SAANVI'S POV

"Ugh..."

I shove the blanket aside and sit up, rubbing my temples as OG's voice echoes from downstairs again. It's my day off, but peace in this house is a myth. He's been shouting orders since morning like it's some kind of drill.

Dragging myself out of bed, I slide into my slippers, straighten my creased shorts, and tie my hair into a loose bun as I step into the hallway, still caught between sleep and irritation.

The scent of tea drifts in from the kitchen. I stretch my arms lazily as I descend the stairs, yawning behind my palm. Maa and OG stand near the main door, their backs to me, postures stiff. Just beside them, I notice a trolley bag

I take another step and freeze.

My eyes widen as they land on the man standing comfortably in front of them.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" The question leaves my mouth before I can check my tone.

Those pair sepia eyes meet mine with infuriating calm as he lifts his hand in a slow, almost lazy wave.

"Good morning, Pearl."

I fold my arms across my chest, "Well, now it's not."

I glance at Maa, then at OG. Their silence confirms this isn't a surprise for them it's just as unwanted for them as it is for me.

"Why is he here?" I ask,

OG exhales through his nose. Maa rubs the space between her brows.

"Rudra, you can't stay here," OG states,

Rudra turns his head slowly, eyes steady on his father. "Why not? It's my home too. You're still my dad. She's still my mom. And she-" his gaze shifts to me, "-is still my wife."

"I'll call security..."

I shake my head, watching OG and Rudra launch into another spat. My lips curl into a scoff, but my attention drifts, drawn not to them, but to Maa. Her eyes fixed on Rudra's hand, the one I stabbed. It's wrapped in clean gauze. Her expression falters. She rubs her palm slowly, a nervous habit I recognize, and I know what she's thinking without her saying a word.

I draw a breath, swallow the rising discomfort, and speak before I can change my mind.

I exhale. "Let him stay."

Maa stares at me, as if she didn't hear right. OG's jaw tightens, disbelief etched across his face.

"No one asked for your opinion," OG mutters, more bitter than angry. "I'll deal with this. Go get ready for your exercise."

"He has his penthouse. It's not like he's stranded," Maa adds under her breath, but she doesn't meet Rudra's eyes when he looks at her.

I walk over to Og, place a hand lightly on his arm. "Let him stay." I say softly.

He stares at me like I'm speaking someone else's words. I glance once at Maa, then back at him. "Please."

"Do whatever you want," he mutters and walks off, his disappointment trailing behind him like smoke.

Maa doesn't say anything. She looks once at Rudra, then leaves without a word.

Rudra turns to me. I ignore the smugness in his expression and head back upstairs without acknowledging him.

"Thank you for standing up for me, Pearl," he says, keeping pace with me.

"Don't even try talking to me, or I swear I'll push you down these stairs." I glare at him, reaching the door to my room.

He doesn't back off. Instead, he stops right in front of me, eyes locked on mine. He leans down slightly...too close, the space between us vanishing. I frown, but he doesn't speak. His gaze trails over my face, lingering like he's memorizing every inch.

"You changed your leave-in serum?" His eyes don't leave mine. Then he tilts his head a little, leans subtly toward my cheek, not touching just close enough to breathe in. "Black orchid and amber?"

I blink, startled, snapping out of the haze he's pulling me into. I push him back with a forceful hand to his chest, step inside, and slam the door behind me, locking it without another word.

My eyes instinctively fall on the vanity. There it is. Black orchid and amber serum. A newer bottle, barely used. I didn't even realize I'd reached for it last night.

"Stop burying your damn face in my neck, it tickles!"

"Then stop smelling like a luxury spa. It's distracting."

"It's just my serum. Jasmine and argan oil. Calm down, Romeo and get off!"

"Your serum's a trap and you know it."

"Okay, now you're being creepy stop kissing my neck! Oh lord-it tickles!"

"What? I'm just saying hi... with my lips... repeatedly and also appreciating the scent up close. It's called aromatherapy."

"It's called harassment. You menace."

"Same thing when you're this pretty."

I clench my jaw and turn away from the mirror. Shaking my head, I strip the moment off me like a layer of skin and walk to the wardrobe. Pulling on my sportswear, I zip up the jacket and tie my hair into a tight high ponytail and brace myself before stepping out again.

And there he is. Stepping out of his room dressed in his casual wear. I walk past him without a glance and make my way downstairs.

"Where are you going?" His voice trails behind me.

Ignoring him I descend the stairs and push open the back door. The morning breeze brushes against my face as I head to the garden, eyes instantly landing on OG sitting beneath the pergola, newspaper unfolded in his hands like every other day.

