Riva was already in the penthouse, huffing in frustration as she tossed her purse onto the couch.

"What the hell does he think he is?" she snapped, pacing furiously.
"How dare he do something like that?"
"And the audacity!"
"Arghhhh!"

"He is really—" She was in the middle of another curse when the doorbell rang, interrupting her tirade.

Still fuming, Riva stormed to the door, muttering Vidharth’s name like a curse. Without bothering to check, she yanked it open.

And there he was.

Vidharth stood at her doorstep.

Without missing a beat, she slammed the door right into his face.

Stunned, Vidharth blinked, processing what had just happened.

"Okay... yeah, you’ve really fucked up this time," he muttered under his breath.

He raised a hand and knocked gently. "Riva, please... open the door."

"Fuck off!" she shouted from the other side, voice laced with fury.

"Riva, I’m sorry!" he pleaded.

"You always say sorry and then go right back to square one!" Riva huffed, her anger nearly tangible. "That’s why I knew this was the most twisted decision I’ve ever made!"

"Riva, please just listen to me!" Vidharth pleaded, voice urgent. "Just this once—I swear I’ll never do it again. Not ever. Not in this lifetime."

"I don’t believe you." Her voice was cold, final. "So get lost. And forget about the marriage."

"No! No, Riva, please—just listen for a minute. For the sake of that one time we—" He paused, memory flickering in his eyes.

"Stop it. Right now!" she snapped, suddenly flinging the door open. "Are you seriously going to scream all that in front of my neighbors?!"

"I won’t, I won’t!" he said quickly. "Just… please, let me in."

"Fine! Come in!" she barked, stepping aside. As soon as he entered, she slammed the door shut behind him.

"Now say whatever crap you came to spit out and leave."

"Hey! You can’t talk to me like that—I’m your husband!" Vidharth shot back, hands flailing in frustration.

"No, you’re not!" she shouted. "And I’m canceling this whole damn arrangement. I’m going to my parents and telling them I won’t marry you—no matter what!"

"Riva, please! It was just a harmless mistake!" he said, desperation leaking through every word, his eyes wide with helplessness.

"No, it wasn’t. It was disrespect," she snapped. "And if you can’t tell the difference between a joke and disrespect, then how will you ever know the difference between domestic violence and just a joke? What if you hit me one day and say it was just for fun? What if I add too much salt in the food and you lose your mind?"

Her voice was spiraling, rising with every sentence. "No... no... I can’t marry you! Not you, not anyone!" Her breathing grew shallow, panic spreading fast. Her hands trembled, her legs weak beneath her. "No... I can’t breathe..."

Vidharth’s face paled. He rushed to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. But the moment he touched her, she flinched violently, peeling his hands off with a startled jerk.

"Don’t—just don’t touch me!" she cried, stepping back, her chest heaving.

At this point, her body had begun to shake—tremors racking through her limbs as panic took hold. She was trembling uncontrollably, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

Without thinking, Vidharth pulled her into a hug.
"Hey... hey! Don’t panic," he whispered into her ear, voice gentle but tight with fear.
"I’m here, okay? No one’s going to hurt you. I promise."

"No... nooo... they will... they will!" she sobbed, her voice raw and broken. Tears streamed down her face as she clung to her fear like a shield.

"Riva, please listen to me!" he pleaded, tightening his grip around her fragile frame. But she didn’t respond—she didn’t even move. She just cried, each sob tearing deeper into the silence of the room.

Vidharth guided her carefully to the nearby sofa and sat down, still cradling her trembling body in his arms.

"No! No... no..." Riva started thrashing, her panic escalating. This time she got violent, trying to push away from him with all the strength she had left.

"Don’t touch me—don’t!" she screamed, shoving at his chest, her fists weak but frantic.

"Riva, please!" he begged, holding her tighter. "I won’t hurt you—I swear! Just this once... just let me hold you. Please..."

But she couldn’t hear him over the storm inside her head.

With a sudden burst of fear, she started biting and hitting him, her nails scratching his arms, her teeth sinking into the hand that held her.

