change in her voice. "Please, I beg you. Set me free. I'm tired."

Yuvraaj sits straight and hope blooms in her, withered away forever when he nudges the papers with his knuckles. They scatter on the floor. "My secretary will throw them away. Go back to Rajawat palace. I'll pick you up at six."

"Did you not hear me!?" Sara screams.

Yuvraaj pinches the bridge of his nose. Icy cold eyes snapping towards her svelte figure, he gets up from the desk and prowls closer, until he has her backed against the shelf. "I heard you loud and clear, Sara, but unfortunately for you, your opinion or your consent, is negligible for me. I'm your husband. I decide what happens to this relationship. You're supposed to go home, sit tight like an obedient little wife that you are and wait for me to come pick you up." Taking hold of her chin, he pats her cheek like one does to a pet before his gaze drops to her mouth, and the events of the night they last spent together rushes back, reminding how the woman felt in his sinewy arms.

Breathless, he leans in, barely an inch away from her mouth and inhales a deep, long breath, his eyes falling close as he erases the remaining distance between them, his safe landing her luscious lips.

Click.

Yuvraaj stiffens.

The hooded, heavy lids snap open, the last witness to his lust goes down, and he swallows. "Go on, kiss me." His gaze flutters to hers, she digs the pointer of her gun deeper into his waist.

"You- You won't."

She smirks. "Try me."

He stumbles back, putting a massive distance between them, but if only guns were defeated by how far you stand instead of how perfectly aimed it is on its target. Because right now, no easy target except him stands in the room.

"Sara, drop the gun." He tells her.

"Sign the papers."

His jaw works. The muscles beneath his ears flex. He fists his hands tightly, veins prominent, running underneath the artistically inked flesh. He heaves, rage surfacing the onyx eyes, and the dark in them only deepens, like perpetual darkness, always being there, would never go away.

His eyes dart to the desk, there lies a button on the downside that'll alert his secretary slash bodyguard outside. But there's little to no chance he'll make it there without making her suspicious.

"We can talk this out-"

Sara laughs. A laugh so demented it reminds him of nails screeching on the blackboard. He grimaces. "Talk and you!? You don't know how to talk, Yuvraaj. Sign the God damn papers. Now!"

"Zo-"

She clicks the safety lock off. He stops abruptly, eyeing her in disbelief.

"What happened, Yuvraaj? Not a man enough to handle me? Need your bodyguard to fight for you?" She cocks the gun teasingly.

He steps back cautiously, hands in the air, lips pressed together to hide the panic he felt. No one has ever dared to threaten him so openly. He's not used to death facing him in the face, not after that night. That was the first time, and he had promised himself it'll be last. No person would ever have the courage to look him in the eyes and stand in front of him fearlessly. Yet here he is now, in the same vicinity as his wife, at her gun point.

She won't do it, will she?

He had been inside her just a few nights ago, she had clung to his arms, buried her face in the crook of his neck, screamed his name like she couldn't get enough of him while he drove their bodies to the peak of ecstasy. She wouldn't shoot him. Except that he knows nothing about this woman, and is unsure if fucking her is enough to change that overnight.

He watches her walk up to the desk and crouch, her gun still pointed firmly at him. She grabs the divorce papers, pen and slams them on the low coffee table. "C'mon, sign them." The muzzle of her gun targets the centre of his forehead. Yuvraaj swallows. "My god, what are you? A sloth!? How hard is it to do what I say!?"

"There's no need for you to take such an extreme step-"

"Shut up." She snaps.

His lips seal shut in surprise. He blinks.

"Sign them!"

"No." He crosses his arms on the chest.

Fine, he's on the gun point, he's at the disadvantage right now, but how hard is it to treat the other person with basic respect? He's her husband but she never regarded him as such. The last thing he wants is to let her order him around. He'd rather die.

"I'll shoot."

"You won't." He says confidently.

She wouldn't do it. She's not capable of indulging such cruel intentions, let alone executing them.

"Yuvraaj, please, I'll do it." She warns him.

"I'm not letting you go, Sara." His arms drop to his side, agitated.

"You don't even like me!"

"But you're my wife." He reminds her. "And everything that I take as mine, shall remain mine forever."

"I'm not an object." She whispers, tears in her eyes. His gaze softens. It's one of the rare times he has seen her express an emotion other than rage. "Please, I'm begging you. I don't want to do this."

He shakes his head. "You can't."

"I can, Yuvraaj." She says shakily.

He smiles lopsided, confident in his words, reaffirmed by her stance. "No, you can't."

So, she shoots.

The bullet fires off the gun, grazes his waist, and lodges into the bullet proof glass behind him. Yuvraaj freezes. A loud, deafening silence follows. He looks at her in horror. Sara cries softly, guilt palpable in her eyes, regret so profound he remembers the night his mother had held him underwater, sobbing as if she was forced to do it. Hit with the unwanted flashes of the nightmarish memories, panic ensues in his limbs, his blood pumps faster, heart slams erratically in his chest. Shock impales him before pain. He crumbles to his knees in front of her, hand cradling the blood soaking wound.

"I'm sorry." She sobs. "I didn't want to do it. You forced me. Please sign the papers." She grabs the documents from the low table and puts them in front of him, pushing them close with her toes before she stumbles back, holding the gun tighter in her hands.

