AUTHOR'S POV
It had been a little over a month since their names were bound in marriage, and a week since they started living under the same roof. Not much had changed on the surface—he was still Kabir, the enigmatic businessman, and she, Kavya, the law student with a haunted past.
But beneath the surface… something was shifting.
Their worlds were still at war—unknown to each other, yet dangerously close.
She believed he was merely a powerful, arrogant billionaire, perhaps wrapped in mystery, but far from the world of crime.
The truth, though, wore a darker shade. Kabir didn't just deal in businesses—he ruled territories. He was the man whose name never reached the newspapers but echoed like a silent terror in the underworld.
And she—Kavya—the soft-spoken, quiet girl working tirelessly toward her future, was carrying a truth far heavier than her books. A truth stitched into her very blood. The daughter of the man who had murdered Kabir's parents in cold blood. And she knew it. She had always known. Yet silence became her refuge.
She never spoke of it. Just like he never spoke of the reason behind his growing obsession with her.
Maybe it was her stillness that drew him in.
Maybe it was the way she looked so lost in the chaos of his world.
Or maybe… it was the way she flinched from his touch, yet never truly walked away.
Kabir had never been the man to notice flowers, but now, every morning without fail, a fresh lily waited at her door—delicate and white. Her favorite.
The car he used now smelled faintly of lilies too, the scent lingering just enough to remind her of his presence.
At breakfast, her preferences were served like clockwork—even though she never once mentioned them aloud.
And when she rushed out for her college lectures, he was there—waiting, always—watching her with unreadable eyes as she got in, and only starting the engine once her seatbelt clicked into place.
He'd drop her off without fail. Some days in silence, some days with a low "Good luck." And without fail, he waited for that small wave from her before driving away.
He wasn't doing grand gestures.
No confessions.
No apologies for the way their marriage began.
Just consistency. Quiet care. As if he was slowly, deliberately weaving himself into her everyday routine.
Dinner plans began appearing—reservations at places she had once googled but never dared to enter.
Every second evening became a quiet escape, filled with dishes she liked, music she never requested, and a man whose gaze never strayed far from her face.
And Kavya?
She didn't understand what was happening.
It was… overwhelming.
Not because he shouted or demanded, but because he noticed.
She wasn't used to being noticed.
The way her favorite chutney always appeared beside her plate.
The way the AC in his car was always set to her preferred temperature.
The way his voice softened, just slightly, when he called her name.
She found herself waiting.
For the knock at the door.
For the car's honk outside the college.
For the text that read "Be ready by 7."
He was becoming a part of her life. An undeniable, immovable presence.
And the worst part—perhaps the most terrifying—was that she was beginning to… need it.
She still flinched when he came too close. Still avoided his eyes for too long. But her heart wasn't as guarded as before. And Kabir? He noticed that too.
Every detail.
Every change.
He didn't ask questions.
He didn't confess feelings.
But his actions—those quiet, deliberate actions—spoke a language far more dangerous.
Because between them still stood a truth darker than any love could fix.
But the distance between their hearts…
Wasn't as wide anymore.
.
.
.
.
Morning. Kabir's Villa.
Like every other day, the morning began with structure—clean, precise, controlled.
Kabir sat at the head of the grand dining table, dressed in a crisp shirt, sleeves casually rolled up, a black Montblanc pen spinning slowly between his fingers.
His PA stood beside him, tablet in hand, reeling off the day's schedule in a clipped tone—board meetings, shipment updates, a lunch with foreign investors, a call from Dubai's syndicate. Every detail was absorbed, every plan adjusted with surgical precision. Kabir made quick decisions, added mental notes, suggested time shifts—until something pulled him out of that rhythm.
A scent.
Subtle. Floral. Familiar.
Kavya.
The moment her fragrance drifted into the room, his world tilted slightly.
His head lifted instinctively—and there she was.
Descending the marble staircase like a vision painted in soft light and blooming silence.
Draped in a delicate floral saree, her every step clicked gently against the floor, heels tapping a rhythm that echoed in his chest. Her head remained dipped low, her gaze fixed on the floor.
A strand of hair slipped across her cheek, and the thin gold chain holding the pendant he had given her—the one from their first night—rested delicately against her chest.
