The evening sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of bruised purple and gold. 

The Bisht household was once again a hive of activity as the scent of fresh henna and marigolds filled the air. 

The makeup artists stood ready with their kits, and the guests began to gather in the hall for the Mehndi ceremony.

However, the bride-to-be was nowhere to be seen. When the stylists moved toward her room, Dev held up a hand, his expression cold and commanding. 

"Don't wake her," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous silkiness. "I'll go."

Dev walked toward Jhanvi's room, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. 

He didn't knock; he simply turned the handle and stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft, final click.

The room was draped in shadows, lit only by the faint glow of the garden lights filtering through the curtains. 

He walked toward the bed where Jhanvi lay. She looked fragile, her long lashes casting shadows on her cheeks, her breathing shallow and rhythmic. 

To anyone else, she looked like a sleeping beauty; to Dev, she was a masterpiece he had finally caged.

He crouched down beside the bed, his presence looming over her like a predator watching its prey.

 His eyes didn't just look at her....they devoured her. He slowly reached out, his long fingers trembling slightly with a dark, suppressed energy. 

He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his knuckles grazing her skin.

He didn't just want her love; he wanted her soul. He leaned closer, his face inches from hers, inhaling the scent of her skin as if it were the only oxygen he needed to survive.

"Pagalpan?" he whispered into the silent room, his voice a jagged rasp. 

"Tum ise pagalpan kehti ho, Gulaab? Tumne abhi mera junoon dekha hi kahan hai. Log kehte hain ishq mein jaan di jaati hai... main kehta hoon ishq mein duniya jala di jaati hai."

He traced the outline of her jawline with his thumb, his touch possessive and heavy. He watched her stir slightly in her sleep, a small frown marring her forehead. 

He liked that even in her dreams, he could reach her.

"Aaj raat mere naam ka rang tumhare hathon par chadhega," he murmured, his eyes darkening to a pitch black.

 "Aur bohot jald, tumhare har ek saans par mera haq hoga. Tum bhale hi kisi aur ko yaad karo, par tumhari kismat sirf mere hathon ki lakeeron mein likhi hai."

He leaned in even closer, his lips almost touching her forehead, marking her with his shadow before the world could even see her.

 He wasn't just a groom; he was an owner, and he was finally reclaiming what he believed was always his.

The soft, feather-light pressure of his lips against her forehead sent an electric jolt of terror through Jhanvi's body.

 Her eyes snapped open, and for a split second, the darkness of the room confused her—until she saw the silhouette of the man looming over her.

She let out a gasped "Ah!" and scrambled backward, her back hitting the headboard as she tried to put as much distance between them as possible.

 Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

"T-tum?!" she stammered, her voice trembling.

Dev didn't look bothered by her fear. He slowly stood up, smoothing the creases of his expensive blazer, instantly reverting to his cold, dominant self.

 The predatory warmth that had been in his eyes moments ago was replaced by a hard, metallic glint.

"Haan, main," he replied, his voice echoing in the quiet room.

 "Mehndi shuru hone wali hai humari. Socha apni hone wali biwi ko uske khwabon se jaga doon... kyunki ab se tumhari haqeeqat sirf main hoon."

Jhanvi looked down, clutching the bedsheet tightly. A hollow ache formed in her chest. She had been dreaming:

a dream of sunlight, soft laughter, and Aryan. It was the only place she felt safe. But Dev had shattered that sanctuary, dragging her back into this nightmare with a single touch.

Dev turned to leave, his footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor. He reached the door, but just as he gripped the handle, he paused and looked back over his shoulder. A dark, possessive smirk played on his lips.

"Jaldi taiyar ho jao, Gulaab," he said, his gaze dropping to her pale, trembling hands.

 "Mere naam ki mehndi tumhare hathon mein lagne ke liye bekaraar hai. Aur main... main tumhe apne rang mein ranga hua dekhne ke liye."

With that, he walked out, leaving the door wide open, as if to remind her that there was no longer any privacy, any escape, or any world that he didn't control.

