ARNA

He was out of his mind completely, utterly insane.

Who does that? Who takes a girl's dupatta and just drapes it over his shoulder like it's the most natural thing in the world? It wasn't common. It wasn't ordinary. But then again, nothing about him ever was.

"Give back my dupatta," I whispered, glancing around. The last thing I needed was people staring. Maybe one day the world would know about us, but not today—not like this.

He smiled, that reckless, infuriating smile of his. "It's safe with me, Aru. Now go on, start."

I tried to glare at him, but it melted somewhere between his voice and that look in his eyes. So I turned away, pretending to stretch—though my heart was doing its own kind of gymnastics.

The training ground spread out before us, wide and endless, the grass trimmed so precisely it looked like even nature had been tamed. The breeze was soft, carrying the faint scent of earth and cut grass, and somewhere behind me, I could still feel his eyes following my every move.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed an old man trimming the grass, each slow movement a quiet rebellion against the chaos around him. For a moment, I watched the blades fall evenly into place, hypnotized by the rhythm.

Then snap.

Hridhan's fingers clicked in front of my face, breaking the spell. I looked up to see him watching me, one eyebrow raised, that teasing smirk tugging at his lips.

I shook my head, trying to hide my smile. "What now?"

"Run," he said simply.

"How many rounds?" I asked, glancing around at the vast field. Even two laps felt impossible.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes glinting with mischief. "Not rounds, mistake. Into the forest."

"What?" The word left my mouth before I could stop it. I must've misheard. "You mean—the forest forest?"

"Yes," he said, and added. "Go on. I'll be right behind you."

I blinked, certain he was joking. "We're prohibited from entering there, Hridhan. You know that. There are wild animals!"

He just nodded, that maddening calm still on his face. "Then run faster."

"You're here to fight, not to give excuses," he said, his voice steady but sharp. "Go, before I give you something harder."

I huffed in frustration but turned toward the corner that led to the forest. The guard at the entrance straightened, his rifle gleaming under the pale light. He blocked my path at first, eyes darting from me to the figure behind.

A silent moment passed. Then, the guard nodded and stepped aside.

Just like that, the way to the forbidden forest opened.

I didn't stop to think. I just ran. I didn't look back to see if Hridhan was following. I didn't even know the path ahead, or how to find my way back. But it didn't matter.

For the first time in so long, it felt good to run.

The wind rushed against my face, cool and untamed. The world beyond the walls—the world of tall buildings and perfect symmetry, of guards with guns and silent rules faded behind me. Each step was an escape, a rebellion, a breath of something real.

My legs burned. My lungs fought for rhythm. Every part of me screamed to stop but I didn't. I couldn't. The path was wild, uneven, alive. And still, it was better than Sector 17.

Birdsong echoed somewhere ahead, delicate and free. I almost smiled until it happened.

A sharp twist. A snap. Pain.

I stumbled and fell, clutching my ankle as the ache spread fast and fierce. "Oh, shit," I hissed, trying to steady my breath. Maybe I'd pushed too hard. Maybe I'd gone too far.

I glanced around. Trees stood tall and silent, shadows dancing between them. No sign of him. No sound of footsteps.

"Hridhan?" I called softly, but the forest swallowed my voice.

He was nowhere to be seen.

And for the first time, I wasn't sure if I'd outrun my worries or run straight into something else entirely.

The forest was a world of shadows.

Tall trees stood like silent giants, their leaves weaving a ceiling that hid the sky. The air was damp, the ground uneven.

I tried to stand, clutching the rough bark of a tree trunk for balance, but pain flared up my leg like wildfire. My ankle buckled beneath me, useless and trembling. I hissed through my teeth and tried again, forcing weight onto it. A sharp crack of agony shot up to my knee and I nearly fell. Useless. Completely useless.

Then—something shifted.

A rustle.

I froze, breath caught in my throat. The sound was soft at first, almost uncertain—like leaves brushing together. But then came the unmistakable rhythm of something moving, heavy and deliberate. A twig snapped. Another.

My eyes darted through the forest. The late afternoon light filtered through the canopy in slanted golds and greens, but the shadows between the trees seemed thicker now, alive with movement.

Another sound—closer this time.

The air felt heavy, as if the woods themselves were holding their breath. My heart began to pound, hard enough to make my chest ache. I turned, scanning every patch of darkness, every shifting branch.

And then I saw it.

From between two pines, a massive shape detached itself from the shadows. A bear—its coat dark and coarse, glinting with flecks of damp fur. Its eyes caught the light, two molten orbs staring straight through me.

My breath came in short, shallow bursts. I couldn't move. My body refused to obey, frozen by some ancient instinct. The bear lumbered forward, slow, purposeful, each step sinking into the earth with a low crunch.

It was close enough now that I could hear its breathing—deep, rumbling, steady. The musky, wild scent of it reached me, raw and earthy. I could see the rise and fall of its chest, the twitch of its nose as it tested the air between us.

"Not today," I whispered, voice trembling, barely audible.

The bear didn't stop. It came closer—closer still—until it filled my vision entirely. I could see the coarse hairs around its muzzle, the small scars in its hide, the glimmer of moisture on its nose.

It leaned its head forward until I could feel the warmth of its breath on my cheek. My heart hammered so violently I thought it might burst.

And then—nothing.

It simply stared at me, unblinking, a quiet mountain of muscle and fur, its dark eyes reflecting my own terror back at me. For a heartbeat, for a lifetime, the forest was silent but for the rhythm of our breathing.

Then somewhere behind us—hooves echoed through the trees.

The sharp rhythm of galloping broke through the silence. The bear turned its head just as the sound thundered closer—swift, powerful, unrelenting.

Through the haze of fear, I saw him.

