Morning didn't come with light. It came with silence.
Ananya stirred first. She lay tangled in silk sheets, the remnants of last night's passion like bruises beneath her skin — sweet, sharp reminders. Rael was beside her, asleep for once, jaw unclenched, his breath slow and human.
She watched him for a long time.
Not with softness. With calculation.
They had burned. Now, she wondered who would survive the ash.
---
Rael woke with a headache and a thought that wouldn't leave him: He had finally touched her — claimed her — and it hadn't set him free.
It had trapped him deeper.
There was no longer a line between obsession and love. Between hate and hunger. Between keeping her safe and keeping her his.
And something about the way she stared at him now… made him uneasy.
---
Ananya made breakfast. Not because she wanted to play wife. Because she wanted to study him.
He entered the kitchen in a black shirt, still half-buttoned. Tired. Guarded.
"You didn't run," he said.
She slid a cup of coffee toward him. "You'd find me if I did."
He sipped. Eyes sharp. "Was last night… what you wanted?"
She smiled without showing teeth. "Was it what you feared?"
He paused.
"Yes," he said.
Their honesty was a language only they spoke — raw, barbed, necessary.
She sat across from him. "Then we're even."
---
But peace was never meant to last.
That afternoon, a letter arrived. From Ananya's old home. From her mother.
Rael found it first. He read it in silence, jaw tightening, eyes darkening.
It wasn't a threat. It was a plea.
Come home. They think you're dead. They're trying to get the engagement annulled. Please, before it's too late.
Rael crumpled the letter in his hand.
She walked in moments later, sensing his fury like electricity.
"What is it?" she asked.
He said nothing. Just handed her the torn paper.
She read it. Slowly. Carefully.
Her hands trembled.
"I need to go back," she whispered.
"No."
"You can't keep me here forever, Rael."
"I can. And I will."
Something snapped in her.
"You think one night gives you that right?" she snapped.
"I made you mine," he growled.
She stepped closer, fire in her eyes. "And I let you. But don't mistake choice for weakness. I'll walk out that door, and if you try to stop me—"
He grabbed her wrist.
"Then what, Ananya?"
She stared at him, unblinking. "Then I'll burn everything you love."
---
They didn't speak for hours after that.
Not because they didn't want to. But because both of them were trying to decide:
Was this love? Or the beginning of war?
---