Note: long story + fast paced.

5/6/2024.

•••••

"Good afternoon, sir." I wished, catching my breath.

I had managed to cover a distance of nearly two miles in less than one hour, despite the storming rain. Lacking the time to change, I straightaway enter his room.

"Sir," I pant, shivering from the temperature of his room. He sat in his couch as usual, his mighty body displayed proudly despite the veils of clothes. His hair, neat and smooth, was drawn to a side by the comb. But his face, I have never seen. It's always hidden.

His smirk, I could feel it, sent a shiver down my spine. Swallowing hard I resume, "May I have your permission to go down to my room and change?"

There was silence. He was thinking.

"Alright. Get me a cup of something warm on your way back." He says, sitting in solitude. "Actually, make that two, buttercup."

"Yes sir."

"You know what, just get it with my lunch."

Bowing, I exit his room and dash down into the kitchen. Sejal was busy boiling up the pasta for his lasagna.

"Hello," she drawls and then pauses, checking me out from head to toe. "Girl, you better change unless you wish to anger Mrs. D'Souza."

I smirk, putting out some water in a vessel to bowl. Pulling out another chopping board, I hurriedly cut the veggies. "When the boss himself doesn't scold me for staining his rug, why will Mrs. D'Souza do?"

"Lucky girl." She chuckles, going back to her cooking.

Veggies, done. Spices, done. "I'll be back in ten minutes. Look over the soup for me."

"I'll do that, Riddhima." Mrs. D'Souza says, sounding very cross. She too, like Sejal, gives a disapproving look about my appearance after checking me out from head to toe. "Why don't you go and have a change? The boss may be lenient with you, but I definitely w--"

"Right away ma'am!" I cut her off and run out, straight to my room. Locking the door, I draw out a towel and some fresh clothes.

Discarding my wet clothes, I step into the warm bath.

Mhm, so soothing!!

'Lucky girl.'

'The boss may be lenient with you.'

I frown, rubbing the lather on my arms. Neither am I lucky, not is he lenient. It's just their perspective, because the mental games he plays with me are tiresome.

Maybe I shouldn't have accepted the job offer after all. Sejal made it sound all so easy and flashy.

Sejal and I first met when I was working part time in the town library. I was earning a little above the minimum pay that, ofcourse, allowed me to buy only the barest of minimum: milk and bread. Commodities that should've lasted only a week, I used for a month with extra caution.

The second time she visited the library, she told me about the opening in her mansion and offered me to accept it. Perks - it paid very well. I had to do only an hour of cleaning, then I could rest. I'd even get my own room.

But what I didn't know that the mute, always hiding in the dark, boss would have something for me. My name can rot in hell; he's unofficial named me buttercup. Even the devil, Mrs. D'Souza, teases me with that name.

Stepping out of the tub, I sigh and change into the fresher clothes. Gulping down my cold medicine, I march back to the kitchen. The smell of the warm food makes me regret missing out on breakfast.

Sejal had put the lasagna out to cool down. I pull out a tray, place two plates on it. Turning off the gas, I pour the soup into two cups and keep two separate glasses for water. Placing the cutlery and a couple of napkins in the tray, I finally set the lasagna in the tray.

Right then, he rings the bell.

I knock on his door, stepping in a minute later. He was by the open window, looking down at someone. I saw his beautiful lips, pale pink and chapped, turned down into a frown. An angry frown.

"Sir, I've got your lunch."

He turns towards me with a jerk. I see his eyes. The most beautiful grey, with tints of silver, eyes staring at me in surprise.

Composing himself, he sits on the chair by the window and rings the bell again. Mrs. D'Souza steps in, standing by my side.

"Sir," she bows, waiting for his order.

"Down there," he says in a monotone while gesturing towards the backyard, "there are some gossipers. Tell them that I value silence, and if one has nothing valuable to say they must keep their lips sealed."

"I apologise for their behaviour, sir."

"It's not your fault." His gaze, I perceive, shifts towards me, a crafty smirk forming on his lips. "Get rid of them."

"Right away, sir." She walks out. I set the tray on the table, laying out the plates and glasses for him.

"Is it wrong to gossip, sir?"

"Have a seat, buttercup." He shifts in his seat, giving me a curious smirk. It's a habit now, so I sit without a fight. "And no, it isn't wrong to gossip. As long as nobody's character is being assassinated."

I nod, taking a sip of the soup. Sir places a napkin on his lap, taking a bite of his lasagna. "Delicious." He says, "but not as delicious as the one you make, buttercup."

I blush, taking a longer sip of the soup.

"Do you not plan on eating?" He asks, tilting his head to the left. I can faintly make out the rough features on his face. There is a small scar on his cheek. Setting my cup down, I take hold of the fork. Under his intense gaze and with my trembling hands, I take a bite.

"Aren't you going eat, sir?" I ask, noticing that he hasn't touched his plate.

"I feel full watching you eat." He smirks. I bite my lips, my heart fluttering at his words.

•••••

My throat hurts.

It's been hours since I've seen light, food or water. I can only feel the rough texture of the ropes tied tightly around my wrists and legs. My back hurts from sitting on the wooden chair for hours.

The last I remember was being stuck in a fire dressed mansion. Everyone was saved, except me. I was stuck on the other side of life; trapped under a pile of firewood. The boss, he came back to save me.

His beautiful grey eyes were moist, filled with fear and desperation. He was crying, holding me close to his body.

But why? Why does he shed tears for me? And why did my heart feel so heavy seeing his tears? Why did I feel so desperate to make him smile?

Then there was darkness.

Utter, desolate darkness.