The sunlight filtering through the tall windows kissed her fair skin, making it glow against the pastel fabric wrapped so gracefully around her curves. Her long, dark hair spilled over one shoulder, softening her silhouette and pulling every shred of attention from him.
Kabir stilled.
Everything else around him blurred.
The sound of the clock ticking faded.
The quiet clinking of silverware died.
Even his PA's voice dulled to a murmur in the distance.
All that remained was her.
Her scent.
Her steps.
Her presence.
His heart skipped in betrayal of his usual calm, the flutter rising uninvited in his chest.
And then, she walked closer, still avoiding his gaze, as if unaware of the storm she left behind in her trail. She pulled the chair out gently and took her seat across from him, her posture demure but calm.
Lifting her head ever so slightly, she spoke, her voice soft—velvety with a hint of hesitation.
"Good morning, Mr. Oberoi."
Kabir couldn't respond.
The words simply… refused to leave.
He sat frozen in the moment—soaking in the simple grace of it, the ease with which she occupied his home, his space, his morning. The fact that she didn't even realise what she had just done to him.
Before he could find his voice, his PA interrupted, offering a polite greeting,
"Good morning, Ma'am."
Kavya turned slightly, offering him a warm, polite smile.
Kabir's jaw clenched, the moment shattered.
He shot a glare at his assistant—sharp enough to slice the air around them.
Not because he had greeted her, but because he had dared to speak and ruin the perfect stillness—his moment with her, however silent it had been.
The PA instantly dropped his eyes to the screen, muttering an apology under his breath.
Kavya, oblivious to it all, reached for the glass of water, the bangles on her wrist clinking like soft music.
And Kabir?
He was still looking at her.
Still watching.
Still wondering…
How she had become the only chaos he craved in his otherwise calculated life.
Kabir's eyes lingered on her—his Lily—draped in that soft saree, her elegance both delicate and quietly disarming. Her presence didn't just walk into the room; it bloomed, slowly, like the flower she was unknowingly named after.
And for once, his world didn't feel like it was made of steel and silence.
He leaned back, gaze still fixed on her, a rare warmth creeping into his otherwise unreadable face. The corners of his lips curved into a subtle smile, one he never wore for anyone else.
"Is something special today… Lily?"
The question was gentle, wrapped in a tone far softer than his usual command.
Kavya paused mid-sip, the name—Lily—no longer strange to her ears. She had started accepting it, quietly, as if the nickname wrapped around her like one of his unspoken touches. Something only he had the right to use.
A faint smile tugged at her lips as she replied, her voice low but laced with anticipation.
"There is… Some event in my college.
Would you like to join?"
There was hesitation in her tone, but also something more. Hope, maybe. Or perhaps a silent test—to see if the man who dominated half the city would care enough to step into her world.
Kabir didn't blink. Didn't question. Didn't ask what the event was or who else was going.
He simply smirked, and in that rare moment of mischief, his voice dropped a notch deeper, more playful—more hers.
"Order, wifey."
Kavya's smile widened instantly, unable to hide the flicker of delight in her eyes. A small laugh even escaped her lips before she turned her gaze down again, shy but not withdrawn.
Across the table, Kabir's PA stood frozen.
Shocked.
Speechless.
Had he heard that right?
Mr. Kabir Oberoi—the man who once canceled a high-level investor summit over a single mistimed email—was ready to skip an entire day's worth of syndicate meetings, international calls, and confidential briefings… for a college event?
But it wasn't just a college event.
Not to Kabir.
It was her event.
His Lily's.
And she had invited him.
That alone was enough for him to move mountains, let alone cancel a day.
Kabir glanced at his assistant, a single eyebrow arched in silent command.
"Clear my schedule. I have somewhere important to be."
The PA blinked, fumbling with his tablet.
"B-but sir… the investors from—"
Kabir didn't flinch.
"I said clear it."
His tone didn't rise. It didn't need to.
Because when it came to Kavya, every other deal could wait.
And as Kavya quietly buttered her toast, unaware of the empire bending itself around her one soft invitation, Kabir just sat there—watching her.
Still. Silent.
