Her lips parted slightly in shock. Every new piece of information about his life left her more confused, more trapped in this strange, dangerous world he had forced her into.

Noticing her reaction, he smirked. “Relax. My brother doesn’t kill people unless it’s necessary.”

She looked down, willing her face to stay neutral. He didn’t need to see how unsettled she was. Living with him, she had learned to mask her emotions, knowing that any visible discomfort could make things worse.

“Doesn’t your grandmother say anything about this?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “About you and your brother’s… profession?”

He laughed outright at her question, the sound echoing off the kitchen walls. “She’s the one in charge. She keeps us in line. But she doesn’t approve of my brother’s work. It’s complicated. He joined the mafia to protect me. Back when I was in observation homes, I was safer there because of him.”

“Eat,” he ordered, his voice firm, breaking her train of thought.

She picked up her fork again, though the food on her plate now felt like lead. She forced herself to eat, her movements mechanical.

Her mind raced, trying to piece together his story, his motivations. She shouldn’t have asked—now, she felt the weight of everything she’d learned.

"Maybe if you hadn’t killed your mother, your brother wouldn’t have had to go down that path.”

She said it casually, not fully understanding the weight of her words, as she resumed eating. But the moment the sentence left her lips, she felt the air around her shift. It grew heavy, tense, suffocating.

She glanced up from her plate, and her breath hitched. His expression had darkened, his casual demeanor dissolving into something far more dangerous. His eyes, once filled with detached amusement, now bore into her with an intensity that made her spine stiffen.

Instinctively, she leaned back in her chair, her body alert, her heart pounding. She shouldn’t have said it. She’d crossed a line.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, her voice shaking. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

He stayed silent for a long moment, his gaze unwavering. When he finally spoke, his tone was low and sharp, cutting through the thick tension in the room.

“I thought I was immune to hearing it,” he said, his voice laced with a bitterness that sent a chill down her spine. “The same accusation, over and over again. But hearing it from you—” He leaned forward slightly, his presence overwhelming. “Turns out, I don’t like it.”

Her pulse quickened as she watched the transformation before her eyes. The casual man who had been cooking a moment ago was gone. In his place was the version of him she feared most—the one with a cold, unyielding demeanor, the one who held complete control over her life.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, desperation creeping into her tone. She couldn’t afford to mess this up. Not now. She was so close—just one more day, and she’d be free from this nightmare.

He leaned back slightly, but his gaze remained locked on her, piercing through her like a knife.

“Let me make something clear,” he began, his voice dangerously calm. “I didn’t kill my mother. Neither did my brother.”

She stayed silent, her eyes fixed on him as he continued, his words now tinged with raw emotion.

“It was your mother-in-law,” he said, his lips curling into a bitter smile. “She was the real homewrecker. We were all. She tried to turn the evidence on my brother. He could’ve been in jail for life—or worse, gotten the death penalty. But I was a minor. My punishment would be lighter. So, I surrendered.”

Her eyes widened, shock washing over her as the weight of his confession sank in. He let himself sacrifice for the sake of his brother. She never thought he would held such deep emotions.

“No son,” he continued, his voice breaking slightly, “could kill his own mother.”

For the first time, she saw something human in him. Pain. Real, unfiltered pain. His eyes glistened as he recalled the events, and his jaw tightened as if holding back emotions he didn’t want to show.

“You don’t know,” he said, his voice trembling, “how cruelly we were all deceived. One moment, we had a family. The next moment we held our dead mother.”

Her brows furrowed in concern. Feeling pity for their situation. It was worse. To turn everything upside down so suddenly.

“Everything happened so fast,” he continued, his voice breaking. “We weren’t even given time to mourn her death. One thing after another came at us. I was thrown into jail, and my brother was left to fend for himself in the world. Neither of us had the luxury to grieve. We had to survive.”

He paused, looking away as if the memories were too much to bear. “When we finally settled, we’d forgotten how to cry. There was no time for it. We just… moved on.”

Her chest tightened at his words, the heaviness of his experiences pressing down on her.

“My brother and I spent years focusing on survival. On protecting each other. On fulfilling our responsibilities. Revenge took a backseat—until now.” He turned his gaze back to her, his eyes cold yet resolute. “Now that we have the power, we’ve come back to settle the score. And there’s still a lot left to do.”