Of course he's here. Earth could split open, and he still wouldn't skip our morning exercise.

Suppressing a sigh, I walk toward him, dragging my feet deliberately loudly against the stone path.

"How long does it take to paint that face, you lazy nurse-" He stops mid-line, I follow his gaze, turning slightly.

I glance back to see Rudra. Before I can react, I hear the bark.

Brownie.

My lips twitch into a smirk, finally someone who still has loyalty. Yes, brownie. Go bite that sickfuck.

Brownie barks again, standing firm in front of Rudra's foot, tail high, posture defensive. My arms cross as I watch.

But Rudra crouches. His hand gently cups Brownie's face, rubbing behind his ears. The barking stops almost instantly, replaced by a low wag of the tail. Brownie relaxes, traitorous little fluff.

I roll my eyes and turn back to face OG. "Let's just start," I say flatly. He folds the newspaper and nods.

RUDRA'S POV

Sitting beneath the pergola, I can't take my eyes off her...helplessly obsessed.

Even when she's exhausted, she looks like she walked out of a slow-motion dream sequence. Her ponytail sways with every step, sunlight bouncing off those brown strands like nature's spotlight is set just for her. Her cheeks are flushed red from the damn sun, because of course she's that kind of fair-skinned fragile goddess who turns pink if you look at her for too long. She's beautiful. So painfully beautiful it's unfair.

"Come on, Saanvi! You can't keep stopping like this!" My jaw tightens as I glance at Dad. His tone is all discipline, zero empathy.

She bends forward, bracing herself with her hands on her knees, breathing hard. The rise and fall of her shoulders punches the breath out of my chest.

I get to my feet immediately, unable to stay still.

How is he speaking to her like that? Does he not see she's struggling?

I walk toward them.

"Are you serious right now?" Dad snaps again. "Get up, Saanvi."

"Dad, you're being too harsh. Look at her," The words leave my mouth before I even register my tone.

He gives me a blank stare, unfazed. He's always been like this, rigid in structure, cold in tone.

And then she collapses. Her knees buckle without warning, and her body hits the ground with a soft thud. My heart stumbles with her.

"Pearl!" My entire body locks up. My chest goes cold. Everything inside me twists. She's not moving.

I'm on my knees before I even realise I moved. My hands shake uncontrollably as I reach for her, fingers fumbling as they cup her cheek.

"Pearl?" I press my palm to her face, trying to anchor her, trying to anchor myself. My breathing fractures as fear wraps around my chest like a vice.

I can't breathe. The world starts spinning. "Dad!" I shout, "She fainted! She's not responding, do something! Call the fucking ambulance!"

She opens her eyes just slightly like she's peeking through a slit. My chest seizes, then releases a breath I didn't know I was holding. Relief floods through me so fast it almost knocks me over. Her face blurs in front of me, and it takes me a second to realise it's because my eyes are stinging. With tears.

She doesn't say a word. Just stares at me. Then suddenly she yanks herself free. Her hands push mine away as if my touch burns. She sits upright on the grass.

"Move the fuck away." I stumble back from the force of her shove but catch myself, settling back into a sitting position without tearing my eyes off her. My pulse is still racing, my hands still trembling slightly.

My gaze lifts to Dad. He's standing rubbing his temples like we're the problem.

How is he this calm? She fainted, she fucking dropped like her body gave up and he's standing there.

"You know she has a heart condition," I say, struggling to keep my voice calm. "You're still pushing her like she's fine. I get it routine, health, structure. But this isn't discipline anymore. She's clearly in pain."

"Are you two done? Rudra, stay out of this. I know what I'm doing. Her diet and exercise plan is carefully measured. This routine is within her limits. It's always the same pattern, she has to run barely four days a week, just seven or eight minutes max and right around the third or fourth minute, the grand performance begins. This isn't exhaustion it's drama. So unless you're suddenly a doctor, sit down and stay out of my way."

"You're telling me she... fakes this?" I look at her she's plucking at the grass silently.

What if she's not pretending today? What if her body just gave up before her will did?

"Saanvi," Dad says again, "run for five more minutes and I'll make cheesecakes."

She doesn't lift her head, "Papa... I really can't."

That single line guts me.

My eyes narrow at him in disbelief. "You think cheesecake is going to fix this? She can barely sit upright and your solution is-"

"Caramelised ones," he repeats,

"You can't be serious dad, she-the fuck!"

Before I can finish, she shoots up, startling me so badly I stumble backward. she pushes herself off the ground like nothing happened and starts running again.