And completely, irreversibly hers.
After breakfast, like every other morning, Kabir drove Kavya to her college. The car glided through the streets in smooth silence, yet inside him, a quiet storm brewed. She sat beside him, playing with the edge of her dupatta, unaware of how each stolen glance from her made his grip on the steering wheel tighten.
As they reached the gates, she turned to him, her soft smile blooming like it always did—gentle, hesitant, but warm enough to wrap around his guarded heart.
"You'll come, right?" she asked, the faintest flicker of hope tucked beneath her words.
Kabir leaned in just slightly, his voice low—promising.
"I'll be there before your name echoes in that auditorium."
Kavya smiled again, gave her usual little wave, and stepped out, blending into the crowd of students with grace that still felt too fragile for a world as harsh as his.
But as she walked away, something inside him twisted.
His breath hitched. Eyes lingered.
She hadn't even looked back.
"Killer… my Lily," he murmured to himself with a smirk, shaking his head before driving off.
But the smirk didn't reach his eyes.
.
.
.
.
Later That Day – Kavya's College
The sky had dulled under an overcast shade, and the wind began to pick up slightly, sweeping through the campus lawns. Colorful banners flapped softly, students ran around organizing the final details, and laughter echoed in every corner. The college was buzzing—but Kavya stood still.
On the outer edge of the auditorium stairs, her fingers clutched her file too tightly, knuckles pale from the grip. Her heart had been at the edge of her throat for the past twenty minutes. She kept telling herself he would come. He had promised.
But what if he didn't?
What if he was just being polite this morning?
She didn't even realise how her eyes kept flickering toward the main gate, watching cars pass… waiting for that one black Mercedes.
Her friend Kamila nudged her gently.
"You okay? You've been staring at the gate like it owes you something."
Kavya offered a weak smile, brushing her hair back.
"Just nervous. That's all."
But even her voice betrayed her.
The auditorium buzzed with applause and murmurs, packed to the last row. Faculty in formal silks and suits, students chattering nervously, and dignitaries from several fields lined the front row.
Kavya sat quietly in the third row, her back straight but her hands clutched tightly in her lap, thumbs pressing into her palm. Her name was on the program. She was to receive the Academic Excellence Award for topping the semester. It should have been a moment of pride. Of happiness.
But her eyes kept flickering toward the auditorium doors.
Still no sign of him.
Her chest rose and fell with silent worry. He had promised.
Then the host, a senior professor, stepped up to the podium.
"And now, for the most awaited Academic Excellence Award of the year…"
The auditorium quieted.
"This year, it goes to none other than—Miss Kavya Joshi!"
Thunderous applause erupted. Cameras clicked. Classmates cheered.
Kavya stood slowly, her heart racing—not from the crowd, not from the spotlight, but from the haunting feeling of absence. Of his absence.
She hesitantly walked toward the stage, saree swaying gently around her feet, a soft nervous smile playing on her lips as she climbed the steps. Her eyes still swept over the crowd—one last time.
And that's when she heard it.
The distant roar of engines.
Low. Smooth. Commanding.
Three identical black Mercedes pulled up one after the other, forming a perfect line in front of the college entrance. Their glossy surfaces reflected the overcast sky, windows tinted so dark they mirrored the stunned expressions of everyone standing nearby.
Students stopped mid-step. Conversations froze.
All eyes turned.
Kamila's mouth parted slightly before her lips curved upward.
"Speak of the devil..." she whispered.
Kavya's breath caught in her chest.
Because she recognized it.
The sleek one in the middle—Kabir's car.
The door opened, and out stepped him.
Dressed in all black. Sharp-cut blazer. Dark sunglasses concealing his eyes, but not the authority dripping from every step he took. The air around him shifted—commanded. Heads turned. A few gasps, some whispers, but he paid no attention.
His eyes—hidden behind the shades—searched for one person.
Only one.
And when they landed on her, standing frozen at the stairs, wearing a that same saree and holding it's edge like a shield—
A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
But then the host spoke.
"And to present the award, we have a very special guest this afternoon. A man known not only for his unmatched business empire but also for his generous educational initiatives—please welcome Mr. Kabir Oberoi."
