The morning light barely touched the dining table when Siyara sat down, her hands resting stiffly in her lap. She hadn’t slept — every creak in the house the night before had made her flinch.

Her parents moved quietly around her, setting plates, pretending this was just another day. But the silence in the room felt too heavy to ignore.

Her father poured tea into her cup and said gently, “Beta, eat something. You haven’t had food since yesterday.”

She tried. She really did. But every bite stuck in her throat. After a few attempts, she pushed her plate away.

“I’m not hungry,” she whispered.

Her mother reached over, touching her hand softly. “You need your strength, Siyara. We have to think about what’s next.”

She nodded faintly, staring down at her plate. She wanted to say what she was really thinking — that she needed to leave this house, this city, all of it — before he found her again. But even saying his name out loud felt dangerous.

And then, the danger walked through the door.

“Morning.” Aarav’s voice cut through the quiet like a blade.

Her spoon slipped and clattered against the plate.

He didn’t wait for anyone to invite him in. He stepped inside, filled the space with his presence, and sat down across from her. His eyes locked on hers.

“You didn’t eat,” he said flatly. “That’s not good. You’re coming with me.”

Her father sat up straighter. “Aarav—”

“We’ll have breakfast together,” Aarav interrupted smoothly, pulling her plate toward himself. “At my place.”

Her mother’s voice shook. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”

Aarav leaned back in his chair, smirk tugging at his mouth. “She is. You all had your chance to keep her safe. Now, she’s coming with me.”

Aryan pushed back his chair, the legs scraping loudly against the floor. “You think you can just—”

“Yes,” Aarav cut in, his voice final. His eyes never left Siyara.

“Go get your things. We’re leaving.”

Her stomach knotted. “No, I—”

“Now, Siyara.” His voice softened, but the way he said it made her skin crawl.

Her father stepped in front of her. “Over my dead body.”

Aarav’s jaw tightened, his tone dropping lower. “Don’t make me drag her out in front of you. It won’t look good… for either of us.”

The air felt suffocating. No one spoke. No one moved. Then Aarav rose, walked to her side, and wrapped his hand firmly around her arm.

“We’re leaving.”

Her mother’s voice broke through like glass.

“Siyara! Run, beta! Please — just run!”

She couldn’t. Aarav’s grip on her wrist was iron, his fingers digging into her skin. She twisted and pulled, frantic to break free, but his hold only tightened.

“Let me go!” she screamed.

“No,” he said, cold and final. “Never.”

Aryan lunged forward and shoved at Aarav’s shoulder. “Leave her! You have no right!”

Aarav turned slowly, his dark eyes settling on Aryan like a warning. “And you have no strength to stop me.”

“I swear, if you—” Aryan began, but Aarav cut him off. “You swear nothing. You know you can’t take her from me.”

Her father stepped between them, voice shaking but firm. “Aarav… this isn’t love. She’s terrified. Let her go.”

A faint smirk touched Aarav’s mouth. “Terrified? No. She’s mine. And she’s coming with me.”

Her mother fell to her knees, tears streaming. “Please, Aarav… she’s our only daughter. Don’t take her like this.”

Siyara tried again, voice breaking. “Aarav, please… I can’t. I don’t want this—”

His grip tightened. “You don’t have to want it. You just have to be with me.”

“You think you can drag her away in front of all of us?” Aryan shouted. “You think we won’t fight you?”

Aarav’s gaze never wavered. “Fight me? Try. But remember… I don’t lose what’s mine.”

Neighbors had gathered by the gate, whispering, some frozen, others already dialing their phones. Her father’s knees went weak. He grabbed her hand, desperate. “Hold on to me, beta. Don’t let go.”

For a moment she did, clutching her father’s arm like an anchor. But Aarav’s strength was merciless. He yanked her forward and broke the hold.

“No!” her father cried, stumbling.

Her mother collapsed, sobbing. “God, please… don’t let him take her…”

Aarav hauled her toward the waiting car and opened the back door. “Get in, Siyara.”

She shook her head, frantic. “No! I’m not going anywhere with you!”

His voice dropped darker. “I wasn’t asking.”

He shoved her inside. The door slammed, a final, terrifying sound. The locks clicked into place. Her parents pounded on the glass as the car rolled away, their shouts dissolving into the distance.