Jhanvi stared at her hands. The cut on her finger from the ring ceremony had stopped bleeding, but it throbbed with every heartbeat.

 She knew that tonight, the stain of his name would be even harder to wash away than the blood.

Author's POV:

The downstairs hall was a whirlwind of color and music. Folk songs filled the air as family members danced, their laughter echoing against the walls. 

In the middle of the celebration, Dev sat on a high-backed chair, looking less like a groom and more like a king overseeing his conquest. 

He was smoking, the grey plumes of smoke curling around his face as his assistant whispered updates into his ear. His gaze, however, never shifted from the stairs.

When Jhanvi descended, she felt like a ghost walking into a festival. She was led to the center where the henna artists were waiting with silver bowls of fresh mehndi. 

As they took her hands, Jhanvi's eyes darted toward the entrance.

Reeva walked in, looking stunning, cradling little Falak in her arms.

 But Jhanvi's heart wasn't looking for them. Her eyes searched the corners, the shadows, the doorways—longing for the only person who made her heart beat.

 Suddenly, near the garden entrance, she saw him. Aryan. He stood there, bathed in a soft glow, looking at her with the same tenderness that always made her feel safe. 

It felt so real. She was so lost in the illusion of his presence that the world around her faded into a blur of noise.

"dulhe ka naam kya likhna hai?" the henna artist asked softly, her cone poised over Jhanvi's palm.

Without breaking eye contact with the "Aryan" in her vision, Jhanvi's lips parted, and a soft whisper escaped them. "Aryan."

The artist, assuming this was the groom's name or a nickname, deftly swirled the henna, weaving the letters A-R-Y-A-N into the intricate patterns on Jhanvi's palm.

 Fate seemed to smirk in that moment; the ink was set, and the name was hidden amidst the vines of the design.

The illusion shattered when a hand touched her shoulder. Jhanvi gasped, blinking rapidly. 

Aryan was gone. In his place stood Reeva, looking down at her with a mix of guilt and concern.

"I am sorry... subha ke liye," Reeva whispered, her voice barely audible over the music.

Jhanvi gave a dry, hollow chuckle and shook her head, indicating it was okay. 

But as Reeva sat beside her, her mind was racing. "Kya chupa rahi hai tu Jhanvi? Teri aankhon mein saaf dikh raha hai ki tu dard mein hai... par kyun?" Reeva thought, her eyes narrowing as she watched Jhanvi's pale face.

Meanwhile, Dev flicked the ash from his cigarette, his eyes glued to Jhanvi. He overheard a group of aunties gossiping nearby.

"Dekhte hain dulhan ki mehndi kitni rachegi," one laughed, nudging the other.

"Haan," another replied, 

"Isse hi toh pata chalta hai ki uska hone wala pati usse kitna pyaar karta hai. Jitna gehra rang, utni gehri mohabbat!"

Dev's head tilted slightly, a dark, confident smirk spreading across his face. He watched the henna dry on Jhanvi's skin, his obsession flaring. 

"Zaroor rachegi," he thought, his eyes darkening. 

"Kyunki mujhse zyada mohabbat tumhe koi nahi kar sakta, Gulaab. Tumhara rang chade na chade, mera rang tum par aisa chadhega ki koi usey utaar nahi payega."

He stood up, crushing his cigarette under his boot, and began walking toward her. He wanted to see his name on her hand. He wanted to see his mark. 

After the henna had dried, Jhanvi slipped away from the noise of the celebration and hurried into the kitchen. She needed a moment of silence.

As she began to rub her palms together, a shadow fell over her. Reeva stood there, her arms crossed, her eyes piercing through Jhanvi's fragile facade.

 She walked over and turned Jhanvi around to face her.

"Jhanvi, ek baat sach sach batana," Reeva demanded, her voice low but firm.

Jhanvi forced a bright, plastic smile and nodded. "Puch na, Reeva."

Reeva grabbed her hands, looking at the messy henna. "Tu khush hai is shaadi se?"