I stare, stunned. My mouth slightly open. She runs, and Brownie runs with her, tail wagging like everything's fine in the world.

I slowly turn to Dad, who lets out a long breath, staring up at the sky like he's begging for divine patience and strength, hand dragging down his face.

"I must've really pissed off the universe to end up with kids like this." he mutters, heading back inside. "God, give me streng-no ADRIIIKAAA! HELP!" he shouts, disappearing through the door.

And I just stand there still processing what the hell just happened.

I sink back into the pergola chair, finally breathing like a normal human again, and take a long sip of water. My eyes follow her without meaning to, like muscle memory. She's still running. Then she slows, wipes her forehead, and fans herself gently before walking toward me.

As she gets closer, she unzips her jacket, casually slipping it off. Black sports bra. High-waisted black leggings. I blink. She's not doing anything out of the ordinary, but somehow, she always leaves me speechless without even trying.

She's... magnetic. That effortless kind of beautiful the kind that makes everything around her blur a little. Even when she's tired.

Okay... breathe, Rudra.

My gaze flicks away, but not fast enough. My brain registers more than it should, and I feel heat crawl up my neck.

"Pervert."

Her voice snaps me out of it, and I look up to find her already here, shooting me a lazy glare before dropping into the chair beside mine. She leans her head back, eyes closed, lips parted slightly as she tries to catch her breath. Her chest rises and falls steadily with every breath.

Okay, stop staring. You're being weird.

I shut my eyes, exhale, and open them again only to frown. My gaze catches faint marks along her upper arm. Without thinking, I stand, step closer, and gently touch her arm.

Her eyes snap open. She jerks her hand away. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she snaps, shooting up from the chair.

I hold my ground. "You have marks, what happened?"

She clicks her tongue, rolling her eyes. "None of your business."

"It is," I say, gently catching her arm again before she can turn away. "You may not like it, but I still care. So stop shutting me out and tell me what happened."

She exhales sharply. "Stop ordering me around," she mutters, looking away.

And then, "WHAT THE FUCK!"

Her voice pitches suddenly, and she stumbles, grabbing the front of my shirt, clutching it like I'm the last thing between her and death. For a second, everything in me goes still. She's holding onto me so tightly, I forget how to breathe. My heart stumbles.

"There's... something on my shoulder," she says, eyes shut, body rigid.

I glance. It's a bug. A harmless one, a crane fly. I press my lips together to stop laughing.

"Are you scared?" I whisper. She doesn't move. Not even a twitch.

"It's a hornet," I whisper near her ear.

"If you move even a little, it'll sting."

She swallows. Still frozen. Her hair's gotten messy from the breeze. I move a strand off her face.

"Just remove the damn bug, not my hair, you dickhead," she mutters shakily.

I nearly lose it but somehow hold the laugh back. My hands slip around her waist as I lean in. She shoots me a half-glare, half-panic look.

"Just helping," I say softly.

I find the bug still resting on her shoulder. I gently flick it off with a light touch and in my hand... the feather. Probably from the garden, caught earlier without me even noticing.

I shift closer, slow and quiet, and slide the edge of the feather near her bare shoulder tracing lightly, almost absentmindedly, watching the way her skin reacts, the way her body tenses. She shudders faintly, still convinced the bug's there.

"You're taking way too long," she mutters through clenched teeth, still refusing to look. "Just get it off before it crawls into my soul."

"I'm trying. It's being stubborn." A small part of me knows I should step back. But another part, selfish, aching just wants a moment longer.

"What are you doing?! Why are you taking so long? Just get it off me!" she hisses, her grip tightening again. Her voice trembles beneath the irritation, and I see it clearly now she's genuinely scared.

I exhale softly, a hint of guilt creeping in as I glance at the feather in my hand. With a quiet sigh, I let the feather drop.

"It's gone,"

She instantly shoves me away, taking a quick step back as she checks her shoulder. When she finds nothing, she exhales sharply, relief washing over her features. Without meeting my eyes, she snatches her jacket and phone from the chair, and starts walking off.

"Thank you?" I ask, trailing behind her with a raised brow. She doesn't stop. Doesn't even look back.

She just lifts her hand midair and flips me off...middle finger straight.

I chuckle under my breath, shaking my head.

That's my wife.

-------------

"Stop right there, Saanvi."

The moment we step inside, we both freeze. I glance to the side and see Dad walking out from the kitchen, his gaze fixed on her. He walks straight up, stopping in front of her with his arms folded.

"Your nails,"

I watch her visibly gulp before quietly hiding her hands behind her back.

"Papa, please-"

"No 'please'. Let me trim them," he interrupts.