"Argh!" I yell, feeling the ropes bite into my skin. A man sniggers, pulling it harder. Leaving the ropes, he grips my chin hard. "She's beautiful, I'd give you that. But she'd only fetch a dozen silvers at the most."

"Having a pretty face doesn't equate for -"

"Get your filthy hands off her!" He screamed. I could feel his anger, his distress and disgust in his voice. I flinch and shudder in fear.

It was all screams and shouts, metal and fists for the next few minutes. I could only sit quietly and cry, pray and fear for my life. I tried to struggle, to free myself, but the ropes bit in deeper, drawing blood.

I was afraid. I was cold, from all the water that was poured on me every day. Or probably every hour.

"Buttercup," he calls softly, his thumb pads wiping away my tears. Undoing my ropes, he holds my head against his chest, running his fingers through my hair. "You're safe now, buttercup. I'm here now."

"My precious." He whispers.

I black out.

•••••

There was a hand above mine.

A youthful, soft hand. Nothing compared to his. His hands felt warm and familiar and full of love. These hands were also warm, also familiar, and also full of love. But the love felt... different.

My throat hurts and I cough, trying to clear it. The hand moves off mine. I feel a intense stare directed towards me. I cough again.

His hands hold mine, gently guiding the water glass towards me. "Drink up," he says sadly. I down the water in one go. He takes the glass away, placing it nearby.

"What are you doing here, Ray?" His voice falls on my ears. I turn my head around, searching for him.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to meet mother once."

"She doesn't know you yet. Wait for a while."

"Apologies, father." The youth says. The room falls silent. I look around, furious to see the master.

"Sir," I say softly, hoping he was still here. There was no response. I gulp, trying to fight back the tears.

"Why do you shed tears, my love?" He whimpers, sitting beside me. Owing to his big size and my frail self, I fall right towards him, over his chest. I wanted to move away, but he held me in place.

"My name's Vansh. Do not refer to me as your master; we're equals."

"Sir, can... can you please take me towards the light? It's too dark here."

He stays silent. "V...Vansh, what's wrong? Please answer me. I'm ...scared."

"So am I, Riddhima." He says in a desolate tone.

"Why?" I ask, gulping hard.

"You've gone blind. Completely."

•••••

"Vansh," I call meekly. The next moment I feel his fingers running through my hair.

"What's wrong, buttercup?" He strokes my cheeks. I hold a pillow close to my chest, leaning towards him. He makes me like down, my head on his lap. I stretch my legs out on the bed.

"Why did you say that we're equals? I'm just a regular girl running between her job at the library and that at your mansion."

"That's what you are now, buttercup." He gently strokes my chin. "Before this, you and I were married."

"How do you... ? Tell me about it."

I can feel a smirk form on his lips. He takes my hand close to his face and kisses my fingers. "You, my beloved buttercup, were a duchess at that time. The rich, most benevolent and highly loved duchess. You were a prized warrior to the emperor, which was why he dealt with all your tantrums."

I pout. He chuckles.

"Although you barely had any." He grins, poking my cheek. "Anyways, so in the month of spring, during the second prince's party, we met."

"What were you? A baron? A duke? A..."

"An immortal overlord." He says with a chuckle. "I'm not lying. My bloodline is known for staying alive for hundreds and thousands of centuries."

"Then...how old are you?"

"We married when I was 1300 years." I stare at him with wide eyes. "I should be nearing 2000 soon."

"What the--" I gasp, "Our age gap is too long."

"That didn't matter to you in the previous life, my dear. For you, I was just your lover, your equal. You were about to start a rebellion against the emperor to legalize our wedding."

We change positions. I'm on the pillow and he, beside me, propped against his elbow. He slides his arm under my head and we cuddle.

"You remember Ray? He was sitting beside you when you first woke up." He chuckles dryly. "He's our son. And we've been living without you for centuries. You have no idea how lonely it gets."

"He's an immortal?"

"Yes." He acknowledges.

"How did I die?"

"As a war hero."

"Do not lie, father!" Ray yells, storming inside. "Mother was murdered. Don't fill her up with such bogus lies."

"Ray!" Vansh growls, sitting up on the bed. I can feel the poor boy whimper and shudder. "Ray, come here."

"Yes mother." He sniffles, sitting beside me and resting his head on my lap. I caress his hair. "Let's not talk about the past anymore. I'm here now, let's stay in the present."

"I'm sorry." He whimpers. I caress his hair.

"You spoil the boy too much, buttercup." Vansh grumbles.

"He's our only child. I have every right to spoil him." I say smugly.

"Only? No, I want siblings. Little brothers and sisters. I want many." Ray cribs.

"See," Vansh drawls sarcastically. I blush.

Ray moves off the bed. "I need a good news by next week. It's lonely being the only child, you know."

"Let me call, Aryan." Vansh warns. I chuckle.

"No way." He grumbles. "Mother, father is scaring me."

"Scaring you? If it wasn't for your mother, I would've thrashed you for such irrelevant words. Do you not understand that she is still healing?"

"Vansh, don't scol--"

"Come on, Riddhima. You say this and spoil the boy. He's become such a brat!"

"Don't scold her. I made a mistake, scold me." Ray jumps in between.

I sigh, curling up into the blankets. As expected, a minute later the room goes quiet.

"I'll be leaving now." Ray whispers, tip-toeing his way out. Vansh sits beside me, covering me with the duvet. He presses a kiss on my forehead, caressing my hair slowly.

"I love you, my buttercup." He whispers.

"I love you too," I manage to whisper.

He presses his lips against mine.

• THE END •

Heyo, everyone!

I hope you like this OS. I know it was too fast-paced, but I didn't want to drag it unnecessarily.

Do leave your comments.