Chapter-52

Author's POV,

Meanwhile, the maids exchanged worried glances as Pihu, defying Rudra's orders, propelled herself out of her room in the wheelchair. The kitchen, a forbidden haven, called to her with the siren song of spices. Ignoring the maid Marie's pleas, Pihu hoisted herself onto the counter, the pain in her leg a dull throb. Today, her taste buds craved a fiery rebellion.

The smell of fresh paneer mingled with the pungent aroma of sizzling spices, filling the kitchen with a heady fragrance that made Pihu's mouth water. The rhythmic sizzle of the pan was a comforting sound, almost drowning out her apprehensions.

As she stirred the ingredients, the searing heat kissed her thumb. A hiss escaped her lips, but Pihu, with a determined glint, wrapped a makeshift bandage around her thumb, courtesy of Marie. The paneer sizzled, releasing a savory aroma that promised a delicious explosion of flavors, each bite a defiant act against blandness and Rudra's rules.

Pihu's hand trembled as she brought the last morsel of paneer chili to her lips. The vibrant red sauce mocked her, a stark contrast to the sudden pallor that swept over her face. Her heart raced, echoing the sound of Rudra's footsteps, each one a thunderclap in the tense silence. The kitchen seemed to shrink as Rudra strode towards her, his eyes burning with a terrifying intensity.

His presence filled the room, a suffocating pressure that pushed the air from her lungs. The bloodstain on his shirt, a horrifying echo of the basement he'd just left, sent a fresh wave of fear crashing through her. His eyes, bloodshot and filled with a terrifying intensity, roamed from the empty plate to the hastily bandaged thumb. Each item fueled the inferno within him, a fire that had been raging since his encounter with Rudraansh.

Instead of the concerned approach Pihu had come to expect, Rudra radiated a cold fury that sent shivers down her spine. The gentle Rudra who'd doted on her after her injury was gone, replaced by the ruthless mafia king she'd feared most till now. The comforting presence she'd grown accustomed to felt like a cruel mirage.

Before Pihu could even attempt a defiant smile, Rudra was upon her. With a cold efficiency that sent shivers down her spine, he pulled a chair from the table and slammed himself down in front of her.

In stark contrast to his expression, his hand reached out and gently grasped hers, the one with the makeshift bandage. The tenderness in his touch momentarily confused Pihu. "How did this happen?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the room.

"I... I..." she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

Rudra's face remained an unreadable mask. He held her gaze, the intensity of his stare making her want to look away. The silence stretched, filled only with the frantic beating of Pihu's heart. Just as she felt the urge to speak again, Rudra's voice cut through the tension.

"Marie!" he boomed, his voice echoing through the kitchen, making Pihu flinch.

Marie, who had been a petrified spectator, jumped. "Y-yes, Sir?" she stammered, her voice trembling.

"Can't you do even one task properly?" Rudra's voice dripped with icy contempt. "You are fired."

Marie flinched, her hands trembling, her eyes widening in terror. Tears welled up in them, but she choked back a sob, simply nodding in mute agreement. Rudra, however, wasn't finished. He closed his eyes for a moment, seemingly trying to control the storm raging within him as if triggered by a phantom echo, Rudra's eyes snapped open, a cold glint returning to them.

The voice of Rudraansh filled his head, his taunts and threats a fresh wave of fuel for the inferno within him. He couldn't take it out on Pihu, not directly. But the frustration, the helplessness, it all boiled over.

Pihu, emboldened by a sliver of hope, broke the silence. "Rudra, it's not..."

He cut Pihu off as she tried to speak, his voice low and dangerous. "Pearl, not a word."

Standing abruptly, he pushed Pihu's wheelchair towards her room. The sudden movement sent a jolt through her, but she offered no resistance. The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly, the echo of their footsteps filling the heavy silence between them. Each step Rudra took was filled with tension, a reflection of the storm brewing within him.

Reaching the room, he deposited her inside and turned away without a word. He stalked towards the bathroom, the scent of blood and vengeance clinging to him like a shroud. Pihu, left alone with the remnants of her dinner and the weight of his anger, finally grasped the gravity of the situation.

Pihu watched the bathroom door, the silence heavy and suffocating. Rudra's rage had been a terrifying storm, but this cold, hollow silence was worse. A month together had taught her a different Rudra, a man who wouldn't behave like this with her... unless something truly awful had happened.

The scent of blood, faint but unmistakable, clung to him when he emerged. He'd traded his bloodstained shirt for a t-shirt and sweatpants, but his eyes held a lingering darkness.

He moved towards her, his silence heavier than any explanation. Just as abruptly, he scooped her up and deposited her gently on the bed. "Sleep," he muttered, his voice rough.

But sleep was the furthest thing from Pihu's mind. She grabbed his hand before he could turn away. "What happened?" she asked, her voice soft yet insistent, holding a vulnerability that surprised even her.

