Short chapter again, sorry.

But I hope you guys enjoy it😅❤️

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Arya's pov:

The room was too quiet.

This mansion was massive—grand and cold—but the room I'd been shoved into was small. Cramped. Only a tiny window looked out into the night, barely letting in any light, as if it too was ashamed of what had just happened.

I sat frozen on the edge of the bed, clutching the fabric of my bridal lehenga. My veil still covered my face like a barrier, shielding me from the cruel truth that had rewritten my fate.

Every inch of me ached—not physically, but mentally. Emotionally. The weight of what had just happened, of what had been taken from me, was unbearable.

I just wanted to sleep. Maybe if I closed my eyes, I'd wake up to find that this was all a nightmare. That I was still a daughter, a student, just a girl with dreams. Maybe then, I could breathe again.

But deep down, I knew the truth.

This wasn't a dream.

This was my reality.

This was my fate.

I was about to lift my veil—

BANG!!

The door burst open with a violent slam. I flinched hard, instinctively hugging myself tighter.

Footsteps followed—slow, steady, and heavy with authority. The air shifted, chilling with his presence alone.

I didn't need to look up to know who it was.

Vedanth Vasishta.

The man who'd dragged me into this hell.

"What?" His voice was low and sharp, laced with venom. "Are you waiting for me to lift your veil and consummate our first night?"

His words dripped with cruel mockery.

Before I could react, he was standing in front of me. In one swift, brutal motion, he grabbed my arm and yanked me off the bed. A gasp escaped my lips as I stumbled to my feet, unsteady.

His hand reached up and tore the veil from my face.

As the cloth slipped away, I felt stripped bare. Exposed. I kept my eyes glued to the floor, too scared to look into his.

But he wasn't done.

He gripped my jaw with brutal force, and a hiss of pain escaped me. His fingers dug into my skin as he forced me to look up at him.

My breath hitched.

This was the first time I'd seen Vedanth Vasishta this close.

He was... dangerously beautiful.

A chiseled jaw, tense with rage. High cheekbones that made him look almost sculpted. But it was his eyes—black, cold, and furious—that truly terrified me.

He looked like a man carved from wrath and grief.

His hold loosened slightly.

And for a fleeting second—just one flicker—something shifted in his eyes. A flash of something unnameable, unreadable. It was gone before I could grasp it, buried beneath the armor he wore like a second skin.

"Look at you, sweetheart," he sneered. "So fragile. So scared. Paying for sins that aren't even yours."

I couldn't speak. My voice was gone, buried under the weight of shock and sorrow. A few silent tears escaped my eyes.

"Let's make one thing crystal clear, Mrs. Vedanth Vasishta..." His grip tightened. "This wasn't a wedding. You are not my wife. You are a pawn—a tool I will use to destroy your father."

I flinched at his words, biting back more tears. I didn't want to be weak in front of him. I couldn't be weak.

Summoning every ounce of strength I had left, I whispered, "Why? Why me?"

He let out a cold, humorless chuckle.

"Because your father made the mistake of standing against me."

"So you decided to ruin my life further, even though it was already ruined?" My voice was barely audible.

His jaw clenched. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, then opened them, darker than before.

"You think your life matters to me?" he said, his voice low and threatening. He leaned in, his breath brushing my skin, making me shiver. "As I said—you're nothing but a pawn in my game. Blame your father. You're here because of him."

"Then kill me," I whispered.

He stilled.

I didn't know why I said it. The words just slipped out of my trembling lips.

"If I'm just a pawn, then kill me already."

He stared at me in silence, something unreadable crossing his face. Then he stepped back, his expression hardening once again.

"No. I could've done that at the wedding venue." His voice was hollow. "But I don't want you dead. Not yet. If you die, I can't get what I want."

Another tear slid down my cheek.

"Don't worry," he said flatly. "Once your father gives me what I need, you'll be free. I'll be done with you. I'll give you a divorce."

My heart shattered.

I stood frozen, unable to breathe. My lips parted as I tried to suck in air.

I should've felt relief.

I should've been happy to be promised freedom.

But instead, all I felt was... emptiness.

He kept looking at me, like he was staring into my very soul. His jaw remained clenched as he turned and took a few steps toward the door.

"Until then..." he said, voice like thunder, "you belong to me."

Then he stormed out.

Silence fell again.

But now the silence felt louder than before.

I looked down at the nuptial chain around my neck. My fingers trembled as they touched the vermilion in my hairline. The symbols of this marriage—the markings of belonging—felt like shackles.

Divorce.

The word echoed like a curse.

My knees gave way beneath me.

I collapsed to the floor.

The strength I had clung to all this time snapped in an instant.

I wrapped my arms around myself, shielding whatever was left of me.

My body trembled with silent sobs. I wanted to scream, but what was the point?

Screaming wouldn't change anything.

I looked again at the mangalsutra. My fingers trembled as they touched my forehead. These symbols didn't feel sacred. They felt like branding.

I was not his.

I did not belong to him.

And I never would.

Tears poured freely down my cheeks, and this time, I didn't try to stop them.

Because that was all I could do.

In the silence, his words haunted me.

"You are not my wife."

"You are just a pawn."

"I will give you divorce."

"Owned by me."

He thought he could own me? Control me? Use me like a chess piece in his game?

He didn't know me.

I was raised by a man who taught me to stand tall, to fight for my rights, to never submit to fear.

Yes—my father failed me today.

He made a decision that tore my world apart.

But I would not be Vedanth Vasishta's pawn.

I wiped my tears with trembling hands. Slowly, I stood up and walked to the mirror.

My eyes were red, my nose swollen. But beneath the wreckage, I saw something else.

Determination.

I stared at my reflection. "You think you'll win this game using me as your pawn, Mr. Vedanth Vasishta?" I whispered. "Maybe you will. Maybe you won't. But I won't be sacrificed in your war."

I took a deep breath.

"I won't come between you and my father's game."

This is not the end.

I will change everything—

Your plan.

Your game.

Maybe even you.

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