The devil's gentle touch
317 Words
ðĪThe Devil's Gentle Touch
ðChapter 1: The Wedding No One Heard Her Cry At
It wasnât the grand mandap, the thousand golden lights, or the silent crowd that made her heart tremble.
It was him.
Dev Raichand.
He stood in black sherwani, taller than everyone, powerful beyond words, eyes like storms that had already chosen their target.
Aanyaâs hands trembled inside the soft pink silk of her lehenga, her bangles rattling like warning bells.
She was only eighteen. Just finished her first year of college.
He was twenty-eight. The most feared man in the underworld.
The Mafia King.
And tonight, she was becoming his bride.
---
Her father hadnât asked her. His men had simply come.
"Raichand wants your daughter."
What kind of father says no to the Devil?
---
She walked slowly to the mandap, tears hidden beneath her lashes.
Devâs gaze never left her.
People whispered. Cameras flashed. And the priest chanted mantras over the sound of her breaking soul.
He tied the mangalsutra around her neck with steady fingers.
He didnât smile.
But he whispered:
"Now youâre mine. Every breath. Every heartbeat. Every tear."
---
That night, in a mansion guarded by guns and shadows, Aanya sat on the bed of rose petals, knees folded, fingers tight.
He entered.
And locked the door.
But instead of touching her, he sat on the floor â in silence.
"Why are you scared of me, Aanya?" he asked, voice low. "Iâd rather kill the world than hurt you."
She looked at him. Confused. Terrified. Touched.
He stood.
"But Iâm not a good man. And now youâre mine."
He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"Sleep. Youâll need strength to survive my world. And to melt my darkness."
She didnât know then â
That even Devils fall for the one girl who looks at them without fear.
Even if they have to burn the world to protect her.
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