Rudra froze. Her question hung in the air, laced with a concern that surprised him. It wasn't fear, not this time. It was genuine worry, a flicker of something warm in her eyes that pierced through the mask he usually wore.

His facade wavered. A battle raged within him - the urge to shield her from the darkness he carried and the unexpected vulnerability he felt under her gaze.

He couldn't tell her about his violent act in the basement to make her fear him more "Nothing," he lied, his voice strained. "Just dealt with some trouble."

Pihu wasn't fooled. Her gaze held his, a silent question brimming within. "What's truly bothering you?" she asked, her voice soft but firm.

He sank beside her on the bed, the weight of her concern a suffocating cloak. The urge to confess warred with the fear of revealing his darkness. To deflect, he blurted, "Why does it matter to you? Why this sudden concern?"

Pihu's breath hitched. Rudra was right. Why did his pain resonate so deeply? It wasn't new, this volatile side of him. But until now, she'd built walls, convinced their connection was temporary. His past, his pain, his emotions – none of it mattered in the grand scheme of her eventual escape.

But this month had shattered those walls. Now, an unexpected empathy bloomed within her. She yearned to understand him, the turmoil hidden beneath his stoic facade. Yet, the vulnerability scared her. "Will you ever let me go?" she blurted, her voice laced with a newfound desperation.

Rudra roared, a primal sound that echoed the tempest within him. "No, never!"

Pihu stood her ground, her voice unwavering. "Then I need to know. What happened? What's fueling this rage? If I remain blind, I might become the target once more."

He met her gaze, seeing the concern masked by her usual stoicism. It was a flicker of warmth amidst the ice. Shame threatened to drown him, but a different emotion, a hesitant trust, battled its hold. He hadn't spoken of his feelings in a very long time, not even to Veer. Yet, with Pihu, there was a different pull, a silent plea for connection.

Rudra saw no words of concern in Pihu's eyes, but he understood. She wasn't the type to wear her heart on her sleeve, at least to him/her captor. He fought down his anger, knowing it would only cause trouble. "Sorry, I just...I" he mumbled, struggling to explain. Talking about his feelings was hard, even with Veer, his closest friend and brother. But with Pihu, it felt different. He wanted to open up, despite his fear of letting his emotions control him.

His voice roughened as he recounted his meeting with Rudraansh, omitting the violent details. The bloodstain on his shirt spoke volumes, a grim testament to his actions. Pihu didn't need him to say anything about what he had done to Rudraansh. His eyes reflected the truth, the darkness he couldn't hide.

Pihu didn't need him to elaborate. The raw pain etched on his face spoke volumes. The mention of his sister, Ayana, and his mother, a tremor in his voice. It wasn't just about Rudraansh; it was about the ghosts of his past rising up, clawing at him with their suffering.

The hug that followed was unlike any she'd received from him before. It wasn't the possessive hold of a captor, but a desperate plea from a man in freefall. "Pearl, please just don't leave me," he rasped, his voice thick with a vulnerability she'd never witnessed. "I can't lose you also. Please..."

His words hung in the air, heavy with a love she hadn't dared to imagine. A love born from loss, a desperate need to hold onto something precious before the darkness consumed him entirely. .

Next Day in the morning,

Pihu woke up, her mind hazy with the remnants of sleep. She didn't know when she had fallen asleep in Rudra's arms, but what surprised her was waking up to find him sleeping beside her. Since her injury, he had always slept on the couch, a promise he had made to her, wanting her acceptance before he dared to share her space.

But this time, as Pihu lay beside him, she didn't feel uncomfortable. Instead, her heart raced with nervousness. She looked at him, seeing not the hardened facade of a mafia king, but the face of a vulnerable child, longing to be healed.

Her gaze softened as she noticed the familiar frown on his face, the same one he always had while sleeping, as if fighting battles even in his dreams. Instinctively, her hand moved towards his forehead, gently massaging it to ease the tension. After a few minutes, his frown relaxed, and a sense of calm washed over her.

Pihu's hands moved towards his hair, gently caressing it. The soft, repetitive motion seemed to soothe him. Rudra, roused by the gentle touch, opened his eyes. In an instant, Pihu retracted her hand, her heart racing as she abruptly sat up, only to wince and place a hand on her back, forgetting about the lingering pain.

Rudra's gaze softened as he noticed her discomfort, a shadow of concern crossing his features. "Careful, Pearl," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep. "Don't hurt yourself."

Pihu looked away, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I... I'm fine," she stammered, trying to steady her breath.

Rudra shifted, propping himself up on one elbow as he regarded her with a mix of vulnerability and longing. "You know," he began, his voice softer than she had ever heard it, "when I was a child, my mother used to caress my hair just like you did. It was the only thing that brought me peace, made me feel safe. I haven't felt that way in a long time."

