But right now, all I can do is stand there—between him and her—rage burning me alive, my vision narrowed to the smirk on his bloodied lips and the broken sound of her breath beside me.
CHAPTER 34
Shattered Ground
POORVI
I hear his voice even after the sound has died in the room.
"Your wife seduces me and you punch me?"
The words ripple through the library air, poisonous, staining everything I thought was safe and untouched. My skin prickles as though something filthy has crawled over me. My stomach churns, but worse than the nausea is the sudden hollow ache in my chest, the fear.
What if Vihaan believes him?
Ranbir is his cousin. His blood. They have known each other since childhood, shared meals and laughter, perhaps secrets. And me? I am the outsider. The girl who was married into this world, a world that still feels like a house built on glass—fragile, transparent, where any crack could expose me completely.
I don’t even realize I’ve dropped a book from the table until the thud echoes on the wooden floor. My knees buckle beneath me, like they can’t carry the weight of my fear, of my desperation, and I find myself kneeling before Vihaan.
“I didn’t do anything,” the words tumble out, cracked and breathless. “Please… please believe me, I was just studying here.”
The taste of salt rises in my mouth. My eyes blur. I am begging, pleading with a man who, in so many ways, holds the power to destroy me with just one thought. My heart claws at my ribs, every beat loud and panicked. If he believes Ranbir, if even a sliver of doubt crosses his mind—then what am I left with? I have been a topic of gossip all my life, with this, I will be destroyed.
“Poorvi!” His voice booms, sharp, cutting through the chaos in my head.
It makes me flinch.
But before I can look up, before I can brace myself for the judgment I dread, his hand grips my arm and pulls me up with force. My balance falters, my breath catches, but I find myself staring into his face—his eyes, wide and burning, not with disgust, not with suspicion… but with something else entirely. Anger.
“Don’t ever kneel in front of anyone,” he seethes, his voice rough, steady despite the storm blazing behind his gaze. “And don’t you dare apologize for something that isn’t your fault.”
My lips part, but no sound comes. My chest tightens, a strange blend of relief and confusion twisting through me. He doesn’t… he doesn’t doubt me?
Before I can process it, his fist collides with Ranbir’s jaw again. The sound—sharp, raw—splinters through the silence of the library. Ranbir stumbles, laughter bubbling from his bloodied mouth, mocking, sickening.
But Vihaan doesn’t stop.
Again. And again. His fists move like extensions of his rage, each blow fueled by something primal, protective, terrifying in its intensity. Ranbir tries to fight back, tries to shove him away, but he can’t break out of Vihaan’s hold.
And almost cruelly, almost shamefully, I feel good.
I feel good watching him bleed. Watching his smirk fade, watching pain replace his arrogance. The man who cornered me, who leaned too close, whose arms had caged me in—I want to see him destroyed. My chest burns, but it isn’t with fear anymore. It’s something darker, heavier.
This isn’t me. I don’t like violence. I don’t like seeing people hurt. That has always been the truth of me. But right now, in this moment, I want to hit him too. I want him to feel every ounce of violation, every drop of the disgust curdling inside me.
And then my gaze finds Vihaan.
He is nothing like himself. His usually composed, controlled, sweet self is gone—replaced by a storm I’ve never seen. His jaw is tight, his eyes furious, his body thrumming with power and violence. His shirt is slightly torn at the cuff, his hair disheveled from the scuffle, veins straining against his skin as his muscles flex with every punch.
And yet… beneath all of that, what strikes me hardest is not his anger but his resolve.
He will protect me.
The realization lands in me with a force almost as strong as his fists. For days, I had questioned, doubted, wondered where I stood in his life, in his priorities. But here, now, in this storm offists and blood and broken pride, I know. He will not let me be harmed. Maybe he is ashamed for being handed the illegitimate princess but he will not let me be harmed. Not by Ranbir. Not by anyone.
“Vihaan,” I whisper, my voice trembling. He doesn’t hear. His rage is consuming him, swallowing every other sound.
I step closer, my hand reaching, my heart in my throat. “Vihaan, stop.”