"Ahh—ouch! Riva!" he winced in pain but didn’t let go. "Please, just this once... listen to me..."

She looked at him then—eyes wide, wild, filled with terror—and shoved him hard.

Caught off guard, Vidharth lost his balance. His grip loosened, and he tumbled off the sofa, landing with a thud on the floor.

Riva stood there, shaking violently, staring at him as though she didn’t recognize him at all.

“Ouch! Riva!” Vidharth hissed as pain shot through his hand.

Riva didn’t look at him. She folded her knees to her chest, clutching them tightly as she buried her head between her legs.
“Stay away from me!” she sobbed. “Stay away...”

Suddenly, she began pulling at her hair, thrashing her arms and legs, her screams echoing off the walls.
She was spiraling.

Vidharth let out a long, aching sigh and moved toward her. He dropped to his knees in front of her, his heart pounding with helplessness.
“Riva, please...” he said softly. “I’d never hurt you. And about what happened in Adwait’s office—if you want, tie me up, yell at me, do anything... but don’t do this to yourself. Please...”

“Leave me alone!” she screamed.

“No. I won’t,” he said firmly, his voice steady despite the storm inside him. He shifted back onto the couch, the one he had sat on earlier, and this time pulled her into him with conviction, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

“Shh... stop. Nothing’s going to happen to you. Not while I’m here,” he whispered into her hair.

Riva didn’t respond. Her body was still tense, but her screams had faded into soft sobs. Slowly, cautiously, she rested her head against his chest. Her trembling gradually eased, her breathing slowing into soft, uneven sighs.

And then—finally—she fell asleep in his arms.

Vidharth felt her chest rise and fall against his, her breath no longer raging, just tired. He let out a deep, heavy sigh—one soaked in regret.

Gently, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, careful not to wake her. Leaning close, he whispered,
“I promise... I’ll never pull a stunt like that again. Ever.”

With deliberate care, he picked her up and carried her toward the room he guessed belonged to her. The door was slightly ajar. Inside, the space was calm—soft lighting, lavender-scented candles half-burned on the dresser.

He placed her sleeping form gently onto the large bed, removed her shoes, adjusted the air conditioner to a comfortable temperature, and tucked her beneath the quilt.

Then, as silence filled the room, he turned to the window.

The daylight had long faded. A silver moon now hung over the skyline, washing the room in pale, serene light.

He hadn’t realized how long it had taken for her to calm down—how much time had passed in that living room chaos—until now.

He exhaled again, shoulders heavy with guilt.

He quietly stepped out of the bedroom, gently closing the door behind him. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the living room—a chaotic mess of cushions, tossed objects, and the remnants of Riva’s panic.

Without a word, he began to tidy up.

By the time the space was back in order, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and answered.

"Vidharth, where are you?" Vihaan’s voice came from the other end, low and urgent.

"Why do you want to know?" Vidharth asked flatly.

"It’s about the accident… the one from a month ago," Vihaan said, his tone dropping even further.

Vidharth froze mid-step, his pacing halted by those words.
"So what you’re telling me is… it wasn’t an accident?"

There was a pause, then a quiet, "Yes."

Vidharth exhaled sharply, tension tightening across his shoulders. "Let’s meet tomorrow."

"But—"

"I can’t come today," he cut him off. "I’ve already created enough of a mess… and I need to fix it first."

A beat passed.

"Okay," Vihaan said at last. "I’ll be waiting."

.....
.......
........
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The morning rays filtered through the curtains, landing softly on Riva’s face. She stirred, her brows crinkling in protest. With a sleepy groan, she turned to the other side and buried herself deeper under the quilt, clutching its warmth like a shield.

She drifted in and out of sleep until a knock echoed on the door, sharp and unexpected.

Her body tensed. She instantly sat up, her heart picking up pace.
Who could it be?

Her thoughts raced until a familiar voice broke through the silence.

“Riva, it’s me. Vidharth. Are you awake? Can I come in?”

And just like that, the memories of the night before came crashing down.

The panic. The screaming. The crying. The way she had pushed him. Bitten him. The shame and exhaustion returned like a tide, and for a moment, she wished she could disappear behind a pillow and never come out.