The air in the kitchen felt heavy. Jhanvi paused for a heartbeat, her throat tightening, but she forced a hollow chuckle.

 "Main... main bahut khush hoon."

Reeva didn't blink. She looked directly into Jhanvi's eyes, stripping away the lies. "Tu kabse jhoot bolne lag gayi?"

Jhanvi's posture crumbled for a split second, her shoulders drooping, but she quickly pulled herself back together.

 "Are, tu pagal hai kya? Main kyun jhoot bolungi? Aur dekh, meri mehndi achi lag rahi hai na?"

Reeva looked down at Jhanvi's hand, then back at her face. 

"Yeh mehndi ka rang bhi bata raha hai ki tu khush nahi hai, Jhanvi. Chal ab bata, kya chhupa rahi hai?"

Jhanvi jerked her hand away, turning her back to Reeva to hide the tears welling in her eyes.

 Reeva opened her mouth to press further, but a dark, chilling voice from the doorway cut through the air like a knife.

"Aap meri hone wali biwi se itne sawal karna band karengi?"

They both spun around. Dev was leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on Reeva with a predatory stillness. Jhanvi's heart thudded painfully against her ribs.

 Yeh Reeva ko toh kuch nahi karega na? she panicked inwardly. Nahi, yeh pagal hai... yeh kuch bhi kar sakta hai.

Dev walked slowly toward them, his boots clicking ominously on the kitchen tiles.

 "Aapko bada interest hai meri hone wali biwi ki khushi janne ka," he drawled, stopping right in front of Reeva.

Reeva didn't back down. She folded her arms. 

"Haan, kyunki jaana padta hai ki meri dost jis insaan se shaadi kar rahi hai, woh sahi bhi hai ya nahi."

Dev threw his head back and chuckled, a dry, mocking sound. He rolled his tongue against his cheek. 

"Bahut achi dost hain aap. Lekin ek baat kahunga... aaj se meri hone wali biwi aur meri personal life mein dakhal mat dijiyega."

He stepped past Reeva, grabbing Jhanvi's arm and pulling her flush against his side. The grip was iron-tight. 

"Hum dono ek dusre se bahut pyaar karte hain. Hai na, Gulaab?"

Jhanvi looked at Reeva, her face a mask of desperation hidden behind a fake smile. She nodded slowly. Dev smirked. 

"Aur agar aapki baat ho gayi ho... mujhe meri hone wali biwi se kuch private baat karni hai."

Reeva clenched her fists, her eyes darting between Jhanvi's silent plea and Dev's dark triumph.

 Finally, she turned and walked out, leaving Jhanvi alone with the monster.

As soon as the door closed, the fake smile vanished from Dev's face. 

Dev grabbed her hand and lifted it close to his face, eyes scanning her palm like a man reading ownership papers.

"Dekhun toh... mere naam ki mehndi kitni rachi hai."

But there was nothing.

No color.

No deep stain.

Her palm looked the same—pale, untouched, almost mocking his obsession.

His jaw ticked once. Then again.

The kitchen felt like it dropped ten degrees colder.

"Rang nahi aaya..." he murmured, his voice hauntingly soft. Then, the whisper began to grow. 

"Haha... rang nahi aaya."

The chuckle distorted into a jagged, manic laugh that echoed off the tiled walls. "Rang nahi 

aaya... RANG KYUN NAHI AAYA?!"

The sudden roar made Jhanvi flinch so hard she nearly fell. She began to tremble, her eyes wide with terror at the sight of his face. 

She tried to wrench her hand back, but his grip was like an iron shackle. He yanked her against his chest, his fingers digging into her arms so deeply they would surely leave bruises.

"Kyun nahi rachi, hmm?" he hissed, forcing her to look at him. 

"Logon ne kaha tha na... rang nahi aaya toh mohabbat gehri nahi hai. Toh kya main pyaar nahi karta tumse? Hmm?"

Jhanvi tried to turn her face away, but he grabbed her jaw, his thumb pressing painfully into her cheek. "BOLO NA! Nahi pyaar karta main tumse?"