Pihu's breath caught in her throat as Rudra spoke of his childhood. A pang of sympathy, sharp and unexpected, twisted in her chest. She watched him, his face etched with a vulnerability she hadn't seen before. His words resonated deep within her, stirring a long-dormant ache in her own heart. Instinctively, her hand reached out, hovering just above his arm for a moment before settling gently on his shoulder. The warmth of his skin seeped through the thin fabric of his shirt, grounding her.

She saw the depth of his pain, the yearning for solace that mirrored her own. "Rudra," she whispered, "so why not find peace? Why not leave this dark life behind? It's destroying you bit by bit. I know you didn't enter this life by choice, but why can't you leave it by choice? You've regained everything you lost. What more do you need?"

Rudra was caught off guard by her question. He paused, searching for the right words, but the answer came out almost reflexively. "I can't leave, Pearl. It's part of who I am now. One can enter this life, but leaving is almost impossible. Death is the only escape. And more importantly, I have to destroy those who made my life hell, who took my heart and my soul, who turned me into this monster." Darkness reflected in his last line, and Pihu could feel the depth of that darkness, cold and unyielding.

Pihu's eyes widened slightly, her heart pounding with the weight of his words. She saw the torment etched in his features, the relentless pursuit of vengeance that consumed him. "Rudra," she said softly, reaching out to touch his arm, "revenge won't bring you peace. It won't heal the wounds inside you. It will only deepen the darkness."

Rudra's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and pain. "You don't understand, Pihu. It's not just about revenge. It's about justice. It's about making them pay for what they did to me, to my loved ones. They turned me into this, and they must face the consequences."

Pihu took a deep breath, gathering her courage. "I understand your pain, Rudra. But holding onto this vengeance is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. It will destroy you. You have a chance to choose a different path, to build a life that's not defined by darkness and revenge. You deserve happiness, Rudra."

Rudra looked at her, his expression torn. The intensity of his emotions clashed with the vulnerability she had awakened in him. "And what about you, Pearl? Can you ever forgive me for what I've done? Can you ever see past the monster I've become?"

Pihu's hand trembled on his arm. The question hung heavy in the air, a truth bomb exploding in the quiet intimacy of the moment. Could she forgive him? The answer, tangled with a storm of emotions – fear, anger, a flicker of something softer – remained elusive.

Living with him? The thought sent a tremor through her. Could she ever truly be happy with a man whose hands were stained with blood, a man who walked a tightrope over a bottomless abyss of violence?

But then she looked at him, really looked at him. This wasn't just the ruthless mafia don, the man who had abducted her. There was a wounded soul beneath the hardened exterior, a man yearning for a redemption she wasn't sure he could ever achieve.

She looked into his eyes, searching for an answer, for a flicker of hope. "I..." Her voice trailed off. The answer wasn't there yet. It wouldn't come easily. She needed time to untangle the web of emotions he had ignited within her.

"I don't know, Rudra," she admitted finally, her voice barely a whisper.

Rudra's shoulders slumped slightly at her admission, the weight of her uncertainty palpable in the air between them. He had hoped for a different answer, one that would offer him solace and redemption. But he understood that forgiveness was not something to be demanded or expected; it was something to be earned, something that required time and patience.

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After getting ready with the help of a maid, Pihu wheeled herself out of her room and made her way to the kitchen. Her eyes widened in surprise as she saw Rudra at the stove, the aroma of poha and other dishes filling the air. Rudra glanced up, meeting her eyes with a small, almost shy smile.

" Pearl, Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes."

Pihu raised an eyebrow, genuinely taken aback. "You're cooking?"

Rudra chuckled, turning back to the stove. "Yes." As Rudra continued to cook, his mind wandered back to the previous night. The anger that had flared up at the sight of Pihu's injury, the frustration with himself for scaring her. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, trying to focus on the present moment. He wanted to show Pihu that he cared, but it was so difficult control his anger and emotions.

As the smell of fresh food filled the room, Pihu's thoughts raced. She remembered the previous night vividly: her defiance in the kitchen, Rudra's cold fury, and Marie's abrupt firing. The guilt gnawed at her, but so did a sense of responsibility. She had to speak up, but the fear of Rudra's reaction gnawed at her resolve.

But she decided to address it over breakfast, hoping to persuade him to reconsider.

A few minutes later, they were seated at the table, a spread of toast, poha, orange juice, and fresh fruit laid out before them. Pihu took a tentative bite, savoring the flavors before gathering her courage.

"Rudra," she began, her voice gentle but firm, "about Marie. I think it was unfair to fire her. Last night was my fault. I didn't listen to her when she tried to stop me."

Rudra's expression hardened instantly. "Pearl, she had one job – to take care of you. She failed."

Pihu sighed, frustration bubbling beneath her calm exterior. "I understand your concern, but it wasn't her fault. I insisted on cooking. I wouldn't take no for an answer."

Rudra shook his head, his jaw set. "It doesn't matter. She didn't fulfill her responsibility."

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To be continued...

What do you all think? Will Rudra agree to Pihu's request or not?