Chapter 2 (Darkest Day)
1842 Words
Raichal’s POV
The house was a blur of colors, perfumes, and voices. Sarees rustled. Bangles clinked. The scent of jasmine and fresh henna filled every corner.
“Raichal! Where’s your earrings?!” her mother shouted from the hallway, while her father argued with the driver outside and her brother tossed car keys in the air, completely unbothered by the chaos.
“I’m wearing it now, Ma,” she said, adjusting the gold drop earring, letting it brush against her bare shoulder.
She stood in front of the mirror, unsure if she even recognized herself.
The red saree clung to her like it was meant to be there. Light chiffon, with a golden shimmer at the border. The fabric hugged her curves in all the right places, cascading down her waist like fire. Her sleeveless blouse left her collarbones exposed, with the back tied in a delicate bow that whispered temptation with every movement.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, lipstick dark and daring. For a second, she didn’t feel like a quiet college girl. She felt dangerous.
“You look like a movie star,” her cousin whispered as they headed to the car.
Her father cleared his throat. “Behave yourself there. No nonsense. No distractions.”
“Yes, Papa,” she replied, her smile polite. But her heart? It wasn’t listening.
The venue glowed like a palace, the air thick with sandalwood, roses, and secrets. As Raichal walked in with her family, her brothers grumbled about parking, her mother fussed with her saree pallu, and her dad whispered blessings under his breath.
But every eye turned toward her.
Men, young and old, froze mid-sentence.
Even the women looked twice.
As she stepped in, her cousins surrounded her, dragging her toward the dance floor. She laughed—genuinely. Free. In that moment, the world disappeared.
And that’s when his eyes found her.
Alexander’s POV
He wasn’t supposed to be there.
Alexander never attended family weddings. They were noisy, dramatic, and too public. But his cousin had begged. Said it was important.
So here he was—black tux, sleeves rolled slightly, silver watch glinting under the lights. He stood tall, powerful, his mere presence parting crowds without effort. Broad shoulders. Built like a storm. Veins traced down his forearms, barely hidden by the fabric. His jaw was sharp, dark stubble lining it with precise imperfection. Hair swept back. Eyes? Piercing black. Intense. Cold.He wasn’t a man to be ignored.People moved when he entered. They knew power when they saw it.
But nothing… nothing prepared him for her.He saw her from across the hall.
But even with all that control—he lost himself the moment he saw her.
She wasn't walking—she was gliding. Laughing. Twirling a lock of hair.
And her body?
Curves sculpted by the gods.Head tilted back, red saree clinging to her hips like it worshipped her. Her waist—so tiny he could probably wrap one hand around it. Her blouse exposed the smooth expanse of her back, and every time she turned, he caught glimpses of skin, silk, and sin.
Lips painted deep crimson. That blouse—it revealed just enough to make his throat go dry.
But it was her face…
That smile.
He felt something dangerous stir in his chest.
Not lust.
Possession.
It was like the air around him shifted, thickened with heat. One look at her—wrapped in red, laughing like sin—and it felt like the world had flipped on its axis. He didn’t just
want her. He wanted to own every piece of her.
Her laughter?
He wanted to cage it, keep it locked away where only *he* could hear it—where no other man would ever make her smile like that again.
Her footsteps?
He wanted them echoing only in the marble hallways of *his* home, running into his arms, walking barefoot through *his* sheets in the morning.
Her voice?
He wanted it breathless, moaning his name into the silence of midnight, whimpering it when he touched the places no one else dared to dream of.
The idea of her smiling at another man made his blood boil.
That mouth… those lips… they were **meant** to kiss only *him*—to beg, to tease, to worship.
Her skin? His to mark.
Her time? His to control.
Her heart? She didn’t get a say in that anymore.
**She was his.**
And if she didn’t know it yet—she would.
Very, very soon.
He clenched his jaw so hard his teeth ached.
His hand gripped the crystal glass tighter, the whiskey inside sloshing quietly with the tremble of restrained need.
"Who is she?" he growled into his phone, eyes narrowing like a predator stalking its prey.
The way she tilted her head. The way her fingers toyed with the edge of her saree. The way her body curved like poetry.
Everything about her *infuriated* him. Everything about her *tempted* him.
His cousin leaned in lazily, unaware of the fire burning just inches beside him. “Bride’s side,” he replied with a shrug. “Her name’s Raichal. College girl. Local. Pretty low profile. I can get more info if you want—”
“Get. Everything.”
His voice came out like steel wrapped in velvet. Quiet. Commanding. *Final.*
His eyes *never* left her.
She moved with an elegance he’d never seen in real life—like her body had memorized rhythm. Like she didn’t even know the kind of spell she was casting across the room.
