On the other side of the road, Aryan sat in the driver's seat of his car, the engine idling. The moment he was shielded by the tinted glass, the composure he had maintained in the cafe shattered.

Tears streamed down his face, blurring his vision. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. 

"You don't know how much I wanted to hug you," he whispered to the empty car. "How much I wanted to tell you that you're home."

This hadn't been his original plan. He wanted to keep acting, to stay close to her as the "innocent" Aryan until her memories returned naturally. 

But Aahan and the others had convinced him otherwise.

"Aap Anjali ke samne us din ki tarah dress hoke jaoge... jis din aap unse pehli baar mile the,"

 they had urged. "Toh shayad unhe kuch yaad aaye. Kuch hi sahi."

Aryan had fought the idea. He knew the mental pressure it would put on her to force a memory that was locked away behind trauma. 

But seeing her today, seeing the sadness in her eyes and that bandage on her hand—which his heart told him was no accident.

Meanwhile;

Jhanvi walked down the sidewalk, her mind a mess, when a black SUV slowly began to crawl alongside her. 

The window rolled down, revealing Dev's cold, stony profile.

"Kaafi lamba order tha... ya phir baatein lambi ho gayi?" Dev asked, not even looking at her, his voice vibrating with a quiet, lethal jealousy.

Jhanvi's heart dropped. He had seen them.

She froze. The sound of the heavy car door clicking open felt like the cocking of a gun. 

Within seconds, the thick, overpowering scent of his expensive cologne and stale cigarette smoke surrounded her. 

Dev was standing right behind her, his presence a dark weight.

"Kya hua, wifey... hmmm?"

Jhanvi turned slowly, her heart hammering, but he was standing so close that she collided with his chest. 

She lost her balance and began to fall back, but Dev's arm shot out like a coil of steel. 

He gripped her waist tightly, pulling her harshly against him. The impact knocked the breath out of her.

 He was so close she could smell the bitter ash on his lips.

"Kaafi khush thi tum use dekh kar... hmm?" he whispered, his voice vibrating against her skin.Jhanvi's posture went rigid. 

She felt like a bird caught in a snare. "Dev, woh... main bas order dene..."

"Kuch mat kaho, Gulaab... kuch mat kaho," he cut her off, his voice dropping into that terrifyingly soft, unstable register.

Jhanvi tried to squirm, to push her palms against his chest to create space, but his grip only tightened. His fingers dug into her waist, almost choking the breath out of her body. 

He leaned down, sniffing her hair with a slow, possessive inhale that made her skin crawl. Her hands instinctively bunched up the fabric of his collar, trembling.

"Kyun karti ho aisa? Hmm?" Dev asked, his voice suddenly cracking. His eyes, usually cold and calculated, were now dancing with a frantic, psychotic light.

"Maine kaha tha na ki tum meri ho? Phir kyun us insaan ko dekh kar tumhare chehre par raunak aati hai hmm? Kyun?!" He suddenly shook her slightly, his face twisting into a mask of pure madness.

"Bolo! Kya chahiye tumhe? Agar tumhe lagta hai ki woh tumhare aur mere beech khada ho sakta hai, toh bahut badi galat fehmi maine jee rahi ho tum... Ek phone karunga aur uska naamo nishaan mitt jayega! Batao,hmm"

"Nahi- nahi!" Jhanvi screamed, her voice breaking into a sob. She clutched his shirt, her eyes wide with horror.

"Please, aisa kuch mat karna! Meri baat suno... main dobara usse kabhi nahi milungi.

 Kabhi nahi dekhungi usey! Main kasam khati hoon, Dev, please usey kuch mat karna!"

Dev stared at her, watching her beg, watching her tears fall. 

A slow, sickly satisfied smile spread across his lips as he watched her crumble for the sake of another man.

The rage seemed to evaporate, replaced by a hauntingly calm "kindness."

"Sacch? Kabhi nahi milogi?" He reached up, his thumb roughly wiping a tear from her cheek.

"Main tumhari baaton par yaqeen kar loon?"

"Haan... haan, main waada karti hoon," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Theek hai," he murmured, his mood swinging back to a disturbing gentleness. 

He let go of her waist but kept his hand firmly on her shoulder.

"Chalo, ab rona nahi. Baitho gaadi mein. Kahan ja rahi thi tum? Chalo, main chhod deta hoon... okay, Gulaab?"

