(Kruthi's POV)
Finally—after what felt like an endless day—I was back in the only place that felt remotely safe.
Our room.
No rituals. No judging eyes. No suffocating expectations.
Just silence.
After freshening up, I stood in front of the mirror, dressed in an oversized night shirt and pyjamas. My hair was damp, falling loosely over my shoulders as I went through my skincare routine—something normal, something mine.
A small escape.
I looked at my reflection.
Tired.
Exhausted.
First day of marriage.
I let out a slow breath.
Taking the aloe vera mask, I applied it carefully over my face, the cool texture calming my heated skin. My fingers moved to my arms next, spreading moisturiser absentmindedly—
The door creaked open.
I froze.
My eyes lifted to the mirror.
He stood there.
Still.
One hand on the doorknob. Shoulders rigid. Eyes—on me.
For a fraction of a second… something shifted in his expression.
Then it was gone.
He shut his eyes briefly, exhaled, and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
Controlled again.
Always controlled.
I bit the inside of my cheek, pretending to focus on my reflection.
He walked closer.
Unhurried.
Measured.
"What are you doing?" he asked, voice flat.
"Skincare," I replied, not turning.
Silence.
Then—
I felt it.
His presence. Close.
Too close.
My breath hitched despite myself.
In the mirror, I saw his hand rise slowly—
I closed my eyes.
Just for a second.
Stupid.
So stupid.
But instead—
"This is…" his fingers lightly brushed my cheek, "…jelly-like."
My eyes snapped open.
I choked.
"Jelly-type?" I turned to him, disbelief written all over my face.
He had already pulled his hand back, wiping it with a handkerchief like he had just touched something unfamiliar.
"Why did you touch it?" I frowned.
Not entirely at him.
Mostly… at myself.
That reaction—
that pause—
that expectation—
Where did that even come from?
"I was curious," he said simply.
Of course.
Curiosity.
I took a step toward him, closing the distance deliberately this time.
"If you remember," I said, tilting my head slightly, "curiosity isn't always a good habit."
A faint smirk touched his lips.
His gaze dropped for a second… then came back up.
Sharp.
Assessing.
"Seems like I underestimated you."
Before I could react, he turned me around gently—firm, but not rough—so I was facing the mirror again.
His presence settled behind me.
Close.
Enough to feel.
"Are you sure," he murmured near my ear, his voice low, "this look matches the aura you're trying to carry?"
My eyes widened slightly as I looked at my reflection.
Face covered in green mask.
Cartoon pyjamas.
Messy hair.
Oh god.
Heat rushed to my face instantly.
"S…so what?" I muttered, trying to recover.
He leaned in just a fraction more.
Not touching.
But close enough to make my breath uneven.
"That," he whispered, "means…"
A pause.
"…you don't affect me the way I affect you."
My heart skipped.
Annoyance flared instantly to cover it.
Before I could respond, he stepped back—like nothing happened—and walked past me toward the bathroom.
Calm.
Unaffected.
Untouchable.
The door shut behind him.
I stared at my reflection for two seconds.
Then—
I stomped my foot lightly on the floor, letting out a small, frustrated whine before dropping onto the chair.
"Ugh!"
I crossed my arms, pouting at myself.
Why—
WHY—
was he right?
(Vivaan's POV)
The moment the bathroom door shut behind me, the silence hit differently.
Not empty.
Not calm.
Controlled.
I turned on the tap, letting the cold water run over my hands longer than necessary. Droplets slid down my fingers, but my mind wasn't here.
It was outside.
On her.
Kruthi.
That brief second—when she had closed her eyes—
I had noticed.
Of course I had.
I notice everything.
The way her breath hitched.
The way her shoulders stilled.
The way she expected something.
My jaw tightened slightly.
Dangerous.
Not for me.
For her.
I dried my hands slowly, staring at my reflection.
This was exactly why lines had to stay where they were.
Clear.
Untouched.
She wasn't meant to get comfortable here.
And I wasn't meant to… blur anything.
Not now.
Not ever.
A sharp vibration cut through the silence.
My phone.
I picked it up, glancing at the screen—
Unknown number.
But I already knew.
I answered.
"Speak."
Silence for half a second.
Then—
Everything shifted.
My expression didn't change.
But my eyes did.
Colder. Sharper. Lethal.
"…When?" I asked quietly.
A pause.
My grip tightened on the phone.
"I'm on my way."
The call ended.
For a moment, I stood still.
Thinking.
Then I moved.
Fast.
I stepped out of the bathroom and went straight to the wardrobe, pulling it open with a force just enough to show urgency—but not panic.
Never panic.
Behind me, I could feel her gaze.
Watching. Questioning.
I ignored it.
Pulling out a fresh suit—black. Clean. Precise.
In seconds, I changed, movements efficient, practiced.
No wasted time.
No hesitation.
"What happened?" her voice came from behind me.
Soft.
Careful.
Curious.
I didn't answer.
Buttoned my cuffs.
Adjusted my watch.
Picked up my keys.
"Vivaan—" she tried again, stepping closer this time.
I turned.
And she stopped.
Because she saw it.
That shift.
Not the man from a few minutes ago.
Not the one teasing her.
Not even the one who stood up for her.
This—
was something else.
Completely.
"Lock the doors tonight."
My voice was low. Final.
Not a suggestion.
An instruction.
Her brows furrowed. "What? Why? At least tell me—"
"No one enters," I continued, cutting her off. "No matter who it is."
A pause.
My gaze held hers.
For a second longer than necessary.
"Don't open the door."
Something in my tone made her still.
I turned without another word and walked out.
No explanations.
No reassurances.
Just action.
The hallway lights felt dimmer as I moved through them, already dialing another number.
"Keep an eye on the house," I said the moment the call connected. "No mistakes."
I ended the call before they could respond.
By the time I stepped outside, the night had already begun to settle.
Quiet.
Deceptive.
I got into the car, the engine starting with a low hum.
And for the first time since the call—
My thoughts flickered back.
Just once.
To her.
Inside that room.
Alone.
Innocent.
Kind.
My grip tightened on the steering wheel.
Then I drove off.
Because whatever waited for me tonight—
Was something I couldn't afford to bring back home.