"D-Dev... chhodo mujhe... dard ho raha hai," Jhanvi stammered, tears spilling over.

Dev's expression shifted instantly. He chuckled darkly, his eyes wide and glassy. 

"Dard? Dard ho raha hai? Are, dard toh mujhe ho raha hai, Gulaab! Kal jab log tumhari mehndi dekhenge, toh woh mujh par hasenge! Woh kahenge Dev Singhania apni biwi se pyaar nahi karta! Bolo... bolo... BOLO!"

He screamed the last word, making Jhanvi sob hysterically. Suddenly, his anger seemed to vanish, replaced by a terrifying, frantic murmur.

"Nahi... nahi, main yeh nahi hone dunga. Meri mohabbat par koi ungli nahi uthayega. Main sab theek kar dunga."

His eyes darted around the kitchen like a cornered animal until they landed on the gas stove. A dark, twisted light flickered in his gaze.

 He dragged her toward the counter, his nails digging into her skin. Jhanvi's heart stopped as he reached for the knob and clicked the stove on. The blue flame hissed to life.

"D-Dev... suno... kya kar rahe ho? Mehndi ko thoda time lagta hai rachne mein... pagal mat bano—""NAHI!" Dev cut her off, his voice cracking with an unstable edge.

 "Nahi, Gulaab. Mujhe intezar karna pasand nahi hai. Tum toh jaanti ho na? Haan?"

He grabbed her wrist and forcefully held her palm just inches above the dancing flame.

"D-Dev! Jal raha hai! Please, chhodo mera haath!" Jhanvi begged, her body thrashing as the intense heat scorched her skin.

 She was pleading, her voice breaking with pure agony.

Suddenly, as if a switch had been flipped in his brain, the rage evaporated. His eyes cleared, and he stared at her crying face as if seeing her for the first time.

 He immediately let go of her hand.

Jhanvi collapsed to her knees, clutching her red, throbbing hand to her chest, her whole body shaking with violent sobs.

Dev stood over her, his chest heaving. His expression transformed from a monster to a man filled with agonizing regret. He dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands hovering over her but not daring to touch.

"Gulaab? Maine... maine kya kiya?" he whispered, his voice now soft and trembling, tears actually welling in his own eyes.

 "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry. Tumhe chot lag gayi? Shhh, rona nahi... main abhi dawa lata hoon. Maine jaan-bujh kar nahi kiya, tum jaanti ho na main tumse kitna pyaar karta hoon?"

The transition was jarring—from a ruthless villain to a grieving lover in a matter of seconds.

 Jhanvi leaned away from him, her eyes filled with nothing but pure horror at the man who was now trying to soothe the very wound he had just inflicted.

As soon as Dev stood up and rushed out to find a first aid box, the silence in the kitchen felt even more terrifying than his screams. 

Jhanvi curled into a ball on the cold floor, her body shivering violently. She pressed her uninjured hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her sobs, terrified that if he heard her crying, he would come back even more unstable.

She looked down at her palm. The skin was bright red and angry, pulsating with a sharp, searing pain that made her vision blur.

 The heat from the stove had been so intense that she could still feel it radiating from her flesh.

"D-dard ho raha hai..." she whimpered, her voice barely a breath.

She tried to take a deep breath, but it felt like the air had turned to lead. Her chest tightened, and she began to gasp for air. It was a panic attack, raw and devastating. 

She felt completely suffocated—not just by the pain in her hand, but by the realization that she was trapped with a man who could hurt her and then cry for her in the same breath.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the blue flame and the crazed look in Dev's eyes. She crawled toward the corner of the kitchen cabinets, trying to hide, trying to disappear. 

Her hand felt like it was still on fire, and she began to rock back and forth, her eyes wide and glassy.

"Please... someone help me," she whispered into her knees, her voice breaking. "Aryan... Papa... please."

She wanted to run, but her legs felt like jelly. 

She was completely broken, a shell of the girl she used to be, lying on the kitchen floor while the man she feared most was coming back to "fix" the agony he had caused.