He opened the passenger door with a mock-polite flourish, but his eyes never left hers.

They were the eyes of a man who would burn the entire world just to make sure she had nowhere to run but into his arms.

The drive to the market was suffocatingly quiet. Jhanvi stared out the window, her mind screaming for a way out, while Dev hummed a dark, mindless tune behind the wheel.

 When they reached the local market, Jhanvi quickly stepped out, desperate for even a few feet of space.

She hurried to a wholesale shop to place the cafe's order. As she stood at the counter, she felt a hand brush against her back inappropriately.

 She froze, then whipped around to see a group of young men smirking at her. One of them was leaning far too close.

"Maintain your distance, mister," Jhanvi snapped, her voice trembling but firm.

The boy mockingly threw his hands up in the air, a nasty grin on his face. 

"Oops! Sorry, Madam. Didn't mean to touch something so... soft."

Jhanvi turned and walked away, her heart racing. She tried to reach another shop, but the group followed her, their whistles echoing through the crowded lane. 

They began to sing a vulgar song, their voices loud and taunting: 

"Chedenge hum tujhko ladki, tu hai badi bombard..aha-"

The singing was abruptly cut short by a deafening BANG.

The market went dead silent. Jhanvi gasped, spinning around. The boy who had been singing stood frozen. A small, perfect red circle had appeared in the center of his forehead.

 For a second, he just stared blankly, then dark blood began to ooze and pour down his face.

The crowd began to scream and scatter frantically, but the boy simply dropped to his knees.

 Standing directly behind him, framed by the smoke of a handgun, was Dev.

"O la la... o la la..." Dev sang softly, finishing the vulgar song with a twisted, melodic rhythm as the boy's body thudded onto the pavement.

Dev didn't look bothered. He didn't look angry. He looked like he was having the time of his life.

He walked forward and placed his heavy boot directly onto the face of the dead boy, crushing his cheek into the gravel.

He raised the gun, pointing it at the stunned crowd that was backing away in terror.

"Yeh ladki dikh rahi hai?!" Dev roared, his voice echoing across the market as he pointed at Jhanvi with his free hand.

The crowd trembled. Jhanvi stood paralyzed, her eyes wide with horror.

"Iski taraf kisi ne aankh uthake bhi dekhi na... toh aankhein noch lunga!" he shouted, his face contorting into a mask of pure villainy.

"She is mine. Remember that before you even breathe the same air as her."

He tucked the gun into his waistband and walked toward Jhanvi. His footsteps were slow and deliberate.

When he reached her, he didn't grab her. Instead, he gently—almost lovingly—reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

 His fingers were cold, smelling of gunpowder and expensive tobacco.

"Dar gayi, Gulaab?" he whispered, his voice dropping into a chillingly sweet tone.

"Maine kaha tha na... main tumhara khayal rakhunga. Koi tumhe gandi nazar se dekhe, yeh main bardaasht nahi kar sakta."

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her temple as he looked at the dead body behind them.

"Aaj toh sirf yeh raste ka kachra saaf kiya hai," he murmured, his eyes darkening to a pitch black.

 "Lekin yaad rakhna... agar tumne apna waada toda, toh yahi haaal us insaan ka hoga jise tum be-intehan mohabaat karti ho"

He straightened up, flashing her a bright, charming smile that didn't reach his psychotic eyes.

 "Ab ghar chalein, Mrs. Singhania?"

Jhanvi couldn't speak. She couldn't even breathe. 

She realized she wasn't just engaged to a man; she was bound to a monster who had turned the world into her graveyard.

---------------------------Author's Note 🦋-----------------------------

Dev's love is not a sanctuary; it is a cage built of bone and blood.

 He doesn't want a partner; he wants a possession that he can worship and wound at the same time.

Tujhe chahna meri ibadat hai, tujhe pana mera junoon, Tere liye baha sakta hoon main sheher bhar ka khoon. Mohabbat ki rahon mein phool nahi, maine toh kaante bichhaye hain, Tu meri hai, sirf meri... tere naseeb mein hum maut likh kar aaye hain. Agar kisi aur ki taraf uthi teri ek bhi nazar, Toh uski aankhein hongi mere hathon mein, aur laash hogi be-asar.