And that laugh—God, *that laugh*—it broke something in him. Because it wasn’t for him.
**Yet.**
She was standing too close to a guy.
She leaned into her cousin’s joke, head thrown back, neck bare, earrings brushing her skin.
**Too open. Too untouched. Too free.**
He hated it.
He wanted to storm across the hall, grip her wrist, pull her into the shadows, and say it—
*"You belong to me now. No more smiling at strangers. No more wandering eyes. No more freedom. Just me. Mine."*
But he didn’t.
**Not yet.**
Alexander was a hunter. And Raichal?
She was the kind of prey worth watching.
The kind you **break in slowly.**
He took another photo of her.
Zoomed in. Saved it. Cropped it just enough to frame her eyes.
This was only the beginning.
Raichal’s POV
It was chaos inside. People everywhere. She was smiling, laughing. But her heart raced for another reason.
She’d received a text.
“I'm outside. At the gate. I couldn’t stay away.”-Johnathan
Her heart nearly exploded.
She hadn’t seen him in days. He said he couldn’t come. But of course, he lied—like always—to surprise her.
She turned to her cousin, whispered, “Be back in five,” and slipped through the side garden toward the gate, her heels silent on the marble floor.
She moved fast but careful, heart hammering, her saree rustling like a secret
Alexander’s POV
He noticed the shift in her expression.
She lit up—like the moon kissed her personally. But it wasn’t for him.
She looked at her phone. Smiled.
And then… she vanished from the crowd.
He followed, slow, calm, deadly. Blending into shadows. Watching her walk down the side path, alone.
And that’s when he saw it.
The boy.
Tall. Fair. Smiling like a fool. Waiting by the gate.
He watched her laugh into the boy’s shoulder—soft, gentle, comfortable.
It sickened him.
The way she melted into that hug, the way her hands lingered around his back like they belonged there. She looked at him like he was her world.
But she didn’t know what a real world was.
Not yet.
She hadn’t tasted the kind of fire that he could bring to her life. The kind that burned everything gentle and left only devotion. She hadn't experienced the kind of possessive, soul-binding need that made her forget every other man she'd ever known.
But she would.
Oh, she would.
And that boy?
He was already a ghost. He just didn’t know it yet.
Alexander turned away, phone in hand.
“Get me her college schedule. Her family details. I want addresses. Weaknesses. Bank info. Neighbors. Every. Damn. Thing.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And make sure she’s noticed me tonight. Just enough to wonder. Not enough to fear. Yet.”
Late Night Encounter – The Game Begins
Raichal’s POV
The music had faded. The crowd was thinning. Fairy lights twinkled in the garden like a dream slowly drifting away.
She stepped outside the venue barefoot, heels dangling from her fingers. The cool grass beneath her feet grounded her, soothed her racing thoughts. The wedding had been *a lot*. Too many people. Too many questions from nosy relatives. And in between all of it—Johnathan’s surprise visit, his hug, his scent, his whispered words...
Her heart fluttered at the thought.
She smiled and unlocked her phone to re-read his message.
> *“Couldn’t take my eyes off you in that red saree.”*
Just then, a voice broke through the silence.
“Couldn’t sleep either?”
She flinched.
A tall man stood at the edge of the trees, wrapped in black. The shadows clung to him like they knew who he was. His face... sharp, unreadable, eyes dark and unblinking.
“I—sorry, do I know you?” she asked, startled.
He smiled. Slow. Smooth.
“No. Not yet.”
She tightened her grip on her heels.
“I was just leaving,” she said politely, stepping sideways.
“Of course,” he replied, his voice rich and unnervingly calm. “I just saw you here. Alone. Thought you might want someone to talk to.”
She hesitated. Her instincts pricked. But he didn’t look dangerous—he looked **composed**, maybe just a guest like everyone else.
“Thank you, but I’m fine.”
“Raichal, right?”
Her eyes widened.
“Wait… how do you—?”
“I overheard someone say your name inside,” he cut in smoothly, offering a half-smile that never quite reached his eyes. “It stuck. Unforgettable name for an unforgettable face.”
Her stomach twisted.
Something about him felt... *off*. Not rude. Not threatening. Just too calm. Too sure.
“I really should go back,” she murmured, already turning.
He didn’t stop her.
Just said, low and certain, “I hope we meet again.”
She didn’t look back.
But she felt it.
His eyes.
Burning into her back like ownership.
---
**Alexander’s POV**
She didn’t recognize him. Good.
It meant he could get closer. Watch longer. Move deeper into her world without her even realizing it.
He’d waited until her guard was down. Until she was alone, glowing like embers in that red saree. And still, he kept his distance. Let her walk away.
Let her *think* she was free.
Because the real trap was always invisible.
And tonight?
**She walked straight into it.**
- Writer
