The room had calmed, but the tension remained thick in the air, like the calm before a storm. The King stood in front of Samaira, his presence commanding, but for the first time, there was a gentleness to his demeanor that made the rest of the room fall into a strange quietness.

He stepped back slowly, his gaze never leaving her face. He nodded toward one of his men, who immediately approached with a medical kit. The masked man took the kit with a deliberate hand, his movements precise, controlled. Without a word, he returned to Samaira, his eyes softening as he kneeled down beside her.

Samaira watched him, a strange warmth bubbling inside her. She couldn’t quite place it—the discomfort of his dark, dangerous side mixed with something unexpected: care. He opened the kit and, without a word, gently took out some antiseptic.

"I can do this," Samaira said, her voice steady but a little uncertain. She could handle it herself, but something about his quiet focus made her hesitate.

The King’s gaze flicked to hers, his eyes dark but soft. "Doctors are the worst at taking care of themselves," he replied, his voice low but rich, like velvet. His fingers, though calloused from years of violence, were surprisingly gentle as they dabbed the antiseptic on her neck, his touch delicate, careful.

Samaira couldn’t help but notice how tender his movements were, how he avoided looking at her in a way that would make her uncomfortable. His focus was solely on her injury, the cut that seemed so insignificant now in comparison to the storm of emotions she was feeling. His gaze, though hidden behind the mask, softened in a way that no one could have expected from someone like him.

Naksh’s voice broke the moment, sharp and protective. "What is this?" he demanded, taking a step forward. His eyes were filled with suspicion, his protective instincts flaring. "You can’t—"

Before he could finish, the King raised a hand, a silent command. Instantly, two of his guards stepped forward, grabbing Naksh by the arms and holding him back. Naksh struggled, his eyes narrowing with fury. But the King didn’t even glance at him. He simply continued to tend to Samaira’s wound, unfazed by the commotion.

Aahana and Anay, standing to the side, watched the unfolding scene in complete silence. They, too, seemed taken aback by the King’s unexpected gentleness. They had never seen this side of him—the feared, ruthless underworld king, who had just killed without hesitation, now kneeling and carefully tending to Samaira as though she were something precious.

Samaira’s mind was a whirlwind of confusion and realization. She had never imagined this man, this King, capable of such gentleness. There was something about him—something dark, yes, but also human, caring. For a brief moment, she forgot the chaos, the bloodshed, and the violence that surrounded them. In that instant, he seemed like nothing more than a man, taking care of her, doing something that no one had done for her in so long.

"She can’t do this to Advait," Naksh said, his voice harsh as he tried to free himself from the guards’ grip. "You can’t just… forget the fact that she’s still married to him."

The words were meant to hurt, to push Samaira back into the cold reality she was trying to escape, but they only seemed to strengthen her resolve. She didn’t love Advait. She hadn’t ever loved him—not truly. And yet here she was, caught in the middle of a storm that no one seemed to understand.

The King’s gaze flicked to Naksh, his eyes narrowing just slightly. Then, with a sudden and deliberate motion, he signaled to his guards. Without a word, they released Naksh, who stumbled back, stunned by the sudden freedom.

The King then slowly began to remove his mask, the movement slow and deliberate, as if to make sure no one could escape the weight of the moment.

Naksh, Aahana, and Anay stood frozen in place as the mask came off, revealing the face that Samaira had recognized long before any of them had. Her heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, it felt as though time had stopped.

"Advait…" Naksh whispered, his voice full of disbelief, his eyes wide with shock.

The room seemed to inhale in unison, the tension rising as Advait’s true identity was revealed.

"Didn’t know my brother-in-law cared about my marriage so much," Advait said, his voice smooth and laced with amusement. His lips curled into a faint, mocking smile, but his eyes held something darker—something only Samaira could fully recognize.

Naksh’s eyes darted between Samaira and Advait, his shock quickly morphing into a protective rage. "What is this?" he spat. "Why didn’t you tell us, Samaira? Why are you letting him do this? He’s the same man who betrayed you. You can’t just let him close to you like this!"

Advait’s gaze didn’t falter. He looked at Naksh with a mix of amusement and contempt. "Now, now, Naksh," he said, his tone still cool but edged with a sharpness that only those who knew him well could understand. "Do I have your permission now to finish tending to my wife?"

The words hit like a blow. My wife.

Samaira felt a strange, unsettling feeling swirl within her. She had married Advait out of obligation, not love, but hearing him call her his wife—even in this moment—sent a shiver down her spine.

Advait turned back to her, resuming his work, as though Naksh’s words had meant nothing. He gently bandaged her wound, his movements still as careful and meticulous as they had been before. The room fell into an eerie silence, everyone still processing the revelation.

Samaira’s heart raced as she watched him—her husband, the man who had shattered her world, now tending to her wound with a touch that felt almost tender. Despite the chaos, despite the anger and betrayal, she felt a strange sense of comfort in his presence.

She tried to push away the feelings that had begun to surface, but it was impossible. This man, the one who had forced her into a marriage she never wanted, was here now, saving her in his own twisted way.

And in that moment, Samaira couldn’t help but wonder—was he here to protect her, or was this just another manipulation, another layer of control?