But hiding wasn’t an option anymore.

She drew in a shaky breath and muttered, barely loud enough to hear, “Yes… you can.”

The door opened gently, and Vidharth stepped inside, holding a tray with both hands.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at her quietly, cautiously.

"Are you okay now?" he asked gently, his voice softened to a tender note.

"Yes," Riva nodded, though her eyes avoided his completely.
This was the second time she’d had an attack in front of him. She hated being seen like that—weak, raw, broken. And yet, this man had witnessed it twice now.

"You should eat something," Vidharth said, offering her the tray. "You didn’t have anything last night either."

Riva looked down. The tray held warm waffles and pancakes, topped with chocolate syrup and a few scattered berries. Her brows lifted in surprise.

"You made these?" she asked, taking the tray cautiously.

He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly a little embarrassed.
"Uhm… yeah. I tried."

"But where did you even find the ingredients? I don’t remember having any of this in my kitchen. And wait—when did you come in? Who opened the door?" Her voice picked up speed as the questions tumbled out one after the other.

“Bas, bas, meri maa!” he laughed, throwing up his hands.
“Kitne sawal puchogi? Apne iss sawalon ki gadi ko viram do, aur pehle khaa kar batao kaisa bana hai. Main tumhare jawab taiyaar karta hoon.”

(“Enough, my mother! How many questions will you ask? Let this train of questions take a break, eat first and tell me how it tastes. I’ll prepare your answers.”)

"Okay, okay," she said, rolling her eyes but smiling faintly.

"I didn’t leave last night," he admitted after a beat.

"You didn’t?" she looked up at him, surprised. "Then… were you here all night?"

"Yes," he said, nodding. "And as for the ingredients—I ordered them online."

She fell quiet for a moment, then mumbled under her breath, "Why didn’t you leave?"

Vidharth’s eyes met hers, sincere and calm.

"I thought you might need someone… just in case."

"I’m fine..." Riva said harshly, her voice clipped. But her eyes stayed fixed on the plate in front of her, hiding the storm of uncertainty brewing behind them.

"I know," Vidharth replied gently, not pushing.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

"I’ll get it," he offered, rising quickly and stepping out of the room.

Riva sighed and hastily finished the last bite of her breakfast. Pulling herself together, she followed him into the living room only to freeze at the sight of her parents already seated on the sofa.

As soon as she stepped in, her father’s sharp tone cut through the air.

"Riva! It’s so late, and you’re still asleep? What kind of habit is this?"

Her mother, sitting silently beside him, flinched at the accusation but said nothing. Vidharth, seated across from them, turned his head toward Riva as she entered, his face unreadable.

Riva’s jaw clenched, but she managed to respond, her tone cold but controlled.
"And what are you doing here so early in the morning?"

Her father’s eyes narrowed.

"Look at that! Just look at how she talks now!" he spat, glaring at her. Then, without missing a beat, he turned to his wife, his voice turning scathing.
"This is what you’ve made her into. You think a woman with that kind of mouth can ever make a good wife?"

Her mother shrank into herself, glancing at Riva apologetically but saying nothing.

Vidharth sat there quietly, watching the scene unfold, his jaw tightening. The bitterness of the moment was thick in his throat, sour and unwelcome.

Riva opened her mouth, ready to fire back but before she could, Vidharth spoke, his voice calm but firm, like steel wrapped in velvet.

"In our family," he said, "women aren’t just wives. They’re human beings first and they have every right to live, speak, and decide for themselves."

A heavy silence fell over the room. It was sudden and sharp, like the hush that follows a lightning strike.

Everyone held their breath.

Then her father gave an awkward chuckle, clearly rattled.
"Sure, sure," he said dismissively. "I was just asking if she’s troubling you too much."

He shot Riva another hard look, but the shift in the room’s energy was already palpable.

Vidharth didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. The line had been drawn and Riva, for the first time in a long time, didn’t feel alone.

"Women are often blamed for being over-emotional," Vidharth said, his tone calm, but his words sharp. "So if I’m entering a relationship, I suppose I’m expected to be the mature one since we’ve already labeled women as emotionally unstable, haven’t we?"

