𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓:- 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

【Ａｕｔｈｏｒ＇ｓ　ｐｏｖ：】

His voice-It isn't just sharp. It's laced with disdain so thick, it could drown hope.

The words sting.

Cut.

Tear through her already bruised heart.

But she's learning. She doesn't show it now. She simply straightens her spine and answers,

"When you know I make meals for you, why did you tell someone else to cook?"

Her voice doesn't waver.

She won't give him the pleasure of her pain.

Rudraksh's eyes darken-like a storm cloud dragged through hell. How dare she question him? He's the king in his kingdom of shadows. And no one, no one , questions the devil on his throne. He stands up, the chair scraping the floor like a growl.

Each step toward her is thunder in motion.

He stops mere inches away, holding out a paper-Cold. Official. Ruthless.

"My mother trapped me in this disgusting marriage," he spits, "But Vania, I am not someone to be controlled. Not by her memory. Not by you." His words burn like acid. His gaze is fire now, the kind that doesn't warm, only destroys. "From today...

You no longer exist in my life." Each word slices her soul open. She sways, just slightly.

"You won't be near me."

Another cut.

"You won't touch my belongings."

Deeper still.

"You will not step into my office uninvited or unannounced. Violations of these instructions come with punishments you can't even imagine."

She blinks-once. Twice.

Still standing.

Still breathing.

But her soul? It's bleeding in silence.

"You won't touch me."

Her chest tightens. The ache isn't new, But today-it feels fatal.

"You will never step into my bedroom."

And that...

That is the final blow. A sword dipped in venom, driven straight into her ribs.

Then silence.

The kind that doesn't heal. The kind that stays behind after earthquakes to remind the ruins of what they used to be.

These aren't rules. They're chains, dipped in cruelty, sealed in power.

Built to cage her heart and crush every whisper of love she dares to hold.

Until she either breaks them...

Or breaks herself.

He tosses the final nail into her coffin of hope:

"These are the rules I have created until you divorce me."

Her heart screams.

Cracks.

Shatters-like porcelain dropped from heaven.

She steadies her voice, though inside she's collapsing.

"But you can simply divorce me too," she says, eyes burning.

"Why are you asking me to appeal for it first?"

He grits his teeth. Jaw clenched. Eyes glinting. Another question? Does she not understand who he is?

A devil in tailored suits, fed on silence, drunk on dominance.

Rudraksh spits, "I don't like to be questioned, Vania. Take the order and walk away. Anything more will be punishable."

She scoffs.

It's not loud.

But oh-it's louder than any scream.

And more dangerous than any slap. "I'm not your obedient servant!" she snaps.

"I'm your wife! You can't behave like this toward me."

He chuckles darkly-like thunder that enjoys the sound of things breaking.

"Do I look like I give a damn about what you are?" His tone is dipped in mockery, his eyes glowing with disdain.

"Wife or not-I. Don't. Care.

You're just a tag to me, and soon, very soon, I'll get rid of it."

He pauses, then smirks with bitter humour.

"And since you're so curious, let me grant you that one last answer before I block out your existence again."

He steps closer, voice low and vicious.

"My beloved mother made sure I suffer beyond her grave. Her contract says I can't divorce you first. Only you can demand it. Maybe she wanted to keep laughing from the afterlife."

And just like that, the puzzle clicks in her mind.

Now she knows why Sunita was so sure he'd never leave.

Why her last words weren't filled with fear, but faith. Why she made Vania promise to stay-no matter what.

Now, they're both prisoners.

One by paper. The other by love.

"So I'm just a tag?" Vania breathes.

"A ghost beside a man who won't even look at her?" He nods like he's confirming the weather.

"You'll do anything-except be near the man you married."

He walks back to his chair, as if none of this matters.

As if he didn't just slice her spirit with a smile.

"Now take your leave, Vania," he says flatly.

"As much as I enjoy watching your fragile emotions crumble, I actually have real work to do."

He scoffs. "Go thank your precious invisible God. He seems to enjoy your misery."

And then-He drowns himself in files, like she was never here.

Like she never mattered.

She stands still.

For just a second.

Frozen in disbelief.

Then she turns. Her steps shaky. Anklets silent. Even they mourn today.

She walks-no, drifts-through the palace halls, His cruel voice echoing louder than her heartbeat.

Each word is a dagger. Each memory, a slow poison.

She sobs. Not loud. Not desperate.

But the kind of cry that folds your spine and bends your soul.

The kind that no one hears, but everyone feels.

The kind that makes heaven weep and hell clap.

This is going to be tough. So tough that even the walls seem to whisper Run.

But she doesn't.

Because Vania Rudraksh Martin doesn't run from love.

She fights. Even when love starts to resemble war, she sharpens her heart like a blade and steps right into the fire.

For him.

For love.

For the dream of a tomorrow where his eyes might soften again.

Where Rudraksh might remember the boy Sunita once loved... the boy who once believed in something more than power and pain.

She walks away broken.

But not defeated.

Not yet.

After finishing work When Rudraksh sits down to eat breakfast, there's a strange calm in the air. But the moment the scent of saffron and ghee hits his senses, he stiffens. That aroma-it's her. The scent of love disguised as food. The scent of home he never asked for.

He looks up-and sees her.

Vania.

His disobedient, audacious, damned persistent wife-serving him breakfast with those trembling hands and glassy eyes, as if everything is perfectly normal.

His eyes go red.

What. The. Fuck.

She's standing there, doing exactly what he told her not to do.

Again.

Again, she dares.

He slams his fist on the table. The sound echoes like a warning shot. The plate crashes to the ground, food splattering across the floor like spilled emotions. Rage coils in his veins like wildfire.

"Lucas!" he roars, his voice like a whip slicing through the air. "Why the hell is she here when I clearly instructed that I don't want her near me?!"

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