14|The Watchful Obsession
Zeeshan pov
The glass in his hand shattered. Tiny shards sliced into his skin, but he didnât flinch. He barely even noticed. The pain was nothing compared to the fury burning inside him.
His fingers curled into his palm, blood seeping between them as his mind replayed that night.
Aaradhyaâs 18th birthday.
The night that haunted him. The night that fueled his hatred.
The night Eshaan took something that was never his to take.
Zeeshanâs breathing was ragged, his chest heaving as the memory clawed its way to the surface.
---
The Past â Her 18th Birthday
It was raining.
The sky cracked open, sending heavy droplets crashing down onto the earth. The scent of wet soil filled the air, mixing with the soft fragrance of jasmine that always lingered around her.
He had been standing in the shadows, hidden behind a tree, his fists clenched as he watched them.
Aaradhya and Eshaan.
Drenched, laughing, lost in their own world.
Her white dress clung to her skin, her hair soaked and sticking to her face as she twirled in the rain, her laughter like a melody that only he should have heard.
But it wasnât him making her laugh.
It wasnât him holding her close.
It was him.
Eshaan.
Zeeshanâs jaw clenched so tightly it hurt, his nails digging into his palm so hard he could feel the skin breaking. But he couldnât look away.
And then it happened.
Eshaan cupped Aaradhyaâs face, tilting it up, their foreheads touching. He murmured somethingâsomething Zeeshan couldnât hear over the pounding rainâbut he saw the way Aaradhyaâs lips parted, the way her breath hitched.
And then, she closed her eyes.
And Eshaan kissed her.
Zeeshan felt something inside him snap.
His vision blurred with rage, his breathing uneven, his entire body trembling. His nails dug so deep into his palm that blood mixed with rain, dripping onto the cold ground.
She was his. His.
He had watched over her since childhood. He knew everything about herâher habits, her fears, her dreams. He memorized every little thing, every detail that no one else noticed.
Like how she always slept with the blanket pulled up to her chin, even in summer.
Like how she bit her lower lip when she was lost in thought.
Like how she secretly loved horror movies but was too scared to watch them alone.
Like how she preferred chai over coffee, but only if it had extra sugar.
Eshaan didnât know these things.
Eshaan didnât deserve her.
And yet, he had taken her first kiss.
Something that should have belonged to Zeeshan.
The rain had masked his scream that night. A sound so raw, so full of rage, it echoed in his own mind for years.
---
Back to the Present
Zeeshan exhaled slowly, forcing his fingers to unclench. The broken glass on the floor glistened in the dim light, mirroring the blood on his hands.
He smiled.
A dark, twisted smile.
Eshaan thought he had won. He thought he had stolen Aaradhya, claimed her.
But he was wrong.
Aaradhya belonged to him.
She always had.
And soon, she would see it too.
His chest rose and fell with slow, calculated breaths, but the fire inside him refused to die. No amount of time, no amount of patience, could erase the image of themâAaradhya and Eshaanâwrapped in each otherâs arms, lost in a moment that never should have existed.
Zeeshan stood, stepping over the shattered glass, ignoring the sting in his palm. The blood didnât bother him. It was a small price to pay for what he was planning.
He turned toward the wall across the room, the one no one else had ever seen.
His temple.
Aaradhyaâs world, frozen in stolen moments.
Newspapers clippings, candid photographs, dried flowers she had once carelessly tossed asideâeverything he had ever collected, everything that was her, was pinned to that wall. The first time she tied her hair into a messy bun at school. The bracelet she dropped when she was in a hurry. The torn corner of a birthday card she had thrown away.
Zeeshanâs gaze landed on a particular photoâAaradhya on her 18th birthday, just before the rain started. She was smiling, completely unaware of the storm that would follow.
His fingers traced her face on the photograph.
âShe was never yours, Eshaan,â Zeeshan whispered, his voice deathly calm. âShe never will be.â
His mind drifted back to the presentâto her.
Aaradhya.
His obsession. His reason. His everything.
She was different now. Detached. Hollow. Eshaan had stolen her memories, erased what little warmth she had left.
But Zeeshan?
He remembered for her.
He remembered the way her laughter used to sound.
The way she hummed absentmindedly while reading.
The way she used to hold her pen, twirling it between her fingers when lost in thought.
She had forgotten.
But he would remind her.
Even if he had to carve his name into her soul.
His lips curled into a slow smirk as a new plan began to take shape in his mind.
eshaan vikram khanna POV
I leaned back in my chair, the glow of the screen reflecting in my eyes as I watched her.
Aaradhya.
She was sitting on her bed, hugging a pillow close, her lips forming a small pout as she scrolled through her phone. Her brows furrowed slightly, her frustration evident before she sighed dramatically and rolled onto her side, burying her face into the pillow.
I smirked.
She always did this.
The same little habits, the same adorable quirksâthings no one else noticed. But I did. I always did.
For three years, I had watched her through this hidden camera. Every breath, every movement, every little thing she didâI memorized it all.
She still twirled her hair absentmindedly.
She still pressed her lips together when she was lost in thought.
She still stared at the ceiling when she was feeling overwhelmed.
She was still the same.
Still mine.
My fingers traced the rim of the whiskey glass in front of me, but my eyes never left the screen.
She yawned, stretching her arms above her head, her oversized t-shirt slipping slightly off her shoulder, exposing her smooth skin. My breath hitched.
She had no idea how intoxicating she was.
No idea how much she drove me insane.
I pushed my chair back and stood, walking toward the other side of the roomâ
the room that belonged to her things.
The walls were covered with her pictures. Candid ones. Stolen ones.
Some from our happiest moments, others from when she thought no one was looking.
I ran my fingers along the shelf where I kept the things she had long forgotten.
Her old perfume bottle, the one she used to love before she carelessly discarded it. I had preserved it, keeping the last traces of her scent locked inside.
Her childhood books, with her name written in sloppy handwriting on the first page.
Her favorite hoodie, the one she left behind in my car years ago.
Even the bracelet she had thrown away in a moment of carelessnessâI had picked it up, treasured it.
Because everything that was hers was mine.
She used to know that.
Back then, when she would smile up at me with those big, trusting eyes. When she would fall asleep against my chest, mumbling my name like it was the only thing that mattered.
She was happy with me once.
I clenched my jaw.
But then he came.
Zeeshan.
That bastard had tainted her mind, twisted her against me.
I turned back to the screen, watching as Aaradhya finally drifted off to sleep, her breath evening out, her fingers still loosely gripping her phone.
She was beautiful. Perfect. Mine.
She just didnât realize it yet.
But soonâ¦
She would.
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