Chapter 6

"Aur aaj joh tune kiya na. Agar phir kiya toh mujhse bura koi nahi hoga. Aur ab se tu yahi rahegi, ishi ghar, ishi kamare me. " he said gritting his teeth.  (The things which you did today should happen again , otherwise no one will be worse than me. From now, you will stay in this house only.)

Aaradhya stepped back, panic crawling up her throat.

"Tum mujhe qaid nahi kar sakte!" she burst out. (You can’t imprison me!)

Vijayendra's smirk widened.

"Lugai ko apne pati ke saath hi rehna chahiye." (A wife should stay with her husband.)

Her eyes burned, her hands clenching into fists.

"Yeh shaadi nahi hai! Yeh sirf tumhari zid hai!" she shouted. (This isn’t a marriage! This is just your stubbornness!)

Vijayendra’s eyes darkened.

"Zid?" he repeated, his tone eerily calm.

And then, before she could react, he closed the distance between them in one swift step.

His fingers cupped her chin, tilting her face up.

"Main tujhe dikhata hoon, Aaradhya," he murmured, his voice a dangerous whisper. (I’ll show you, Aaradhya.)

"Yeh shaadi hai ya sirf maari zid." (Whether this is a marriage or just my stubbornness.)

Before she could protest, his lips crashed onto hers—raw, demanding, unrelenting.

Aaradhya’s entire body went rigid.

Her hands pushed against his chest, but he refused to let go.

Vijayendra’s grip tightened around her waist, his body pressing her against the wall, caging her in.

She was losing herself—drowning in his dominance, in his possessive hunger.

But just as suddenly as he had kissed her, he pulled away, leaving her breathless.

His thumb brushed over her trembling lips, his smirk triumphant.

"Ab bhi lagta hai yeh sirf maari zid hai?" he murmured. (Do you still think this is just my stubbornness?)

Aaradhya felt the sting of unshed tears, her hands shaking at her sides.

She hated him.

She hated him with every breath she took.

But then why was her heart betraying her?

Why did her skin still burn where he had touched her?

Vijayendra watched her with dark satisfaction, knowing he had shaken her to the core.

"Tera bhagne ka sapna to tod diya," he said lazily. (I’ve broken your dream of escaping.)

"Ab teri saari rasmein bhi puri hongi, lugai." (Now, all your rituals will also be completed, wife.)

His smirk widened.

"Aur pehli rasam… humari suhaag raat hai." (And the first ritual… is our wedding night.)

Aaradhya’s blood ran cold.

She stumbled back, but there was nowhere to run.

Vijayendra took slow, deliberate steps toward her, trapping her once again.

"Ab to tu maari ban chuki hai, Aaradhya." (Now, you are mine, Aaradhya.)

"Aur main jo chahta hoon, wo leke rehta hoon." (And whatever I want, I always take.)

Aaradhya’s heart pounded violently against her ribcage as Vijayendra’s dark gaze bore into her. His presence alone felt like a noose tightening around her, suffocating her, trapping her in an inescapable cage.

She stumbled back, her trembling hands gripping the fabric of her heavy saree as if it could shield her from the storm that was Vijayendra Rathore.

Before she could react, his hands gripped her waist, pulling her against him with an unyielding force.

Aaradhya let out a soft gasp, her hands flying to his chest, trying to push him away.

But he didn’t budge.

His fingers dug into her flesh, holding her prisoner against his hard body.

"Vijayendra, please—" she tried, but the words choked in her throat.

His grip tightened.

"Biwi, maine tujhe apni banaya hai," he growled, his lips brushing dangerously close to her ear. (Wife, I have made you mine.)

"Aur ab jo maari hai… usse pura haq hai sab kuch len ka." (And now that you are mine, I have every right to take everything.)

Terror pulsed through her veins as his fingers trailed down her back, gripping the drape of her saree to pull.

No.

No, no, no!

Aaradhya's entire body trembled as she fought against him, her nails clawing at his chest.

"Chhodo mujhe!" she gasped, her voice breaking. (Let me go!)

But Vijayendra only chuckled darkly.

"Jab tune haath pakadne se inkaar kiya tha na," he whispered, his breath hot against her skin, "tab hi samajh gaya tha ki tujhe zabardasti apna banana padega." (When you refused to take my hand, I understood that I would have to claim you by force.)

Her breath hitched as he pushed her against the pillar, his grip unrelenting.

"Itni aasani se nahi jaane dunga, Aaradhya," he murmured, his voice low, dangerous. (I won’t let you go so easily, Aaradhya.)

A single tear slipped from her eye, her body stiffening beneath his touch.

And then, she said the one thing that made him freeze.

"Agar aaj tumne mujhe haath lagaya…" she whispered, her voice laced with a quiet defiance, staring into his eyes with unyielding determination. (If you touch me today...)

Vijayendra’s fingers halted mid-motion.

She swallowed hard, her voice steadier this time.

"Toh samajh lena Vijayendra, maine aaj ke din se nafrat karni shuru kar di tumse." (Then understand, Vijayendra, from this day forward, I will start hating you.)

