Carefully, Kiara helped Yuvaan onto the bed, his body still heavy with sleep. She brushed a stray lock of hair from his face, her fingers lingering as memories of his past flickered in her mind. The cruelty he had endured, the burdens forced upon him at such a young age by a family that should have nurtured him—everything made her heart ache.
She quietly left the room, descending the stairs. The grand hall was empty now; the guests had departed, leaving only Vikram and Varun behind. Kiara rushed into their arms, hugging them tightly. Vikram held her close, his voice low but firm.
"Kiara… don't unnecessarily become a part of Yuvaan's life. Remember who he truly is, and how he forced you into this marriage," he warned, his eyes heavy with concern.
Kiara's mind flashed back—their forceful wedding, the chaos, the anger, the fear—but also the moments when Yuvaan had saved her, protecting her from dangers like the daayan Sunehri.
Varun and Vikram eventually left, leaving Kiara alone in the quiet mansion. She wandered the corridor, her thoughts a swirl of past and present. She couldn't forget how Yuvaan had come into her life with force and power, yet how, despite it all, he had risked everything to save her from danger.
Her gaze softened as she recalled Sunehri's attack, and how he had stood between her and the flying car, shielding her from harm. The anger, the fear, the betrayal—everything now mingled with a fragile understanding of the pain he had carried, and the lengths he had gone to protect her.
She walked on, her footsteps echoing softly, the weight of their complicated bond settling around her like a quiet storm.
As Kiara walked down the quiet corridor, a soft, chilling whisper reached her ears—her own name, drawn out, lingering in the night air. Her heart skipped a beat. "Kiara…" it called again, this time from the terrace. Instinctively, she moved toward the sound, her curiosity battling the unease crawling up her spine.
When she stepped onto the terrace, her breath caught. There, illuminated by the pale moonlight, stood Sunehri, her yellow eyes glinting, her long braid swaying like a living serpent. "I missed you… so I came," the daayan purred, raising a knife in a menacing arc.
Kiara's pulse raced. She bent her upper body back just in time, narrowly avoiding the deadly strike. Sunehri lunged again, dagger poised to pierce, but Kiara's reflexes were sharp; she caught the daayan's wrist in a desperate struggle. Sunehri shoved her back violently, sending Kiara stumbling across the terrace, then flicked her wrist—throwing the dagger.
But it didn't stop. The blade multiplied, dozens of them spinning through the air like deadly silver insects. Kiara froze, panic rising in her chest. And then—Yuvaan appeared.
In a blur of motion, he stepped between them, one hand outstretched. The daggers tore through the space where his body should have been, stabbing him squarely in the chest. Kiara's eyes widened in shock as he remained standing, calm and unyielding. With a flick of his wrist, a searing wave of dark fire engulfed Sunehri, and she screamed as her body burned to ash.
Yuvaan turned, his gaze meeting Kiara's. She saw the pain etched across his face, the dagger wounds marking his chest and arms—but with a slow, almost unnatural grace, he plucked them out one by one. The flesh healed instantly, smooth and unbroken as if nothing had happened.
Kiara's hand went to her mouth, her heart hammering. He had protected her… again. And yet, the image of him, wounded and unwavering, burned itself into her mind.
Yuvaan's gaze softened as he turned toward Kiara, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice calm but tinged with concern.
Kiara shook her head, stepping closer, her hands trembling slightly. "You… you were the one who got wounded," she said, her eyes searching his. "Are you okay?"
A faint, wry smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "I'm fine," he replied casually, trying to mask the pain. "I'm a warlock." His tone was light, but his hand tightened against the terrace railing as he stared into the distance, as if trying to vanish into the night.
Kiara's expression softened. She stepped closer, her voice gentle but insistent. "You… you must have faced so much hatred from your family as a kid, right? I mean… look at what you've endured."
For a moment, Yuvaan's eyes darkened, a flicker of old pain crossing his face. He let out a low, almost bitter chuckle. "They… they're right," he said finally, his voice low. "I am cursed." He clenched his fists, his jaw tight. "After all… I am the father of all evil."
He turned slightly away, shielding himself from her gaze. There was a weight in his words, an unspoken history he refused to share. Yet Kiara could feel the layers beneath—pain, loss, and a childhood shaped by cruelty.
For a moment, silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant sounds of the night. Kiara wanted to reach out, to tell him she understood, but the raw intensity of his words left her momentarily speechless.