Gasps. Shocked whispers. Half the students were already craning their necks toward the door, stunned.
And Kavya?
Her heart stopped.
Then kickstarted in a skip, thundering in her chest.
Her husband.
Her Kabir.
Her face flushed instantly, a fierce blush rising up her neck to her cheeks. She looked away quickly, biting her lower lip to hide the smile blooming like fire across her face.
Kabir walked in.
Every eye followed him.
But his eyes?
They remained on only one person.
His Lily.
The moment his gaze landed on her, standing alone under the spotlight, eyes wide and lips quivering with surprise—he smirked.
Not the charming, media-smile smirk.
No.
This one was hers.
Smug. Possessive. Intimate.
Kavya's breath hitched.
She felt it again. That electricity. That pull. Like her heart had just been set ablaze.
Kabir climbed the steps onto the stage like he owned not just the moment—but the whole world. The award tray was offered to him by a staff member, and without tearing his gaze from Kavya, he took it with slow, deliberate grace.
Then he turned to her fully, extended the plaque and certificate with one hand, the bouquet in the other.
The applause reignited around them—but it all felt distant to her.
Because at that moment, her world narrowed down to his warm breath, the slight tilt of his head, and the way his lips curled as he leaned in and whispered, so low only she could hear—
"Proud of you, Lily."
Her hands trembled slightly as she accepted the award from him. Their fingers brushed—just briefly—but enough to send a shiver through her spine.
The flash of cameras surrounded them, immortalizing the moment. But no camera could capture what passed between their eyes.
Something unsaid.
Something felt.
Something dangerously close to being named.
"Thank you…" she whispered, her voice soft, almost shaky beneath the weight of a thousand eyes and that single moment.
But Kabir merely shook his head with a slow smirk, the kind that made her pulse skip a beat.
"Thank you… for making me proud, wifey."
His voice was low, teasing, yet dipped in a sincerity that made her heart flutter. The way he said wifey—with pride, not mockery—sent a warmth crawling across her cheeks. She clutched the award a little tighter, as if grounding herself from the storm he stirred inside her.
As they descended the steps together, applause trailing behind them, she glanced sideways at him.
"A great surprise…" she murmured, not able to hide the edge of awe in her tone.
But Kabir only smiled—silent, knowing.
And just as she began to turn toward the row of students where her friends sat waving at her to come over, his fingers wrapped gently around her wrist.
The touch was firm but careful—commanding, not forceful. She paused, startled, looking up into his gaze.
"Will you sit with me, wifey?" he asked, voice softer now, intimate, as if the crowd had blurred and only she mattered.
Kavya blinked, then slowly nodded.
Her heart thudded against her ribcage as he led her toward the front row—reserved seats meant for dignitaries, professors, and VIPs. The whispers around them grew louder, curious eyes followed their every step. Even the principal seemed surprised but quickly masked it with a welcoming nod.
Kamila's jaw practically dropped, and a few other students gawked, nudging each other in disbelief.
Kabir Singh Oberoi.
What's his relationship with Kavya Joshi??
As they settled into the plush velvet chairs, Kabir waited until she sat first. She adjusted the drape of her saree nervously, the award still in her lap, eyes downcast under the weight of sudden attention.
But then—slowly, deliberately—Kabir reached for her hand.
His palm slid over hers, fingers curling around her trembling ones with ease. His thumb brushed over her knuckles in a lazy stroke, grounding her.
Kavya froze. Her breath hitched.
Not because it was inappropriate. Not because anyone might see.
But because she didn't expect it.
Not here.
Not in front of so many people.
Not from him.
She turned to look at him, eyes wide in silent question.
But he didn't even glance at her. His gaze was fixed ahead, jaw relaxed, posture regal, as if holding a university student—his wife's hand in public was the most natural thing in the world.
And in that moment—amidst shocked stares and murmurs—Kavya's heart betrayed her completely.
Because the man beside her… wasn't just Kabir Singh Oberoi.
He was the man making her feel seen.
Claimed.
Protected.
The heat from his hand seeped into her skin.
The whispers around them blurred into a background hum.
And for the first time in a long while…
She felt something dangerously close to belonging.