Author's pov-
Mahir's smirk faltered as her words cut through the silence like a blade, sharp and ruthless. He froze, the air between them growing heavier with every second. Her voice had been steady, but the tremor in her hands and the crack in her tone betrayed the storm beneath.
"What do you want?" Siara asked, her voice laced with bitterness and a pain that seemed to echo from the depths of her soul. "Physical intimacy? Is that it?" She laughed, but it wasn't the sound of joy-it was a broken, hollow sound that made his chest tighten.
Her trembling hand gestured toward herself as her voice cracked. "You should just divorce me, Mahir. Because this-" she gestured again, her entire body shaking now-"this is not the woman who can fulfill your needs. I'm damaged Mr. Sehgal. Broken in ways you'll never understand. Destroyed. Completely."
Mahir stood rooted in place, her words hitting him like a freight train. His chest tightened as his blood boiled with a fury he hadn't felt in years. His Siara-his fierce, cold, unshakable Siara-had been reduced to this. And the thought that she thinks this about his intentions was more than he could bear.
Her chuckle was filled with pain, her face blank but defiant. "I'm not some perfect wife from your fantasies, Mr. Sehgal. I'm a shell of a person, and if you're waiting for me to be more than that-for me to be... enough-you'll be waiting forever."
Her laughter was hollow, a cruel joke she made of herself, and it hit him like a punch in the gut. Mahir's world shattered with every word she spoke. Her voice echoed in his mind, dragging him into a darkness he hadn't felt in years. She thought this was about sex?
Mahir's jaw clenched. His heart shattered into a thousand jagged pieces, a sensation so raw, so visceral, it nearly overwhelmed him. But beneath the crushing pain was something darker, something colder-a rage that he knew would consume anyone who dared to diminish her, even herself. She was everything to him, and she had no idea what her words were doing to him.
She thought he wanted her for-the physical, the shallow, the temporary needs. He wanted to scream, to rip apart the very people who had twisted her into this version of herself. He could feel the weight of their past in every word she spoke, and all he wanted was to erase it.
Without breaking eye contact, he leaned against the wall and reached for the pack of cigarettes he had tucked into his pocket. His fingers moved mechanically, but the anger behind the gesture was anything but casual. He lit one, the flicker of the lighter illuminating his face for a brief moment, before the smoke curled around them, thickening the air with its bitter scent.
He took a slow drag, his eyes locked onto hers the entire time, daring her to look away. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken truths, the kind of silence that felt like it was suffocating both of them, leaving no room for air, no space to breathe.
Mahir exhaled the smoke with a slow, deliberate breath, the act of it almost too intimate, too deliberate for something as simple as a cigarette. The silence stretched, unbearable, as he let the smoke curl out of his lips. He closed the distance between them with a single, fluid movement-leaving no space, no escape. His presence, powerful and suffocating, consumed the air between them.
The smell of nicotine mixed with the tension, curling around them like an invisible thread, binding them tighter with each passing second. He was so close now, his breath mingling with hers, hot and heavy, as the heat of their bodies clashed. He didn't speak for a moment, letting her feel the weight of his gaze, letting her see the storm raging inside him.
"Physical intimacy?" Mahir repeated softly, his voice dark, almost a growl, as if the question itself was a challenge. His words dripped with something dangerous, something wild. "You think that's what I want from you? You think that's what this is about? That I look at you and see a body to use? Is that what you've reduced me to"
His hand reached out, not to touch her, but to press against the wall beside her head, caging her in. The proximity was suffocating, the air between them charged with a tension so thick it felt like it could snap at any moment.
Siara didn't flinch but, the words were hitting her like a slap, but Mahir was relentless, his rage fueling his every step. "You have no idea what I want from you, Siara. No fucking idea what you are to me. What you mean to me." He took another drag from his cigarette, the red ember glowing faintly in the dim light. "I don't care about that-I care about you. All of you. Everything that you are, and everything you think you aren't. That's what I'm after. Not your body."
His words were low, deadly, wrapping around her like chains, trapping her in a cage she never saw coming. There was nothing gentle in the way he spoke, nothing soft, because for him, this was a war. A war against everything that had hurt her, everything that had broken her, and every person who thought they could control her.
He leaned in closer, their faces mere inches apart. "Let me make something very clear to you, dear wife" he murmured, his voice a dark promise. "If this were about sex, I could've had a thousand meaningless nights with a thousand faceless women. But I didn't. I never looked at any women that way after my grandfather declared you my future wife."
"I'm not here to pity you. I don't give a damn about what you just asked me," he continued, each word cutting through the air like a blade. "I'm here because you're the one who's worth fighting for. You're worth everything to me, and I will tear apart anyone who dares to think otherwise."