Hridhan, astride a dark horse, cutting through the forest like a storm. The wind caught his shirt, the reins tight in his gloved hands, eyes locked on me.

Before I could even breathe his name, he was there. The horse reared, stopping inches from me. In one swift motion, he bent down, arm sliding around my waist. I barely had time to gasp before he lifted me effortlessly, pulling me up onto the saddle before him. His hands were holding me tightly.

His head rested against my shoulder, heavy with exhaustion, yet strangely comforting. I didn't move. My body was frozen, still trying to piece together the chaos of what had just happened. My thoughts kept circling the same haunting question— what if he hadn't come in time?

A shiver ran through me. Why did every day feel like surviving death itself? Was peace really too much to ask for?

"How did you find me?" I asked quietly, as the horse's pace slowed to a gentle walk.

"I wanted to talk to you about something important," he said, his voice low but steady. Then he pulled on the reins, bringing the horse to a stop. We were still deep within the forest—no light, no sound, just the breath of the wind between the trees.

Before I could say anything, he dismounted and turned toward me. His hands found my waist, firm and sure, and in one effortless motion, he lifted me. For a moment, I was weightless, suspended between him and the earth.

He took a few steps forward, and that's when I saw it—a bench. Right there, in the middle of the forest.

I blinked, uncertain if my eyes were deceiving me. A bench? Out here? It didn't belong here.

He set me down gently on the bench, his touch lingering just long enough to make my heart falter. Then he walked away, plucking a few green leaves from a low branch. When he returned, he sat beside me in silence, the air thick with things unsaid.

Without a word, he reached for my leg, his fingers brushing against my ankle as he slipped off my slippers.

"May I touch your feet?" he asked softly.

I stared at him, confused. Why was he acting like this? He'd never been this strange, this careful—this reverent.

Still, I nodded.

He crushed the leaves in his hands, the scent of them sharp and fresh, and began to press the cool paste gently against my ankle. My foot rested across his lap, and for a heartbeat, the forest seemed to fall utterly silent.

His fingers moved in slow, deliberate circles, tracing warmth into my skin. He massaged my foot gently, his touch careful, almost reverent. For a few moments, he said nothing—just kept his gaze fixed on my ankle, his brow furrowed in quiet concentration.

"I want you to move in with me," he said suddenly, still focused on my leg, his voice low and steady.

I froze. "What?" The word slipped out before I could stop it. Had I heard him right? My heart skipped, my breath tangled. Move in with him? No—surely, I'd misheard.

He sighed, his thumbs gliding higher along my calf. "I don't want to either," he admitted. "But Gugan plans to stay with me. He knows about us, Aru... he'll expect you there."

"Holy crap," I whispered, almost to myself. My pulse fluttered beneath his touch. His hands—warm, sure—moved slowly up my leg again, and I swallowed hard.

"Just my ankle is sprained," I managed to say, trying to sound composed.

He looked up then, his eyes deep, unreadable. "Nerves are connected, Aru," he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath. His fingers pressed gently, moving from my ankle to the curve of my leg, drawing a line of heat wherever they passed.

The forest seemed to blur around us, the quiet thickening, the air heavy with words unsaid.

"When does he want us there?" I asked, though my voice came out softer than I meant.

"Today," he said simply, still tracing small, lingering motions across my skin.

And in that quiet moment, between the warmth of his hands and the weight of his words, I wasn't sure what frightened me more—

the thought of leaving the toxic room

or the thought of going with hridhan.

"Hridhan," I said, pulling my leg back. The sudden movement made him look up at me, his hands falling still.

"I'll be frank," I began, my voice steadier than I felt. "I don't know what intentions you have with me. But if you're expecting to have sex—"

"Aru," he interrupted, his tone firm but calm. "I'm sorry for interrupting. I might have any intention, but not that. I don't see you as a toy. I see you as human—maybe even as tiny one. So I'd appreciate it if you'd stop thinking that way."

His words stunned me. Hridhan wasn't like this. His words were usually sharp, his tone clipped, his presence heavy with command. Not soft. Not careful. Not... apologetic.

He lowered his gaze again, his expression unreadable. "You can continue," he said quietly.

I let out a huff. "Fine. Whatever. I still hate you. Just because you save me every time doesn't mean I'll come around your fingers."

A faint smirk ghosted across his face. "I know. After all, you don't even see me as human."

"Of course not," I shot back, my pulse quickening. "You're the monster. How could I possibly miscategorize you?"

He just nodded—once, slow and deliberate. His eyes lingered on me for a second too long, as if there was something he wanted to say but chose not to.

And somehow, that silence said more than his words ever could.

There was no way out. I had signed the papers. Saying no now wasn't courage — it was suicide. I couldn't afford to lose this chance at living. Letting my pride stand between me and survival would cost more than I could bear; it would cost my last, desperate hope.

And yet, a part of me brightened at the thought: maybe this was the perfect moment to launch the plan.

I could play the part. I could make him fall for me. Use him. Bend his influence to my needs and climb out of the dirt the city had buried me in.

I've never done something like this before. I've never loved anyone, never believed in it. Love was just another illusion, another trick people told themselves to survive the loneliness. Men were tools, danger, enemies—never salvation.

Love had always felt like a luxury for other people. Not for me.

I've known men. And you can't expect me to believe in love after that.

But as far as plans go, this one is brilliant. Ruthless, but brilliant. If I stand against him, I lose everything. But if I play along... if I play smart... I can use every advantage that comes my way.

Hridhan held sway in Sector 17. Being his—wife, companion, whatever title I had—would be a move against the very government that put him in power. It was leverage. It was probably the only card left in my hand.

"Fine," I said finally, forcing the words out before I could change my mind. "I'll move with you."

__________

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