My head whips towards him. “Keep your damn mouth shut. You don’t get to talk between me and my wife. And I sure as hell am not letting you take her anywhere. You havezerorights.”
“He has every right. He is my friend,” Meera replies, as if she’s reminding me of where her loyalty lies.
I glare down at her. “Don’t test how far I will go tonight, Mrs. Rathore.”
She hears the warning in my voice and shoots Samarth a look to step back.
Done arguing, done watching her touch him, I turn around, her hand still locked in mine as I drag her away from him. When we reach my car, I open the door with one hand.
“Get in,” I murmur against her ear.
Her breath catches. After a beat of resistance, she lowers herself into the passenger seat. I shut the door, circle around, and slide into the driver’s seat, my pulse still unsteady.
Before I can start the car, she turns to me, her eyes blazing.
“You’d better make sure no one touches him. And that he gets home safely.”
“For now, he will,” I say, starting the engine. “But you might want to start praying for him, sweetheart. Because if he keeps landing himself in situations that can get him killed, even God may run out of mercy.”
My words shut her up instantly. Maybe because she finally understands I am not joking.
The rest of the drive drags in suffocating silence. Each second scrapes at my nerves… her breath taut with anger, my jaw locked tight with jealousy.
The moment I pull up in front of the house, I fling my door open and step out, rounding the car to her side. She doesn’t move, just stares straight ahead.
I open her door, take her hand, and pull her out. Her breath stutters, but I don’t slow down. I drag her inside. Through the hallway. Into the living room. It’s only when we reach our bedroom that I finally let her go and slam the door shut behind us.
She whirls around instantly, her eyes blazing. “What the hell is your—”
“You are,” I cut in, trembling with the effort to stay in control, “the most stubborn and egoistic wife.”
“I’m like this, Dev. If you wanted an obedient wife, you should have married someone else. In fact, you still can. Because this marriage means nothing to me, and I need out.”
My jaw locks as she continues.
“I feel suffocated in this house… in this room… with you. And trust me, I’m barely holding myself together enough to tolerate you. So do us both a favour and end this joke of a marriage—find yourself an obedient wife, and free me from this stifling bond.”
I step closer until our faces are inches apart, letting her feel every ounce of my anger—and the hurt her words have caused.
“Why do you hate me and like him so much?”
“Because you have nothing good in you,” she spits out without hesitation. “You made my parents hate me. And Samarth…” Her voice softens at his name, and my blood boils tenfold than what it already was. “Samarth brought my parents back to me. He made them forgive me. Samarth is my—”
My palm clamps over her mouth, pinning her words back into her throat as I press her against the wall. Her eyes widen.
“I don’t want to hear his name from your lips,” I snarl before letting my hand fall away from her mouth, only to have my fingers brush lightly over her soft lips. “And one day, my dear wife… you will stop hating me.”
“Never.” She shoves my hand away. “And don’t you dare touch me.”
I lean in, close enough that her breath stumbles against mine, and lock eyes with her. “You hate my touch now, but the day is coming when you won’t.” Her throat works, but she doesn’t move. “Soon, you’ll want my hands on you. You’ll come to me on your own. I’ll make sure of it, Mrs. Rathore.” My voice drops to a vow. “Wait and watch.”
“It will never happen. Never.” She pulls in a deep, shaky breath. “I don’t understand how revenge has made you so stubborn that you’d rather cling to this hateful marriage than be mature enough to end it.”
“I don’t hate you,” I say quietly.
“Well, I hate you,” she shoots back instantly. “And I always will.”
She moves to walk past me, but I catch her arm and pull her back, her body slamming into mine.
