Avani POV:
I never thought I would feel safe in this penthouse again.
But tonight, something is different.
After the library incident, Aryan didn’t drag me home and punish me like I expected.
He looked at me, looked at Jully’s terrified face, and something shifted in his eyes.
He simply said, “Bring your friend. Study. I’ll give you space.”
Then he added, voice low, “But you stay in my sight.”
So here we are.
In his living room that looks like a palace made of black marble and glass.
Jully and I sit cross-legged on the giant L-shaped couch, books and laptops spread everywhere.
Aryan is on the opposite couch, feet up, scrolling through his phone, pretending not to watch.
But I feel his eyes on me every few seconds.
Jully keeps stealing glances at him like he’s a bomb about to go off.
I don’t blame her.
I’m on day three of my period.
The cramps are brutal, but the bleeding is lighter.
And for the first time since he took me, he hasn’t touched me sexually.
Not once.
He even asked this morning, voice strangely soft, “Pain bad?”
When I nodded, he handed me a hot water bag and painkillers without a word.
He promised—no, swore—on something dark in his eyes:
“This time, nothing happens without your permission.”
I don’t trust it.
But I’m clinging to it like a lifeline.
Tomorrow is my Arithmetic Aptitude exam—one of the biggest tests of the semester.
I need to pass.
I need one thing in my life that is still mine.
Jully leaves at 10 p.m.
Aryan walks her to the door himself, tells the guard to escort her all the way to her hostel.
She gives me a quick, terrified hug and whispers, “Text me when you wake up, okay?”
Then it’s just us.
I’m packing my books when his voice cuts through the silence.
“Avani.”
I freeze.
“Come here.”
My heart starts racing, but I walk to him slowly.
He’s sitting on the edge of the couch now, legs apart, that familiar hunger in his eyes—but softer tonight.
He pulls out a wide, low wooden study table—bigger than a normal lap desk—and places it in front of him.
“Sit,” he says, patting his thigh.
I hesitate.
He waits.
No grabbing. No growling.
Just waiting.
I climb into his lap carefully, back against his chest, the study table now perfectly in front of me like a real desk.
He adjusts it so my books fit.
Then he wraps one arm loosely around my waist—not trapping, just… there.
“Study,” he murmurs against my ear. “I’ll be good.”
I open my textbook with shaking hands.
For twenty minutes, I actually manage to focus.
Formulas. Patterns. Practice questions.
Then his fingers start moving.
Slow circles on my bare thigh where my shorts ride up.
Not pushing. Not demanding.
Just… tracing.
My breath catches.
I try to ignore it.
I really do.
But his hand is warm, and gentle, and it’s been so long since anyone touched me without hurting.
His palm slides under my cropped hoodie—slow, asking—and settles flat on my lower stomach, right where the cramps live.
Hot.
Soothing.
Perfect pressure.
Butterflies explode in my belly.
Not fear this time.
Something warmer.
Something dangerous.
I feel him smile against my hair.
“Better?” he whispers.
I nod before I can stop myself.
His thumb strokes once, twice.
Still no lower. Still no force.
Just warmth.
Just safety.
I hate how good it feels.
I hate how my body leans back into him without permission.
I hate the tiny sigh that escapes my lips.
I keep studying.
Or pretending to.
Because tomorrow I have an exam.
And tonight, for the first time in weeks,
the monster is keeping his promise.
And I’m terrified of how much I needed this.
Aryan POV:
I don’t know when it happened.
I don’t know the exact second my obsession turned into something that keeps me awake at night just to watch her breathe.
But it did.
I saw her in the library yesterday, laughing at something Jully whispered.
A real laugh. Small, soft, but real.
Her eyes crinkled at the corners, lips curved like the world wasn’t crushing her.
That smile hit me harder than any punch I’ve ever taken.
I wanted it for myself.
Only for myself.
So I let Jully come to the penthouse.
I sat on the opposite couch and pretended to scroll through my phone while actually watching every second of Avani’s happiness.
I saw how her shoulders relaxed when she thought I wasn’t looking.
I saw how she leaned into Jully’s jokes like they were oxygen.
And I realised:
I will burn cities to keep that smile on her face.
That’s why I didn’t touch her during her period.
Not because I’m suddenly a saint.
Because I want her safe. Healthy. Happy.
Because if anything ever happened to her because of me, I would put a bullet in my own head.
Last night she fell asleep on my chest while pretending to study.
Her books slipped to the floor one by one.
Her breathing went soft and even.
Her fingers curled into my shirt like she was holding on to me in her dreams.
I stayed awake until sunrise just feeling her heartbeat against mine.
I counted every breath.
I memorised the way her hair smells after she showers.
I traced the tiny freckle on her shoulder with my eyes a thousand times.
I love her.
Fuck, I love her so much it scares me.
I know how I took her was wrong.
I know I broke her in ways that can never be fixed.
But I will spend the rest of my life trying to put the pieces back together.
I will be the boyfriend she deserves, not the monster she fears.
I will give her the entire world on a gold platter if that’s what it takes to see that library smile again.
This morning I woke up before her.
Made pancakes (burnt the first three because I’ve never cooked for anyone in my life).
Carried the plate to the bedroom with fresh orange juice and strawberries cut into hearts like a fucking idiot in love.
She woke up confused, hair messy, eyes wide when she saw me sitting on the edge of the bed in a white shirt and blue trousers, exactly the colour combination she was wearing yesterday.
“Eat,” I said, climbing in beside her.
She opened her mouth to protest about her exam, tension written all over her face (she thinks she didn’t study enough because she slept in my arms).
I fed her myself.
One bite at a time.
Watched her cheeks turn pink every time our fingers brushed.
Around her neck hangs the pendant I gave her last week: my name in tiny diamonds.
She never takes it off.
Not even in the shower.
Today I’m wearing something new.
Under my shirt, against my skin, on a thin platinum chain:
her name in her handwriting.
I had it made yesterday while she was in the library.
Aryan & Avani.
Forever.
She doesn’t know yet.
When we leave for college, I’ll walk her to the exam hall myself.
I’ll wait outside the door like a guard dog.
Anyone who stresses her gets ruined.
Because vo meri ekloti mohabbat.
My only love.
My everything.
I will never let her go.
But from today,
I will try to deserve her.
Even if it takes the rest of my life.
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