He leaned forward slightly, his expression hardening. “I couldn’t even kill my cheating father, let alone my mother. To say I killed her…” He trailed off, his voice filled with quiet rage.

“Never,” he said, his tone final, “ever say that to me again. It affects me. And you’re not like the others out there, Asha. You are different. You are my type. I hope you believe me".

He leaned back, picking up his fork as if the conversation hadn’t happened. His casual demeanor returned, but the tension in the room remained.

She sat in silence, her appetite gone, the food on her plate now cold and unappealing. Still, she forced herself to eat, each bite a struggle. She didn’t want to give him the impression that she doubted him. Stopping would only make things worse.

Her mind raced, replaying his words over and over. She couldn’t shake the image of the grief-stricken boy he must have been, nor the dangerous man sitting in front of her now.

*****

The last flower was pinned into her bun, her delicate fingers ensuring it held tightly. She glanced once more at the three roses carefully tucked to the side of her bun, a faint smile gracing her lips. Adjusting the pallu of her maroon saree, she turned to face the mirror, the muted glow of the room highlighting her elegance.

Her saree was a deep maroon, rich and regal, with intricate golden embroidery running along the borders. The blouse was full-necked and long-sleeved, modest yet sophisticated, emphasizing her poised demeanor. Her bun, styled neatly with a side partition, framed her face in a way that seemed timeless. She tilted her head slightly, her eyes scanning herself critically from head to toe.

In this saree, styled so carefully, she looked exactly as she had once dreamed: ladylike, poised, beautiful, and elegant. But now, as she assessed herself, all those dreams felt like cruel memories. Her heart ached as she remembered how she had once wished for moments like these—getting ready with her husband, sharing soft smiles and quiet admiration. But those moments were long gone. Her husband was dead, and all that remained of those dreams was an unbearable hollowness. Now, she found herself dressing not for him, but for the man who had forced himself into her life, the one who had robbed her of even the right to mourn in peace. She despised him, but more than that, she despised herself for the way she complied, for the way her body moved like a puppet to avoid consequences she feared to face.

Her gaze fell to her lips, where the soft rose-pink color she had earlier applied was fading. Her eyes drifted to the red lipstick lying on the dressing table. It called to her, bold and vibrant, a color that could speak the confidence she often longed to feel. She picked it up instinctively, her hand trembling slightly as she uncapped it. Just as the tip hovered near her lips, she paused.

The red would attract him.

Her throat tightened at the thought, and she set the lipstick back down. Reaching for her rose-pink shade instead, she swiped it across her lips with care, avoiding her reflection. Her fingers moved to tug out a few short strands of hair, framing her soft features. She was barely finished when she heard his voice.

"Wow."

Startled, she turned to find him standing at the doorway. His brows shot up as he shook his head, disbelief evident in his expression.

"You look beautiful," he said, his voice low and unwavering.

The words hung in the air, reverberating against her. His gaze lingered on her, dark and unreadable, devouring every detail of her appearance. His hand flew to his mouth as if trying to conceal his amazement, while the other rested subtly on his hip.

Her cheeks burned crimson as she looked away, unable to hold his gaze. Shyness swept over her, a sensation so unfamiliar yet oddly thrilling. Butterflies stirred in her stomach, fluttering wildly at his praise. It was as if, for a brief moment, their messy, unnameable relationship had disappeared, replaced by something pure and untainted. Something she could cherish.

But the moment didn’t last.

Before she could gather her thoughts, Jim was in front of her. His hand tilted her chin upward, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that took her breath away. It wasn’t gentle—it was hungry, fervent, and overwhelming. His fingers tangled in her hair as he pulled her closer, his kiss conveying emotions he couldn’t seem to put into words. Worship. Adoration. A sense of possession that made her knees weak.

He pulled back, leaving her dazed, her lips tingling from the intensity. His dark eyes roamed her face, searching for something. With a thumb, he wiped the faint remnants of her lipstick.

"Red would look perfect".

Then, without a word, he walked to the dressing table. Picking up the red lipstick she had discarded earlier, he turned and held it out to her.

Her gaze flickered between the lipstick and his face. She took it from him without a word.

Turning back to the mirror, she uncapped it with a steady hand and applied it in one stroke, her lips now painted a vivid red.

Behind her, he watched silently, a faint, approving smile tugging at his lips.