The car sped through the city, her family’s cries fading into the distance. Siyara sat stiff against the door, every nerve in her body screaming for escape.

Her chest rose and fell too fast. Her fingers clutched the edge of the seat so hard her knuckles ached. Aarav drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely on the gear shift — calm, steady, as if he hadn’t just dragged her away from her own home.

She stared at the streets flashing by, forcing herself to memorize every turn, every landmark. She prayed for an opening — any chance to slip away.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked at last, her voice barely a whisper.

“Home,” he answered, simple and final.

“I don’t want to go with you.”

His jaw tightened, but his eyes never left the road.

“You don’t have to want it, Siyara. You just have to be there.”

Her stomach churned. She knew begging wouldn’t change him. But running… maybe.

The city thinned into quieter streets. The car slowed behind a line of autos. Aarav’s phone rang. He answered smoothly, his voice low and controlled, as though nothing in the world was out of place.

This was her chance.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as she quietly unlocked the door. She eased it open, breath held. The moment her feet hit the pavement, she ran.

Her heels betrayed her right away — snagging, slowing her down. With a frustrated cry, she kicked them off and kept going, the rough ground scraping her bare soles.

Behind her his voice cut through the air, calm and sure. “Siyara!”

She didn’t look back. She ran faster, wind whipping her hair.

“Run barefoot and you’ll hurt yourself,” he called, closer than she wanted. “…Wear my shoes first. I want you safe when I chase you.”

A cold fear ran down her spine.

She darted between two shocked pedestrians, ignoring the sting in her feet. Now she could hear his footsteps — heavy, relentless.

“Don’t make me run after you,” he warned. “You know what happens when I catch you.”

Her breath came in ragged gasps, tears blurring her vision. She turned a corner — and found a dead end.

“No… no…” she whispered, backing away.

He was there before she could move. His shadow fell over her, then his hand closed on her wrist. He pulled her to him; her body hit his chest.

“I told you,” he murmured, thumb brushing her trembling fingers. “Barefoot, hurt, and still mine.”

She struggled, shoved at him. “I hate you.”

“No,” he said softly, his breath at her ear. “You fear me. Fear is stronger than hate.”

Without another word he lifted her up as if she weighed nothing and started walking back toward the car. Her feet, scratched and bleeding, dangled uselessly as people watched in stunned silence.

“Put me down!” she screamed, twisting in his arms.

“You already learned what happens when I let you go,” he said, not looking at her.

“I’ll scream!” she shouted, voice breaking.

“Do it,” he replied flatly. “It will only remind everyone you belong to me.”

She went still, trembling. The quiet street stretched until they reached the car. He set her inside and shut the door before she could move. Her breaths were shallow; her bare feet throbbed.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, he looked at her for a long moment. “You can try again if you want,” he said quietly. “But you’ll always end up here.”

The car rolled away from the place of her escape. She pressed her forehead to the window and let the tears come. Outside, the road blurred.

They didn’t speak for the rest of the drive. Only the engine’s hum and the drum of her heart filled the car.

The car slowed and turned through a large iron gate. It creaked open to reveal a sprawling estate — Aarav’s home.

“No…” Siyara whispered, panic clawing at her chest. “I don’t want to go in there.”

“Too late,” he murmured.

The car rolled up the driveway and stopped. Before she could think of running, he was already at her door. She clutched the seat, resisting, but his fingers closed around her wrist — gentle, almost mocking.

“Walk,” he said.

Inside the grand living room, four pairs of eyes snapped toward them. His father, sharp-eyed and stern. His mother, frozen with shock. An elderly woman — his grandmother — setting her prayer beads aside. And his sister, who stood so fast the sofa shook.

His mother’s voice broke first.

“Aarav… who is this girl?”

His grandmother’s gaze hardened.

“You bring someone into the house without a word? Explain.”

His sister’s eyes darted between them.

“Aarav… she looks terrified. What’s going on?”

Siyara’s lips trembled, but nothing came out. She stood barefoot, shaking, under the weight of their stares.

Aarav stepped forward, tugging her slightly behind him as if shielding — or hiding — her.

“This,” he said clearly, “is Siyara. My wife.”

Gasps filled the room.

The silence afterward felt heavier than the walls.