"You think you're broken?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly now, though his intensity didn't waver. "Maybe you are. Maybe you've been shattered into a million pieces. But don't you dare think for a second that it makes you less than anyone else. Don't you dare think that I'm here because I want a perfect wife. I'm here because I want you. All of you-the scars, the pain, the darkness. I don't want the version of you that the world thinks you should be. I want you."
His free hand moved, brushing against her chin as he tilted her face up slightly to meet his gaze. His touch was featherlight, reverent, as though she might break if he pressed any harder. His fingers trembled, just slightly, betraying the control he was desperately trying to maintain.
"Tell me to not touch you, and I'll never lay a finger on you," Mahir said, his voice low, deadly in its quiet conviction. Each word was a vow, a challenge, a warning that held an edge sharper than any blade.
He leaned in, his lips barely brushing her ear, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "So don't you dare think that I'm going to walk away because you think you're damaged. I'm not leaving, Siara. I'm never leaving you"
The intensity in his words, the promise of something darker, something impossible to escape, hung in the air, thick and heavy. Mahir pulled back slightly, his gaze dark, his eyes stormy with emotions too raw to be contained. He wanted her to understand, wanted her to feel the weight of his resolve, the unrelenting need to be with her-not just physically, but completely, destructively, hopelessly.
As the last embers of his cigarette burned away, the remaining smoke dissipating into the cold air, Mahir's gaze never wavered from her. In that moment, the world outside didn't exist. There were no family pressures, no obligations, no pretense. The space between them was heavy, thick with the unsaid things that hung in the air like a storm waiting to break.
There was no going back.
Her voice, fragile yet piercing, broke through the silence."Let me give you a better reason to not expect anything from me. To divorce me Mr. Sehgal"
Siara's words, sharp and final, hit him like a fist to the chest, but Mahir stood still. He didn't flinch, not even as she closed the distance between them, her presence as intense as it was cold. Her eyes, glassy with unshed tears, met his with a quiet vulnerability he had never seen before, and it made his heart clench painfully in his chest.
"I can't get pregnant," she said softly, each word cutting through the air like a blade. Her voice trembled, but she held her ground. "They destroyed me to the extent that I can't-"
She couldn't finish, and Mahir felt a surge of rage so fierce it threatened to consume him. But it wasn't anger directed at her. No, it was the world. It was those who had shattered her, broken her spirit and stripped away the parts of her that made her whole.
His gaze darkened, his fists clenching at his sides as if the very thought of what had been done to her was enough to tear him apart. The rage roiled inside him, uncontrollable, yet it wasn't aimed at her. She was not the one who had hurt herself-she had only tried to survive, to hold onto whatever was left after the storm had destroyed everything in its path.
But she had no idea what he was willing to do.
Mahir took a slow step toward her, the space between them now nonexistent. He could feel her breath against his chest, each ragged exhale betraying the vulnerability she tried so desperately to hide. He cupped her face gently, the touch tender, almost reverent, as he looked into her eyes.
"And let me give you another reason why I'll not leave you" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "Do you think I give a damn about anything else than you? No I don't Mrs sehgal"
Her eyes widened, her lips parting as if she was about to say something, but he silenced her with the warmth of his palm against her cheek.
"I don't need you to bear my child, Siara," he murmured, his words soft yet filled with an dark promise. "I don't need anything from you except for you. The rest? It doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm here. And I'm never leaving."
He pressed his forehead to hers, his voice low, guttural with the intensity of everything he felt."Trust me, I won't touch you If that's what you want but don't say this nonsense about yourself"
His voice was a hushed growl, an unwavering conviction beneath it that tugged at the very core of her being. She could feel the weight of his words sink into her like a blade, carving through every wall she had built. There was something raw, desperate, yet unyielding in the way he held her gaze.
"I'll rebuild you, Siara." His voice was quieter now, as though this was for her ears only, a confession, a vow. "I'll take every shattered piece of you and turn it into something stronger. I'll show you that you don't have to be broken anymore. Not for anyone. Not even for yourself."
And then, as if the weight of his confession wasn't enough, he took her hand in his, gently, reverently, and placed it over his chest, where his heart was pounding violently against his ribcage.
"This?" he whispered. "It's yours. Always will be."
She felt her heart tighten, the old wounds stirred and raw beneath her skin. Her hands trembled at her sides as she pulled away, stepping back from him, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. She couldn't let him see the cracks forming. She couldn't allow herself to believe anyone.
She turned away from him, retreating into the darkness of her thoughts, but the echo of his words followed her like a ghost, a haunting reminder of the depth of his conviction.
Mahir leaned back against the wall, his jaw clenched, watching her retreat with a fire in his eyes that threatened to consume everything in its path. His gaze lingered on her retreating form, a flicker of something fierce passing through him.
"You can run, biwi,"he thought, his fingers gently tracing the cut on his lip,"but you can't escape what's already yours."