I step forward, irritation bubbling up. "If she's saying no, why are you forcing her? She likes keeping her nails long."

He shoots me a look, "Yeah, and those nails speak volumes about how lovingly she uses them," he mutters, his eyes flicking to her arms.

I follow his gaze. The marks. I sighed.

I step in, planting myself beside her. "She won't do it again. Let her keep them."

He raises a brow. "Stop this nonsense. And Saanvi, come on," he says, gesturing firmly.

I glance at her. She's staring down at her fingers, neatly shaped, painted a soft peach.

"Dad, I'm saying it," I speak again. "I promise you, she won't hurt herself. Let her keep what little comfort she has."

He exhales sharply, eyes flicking from her to me. After a long pause, he mutters, "Fine. But if I see even one more mark, Rudra... I'll personally show you hell."

I nod once. A tiny smile plays on her lips before she turns and darts upstairs without another word. Dad walks off the other way, muttering under his breath.

Just as I turn, I spot Maa near the door. I step into the kitchen.

"Mom," I say softly. She pauses, but doesn't turn. I walk closer and stop beside her, watching her stir the pot like she hasn't heard me. I gently place my hand over hers, halting the movement. Finally, she glances at me, then looks away again.

"Won't you hug me?" I ask.

Her lips tighten. "Did you listen when I asked you to stay away from Saanvi? I thought you understood me, Rudra. On that call, I trusted you. I thought you agreed. But you came back... even closer, you even manipulated me." She scoffs, shaking her head.

"No one, Mom. And when I say no one, that includes you. Even Dad. Not a soul in this world can make me stop loving her. She's my wife and the woman I love. Whether she accepts me or not whether she forgives me or doesn't, she's still mine. And I'm not leaving."

She lets out a bitter laugh, eyes finally meeting mine. "Where was this love when she was dying? You left her."

"You're right. I left. I broke her when she needed me most. And there's no excuse, Mom. I live with that mistake every single day. But you tell me, what do you want me to do now? do I fix that mistake by leaving her again? Do I punish myself by walking away twice? You want me to stay away to protect her? I get it. You think I'll hurt her again. Maybe I will, unintentionally. But leaving again that's not protection, Mom. That's abandonment all over again."

She doesn't answer. Just stares.

"Yes, I made a choice back then. The wrong one. But I'm making another choice now and this time, I'm staying. Even if she hates me, even if she never looks at me the same again. I'll still be here. I'm not asking you to forgive me. But don't expect me to give up on her. I hurt her once. I won't let anyone including myself do it again. This time I'm not choosing fear or guilt over her. Not again."

She looks at me for a long moment, lips trembling just a little.

"She won't forgive you," she says.

"But that doesn't mean I'll stop showing up." I whisper.

--------------------

I stretch my neck with a crack, rising from the bed as I shut the laptop and place it aside. The room dims slightly, and my eyes flick toward the clock on the wall.

8:45 PM.

I step out, to the dining area. I stood and made my way out of the room, I stepped toward the dining hall and heard soft laughter.

And there she is. My pearl.

She's laughing with Maa and Dad, helping them set the table, her hands moving gracefully as she passes dishes and straightens plates. Her smile... it's real. Light. Unbothered.

She looks happy.

And for a moment, just a moment, I smile too.

Until a single thought shatters it.

She's happy... even without me.

It lands hard in my chest, dragging the smile off my face. My feet feel heavier as I move forward, slower now, reluctant.

If I walked out of her life again, she'd still be fine. Still be glowing. Still laugh. The thought guts me. I don't want to admit it, I don't want to believe it.

That truth shouldn't hurt this much. But it does. God, it does.

Because I want to be in her world, even if it means being the one she hates. Even if I'm nothing more than a passing thought, I want to be present. I want her to see me. Even if it's just to look away.

As I step into the room. All three of them glance at me and I see it instantly. Her smile vanishes. She stands without a word.

"I'll eat in my room," she mutters, turning.

Maa rises too. "Neither do I want to eat here,"

I close my eyes for a second, let the sting settle behind my ribs.

"Sit down," I say softly. "I'll go."

I turn and walk out, heading back to my room and closing the door behind me. My eyes land on the diary sitting on the table the one she returned this morning. I don't even know if she ever opened it, or if it sat untouched the whole time.

Just once... she tried. She took the first step. She brought red roses that day, wrote me a letter one small, brave attempt to give our marriage a chance. I remember how it felt to be chosen by her, even for a second. And I destroyed it. I didn't just walk away from her, I shattered something she had barely begun to build. I can still see her eyes filled with tears, voice cracking as she begged me to believe her, when all she had ever been was innocent. It fucking haunts me. That memory never leaves. And maybe she'll never trust me again. But now? All I can do is give her what she once brought to me.

