Riyan hadn't slept. Not even for a second.
His room was a mess—papers scattered, books knocked over, his chair pushed halfway across the floor as if he'd thrown it aside in a rage. He paced like a caged animal, hands in his hair, his chest heaving with the storm inside him.
Everywhere he looked, he saw her. Ananya's eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Her trembling lips when she'd tried to speak. The way she'd been yanked away from him, her father's hand like a wall between them.
And then—silence.
No texts. No calls. Her phone had gone dead, as if the world itself had swallowed her whole. He'd waited, convincing himself she'd reach out somehow. But now, hours had passed, and the reality was dawning like a blade cutting into his chest.
They had locked her away.
The thought made his fists clench until his knuckles cracked.
He wasn't stupid. He knew families like hers—obsessed with appearances, suffocating under their own rules. They would rather crush her heart than let her live freely.
But did they think he would stand back and watch? That he would just let them cage her?
He slammed his fist against the wall, the thud reverberating through the room. The sting of pain grounded him, but it wasn't enough. Nothing would be enough until he saw her, touched her, heard her voice telling him she was okay.
"Damn it, Ananya," he muttered under his breath, dragging his hands down his face. His chest burned, caught between rage and helplessness.
A part of him wanted to storm into her house that very moment—tear down the gates, shout her name until she appeared at the window. He wanted the world to know she was his, no matter the cost.
But another voice—quieter, steadier—warned him that recklessness would only make it worse for her. If her father had locked her away now, what would he do if Riyan pushed harder? Would he force her into something worse?
The thought sent a chill through him, but it didn't weaken his resolve. It sharpened it.
Fine. If he couldn't storm in like a fool, he would fight smart.
He would find a way to reach her. Through her friends, through her classes, through anyone who dared to whisper her name in the corridors. If he had to climb the damn walls of her house, he would.
Because he couldn't breathe knowing she was suffering alone.
He sank onto the edge of his bed, pressing his palms against his knees, forcing his thoughts into order. This wasn't about pride anymore. It wasn't about jealousy, or passion, or even the war with Aarav that still simmered in his veins.
This was about her.
Ananya.
The girl who had looked at him like he was more than his temper, more than his reputation. The girl who had softened him and set him on fire all at once.
And if her family thought they could erase him from her life—They had no idea who they were dealing with.
He would not let her go.Not now. Not ever.
Riyan stood, a dangerous calm settling over him, the kind that always came before a fight he knew he had to win. His reflection in the mirror looked like a stranger—eyes dark, jaw tight, determination etched into every line of his face.
If they thought they could break her, he would be her shield.If they thought they could silence her, he would be her voice.If they thought they could lock her away, he would be the one to tear the doors open.
He grabbed his jacket and stormed out of his room, each step steady with purpose.
The fire in his chest wasn't just fury anymore. It was a vow.
Whatever it took, he would bring her back to him.