The morning passed quietly, the air humming with faint traces of preparation.
Arina had already instructed the maids—fresh flowers in the living room, the table set elegantly but not extravagantly, a few candles placed discreetly near the window. Everything had to look effortless, though she had thought through every detail twice.
The faint scent of lilies mixed with the aroma of polished wood as she stepped back to survey the room. It looked perfect—warm, inviting, balanced. But beneath that calm exterior, her mind was far from still.
Reyansh had already left for the office. Without his presence, the house felt strangely still—too neat, too silent. His absence lingered like a shadow that never quite left. She stood in the middle of the living room for a moment, her hands folded loosely, her mind running through everything she knew about Manav.
Reyansh had told her little, but Arina knew more than he could imagine. In the novel, Manav was the one person who could reach through Reyansh's layers of restraint. He could provoke his temper, or calm him with a single word. He was unpredictable, sharp, and dangerous in the way only those who understand people too well can be.
Manav was the kind of man who smiled easily but hid the knife behind his charm. He never attacked directly, never raised his voice—but when he wanted something, he made sure no one left unscathed. And though he wouldn't meddle directly in his friend's marriage, Arina knew his presence alone could shift the balance she had built so carefully.
Right now, she and Reyansh were standing on fragile ground. He had begun to open up—his gestures softer, his eyes warmer—but he wasn't hers completely yet. His trust, though growing, was still guarded behind quiet silences. Manav's arrival might test that.
Arina exhaled, steadying her nerves. It doesn't matter. I've come too far to step back now.
Her reflection in the polished glass of the dining table looked composed, but inside her chest, her heart thudded like a secret.
Reyansh had begun to care—she could feel it in the smallest ways. The way he waited for her before dinner, the faint brush of his hand against hers when he passed a cup, or the almost imperceptible pause in his step when she entered the room. He might not voice it, but his eyes told her more than words ever could.
She knew this kind of man—one who loved quietly but deeply, one who wouldn't admit his need until it consumed him entirely. And when that time came, he would not just love her. He would never let her go.
That thought brought a faint smile to her lips—soft but laced with intent.
---
By evening, the soft golden light from the balcony spilled into their bedroom. The faint hum of the city outside felt distant, softened by the drapes and the scent of sandalwood lingering in the air. Arina stood before the mirror, fastening the last hook of her blouse. The silk draped around her shimmered faintly under the lamplight, smooth and deliberate.
She stared at her reflection for a long time. The woman staring back was no longer the one who had stumbled into a fictional world in confusion. Her eyes were sharper now, her smile calmer—yet there was a tenderness beneath it, one she could never quite hide when it came to Reyansh.
Her fingers brushed against her cheek unconsciously, remembering the warmth of his hand there. The way he had kissed her, not out of impulse, but something far deeper.
Her heart fluttered and tightened all at once.
It wasn't just admiration anymore. It wasn't fascination with the character she once read about—it was real, consuming love. The kind that seeped into her veins, that ached quietly whenever he wasn't near. The kind that didn't just want to be loved—it wanted to possess, to claim, to become the only thing that existed in his world.
Reyansh wasn't just the man from the novel anymore.
He was hers.
Her lips curved faintly as she adjusted her bangles, the soft chime of metal echoing like a promise.
Soon, he'll feel it too—the same pull, the same depth. He'll look at me the way I look at him. He won't just care; he'll need me.
Her eyes drifted toward the faint trace of his cologne on his pillow. It was strange, how even his absence could feel so tangible. She could almost feel him near her—the warmth of his breath, the weight of his gaze.
She closed her eyes briefly and smiled. "You'll be mine completely, Reyansh," she whispered to the empty room.
When she opened them again, her reflection in the mirror no longer looked gentle—it was composed, sure, and quietly dangerous.
Tonight, she wasn't just preparing to meet Manav.
She was preparing to protect the delicate world she and Reyansh had begun to build—no matter who stepped into it.
---
"When love turns deliberate, obsession begins to bloom."