Silence blanketed the room again, heavy and unmoving. But the sarcasm in his voice lingered in the air like smoke, curling in the corners, impossible to ignore.

Riva’s father didn’t speak. His jaw was tight, and his gaze was fixed elsewhere, unwilling to meet anyone's eyes.

It was Riva’s mother who finally broke the silence.
“We were actually here to talk about the wedding preparations with Riva,” she said, her voice light but shaky. “It’s good you’re here too, Vidharth.”

The conversation shifted abruptly, the tension buried beneath talk of ceremonies, dates, and arrangements but it never truly left the room. It simmered, quiet and watchful, as Riva sat beside Vidharth, her hands clenched in her lap, her face unreadable.

Eventually, her parents stood to leave.

As they reached the door, Vidharth glanced at Janki and said gently, “Aunty, why don’t you stay here with Riva?”

Janki paused, caught off guard. She looked at him in surprise, then turned to her husband who was already glaring at her.

“She’s not feeling well,” Vidharth continued, unfazed. “And if you stay with her, I’ll feel more at ease. She needs someone familiar around.”

Janki hesitated, her lips parting as if to respond when her husband cut in, his voice falsely pleasant.

“If she’s unwell, then she should come back to the mansion. Being with the family would be better than keeping her here alone.”

His words were dressed in concern, but the control beneath them was clear.

Riva, standing beside Vidharth, instinctively clutched his arm tight, almost as if anchoring herself.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Vidharth said calmly, his voice laced with gentle firmness. “The mansion is over a hundred kilometers away. That’s more than a two-hour drive, and Riva has work here. Plus, Ava isn’t even around right now. It makes more sense for her to stay here during the wedding preparations.”

He glanced at Alankar, his tone respectful but resolute.
“My mom would actually love it if aunty could be part of the planning too.”

Alankar opened his mouth to protest—but stopped. Vidharth’s words weren’t rebellious or confrontational. They were laced with genuine concern, laced so neatly he couldn’t argue without seeming unreasonable.

“Fine. Stay here then. I’m leaving,” Alankar snapped curtly, his pride wounded. Without another word, he turned and strode out.

Janki remained at the doorway, caught off guard, stunned into silence. She looked like someone who wasn’t sure whether she was allowed to move.

“Please come inside, aunty,” Vidharth said with a soft smile, stepping back and giving her space.

Riva didn’t wait. She grabbed her mother’s hand and tugged gently.
“Let’s go, Maa.”

Still dazed, Janki allowed herself to be pulled in.

Vidharth shut the door quietly behind them.

“I’ll order something for you to eat,” Vidharth said, taking a seat across from the mother-daughter duo.

“Thank you, beta,” Janki replied with a gentle smile. “I’m really glad Riva is marrying someone like you.”

Vidharth smiled, standing up slowly. “The pleasure is mine. It’s not every day someone like her agrees to marry someone like me.”

His voice was light, teasing, but sincere. Riva’s eyes lifted to him, a soft glow in them. She knew he didn’t mean it literally it was just one of his charming, polished lines but even so, it landed somewhere deep inside her.

"Since everything's settled, I’ll take my leave now," Vidharth said, adjusting his watch as he stepped away from the sofa.

“Riva will walk you to the door,” her mother nudged, and Riva nodded, rising silently to follow.

Once they stepped outside the apartment, Riva turned to him.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice softer than usual. “For everything from last night… till now.”

He raised an eyebrow playfully. “So… am I off the hook?”

“For now, yes,” she huffed, crossing her arms. “But if you ever pull something like that again, I will kick you out. No second thoughts.”

“Got it,” he said with a wink, flashing a grin before turning away.

Riva stood at the door for a moment, watching him go. She didn’t say it aloud, but his presence had left something behind a quiet warmth blooming in her chest, one that softened the edges of her exhaustion.

After Vidharth left, Riva and her mother retreated to her room. With the afternoon light filtering in and no one to interrupt them, they sat together on the bed, talking, for the first time in what felt like ages, from the heart.