“Your… wife?” his mother repeated, as if the word itself might change.

His father’s brow furrowed, voice tense.

“Aarav… when did this happen? Who gave you permission?”

His grandmother’s beads slipped from her hand and landed in her lap.

“You married without telling us? And brought her here like this?”

His sister took a cautious step toward Siyara, her voice soft.

“You’re barefoot… are you hurt?”

Siyara swallowed, throat dry. She wanted to scream the truth, but Aarav’s hand pressed against her back — a warning. She froze.

“She does want to be here,” Aarav answered for her. “She’s just overwhelmed. The outside world has filled her with fear. She’ll be fine here.”

His grandmother’s voice was sharp with disapproval.

“This is not love. Love doesn’t look like this.”

Aarav’s lips curved faintly.

“It does when it’s mine.”

His father’s voice rose.

“This is not how things are done, Aarav. You’ve crossed a line.”

“No,” Aarav said steadily. “I’ve claimed what’s mine. That’s the only line that matters.”

His sister’s eyes flicked between Siyara and Aarav, catching every detail — especially the way his grip on Siyara never eased.

“You could’ve done this the right way,” she said quietly.

“The right way takes too long,” Aarav replied. “I don’t wait for what’s mine.”

Siyara’s chest heaved. Her mind screamed for escape, but his presence loomed like a cage.

His sister tilted her head, lips twitching.

“So… Bhai… you kidnapped a bride?”

Aarav didn’t blink. “No. I brought my wife home.”

“Same thing,” she shot back.

His grandmother adjusted her glasses and squinted at Siyara.

“Pretty girl. But she looks like she’d rather be at the dentist than standing next to you.”

“She’s just shy,” Aarav said flatly.

“Shy?” his mother countered. “She’s shaking like a leaf in a storm.”

His sister snorted. “Bhai… you could’ve at least bought her flowers. Or shoes.” She glanced at Siyara’s bare feet. “Or did you snatch those too?”

Siyara’s face burned. Aarav glanced at her feet, smirking.

“She runs better without them,” he muttered.

His sister’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God, you did chase her!”

His grandmother sighed loudly. “This boy… raised with such good values. And now he’s playing tag with his wife in the street like some Bollywood villain.”

Aarav chuckled lightly, as if proud. “I don’t play games, Dadi. I win them.”

His father shook his head, muttering, “And apparently the prize is a terrified, barefoot bride.”

Grandma slapped her thigh. “Oh-ho! Went out empty-handed and came back with a wife? What a stunt!”

Siyara blinked hard. A wife? He was introducing her as his wife? Her stomach turned.

His sister dropped her phone onto the sofa with a thud.

“Excuse me?! You had a whole girlfriend — no, a wife — and never told me?”

Girlfriend? Wife? I didn’t sign up for either, Siyara thought, fighting the urge to bolt.

His father lowered his newspaper with a dramatic rustle.

“Beta, why skip dating, engagement, even telling your family — and jump straight to marriage?”

Grandma smacked her thigh again. “Didn’t I say he’d pull a filmy stunt one day?”

His sister groaned and flopped back onto the sofa.

“This isn’t filmy. This is season five of a soap none of us knew we were watching.”

Grandma leaned forward, studying Siyara with mock seriousness.

“Beti, blink twice if he forced you. Blink once if you agreed. Either way, I’ve got your back.”

Siyara almost blinked — twice — but Aarav’s hand pressed against her back. She froze again.

His mother rushed over, fixing her pallu like she was preparing to give a speech.

“Beta, welcome. But one warning — Aarav snores like a truck reversing at 3 a.m. Keep earplugs handy.”

Siyara bit her lip, fighting an inappropriate laugh. Snoring? This was the man who chased her barefoot through the street.

“And don’t give him the remote,” Grandma added. “He’ll watch cricket until your eyes bleed.”

The sister leaned forward. “And hide all the sweets. He eats gulab jamun straight from the fridge at midnight. No shame.”

Siyara’s eyes widened. Gulab jamun thief. Noted.

Aarav sipped water calmly, like this was a board meeting.

“Done?” he asked.

“No,” Grandma shot back. “One more. If he annoys you, come to me. I’ve been dealing with him since birth.”

His sister smirked. “And if you want to prank him… I’ve got ideas.”