“Don’t—” I manage, the word breaking.
His laughter is soft, almost lazy, but it curdles the blood in my veins. “Don’t? You think anyone will hear you in here?”
The library feels suddenly too vast, its silence a curse.
I twist, trying to duck away, but his hand shoots out, fingers grazing my wrist, squeezing tight. My heart slams so hard I can hear it in my ears. The edges of the world blur.
I kick at him, my foot connecting with his shin. His smirk falters for a split second, but then he leans in closer, his breath hot against my cheek.
“You’ve got fire,” he says, almost admiring, though it drips with mockery. “I like that actually.”
My stomach churns. Tears sting at the back of my eyes, but I blink them back furiously. I will not give him that. I will not break, not here, not in front of him.
“Let me go!” This time my voice is louder, but it cracks. I yank my wrist with every ounce of strength, nails biting into my own skin where his grip holds me.
He only grins wider, tilting his head as though savoring the fight.
The books scattered on the floor catch my eye—an opening, an idea. With my free hand, I grab the thickest one within reach and slam it against his arm. The impact shocks him, his hold loosening just enough for me to stumble sideways, tearing free.
My breath comes ragged, chest heaving, the room spinning as I back away, trying to run away from him.
But he straightens slowly, almost deliberately, rubbing his arm where the book struck. His eyes gleam with something crueler now, something unspoken but heavy with threat. And then—he smiles. That same cold, satisfied curl of lips that makes my insides twist.
Like he’s already won, even if I’ve managed to put space between us.
I clutch the edge of a shelf, my fingers trembling, nails scraping wood. My body shakes, every nerve screaming in revulsion, but I stand my ground. I won’t crumple. Not in front of him.
Inside, though—inside I am unraveling.
The memory of his grip, the weight of his nearness, clings to my skin like filth I can’t scrub off. I want to scream, to cry, to tear away every layer of myself he touched. But all I can do is breathe, harsh and shallow, eyes locked on him as though the moment I look away, he’ll strike again.
He doesn’t move closer this time. Just lingers, watching me shake, his smirk carved like a scar across his face.
My heart is pounding so violently I feel dizzy. My lips part, words stuck. I want to scream for Vihaan, for anyone. But the sound won’t come.
And in that silence, the truth crashes over me: I’ve never felt so unsafe in my life. Not anywhere.Please, I don't deserve this, have I not been through enough?
CHAPTER 33
The glimpse that burns
VIHAAN
The meeting ends earlier than I expect. A rare mercy. I straighten my files, exchange the usual polite farewells, but my mind isn’t on the room anymore. It’s already gone ahead—towards her.
It’s lunch. For once, I am free on time. No councilmen pulling me aside, no endless speeches to draft, no urgent PR matters I have to take care of. Just time.
And instinctively, I want to spend it with her.
Poorvi.
The name almost vibrates inside my chest in a way that surprises me every time. It still feels new, fragile, like something I’m not allowed to say too loudly. But it pulls me all the same.
I make my way down the corridor, the palace sunlight filtering in through tall windows, catching on the marble floor. My steps are quicker than they should be, anticipation buzzing low and warm in my stomach.
When I reach our chambers, I push the door open lightly—already rehearsing how casually I’ll suggest lunch together. Not that she ever makes it easy. She’s been distant these days, brushing me off with polite smiles and excuses of sleep. It bothers me more than I admit. But maybe today… maybe lunch could shift something. Maybe I could ask her about the letter, too.
The room is empty.
