The shrill cry of the alarm cut through the silence of dawn.

5:00 a.m.

My lashes fluttered open, and for a moment, I didn't move. The air was heavy, as if the house itself refused to wake. My chest ached with the familiar weight of another day-another battlefield I never asked to fight in.

I whispered to myself, lips curling in a bitter smile.

"Good morning, Ritika. Another day. Another fight. Keep smiling."

My gaze drifted sideways.

Adrit.

The man lay sprawled across his side of the bed, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. His lashes cast faint shadows across sharp cheekbones, his mouth relaxed in a way I never saw when he was awake. In sleep, he looked innocent. Almost angelic. Almost human.

But I knew better.

The moment those eyes opened, he would become the storm again. The man who wielded his anger like a weapon, who lashed with words sharper than knives. The battlefield would begin anew. And me? I had no choice but to stand in the middle, taking blow after blow.

I sighed and slipped from the bed, padding barefoot into the bathroom.

The hot water cascaded down my skin, steam wrapping around me like a fleeting shield. For a few precious minutes, I allowed myself to forget. To believe I was free. Just Ritika. Not Ritika Sengupta-the bargaining chip, the prisoner bound by signatures on a contract.

But freedom never lasts.

My heart slammed into my ribs when the realization struck.

My undergarments-my bra and panties-I had left them outside.

Panic curled like fire in my stomach.

Oh God. What do I do now?

I couldn't call him. I couldn't ask Adrit. The man was a storm waiting for the smallest spark to ignite. If he saw me like this-bare, vulnerable-it would be the end of my fragile control.

"Please, God... save me," I whispered, pressing trembling fingers to my lips.

Clutching the towel tight around me, I cracked the door open. The bedroom was dim, curtains drawn, shadows draped across the floor. Adrit lay unmoving, his chest still steady with sleep.

Tiptoeing out, my heart thundered louder than the clock ticking on the wall. The wardrobe loomed like salvation at the other end. Just a few more steps. Just grab the clothes and-

"Thank God," I breathed in relief as I tugged open the wardrobe, snatching the first black bra and panty I found. My pulse eased for a fraction of a second.

Then the air shifted.

A strong, muscular arm coiled around my waist like steel.

I froze.

The heat of his body pressed against my back, his breath a slow, deliberate whisper against my neck. It curled down my spine, flooding me with fear and something I didn't want to name.

It was over.

Of course it would be. Life never granted me the mercy I prayed for.

My body stiffened as Adrit's grip tightened, dragging me against his bare chest. My towel slipped an inch lower, loosening with betrayal.

His lips brushed the shell of my ear. A low, husky murmur.

"Running away, Mrs. Sengupta?"

A sharp gasp tore from me. I tried to twist, to escape, but his hold was iron. My hands flew to shield my breasts, but he caught them, forcing them behind me, his fingers binding both wrists in one cruel grip.

"Adrit-let me go!" My voice cracked, weak and trembling.

"Why?" His tone darkened, smooth as poison. "So you can pretend you don't burn when I touch you? So you can keep hiding the way your body betrays you every second I'm near?"

"Don't..." My eyes clamped shut. My heart roared, my pulse hammering like a prisoner beating at the bars of her cell.

He forced me forward, step by step, until my knees nearly buckled against the vanity. The mirror loomed in front of me, cruel and cold. His body pressed fully against mine, the hard ridges of muscle demanding surrender.

"Open your eyes," he commanded, voice a blade against the silence.

"No."

"It's not fair, baby." His lips grazed the edge of my jaw, voice intoxicating, venom wrapped in velvet. "You should see what I see. Your perfect body. Mine."

"Please... I have work. Let me go."

"Work?" His mouth hovered dangerously close to my ear, each syllable molten. "A wife's first duty is to her husband. You should satisfy me first."

My stomach twisted. "This is a contract marriage. Don't forget that."

He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against my spine. "Contract or not, your body doesn't lie, Ritika. You're already wet for me."

Humiliation seared my face, heat rising between shame and something darker, unwanted.

"Stop," I whispered, trying again to wrench free.

But he only tightened his grip, pressing closer, his breath ghosting my neck. "No, baby. You love this war we play. You crave it. You crave me."

The towel slipped another inch, my skin burning under the weight of his dominance.

Rage sparked through the fog of desire clawing at my mind. With sudden force, I shoved back, breaking his hold just long enough to spin and face him. My chest heaved, my eyes blazing.

"Enough!" My voice cut through the air, raw and trembling but fierce. "Don't mistake my silence for weakness. I married you for Ma, and I'll never regret that. But you-" I choked, fists clenched. "You don't get to treat me like this."

His lips curled in a smirk, sharp and mocking. "Ah, the noble Ritika. Always sacrificing. Always pretending. But don't forget, sweetheart-you love money. That's the only reason you're here."

Tears stung, but I refused to look away. "And you? Did you not marry me for your own selfish interest? Don't you dare insult me, Adrit Sengupta. You're no saint."

His jaw flexed, his voice slicing through me like glass. "At least I remember my interest. You? You're just a whore who'd marry any man rich enough to buy you."

The words hit harder than any slap. My breath caught, pain stabbing through me. Still, I stood straighter. "If I needed to, yes, I would. Survival doesn't make me shameful, Adrit. It makes me stronger than you'll ever understand."

A humorless laugh left his throat, jagged, broken. "Stronger? No, Ritika. You remind me of a murderer. Even when he kills, he believes he's right. And you-" His eyes flared like fire- "you killed me. You killed the man I used to be."

My lips trembled. "I don't know what I did. I swear on everything-I don't."

"Don't lie to me!" His voice thundered, rattling the walls. "You killed the twenty-four-year-old Adrit-the fool who trusted, who loved, who believed."

Tears spilled down my cheeks, hot rivers of helplessness. "Adrit, please... I don't know..."

"Lies!" he spat, voice shattering, before it dropped into a venomous whisper. "Don't play innocent. You can't fix me, Ritika. You'll only destroy me more."

The words tore me open, leaving nothing but shards. He shoved away, striding toward the door. The slam shook the house.

And then-silence.

The silence that deafens.

My knees buckled, my body crumpling to the cold floor. Sobs wracked me, echoing in the hollow emptiness. My fingers clawed at the tiles as if they could anchor me. "God... what did I do? I don't know... I don't know..."

Minutes blurred into hours. The tears dried, leaving my face stiff, my heart hollow.

But one truth refused to fade.

No matter the cruelty.

No matter the hate.

I loved him.

I loved the very man who broke me.

Somehow, I dragged myself up, my hands trembling as I gathered my clothes. In the bathroom mirror, a stranger stared back at me-eyes swollen, spirit fractured, body still marked by his touch.

And yet, when I emerged, I wore my red saree. My trembling fingers traced sindoor into my hairline, the crimson mark burning against my skin like a wound. I fixed the bangles, the bindi, the symbols of devotion that mocked me even as I obeyed.

Because contract or not, I was his wife.

And a wife prayed for her husband's life, even if he was the very storm tearing hers apart.

I stood before the mirror, whispering to the broken girl staring back at me-

"You still love him."

"When desire feels like a cage, love turns into the cruelest punishment."