He looks up at her. "Will you proceed to shoot me in the head if I still don't obey?"

She doesn't answer, but her index doesn't separate from the trigger, held on determinedly. "Sign the papers."

He grits his teeth to swallow the whimpers and grabs the pen with his blood drenched hand, breathing harshly as his vision appears dysmorphic. He clutches the corners of the pages, signing, flipping the pages, and signing again. She's quick to yank them after he's done. He sits on his knees, watching her through the bellowing stabs of torment as she goes over to his desk, grabs a few tissues and wipes off the blood stains from the documents. Yuvraaj scoffs out a chuckle, clenching his jaw when the pain surges so fast he almost loses connection with the reality. His gaze follows her until she walks up to the door and pulls it open, looking over her shoulder at him.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, "but marrying you was the biggest misfortune of my life, and I beg of you, if we ever cross paths in future again, please look the other way."

Then she walks out, leaving him bleeding on the floor.

Suffering in his own agony.

🕛

[P R E S E N T]

Yuvraaj walks back inside the house, leaving her drowning in the pool.

Suffering in her own agony.

He leaves the door open.

It doesn't take much time for people inside the house to notice someone struggling in the water. A chaotic crowd slinks past him towards the pool area. Janet and Ayush stir the guests out of the living room under the pretext of dinner. He stops at the bar, pours himself a glass of whiskey, and enjoys the show from inside. The chaos recedes when Rudra jumps into the pool to rescue his cousin. He carries her over to the edge and slides her panicked body on the floor, breathing hard as his eyes meet Yuvraaj's through the transparent windows. The latter boasts a proud smile and holds up his glass of whiskey as a toast, taking an elongated, relaxed sip.

Taranya squats next to Vivaan while he checks over the woman for any possible damage.

Sara coughs out a mouthful of water, sucking air sharply into her lungs, struggling to catch her breath. They make the woman sit up. Virat brings a towel and Taranya thanks her father-in-law with a smile, accepting the towel and draping it around the trembling shoulders.

Rudra releases a relieved breath and climbs out of the pool, storming back inside the house. "Did you push her?" He confronts the man.

Yuvraaj hums, taking another sip of his drink.

"Did you not know she can't swim!?" He spits out in rage.

"She can't?" Yuvraaj tilts his head to the side innocently. "I had no idea." His eyes move to the woman who appears at the threshold alongside his sister, shivering inside the thick towel wrapped around her arms. "I'm sorry, Sara, if I had any idea that you can't swim, I wouldn't have done that."

Sara scowls. "You knew."

Yuvraaj frowns. "No, Sara, I didn't."

She clenches her jaw and looks down, breathing in and out to compose herself.

"No matter the reason, pushing someone into the pool is not okay, Bhai." Tara snaps, still surprised by her brother's behaviour. He's not the one to pull childish stunts.

"But it's what she used to like." Yuvraaj tips the rim of his glass towards the woman. "Pushing people around was her favourite game."

"Bhai," Vivaan grits out, coming to his brother's side and placing a firm hand on his arm, warning him silently. Even though the guests are on the terrace, there's still a chance someone might overhear them.

"Did I say something wrong?" Yuvraaj questions, feigning nonchalance.

"Are you for real?" Rudra glares at him.

"It's okay." Sara speaks up, catching everyone's attention. Yuvraaj looks her way, agitated at the fake mask she puts on of being the bigger person. The woman shot him to make him sign divorce papers. There's no one else as psychotic as her. She looks him in the eyes, he stands straight, unfurling his majestic aura. "When kids feel threatened, they often resort to bullying as their defense mechanism." The cockiness on his face drops. His eyes narrow in slits.

"What did you-"

"Hold him, Rudra," she says softly, unbothered and calm, "We don't want him to splash in the water in a feat of anger." She smiles.

His grip around the glass tightens. Jaw works painfully enough to highlight the molars grind harshly.

"Come with me, I'll get you something to wear." Taranya volunteers.

"Sure, thank you."

The women walk out and the men follow, heading towards the terrace instead. Yuvraaj stays back, downing the rest of his drink before he puts the glass away and turns around, leaning over the bar as he holds his head in his hands.

She did it again. She made him act out of his character. He would never do something as immature as pushing someone into the pool to derive fun out of it. But the moment he saw her, the only thought ricocheting across his head was to watch her suffer.

Hearing the soft click of the door, his gaze shifts, onyx eyes travel down the figure that steps out of the room, wearing a chiffon white anarkali with a low cut neckline, plunging deep enough to tease the rise of her bosom.

"C'mon, I'll take you to the terrace. Food is there." He looks away when Taranya appears next to her.

"You go, I'll follow later." Sara says softly.

Taranya looks between them unsurely. "You sure?"

Sara nods. "Go."

Sighing in defeat, Taranya heads out.

Straightening up, he walks around the bar to pour himself another drink. Then he leans over the counter, drink in his hand, meeting her eyes when she halts across from him, a physical barrier between them.

"We're even now. You got your revenge. Stay away from me." She turns to leave.

"Too bad." He takes a sip, tips the rim of his glass in her direction, "I'm just getting started, little rebel."