OBEY THE FLAME

THE BODY BREAKS

OBEY THE FLAME

​CHAPTER 3: THE BODY BREAKS

​"Her body obeyed. Her silence screamed. And he called it love."

​The hospital lights hummed with a cold, mechanical judgment. I stared blankly at the ceiling, my lips dry and my wrists aching. The pills hadn’t worked. My own body had betrayed me once again, dragging me back from the edge of oblivion like a cruel joke. A heavy, suffocating silence wrapped around me like a shroud. I couldn’t cry, nor could I speak.

​When my father had found me on the bathroom floor hours ago, I was already halfway gone, a broken mess beneath the harsh bathroom tiles. He hadn’t asked any questions. None of them had. In their heavy glances and guarded whispers, I knew the awful truth: they already suspected the darkness I was drowning in. My mother had looked at me just once, her eyes filled with an unreadable sorrow, before quietly turning away and leaving the room.

​And then, the real nightmare walked through the door.

​Ahyan didn’t knock. He never did. He entered my hospital room with the casual arrogance of a man who owned the very air I was breathing. I turned my head slowly, my pulse tightening into a frantic rhythm the moment my eyes caught his silhouette. He wore a crisp black shirt under an expensive coat, his lips parted in a look of mock concern.

​"Did you really try to leave this world without telling me, Riya?" he asked, his voice a low, dangerous purr.

​I immediately turned my face toward the wall, refusing to give him the satisfaction of my gaze.

​"I should be furious," Ahyan continued, his footsteps echoing softly as he approached my bed. "But instead, I feel strangely flattered. You broke down completely without me even laying a finger on you. You see, you carry me in your veins now, Riya. Even when I’m not in the room."

​I kept my lips sealed, my entire body rigid. He dragged a plastic chair closer, sitting right beside the mattress and leaning in until his warm breath brushed against my cold cheek.

​"You wear your shame like perfume, my pet. It never fades," he whispered, his hand moving deliberately over the hospital blanket, his fingers grazing my leg beneath the fabric to remind me of his proximity.

​"Don’t..." The single word choked out of my tight throat.

​Ahyan merely smiled, an unsettling, sharp expression. "Don’t? You’re still mine, Riya. A desperate night in a hospital doesn't change our arrangement."

​"You don't get to come here—" I began, my voice trembling with a sudden surge of helpless anger.

​"I do," he cut me off instantly, his tone dropping into that icy register that always paralyzed me. "I always do. Especially now."

​He pulled a small, sleek flash drive from his coat pocket and let it rest heavily against my chest. I stared down at the tiny object in absolute horror.

​"That evening with Rehaan and Buraq," Ahyan murmured softly, his eyes locking onto mine. "You remember it vividly, don't you? You thought I deleted everything. I lied. Just like you lie to yourself when you pretend you don't belong in my world. Now, listen to me carefully. You are going to get out of this bed, and when you are discharged, you will come straight back to me. If you don't, I will personally ensure your father, your brother, and every man who looks at you with respect sees exactly what is on this drive."

​I shook my head against the pillow, tears finally leaking silently down my cheeks. "Please..."

​"You’ll come back, jaan," he whispered, pocketing the drive again. "Because you know exactly what happens if you don't."

​I left the hospital twenty-four hours later. No one asked me where I was going, and the heavy, guilt-ridden silence in my house was too much to bear. I didn't stay at home. Terrified of the alternative, I walked right into the lion's den.

​Ahyan’s apartment was just as I remembered it—cold, minimalist, and sterile. Just like the man himself. He opened the door, his features twisting into a knowing, victorious smirk.

​"Good girl," he said casually, stepping aside to let me enter.

​My shoulders were tight, my breathing incredibly shallow as I stepped into the living room.

​"Take off your coat," Ahyan commanded, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. When I hesitated, his eyes darkened slightly. "I don't have all day, Riya. Or should I press send on my phone right now?"

​Defeated, I let the coat slip from my shoulders to the floor. He walked toward me slowly, circling me like a predator assessing a trapped prey.

​"You look fragile," he murmured, his knuckles brushing roughly down my jawline. "But you’re not. You’re a fire pretending to be ash."

​The hours that followed felt like a blur of complete emotional numbness. He dragged me toward the bedroom, his grip unyielding and harsh. When he pushed me onto the mattress, any lingering strength I had vanished entirely.

​"You wanted to disappear, Riya?" Ahyan muttered, his hands pinning my wrists firmly above my head as he leaned over me, his gaze consuming. "Then lose yourself beneath me."

​His mouth descended onto mine with a violent, hungry intensity, claiming my lips as if stamping his initials into my very soul. I whimpered against his mouth, my fingers knotting tightly into the bedsheets. He whispered dark, manipulative words into my ear, filling the quiet room with his toxic declarations of ownership.

​"You belong to me," he repeated against my skin, his movements demanding and rough, forcing my body to endure the weight of his control while my mind frantically locked itself away. "Even if you try to run, you’ll always belong to me."

​I didn't answer him. I couldn't. My soul had already departed from the room, leaving behind a hollow, obedient shell. I forced my eyes shut, blocking out the sight of his satisfied expression, and focused entirely on the agonizing reality of my situation.

​When the storm finally subsided, he lay beside me, casually running a hand through my tangled hair as if I were a broken pet he had successfully tamed.

​"Don't ever forget about the video, Riya," he added softly, his voice a chilling reminder as he lit a cigarette. "Every time you think of running away, or opening your mouth to tell someone the truth... just picture your father's face when the world sees your downfall."

​I remained perfectly still, staring at the blank wall. I was already gone, floating in a dark, numb space where his words couldn't sting anymore. But my physical self remained behind—trapped, obedient, and permanently branded by the flame.