The roses. The words. The effort. Even if she never wants them. Even if she never reads a single one. But as long as I live, she'll receive them from me. Without fail.

"Sir?"

I blink and turn, stepping away from the door. One of the house staff stands there with a tray in her hands.

"Your dinner," she says holding it out.

I shake my head gently. "Take it back. I'm not hungry."

She nods and walks away. I close the door and let the silence settle again. I sit down and refocus on the open documents on my laptop.

12:50 AM.

I sigh, finally finishing my research. My eyes linger on the hospital interior plans that were sent earlier. Even if I came for her, I can't ignore my responsibilities. I shut the laptop and stand. The jug on the nightstand is empty.

Grabbing it, I walk to the kitchen, fill it with water, and make my way back to the room. But as I approach, I pause. My gaze drifts to her door. Open.

I place the jug quietly near the flower basket in the corridor. My hand hovers at her door.

She left it open?

I step inside, careful not to make a sound. There she is, curled up on the bed, asleep.

A small smile tugs at my lips. I walk closer and lower myself to the floor beside her, resting one elbow on the edge of her bed, watching her silently.

She's so still. So deep in sleep. The medications do that, powerful doses to help her rest. I reach out gently, fingertips brushing her cheek.

"You're so beautiful," I whisper. Suddenly, she flinches.

Shit.

I jerk my hand back immediately, heart pounding. If she wakes up and sees me here, I'm a dead man. I start to stand.

"M-Mumma..."

I freeze. She's whispering. I lean in again, hand braces lightly on the bed.

"D-Don't touch her... T-Taffy... M-Mumma! Don't call me little rabbit! Please help... Papa! He'll come back..."

What is she dreaming about?

I need to call Mom. And Dad. She's spiraling. But before I can move, her hand suddenly grips mine.

I pause, startled. She's still murmuring. Her forehead is damp with sweat.

I sit beside her on the bed, clutching her hand carefully. "Pearl..." I whisper. "It's just a dream. I'm right here."

She curls into herself, hugging her arms tightly, and that's when I notice her nails. Digging into her own skin.

"Hey-hey, no," I whisper, alarmed, carefully pulling her arms apart immediately.

She's hugging herself like she's trying to hold something in, something too big for her to carry alone. I don't know what to do. I hesitate for only a moment, then lie beside her and pull her into my arms.

And to my shock... she holds me back. Tightly.

Her nails claw at my back, but I held her. Her heartbeat is racing, too fast. Way too fast.

Fuck!

Dr. Meera's words come back to me in full clarity

"It's dangerous. Even if she's healing, a spike in her heart rate, especially at night can trigger complications. 50 to 70 bpm is considered normal. Anything above is risky. If it happens, calm her. Reassure her. Don't leave her alone."

I hold her tighter, murmuring against her hair.

"It's okay. I'm here. No one's going to hurt you, Pearl. Your mumma's safe. You're not a little rabbit. You're safe now."

My hand rubs slow circles on her back, gently soothing.

Bit by bit, her breathing slows. The tension in her shoulders eases. Her arms stay around me, but her grip loosens. Her heart... it's settling.

She just needed reassurance.

Her therapist, Mr. Rao, said the same to me. She doesn't need logic. She needs presence. Someone to simply stay.

I look at her. Peaceful now. Eyes shut, lips parted slightly as she sleeps. Still holding me.

I press a soft kiss to her forehead.

"I'm not leaving you, Pearl, not again. Not ever."

------------------

5:45 AM.

Sleep isn't something I lose anymore, it's something that's quietly abandoned me. Even when I lie down and close my eyes, peace never comes. Instead, I wake up choking on air, chased by the weight of everything I've done... everything I couldn't protect. That curse won't let me sleep.

So I don't bother trying tonight either.

It's strange, how I spent the entire night just looking at her. It felt better to stay beside her, to watch her, listen to her heartbeat, and make sure she was okay. Not once did I feel tired. Not even for a second. Admiring her like this... it's something I never knew I needed. I never imagined I'd find comfort in something as simple as watching her breathe.

But I do.

Carefully, I slowly untangle her arms from around me. She murmurs something in her sleep but doesn't wake. I stand, then bend down to adjust the blanket over her, making sure she's warm. She looks calm now.

I lean in and press a kiss to her forehead, my fingers brushing softly through her hair.

"I love you, Pearl," Then I stand, take one last glance at her sleeping form, and quietly step out of the room.

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