Chapter 8 : Only Mine
1998 Words
The evening crowd spilled out of the gallery, laughter and voices trailing into the night. Siyara clutched her award in one hand, her other gripping the strap of her bag tightly. She could still feel his gaze on her skin, like fingerprints she couldn’t wash away.
At the car park, Varun leaned casually against his black SUV. When his eyes met hers, his face softened.
“You must be tired,” he said gently. “Come on, let’s go home.”
She hesitated, her eyes flicking back toward the gallery doors. Aarav was there, half-hidden in the shadows, staring at her with that same unshakable intensity. Her stomach knotted.
Without a word, she slipped into the passenger seat.
Varun started the engine, and they drove off.
Aarav stayed rooted in place, his jaw tight, his fist clenching inside the pocket of his coat.
Now Varun wasn’t just a name.
A rival.
---
The memory of Siyara’s touch — fleeting as it had been — kept circling in his head. Her hesitant glance when she saw him. The way she wouldn’t meet his eyes afterward.
He sat under the dim glow of his study lamp, laptop screen reflecting in his dark gaze. One call to his investigator had given him what he wanted — Varun’s name, address, family details.
The next day, fate gave him an opening.
---
Siyara sat at a small riverside cafe with Nikita, sipping coffee. Her laugh was soft, though guarded, the kind of laugh that never reached her eyes.
She didn’t notice him until his shadow fell across their table.
Nikita’s smile vanished. “You—” she started, but Aarav’s eyes were already fixed on Siyara.
“You never told me you were an artist,” he said, his voice low, edged with something dangerous.
Her breath hitched. “You didn’t need to know.”
“Everything about you,” he leaned closer, “I need to know.”
She set her cup down, fingers trembling. “Stop following me.”
He smiled faintly, leaning back in his chair.
“Following? No. Protecting.” His gaze darkened.
“And I will… whether you want me to or not.”
Nikita glanced between them, uneasy, her lips pressed tight.
Aarav leaned in again, his voice meant only for Siyara.“You think I’ll disappear if you keep avoiding me?” His tone was smooth, but the steel underneath made her chest tighten.
She forced herself to meet his eyes — and instantly regretted it. That stare… intense, unblinking, like he was peeling her apart layer by layer.
“I don’t want you here,” she whispered, trying to steady her voice.
“I don’t care what you want,” he answered, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “You stood on my stage that night. Took my hand. You think you can walk away now? You can’t.”
Her heart pounded hard against her ribs. “This isn’t a game, Aarav.”
The smirk vanished. His expression hardened.
“No. It’s not.” He sat back slightly, but his words landed like a blade. “And that’s why I’m telling you… you’re mine.”
Her breath caught — fear tightening her chest, tangled with something else she couldn’t name.
Before Siyara could reply, Aarav stood. He set a folded note beside her coffee cup.
“Read it,” he said softly. “When you’re alone.”
Then he walked out, his dark silhouette swallowed by the evening light spilling through the windows.
Siyara’s fingers hovered over the note but didn’t open it. Not yet.
Outside, Aarav’s car pulled away slowly. His mind was already working, calculating, planning.
He would know everything about her.
And about Varun.
The cafe had long since emptied, the clink of cups replaced by the low hum of the ceiling fan. Nikita had stepped away to take a call, leaving Siyara alone at the table.
Her eyes kept drifting to the folded slip of paper beside her untouched coffee. She told herself not to look, not to give him the satisfaction… but her fingers betrayed her.
The paper was warm from his touch.
She unfolded it slowly.
“You don’t know me yet. But I know you.
I know the way you freeze when someone steps too close. The way your eyes dart to the exit before your feet even move. I saw your hands tremble when you took mine. You can run, Siyara.
But remember — I don’t chase what I don’t intend to keep. And I intend to keep you.”
— A
Her breath hitched.
Like he had already decided her fate, and she’d been the last to know.
She folded the note quickly, as if hiding it could make the words untrue. But her chest felt tight, her palms damp. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to burn it… or read it again.
Nikita returned, smiling faintly. “Varun’s almost here. He’ll pick you up outside.”
Siyara’s stomach twisted. She didn’t want Aarav to see them together again — didn’t want to imagine the thoughts brewing behind those unreadable eyes.
But outside, under the soft glow of the streetlamp, Varun’s car slowed to a stop. Siyara stepped toward it, clutching her bag.
And across the street…
Aarav stood, leaning against his car, his gaze locked on her.
No smile this time. No smirk.
Just cold, deliberate focus.
Her hand froze on the car door handle.
The night felt wrong.
It wasn’t silent — the ceiling fan hummed, the city far away still murmured — but it was the kind of wrong that made your skin prickle.
Siyara closed her bedroom door behind her and leaned against it, the faint click of the latch sounding louder than it should. Her mind was still running in loops — Aarav’s face at the stage, his eyes that didn’t blink, the weight of his stare that felt like it had followed her home.
