Obsession Begins
651 Words
The storm had passed, leaving behind an uneasy silence. Outside the farmhouse, the earth smelled of rain; inside, the air still crackled with the remnants of a different storm—the one Avyan Singh Rathore had almost unleashed on Anshita.
He hadn’t gone back to his room. Sleep was impossible. Instead, he stood at the wide glass window, a glass of whiskey untouched in his hand. His reflection stared back at him—a man used to control, but tonight, control had slipped like sand through his fingers.
Her face haunted him. The defiance in her eyes, the tremble in her lips, the way her breath had hitched when he leaned too close. It should have satisfied him—to see fear, to know he held her life in his hands. But it wasn’t fear that lingered in his memory.
It was fire.
“Kya ho raha hai mujhe…?” he muttered, his knuckles whitening around the glass. “Yeh ladki… mere dushman ki behen hai. Ridhi ka dard bhool gaya tu?”
He hurled the glass across the room. It shattered, echoing like gunfire against the walls. But even that sound couldn’t silence the echo of her voice—“Kabhi nahi jhukungi.”
⸻
Down the hall, Anshita lay curled on the cot, ropes still binding her wrists. The bruises stung, her body ached, but it was her mind that refused to rest.
Avyan Rathore was a monster—she told herself this again and again. But when his fingers had brushed her jaw, when his breath had mingled with hers, her heart had betrayed her, stuttering in ways it never should have.
She hated him for it.
She hated herself more.
⸻
The next morning, sunlight streamed into the dim chamber as Avyan entered, dressed in black, sharp as a blade. His men trailed behind, carrying a tray of food. He dismissed them with a flick of his hand, his gaze never leaving her.
Anshita’s throat went dry. Something in his eyes was different today—less rage, more… something darker.
He set the tray down with deliberate care, then crouched in front of her, his voice low.
“Kha lo. Tum kamzor ho jaogi toh… todne ka maza chala jayega.”
She turned her face away. “Main tumhara kuch bhi nahi loongi.”
His jaw flexed, but instead of anger, a slow smirk tugged at his lips.
“Zid karti ho? Theek hai… main khila dunga.”
Before she could react, he lifted a spoonful of food and pressed it against her lips. She jerked her head aside, but his hand gripped her chin, forcing her to face him. The spoon clinked against her teeth, the rice brushing her lips.
Her breath came fast, her chest rising and falling. He was too close again, his eyes burning into hers.
“Tumhe lagta hai main tumhe bhool sakta hoon? Har pal… tum mere samne ho. Tumhari nafrat bhi mujhe sukoon deti hai, Anshita.”
She forced the spoon away with as much strength as her bound wrists would allow, glaring at him.
“Tum pagal ho.”
His smirk widened, but there was no humor in it—only hunger, obsession.
“Pagal… haan. Tumne bana diya mujhe.”
For a long moment, silence filled the room, heavy and electric. Then Avyan stood, his shadow falling over her like a shroud.
“Yeh badla… sirf Kabir se nahi hai. Ab yeh tumse bhi hai.” His voice dropped to a whisper, dangerous and intimate. “Aur main tab tak chain se nahi rahunga… jab tak tumhari aankhon ka yeh sholaa mera naam na le.”
He turned sharply and walked out, the door slamming behind him.
Anshita’s pulse thundered. She hated him—every cruel word, every violent touch. But a deeper fear gnawed at her now.
What if his obsession was more dangerous than his revenge?
- Writer
