A Devil Love Story

Chapter 6

The silence in the suite after Arnav’s outburst was deafening. Diya sat on the edge of her bed, her mind replaying the words she had read in Aria’s diary. 'Promise me you will stay human.' Those words were a heavy burden for a man who blamed himself for the death of the woman he loved. She looked at the glass door. The light in the study was still on, but there was no sound.

An hour passed. Two hours. Diya couldn't sleep. She kept thinking about the look in Arnav’s eyes—the raw, naked pain that he tried so hard to hide. Finally, she stood up. She knew he would be angry, but she couldn't leave him alone in that darkness.

She walked back into the study. Arnav was sitting on the floor, his back against the mahogany desk. He looked broken. The diary was lying next to him, and he was staring at a small locket in his hand. He didn't even look up when she entered.

"I told you to leave, Diya," he said, his voice a ghost of its former self.

"I know," Diya whispered, sitting on the floor a few feet away from him. "But I also know that you shouldn't be alone right now."

Arnav let out a bitter laugh. "I have been alone for five years. Darkness is my only companion. Why do you insist on bringing light into a room that is meant to stay dark?"

"Because the light doesn't belong to me, Arnav. It belongs to the promise you made to her," Diya said softly.

Arnav finally looked at her. His eyes were red, and for the first time, she saw a tear escape and roll down his cheek. The 'Devil' was crying. Diya’s heart ached. She moved closer and, without thinking of the consequences, she reached out and pulled his head onto her shoulder.

He stiffened. For a moment, she thought he would push her away, perhaps even scream at her. But then, the dam broke. Arnav Singhania, the man the world feared, grabbed her waist and buried his face in her neck, sobbing silently. It wasn't the sound of a weak man; it was the sound of a man who had been holding his breath for five years and had finally found air.

"It was my fault," he choked out. "I should have protected her. I chose power over her safety, and Mehra took her to punish me. Every time I look at my reflection, I see a murderer."

"You are not a murderer, Arnav. You are a survivor," Diya said, stroking his hair gently. "Aria loved you. She wouldn't want her memory to be your prison. She would want you to live."

They stayed like that for a long time—two strangers bound by a contract, now connected by a pain that transcended words. As the first light of dawn began to peek through the curtains, Arnav pulled away. He looked exhausted, but the fire in his eyes had calmed into something softer.

"You are a dangerous woman, Diya Sharma," he said, his voice raspy. "You make me feel things I swore I would never feel again."

"Is that a bad thing?" she asked, a small smile playing on her lips.

Arnav didn't answer. He stood up and offered her his hand. As she took it, she felt a spark—not of fear, but of something new. Something that wasn't in the contract.

"Get some rest," he said, his grip on her hand lingering for a second too long. "Tomorrow, Mehra will strike again. We need to be ready."

As Diya walked back to her room, she realized the 'Devil' was starting to trust her. And in his world, trust was more dangerous than any debt.

The morning sun filtered through the heavy velvet curtains of the Singhania Mansion, but the warmth did not reach the tension inside the house. Diya woke up with a start, her hand instinctively reaching for the other side of the bed. For a moment, she forgot she was in Arnav's suite. The events of the previous night—Arnav’s tears, his confession about Aria—felt like a dream, yet the scent of his cologne lingering in the air told her it was all too real.

She walked into the study, but Arnav was already gone. In his place sat Samuel, looking more concerned than usual.

"Mr. Singhania had an urgent meeting with the board. He instructed that you are not to leave this floor under any circumstances," Samuel said, bowing slightly.

"But my father... I need to check on him," Diya pleaded.

"The hospital has been placed under private security, Ms. Diya. Your father is safe. It is you who is in danger," Samuel replied before exiting the room, the heavy lock clicking shut behind him.

Diya felt like a bird trapped in a cage made of gold and fear. She spent the afternoon pacing the room, her mind racing. She tried to focus on the books in the library, but the words blurred together. Every shadow seemed to move, every creak of the floorboards sounded like an intruder.

Around 4:00 PM, her phone buzzed. It was an unknown number. Thinking it might be the hospital, she answered quickly.

"Hello?"

"Such a pretty voice for such a tragic girl," a familiar, oily voice whispered. It was Mr. Mehra.

Diya’s blood ran cold. "How did you get this number? What do you want?"

"Arnav thinks he can hide you in his fortress, but even fortresses have cracks, Diya. Did he tell you about the last girl who sat in that room? Aria? He thought he could protect her too. Look where she ended up—six feet under, and Arnav was the one who dug the grave with his own arrogance."

"Stop it! You’re lying!" Diya screamed, but her voice was shaking.

"Am I? Ask him about the red file in the bottom drawer of his desk. Ask him why he never told you the truth about the night Aria died. He isn't protecting you, Diya. He’s using you as bait to lure me out. To him, you are just a pawn in his revenge."

The line went dead. Diya stood frozen, the phone slipping from her numb fingers. Her gaze slowly drifted to the mahogany desk. The bottom drawer.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as she walked toward the desk. She knew she was betraying the little trust Arnav had placed in her. But the seed of doubt had been planted. She pulled the drawer. It was locked. Without thinking, she grabbed a heavy bronze paperweight from the table and smashed the lock.

The drawer slid open. Inside, there was a single red file. As she opened it, her eyes widened in horror. There were photos of her—not just from now, but from months ago. Photos of her at the library, at the market, even outside her father’s hospital.

Arnav hadn't met her by chance. He had been watching her long before the debt, long before the contract.

"Searching for more secrets, Diya?"

The cold, sharp voice made her spin around. Arnav was standing at the door, his eyes dark with a fury she hadn't seen before. But this time, Diya didn't back down. She held up the photos, her eyes burning with tears.

"You didn't save me, did you?" she whispered. "You chose me. You planned all of this."