And then his voice from that note.
That low, dangerous warning that she’d read over and over despite telling herself to tear it apart.
Don’t marry him.
Don’t talk to him.
You’re mine.
She’d told herself she wouldn’t think about it. That she would shower, eat something, sleep. But the hunger never came. The thought of food sat heavy in her stomach. She showered on autopilot, her fingers gripping the cold tap harder than necessary, as if cold water could scrub his voice from her mind.
It didn’t.
When she came back to her room, hair damp and loose, she switched off the main light and sat on her bed, hugging her knees.
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
The kind of quiet that made you hear your own pulse.
She tried to focus on her phone, scrolling through random posts, but her eyes kept drifting toward the balcony door. The curtains there swayed just slightly.
At first, she thought it was the night breeze.
Then she heard it.
A sound.
Soft.
A deliberate shift, like a foot brushing against concrete.
Her body stilled.
Her fingers tightened on the phone until her knuckles hurt.
She told herself not to look.
She told herself it was nothing.
But the sound came again.
And her heart began to pound.
The curtain shifted again.
Siyara swallowed hard. Her bare feet touched the cool floor as she stood, moving slowly toward the balcony door. She pushed the curtain aside with trembling fingers.
And froze.
He was there.
Aarav.
Standing in the pale spill of moonlight, as if he had been part of the night all along.
One hand resting casually on the balcony railing, his head tilted slightly like he’d been watching her for hours.
Siyara’s first instinct was to scream. Her lips parted——but before the sound could leave her throat, his palm was on her mouth. Firm. Warm. Silencing.
Her eyes went wide.
Her breath came in shallow bursts against his skin.
Her hands pushed at his chest, but it was like shoving a wall.
“Shhh…” His voice was low, dangerous, yet almost soothing. “Not a sound, Siyara. Not tonight.”
She shook her head violently, the strands of her damp hair sticking to her cheeks.
“Relax,” he whispered, leaning close enough that she could feel his breath against her ear. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
She mumbled against his palm, the words muffled but desperate. “L… let me go…”
He slowly removed his hand, but not before dipping his head, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Do you think I’ll ever let you go?”
She staggered back a step, chest heaving. “Aarav… you can’t just—”
“I already told you,” he interrupted, stepping forward, closing the distance she tried to create. “Don’t talk to Varun.”
Her voice shook. “Why? He’s my—”
“Because,” he cut in, his tone like a knife’s edge, “you are mine.”
She flinched. “You can’t—”
“I can,” he said softly, dangerously. “I will. You’re mine to protect, mine to keep. Mine to… love.”
Her back hit the wall.
He stepped closer until there was no space left. His scent surrounded her — something deep and heavy, like rain-soaked earth.
Her palms pressed against his chest, her eyes darting anywhere but his face. “Don’t touch me…”
she whispered. “Please…”
A faint smirk touched his lips. “I’m not touching you… not the way you think. But I could. And you’d still be mine.”
Her eyes snapped to his. “I’m not yours.”
He leaned in, so close his breath touched her lips.
“Say that again,” he murmured, “and maybe I’ll believe you. But I doubt it.”
She swallowed hard, trying to sound steady. “Aarav, I don’t… I don’t want this.”
“Liar.”
His voice was low, certain. “You don’t want to admit it. But deep down, you know… I’m already in your veins.”
She trembled, tears brimming in her eyes. “I’m scared of you.”
“I want you to be,” he whispered. “Because fear keeps you close. Fear keeps you mine.”
Her breath caught.
He lowered his head, brushing his lips along her hairline. “You are mine, Siyara. Mine to kiss…” His mouth grazed her temple, her cheek. “…mine to keep.”
When she tried to turn her head away, his hand cupped her jaw — gentle but unyielding.
“And mine to marry,” he said finally. “Don’t marry him. Don’t talk to him. If you do… I’ll make sure he disappears.”
Her breath was uneven now, caught between panic and something far more dangerous — the way his nearness seemed to steal the air from the room.
She pressed her palms harder against his chest, her voice trembling.
“Aarav… please… just go.” But he didn’t move.
If anything, he leaned in further, his shadow swallowing hers completely.
“Do you know,” he murmured, eyes locked on hers, “how long I’ve been watching you?”
Her pulse spiked. “You’re scaring me.”
A faint smile touched his lips. “Good. I want you to remember that fear every time you think of someone else. Every time you even look at Varun.”
She tried to side-step him, but his hand shot out, palm flat against the wall beside her head, blocking her escape.
“Aarav—”
“No,” he cut in sharply. “You don’t walk away from me. Not tonight. Not ever.”
Her voice was hoarse now. “You can’t do this to me.”
“I am doing this,” he replied, his tone low but laced with steel. “And I’ll keep doing it until you understand — you are mine.”
- Writer