His entire body tensed.

The room was suddenly thick with silence.

Her words hung between them like a blade.

His fingers, which had been ready to claim, stopped as if she had physically struck him.

And then, his grip changed—no longer possessive, but something far more dangerous.

His hand wrapped around her throat.

Aaradhya gasped as he pressed her back against the pillar, his fingers firm against her fragile skin.

Not too tight.

Not enough to hurt.

But enough to show her that he was in control.

That he could break her if he wanted to.

Her wide, terrified eyes met his.

"Tane lagta hai… nafrat se fark padega maane?" he murmured, his voice eerily calm. (Do you think your hatred will affect me?)

Her fingers clawed at his wrist, but he didn’t loosen his hold.

"Teri mohabbat ki zaroorat nahi hai maane," he whispered, his gaze locking onto hers. (I don’t need your love.)

"Par tu toh maari hai hi." (But you are mine regardless.)

Aaradhya’s chest heaved, her breathing shallow.

For the first time, she saw it.

The terrifying obsession in his eyes.

He wasn’t just possessive.

He wasn’t just stubborn.

He was a man who had waited fifteen years.

A man who didn’t know the meaning of losing.

And she was his greatest conquest.

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

Vijayendra studied her.

The way her eyes shone with fear.

The way her body stiffened under his touch.

The way her lips trembled.

And something in his ruthless heart shifted.

Slowly, he loosened his hold.

Not because he was sparing her.

No.

Because he wanted her to surrender willingly.

He let his fingers trace her jaw, his touch suddenly featherlight.

"Aaj nahi, Aaradhya," he murmured, his voice softer, yet just as dangerous. (Not today, Aaradhya.)

"Par ek din, tu khud maari banegi." (But one day, you will be mine on your own.)

With that, he stepped back, his gaze never leaving hers.

Aaradhya felt her legs give out beneath her, and she slid down to the floor, her body trembling from the intensity of what had just happened.

Vijayendra smirked as he turned away, his voice a final whisper before he left the room.

"Tujhe todne ka maza toh tab hi aayega, jab tu khud maari banegi." (It will be more enjoyable to break you when you willingly become mine.)

As the door clicked shut behind him, Aaradhya felt her entire world shatter around her.

She had escaped tonight.

But for how long?

Aaradhya stood frozen in the middle of the grand room, her chest rising and falling with the weight of everything that had just happened.

Her wrists ached where he had gripped her. Her skin still burned where his lips had touched her.

She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to suppress the shiver that ran down her spine.

The room was lavishly decorated, fit for royalty. Dark wooden furniture, rich silk curtains, intricate golden patterns carved into the walls. The scent of sandalwood and jasmine filled the air, but it did nothing to soothe her.

She wasn’t fooled.

This wasn’t a room.

It was a cage.

Her gaze flickered to the massive four-poster bed in the center, its heavy velvet drapes cascading down like a barrier.

A lump formed in her throat.

"No," she whispered to herself. She wouldn’t break.

Not here.

Not now.

Her fingers trembled as she undid the heavy gold jewelry around her neck, her ears, her wrists—each piece feeling like a shackle that had bound her to him.

She wanted to rip off the sindoor from her forehead, wipe away the mark of his claim. But her hand stopped midway, her reflection in the mirror mocking her.

She was his wife.

His Thakurain.

And no amount of wiping, screaming, or denying could change that now.

A sob clawed at her throat, but she swallowed it down.

She wouldn’t cry.

Not for him.

Not for this cursed fate.

She turned toward the large window, pushing it open. The cool night breeze kissed her burning skin, offering a false sense of freedom.

Her gaze wandered outside—to the high stone walls surrounding the haveli.

To the men patrolling below.

No escape.

Her hands clenched at her sides. Did he really think he could keep her locked here forever?

A sudden knock at the door made her jump.

Before she could respond, the door creaked open, and an elderly woman entered, carrying a silver tray.

"Thakurain sa," the woman bowed slightly. "Thakur sa ne kaha se, aap kuch kha lein." (The Thakur has ordered that you eat something.)

Aaradhya let out a bitter laugh.

"Woh mujhe bhooka marne bhi nahi dega?" she asked coldly. (He won’t even let me starve?)

The woman hesitated before placing the tray down on a nearby table. "Thakur sa ko gussa nahi pasand. Aap kha lijiye." (The Thakur doesn’t like anger. Please eat.)

Aaradhya turned away, staring out of the window again.

"Usse pasand kya hai, usse mujhe koi farq nahi padta," she muttered. (What he likes or doesn’t like doesn’t matter to me.)

The woman didn’t argue. She simply bowed and left the room.

The moment the door shut, Aaradhya sank onto the couch, burying her face in her hands.

How has her life come to this?

How had she gone from being a free-spirited girl to being trapped in a marriage she had never even agreed to?

Her eyes burned, but she refused to let the tears fall.

Not yet.

Not when she had a fight to win.

She wasn’t going to be a silent prisoner.

Vijayendra Rathore had made a mistake.

If he thought she would bow down, he would soon regret it.

To be continued...

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Love you all
Itsyourblackrose