Falling Destiny

Episode 40 : "The Bride Beside The Fire"

(Veer POV)

The dim light from the underground cell barely reached her pale face, but I saw everything. The fear. The dread. The way her body curled into itself, like she was trying to disappear. I stood at the iron-barred entrance of her dungeon—her prison—and watched as her head snapped up the moment she heard my boots hit the stone floor. She hadn’t eaten, hadn’t slept. And I wanted it that way. Her punishment had only just begun.

Her eyes widened in horror as I stepped inside, slow, calm, deliberate. My voice was cold. “Get up. Tomorrow, you’ll walk out like nothing happened. Just like every other day. Except this time… you’ll return as my wife.”

She didn’t respond—she just stared. And when I left, slamming the heavy iron door behind me, I heard the softest whisper of a sob echo in the silence.

---

The Next Morning

I didn’t need to check whether she’d run. She wouldn’t dare—not after what I threatened. Not after what she saw. She knew exactly what I was capable of now.

At exactly 10:30, the black Mercedes pulled up outside her home. She was already waiting. Dressed simply, clutching her phone tightly, she didn’t look at the driver. She climbed in without a word.

She hadn’t said goodbye to anyone.

Back at the mansion, I stood in the center of the grand hall, now transformed. The mandap stood under a canopy of ivory and red silk. The scent of incense hung thick in the air, flames gently flickering on brass lamps. Everything looked perfect.

Except her.

When she entered, escorted by the maids, she wasn’t walking—she was floating, almost ghost-like. Her eyes were vacant, her lips trembled. The red lehenga she wore drowned her in tradition she didn’t choose. The embroidery shimmered, but her expression was hollow.

But then I saw it—that slight tremble in her hand as she reached for the edge of her dupatta to cover her head. That was the moment. That’s when I knew.

She had given up.

And still… she looked breathtaking.

She saw me. Our eyes locked. I stepped forward. She stepped back. Again. And again. Until her back hit the cold marble wall. My steps were slow, calculated. She tried to push me away, but I caught her wrist and leaned in.

“You’re mine now,” I whispered. “Mine to touch, mine to love, or mine to hurt.”

I turned to the maid. “Get her ready.”

---

The Wedding Ceremony

The priest began the mantras. I sat beside her. Her eyes were cast down. She didn’t look at me, not once. As the flames danced before us, the shadows on her face flickered—fear, sadness, and something else. Defeat.

“Please stand,” the priest said. She didn’t move.

“Get up,” I growled, low and cold, just for her to hear. She remained frozen.

I grabbed her arm and forced her to stand. “Stop pretending,” I warned, my grip tightening. “One more mistake, and you know what I’ll do.”

The pheras were a blur. She stumbled once. I didn’t help her.

Then came the moment—final, irreversible.

I tied the mangalsutra around her neck. She flinched.

I picked up the vermillion. A single breath, and then I marked her. The red streak cut across her hairline, bright against her pale skin. She shut her eyes, and a single tear slid down her cheek.

The priest announced, “The wedding is complete.”

I stood and walked away.

---

That Night

It was late when I returned. The hall was dark now, the air heavy. She was still sitting there—right where I left her. Her body was still wrapped in that heavy lehenga. Her makeup was ruined, eyes swollen and red.

I didn’t speak. I walked to her, grabbed her by the arm. She didn’t fight.

I dragged her through the corridor, through the dark, echoing halls of my mansion, and into my bedroom.

She stumbled when I shoved her onto the bed, the softness of the mattress a harsh contrast to the cruelty of the moment.

The bedroom was quiet—too quiet. The kind that makes every breath, every heartbeat, every unspoken word echo like a scream.

She sat exactly where I left her. Drenched in the heavy red lehenga, her back was hunched, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, head buried, trying to disappear into herself. The jewelry she wore clinked softly as she trembled—a broken melody in the still air.

Her veil had slipped off. Strands of hair stuck to her damp cheeks. Her makeup had faded into streaks—liner smudged under her eyes, lips pale, trembling.

I stood at the doorway for a moment. Watching. Quiet. The anger that had carried me through the day was no longer raging. Instead, a silence had settled inside me, as if something colder had taken its place.

I shut the door behind me. The sound echoed.

She flinched.

I took off my jacket, tossed it over the armchair, unfastened the cuffs of my sleeves. I poured myself another drink—something strong—but I barely tasted it. My eyes remained fixed on her. Still and small, like a wounded bird locked in a cage she couldn’t fly out of.

The amber liquid shimmered in the glass, but it couldn’t distract me from her silence. Her silence was loud. Screaming. Accusing.

I stepped into the bathroom. The cold shower was sharp, numbing. I stared at my own reflection for a long time afterward. What was I turning into?

No. I already knew the answer.

When I returned, I saw her again. Still in the same position. But her head was up now. She wasn’t crying anymore.

She was staring at the floor, blank, lost.

I moved toward the bed slowly, my footsteps soft on the floor. Her body stiffened as I got closer, but she didn’t look at me. Not once.

I crouched in front of her.

“Look at me,” I said softly.

She didn’t.

I reached out, gently this time, and touched her wrist. Her skin was cold. Her pulse, faint and fragile beneath my fingers.

“Be a good wife,” I whispered, leaning in. “It’s our wedding night.”

Her head snapped up. Her eyes widened.

Not with surprise—no, with something else. Shock. Disbelief. Dread.

Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to speak. But no words came. Only silence. Only that look in her eyes, as if the world had stopped turning.

I leaned in further, just a breath away. “You’re mine now,” I said. “Not just for today. Forever. Mine to protect… or destroy. You’ll learn.”

She didn’t move.

Didn’t resist.

She just stared.

And that silence—her silence—was the loudest rejection I’d ever heard.

I stood up again and walked to the window, pulling aside the curtain. The moon hung low, silver and indifferent. I could feel her eyes still on me, even as she curled herself back into that trembling cocoon at the edge of the bed.

I didn’t touch her again.

Not that night.

I simply sat on the couch across the room, nursing my drink in silence, while the woman I had just forced into marriage sat on my bed—my bride, dressed in red, folded into herself like a soul on the verge of breaking.