P R O L O G U E

तेरी नफ़रत में भी इक चाहत सी क्यों है,

हर ज़ख्म तेरा मेरी इबादत सी क्यों है।

उसकी ख़ामोशी में भी तुझसे फ़रियाद है,

और तेरी साज़िशों में छुपी मोहब्बत की बात है।

      -----------------------

Rain poured like wrath from the sky, cold and endless. It soaked her skin, her hair, her blood stained clothes. But she kept running.

She ran barefoot through the forest, each step stabbing her feet with sharp roots and jagged stones. Her breath came in short, broken gasps. Her legs trembled, her body ached, but fear was stronger than pain.

The only sounds in the night were her sobs... and the slow, steady sound of boots following behind her.

He wasn't running.

He didn't need to.

.

.

.

She could feel him getting closer anyway-like the night itself was moving in with him.

Her bridal lehenga-once beautiful and bright red-was now torn and heavy, soaked in rain and smeared with mud. The hem dragged in the dirt as she stumbled forward, one hand clutching it tightly to keep herself from falling.

The sindoor in her hairline still burned like fire. The mangalsutra around her neck felt like chains, cutting into her skin with every movement.

She had been married for just three hours.

And she was already trying to escape him.

None other than Her Husband.

Her dupatta was slipping from her shoulders, soaked and sticking to her bruised skin. Her hands were trembling as she tried to hold it in place.

Blood clung to the fabric.

She didn't even know whose it was anymore.

Her arms were scratched, her wrists marked with red lines from the tight wedding bangles. Her lips trembled. Her eyes burned from crying.

She had never imagined her wedding night like this-running through a jungle in the middle of the night, barefoot and terrified, dressed in a bridal lehenga that now looked like it didn’t belong to her anymore.

She didn't stop.

.

.

.

She couldn't.

Because she knew what kind of man-no, monster-was behind her.

A man she had known her whole life. A man who claimed to hate her. A man who forced her to marry him. A man who was never soft. At least not for her. Maybe that's what she used to think.

That same man had now tied her fate to his name with fire, fury, and force.

She didn't dare look back. She knew if she saw his face now-those cold, unreadable green eyes-she would fall. Not from weakness, but from the weight of the memories, the fear, the history.

The pain in her chest was worse than the wounds on her body. It burned from the inside, as if something had shattered deep within her and was still breaking.

And still-he followed.

Calm.

Silent.

Dangerous.

.

.

.

.

A single cigarette glowed between his fingers, its red tip a spark in the darkness. Her dupatta-the one that had fallen-was now tied around his wrist like a promise. Or A Warning.

His black shirt was dirty from the rain and forest, but he looked unaffected. His steps were slow but steady.

Confident.

Predator-like.

"Keep running", his voice came from behind-low, sharp, full of quiet anger.

"Because the moment you stop... I'll make you pay for every single scratch on your body."

Her steps faltered.

She stopped.

She couldn't breathe. Couldn't cry anymore.

Her chest rose and fell with shaky breaths. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks, mixing with the rain.

Her wrists burned from the tight bangles. Her face was streaked with rain, blood, and broken pride.

She turned slightly, voice cracking.

"Stay away from me!" she screamed.

"Nafrat karti hoon aapse...... beintehaa nafrat!"

[I hate you! I hate you with everything I have!]

His boots crushed the wet leaves beneath him as he came closer.

"You think I don't know that?" he replied, voice as calm as ever.

She turned to run again-but her body didn't listen.

Before she could take another step, his arm snaked around her bare waist, pulling her back against his chest with the strength of a man who had waited far too long.

She fought. She hit. She cried. "Let go..." she begged. But her voice came out faint, like a whisper carried away by the wind.

He didn't let go.

He only pulled her closer. Her back pressed against his chest. She was shaking-partly from the cold, partly from rage, and mostly from the storm inside her.

"Let go of me... chhodo mujhe!" she cried out again, louder this time.

[Let go of me....leave me!]

He leaned close to her ear, his breath warm against her skin despite the cold rain.

"Shhh!..... Khamosh" he whispered, and she froze.

[Shhh!.....Keep Quiet]

"Enough. Not a single word anymore." he spoke again. This time his voice had an edge. No shouting. No yelling. Just his calm and dangerous voice laced with something unreadable.

She didn't want to look at him-but she had no choice. He turned her gently, forcing her eyes to meet his.

His were glowing under the moonlight-green, unreadable, filled with something darker than hate. Something deeper. Something that terrified her.

"You're mine," he said, voice low and dangerous.

"Mine from the moment you were born. From the second you opened your eyes and spit my name like a poison."

He paused, then added softly-too softly for the fire in his words....

"And Mrs. Rathore... Advansh Rudra Singh Rathore doesn't let go of what belongs to him. Forget leaving-you think I'll even allow you to even breathe without my presence."

"Tumhari saansein bhi mujhse puch kr aati jaati h."

[You can't even breathe without my permission.]

His hand lifted the edge of her chin.

"Chup chaap biwi ke haq se chalo" he whispered... "warna apni biwi ko kabu m karne k kafi tarike h mere pas."

[Walk beside me as my wife...Or I have other ways... to tame my wife.]

He leaned in closer, inhaling her scent like an addict breathing in the only thing that kept him sane.

Her voice cracked with untamed storm, rage, and pain.

"Sath chalna toh door ki baat hai..." she said,

"Tum jaise janwar ki m shakal bhi dekhna pasand nhi krti."

[Walking together is a far-off thing...I wouldn't even look at a beast like you if I had the choice.]

That did it.

His eyes darkened. His grip tightened.

And just like that-he lifted her into his arms. Effortlessly.

His voice was quiet now. Too quiet.

"Ab ye janwar tumhe dikhayega..." he whispered against her temple..... "janwar kehte kise hain."

[Then let me show you...What a beast truly looks like.]

---

They say hate is born from love that was never fulfilled.

But between Arohi Raichand and Advansh Rudra Singh Rathore-

It was never just hate.

It was poison. Fire. Madness.

They claimed to hate each other.

But his hate made him do things...

That even a man in love would never dare.

______________________

Hey! This is my first book.

I am very excited and grateful that finally I am doing it.

So what were your thoughts for the prologue?

Is there anything you want me to improve on?

And what are your thoughts about Arohi and Advansh?

I hope you enjoy this book. I wish you don't feel like you wasted your time by coming here so lemme work very very hard.

-R.

➤ Follow me on Instagram and scrollstack for early updates.

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