As they stepped out of the Shetty villa, the mid day light air hit them, crisp and real—but the sight that met Kiara's eyes was anything but ordinary. With a flick of his hand, Yuvaan conjured a sleek black car out of thin air. Kiara blinked in disbelief, struggling to grasp it. Until yesterday, cars were bought with money—but now, one appeared as if summoned from nothingness.
"Is this… real?" she whispered, a mix of awe and incredulity in her voice.
Yuvaan's smirk appeared, effortlessly charming. "Everything is real, sweetheart," he said, opening the door for her. "And this… this is just one of my little conveniences."
Once inside the car, Kiara looked at him warily. "Did you… bewitch my father after healing him?" she asked softly, her brow furrowed. "Because it's strange that he accepted you as his son-in-law so easily."
Yuvaan chuckled, his gaze steady on the road. "Oh, Kiara," he said, smooth and teasing, "my charm can win anyone over in minutes."
Kiara let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "And I… I was once a fool, a victim of that very charm," she admitted, looking away, memories of betrayal still weighing her heart.
Yuvaan's smirk deepened, silent acknowledgment of both her words and the unspoken tension between them. The world outside was ordinary—but their journey, bound by love, deceit, and power, was anything but.
Later that night, the room was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of the moon filtering through the curtains. Kiara had laid a mattress on the floor, arranging it meticulously as if preparing a small fort for herself.
Yuvaan appeared in the doorway, his eyes immediately assessing the scene. "You can't sleep on the floor," he said, voice smooth yet tinged with amusement. "After all, I am a gentleman."
Kiara shot him a sidelong glance, lips curling into a teasing smile. "This isn't for me," she said, patting the mattress. "It's for you, villain hubby."
Yuvaan's brow rose, incredulous. "Wait… what? You mean I'm supposed to sleep on the ground?"
Kiara nodded sagely. "Exactly. Or, you know, do one thing—sleep in the air. After all, you are a warlock who can conjure cars out of nothing. Surely floating a few inches off the floor is easy for you."
He circled her slowly, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. "Why are you scared to share a bed with me, hmm?" His tone was gentle but carried a dangerous undertone, making her pulse skip.
Kiara stiffened, crossing her arms. "Because I… I hate you," she spat the words, though her voice wavered just slightly.
Yuvaan's smirk widened, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Liar, liar, pants on fire," he said, stepping closer. "The truth is, you're scared you might get carried away by my charm, lose control… and then, well, we might as well consummate our marriage tonight."
Kiara's cheeks flamed, and she instinctively took a step back. Then, regaining her composure, she walked right up to him, poking him in the chest with a playful jab. "Dream on," she said firmly, though her slight flush betrayed her embarrassment.
Yuvaan leaned closer, close enough for her to feel his warmth, his grin never faltering. "Ah… so feisty. I like that," he murmured, before finally stepping aside to let her claim her makeshift bed.
Kiara climbed onto the bed, intent on finally getting some rest, but before she could settle, Yuvaan's hands caught her wrist. With a swift, fluid motion, he pulled her toward him, and they both tumbled onto the mattress.
Kiara instinctively tried to push herself up, but Yuvaan's firm grip kept her close. Their eyes locked—hers wide with frustration, his dark and unreadable, yet softened by something unspoken. The room felt smaller, charged with tension, each breath heavy with the weight of unvoiced emotions.
In a sudden burst of defiance, Kiara bit down hard on his hand. Yuvaan let out a sharp hiss and instinctively released her, recoiling. She wasted no time scrambling onto the other side of the mattress, sitting upright, cheeks flushed and heart racing. "Goodnight," she said, her voice trembling slightly, and curled under the blankets, finally letting sleep claim her.
Yuvaan stared at his hand for a moment, frowning as he examined the bite mark. He murmured, almost to himself, and tried to heal it, but to his confusion, the wound remained. With a shrug of mild frustration, he pushed the thought aside, laid down, and whispered, "Goodnight, sweetheart."
The truth was something neither of them knew—Kiara, the Gods-Gift, Jishwa, had bitten him. Her attack carried a power so unique that no spell, charm, or warlock ability could heal it instantly. To Yuvaan, it appeared like any ordinary human wound, healing in its own time. And to Kiara, she herself had yet to grasp the full extent of what she was.
The room fell silent, the only sounds the soft rhythm of sleep. Yet, in that quiet, an unspoken truth lingered—an invisible thread of destiny that neither could escape, binding them in ways far beyond love or fear.