2. Slap

The car came to a stop before entering large iron gates that seemed like silver under the moonlight. While entering, it was written in bold letters — Rathore Mansion. Every arch, every pillar was screaming luxury and power. And fountains shimmered like liquid glass. It was beautiful – achingly so. But all Siya could feel was fear.

She tried to run the moment the car door opened, but his hand caught her wrist — firm, unyielding , strong like steel and the sound “Shhh..” ripped free from her mouth before she could stop it.

“Leave me”, she hissed, struggling, twisting in his hold. He didn’t reply. His silence was worse than shouting. He simply dragged her forward like some rag doll. “Sun rahe ho?? I said leave me! You are hurting me.”, she spat, jerking her arm again. “Aap logon ko sirf ye zabardasti karni aati hai kya?” (Do you people only know how to force others?)

Still nothing. The only sound was their footsteps and the faint rustle of her payal and dupatta as it trailed behind her. They entered the main hall — vast, royal, suffocatingly silent. The chandeliers blazed above, trembling faintly as if even they were afraid. Servants froze mid-step. Women whispered behind their palms. Someone gasped softly, “He brought… a girl?”

An elderly lady stepped forward, her voice trembling seeing his fury face, “Hukum sa, yeh kya —”. But he ignored her. His hand was still locked around Siya’s wrist and then he pushed her in the middle of the hall where all the family members were. “This”, he announced coldly, pointing a finger towards her, “is the girl who dared hurt my grandfather.” The room erupted in murmurs.

“What?”
“How?”
“Who is she?”

Siya blinked in disbelief, stepping closer. “Hurt? I don’t even know your grandfather!” He turned sharply, his eyes narrowing into something darker. “You expect me to believe that!?”

“Yes!”, she snapped. “You think just because you are rich, you can point fingers at anyone and ruin their life..?” Her voice, raw with anger, echoed through the hall. A man in crisp grey shirt— his chachu — stepped forward nervously. “Beta, zara aap shant ho jaye. Pehle sach toh —”(Son, please calm down. First, the truth— ) . He suddenly roared, “Sach mein janta hoon, chachu!” eyes still on Siya. “Mere dadaji ki haalat ke liye yeh ladki zimmedar hai!” (I knew the truth, Uncle. She is responsible for my grandfather’s condition)

Siya glared. “Main kisi ke liye zimmendar nahi hoon! Aur tumhe kisne haq diya aise kisiko accuse karne ka?” (I’m not responsible for anyone. And who gave you the right to accuse me like this?) “Aapko lagta hai main bina wajah kuch karta hoon?”, he shot back, voice low but venomous.(Do you think, I do everything recklessly) He grabbed her wrist, yanking her towards him, “Us sham aap—” He stopped mid-sentence, his jaw clenching as if the words themselves were poison. (That evening, you— )

Before Siya could question further, a doctor came running down the grand staircase, panting. “Hukum saa — your grandfather… he’s regained consciousness.” The room fell silent. Even he froze for a moment. His grip loosened on Siya’s wrist.

Siya exhaled sharply. “Good. Ab toh main bhi mil leti hoon us buddhe se jise maine hurt kiya hai.” (Good, now i also want to meet that old saint whom i have hurt) Her tone was laced with sarcasm — a spark she couldn’t dim, even now.

The slap came before she even registered his movement.
SMACK.

The sound cracked through the air like thunder. Her head snapped to the side, her cheek burning. For a heartbeat, no one moved. No one breathed. Even the time seemed to pause.

Slowly — too slowly — Siya raised her head, her eyes shimmering tears, her lips trembled… “How dare you?” but her pride remained unbroken. And before logic, fear, or sense could intervene — she raised her hand.
CRACK.

The second slap echoed even louder. Gasp filled the hall. A maid dropped the jug she was holding; it clattered to the floor. His eyes widened — not in pain, but disbelief. No one. Never. Not once in his life had anyone laid a hand on him — let alone slapped him.

She met his gaze equally, her voice shaking but strong, “Kis haq se tumne haath uthaya? Haan?! Main aisi ladki nahi jo chup rahe. Tum apni hadd mein raho..!” (By what right did you raise your hand? Huh?! I am not the kind of girl who stays silent. Stay within your limits.) She turned on her heel, fury lighting every step she took towards the stairs. “Beta, ruk jao —”

But before Siya could take another step, a sharp metallic thud cracked through the air. One of the new guard, startled by her sudden move, reacted without thought. He gripped the butt of his gun and slammed it against her head. The sound was sickening.

Siya’s body jerked, her hand intincticvely reaching out for the support. Her fingers barely scraped the cold wall before her knees gave way. She collapsed, her dupatta pooling around her like spilled silk.

And He froze.

Not from confusion. But form the impact.
The sight hit him like a punch to the chest— sharp, unexpected. For a heartbeat, his anger blew out, and all that was left was silence. His breath caught. His eyes locked onto the dried blood on her hand , which was maybe because of him when he caught her wrist tightly and the bangles had bit into her skin. She was on the ground and her one hand was on his forehead.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Not like this. Not from someone else’s hand but his. Then something inside him snapped — not with rage, but something deeper. Darker.
Personal.
His voice erupted like thunder across the hall.
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”

The chandeliers also trembled above as his words shook the air. Every servant, every member froze where they stood. The guard stammered, backing away. “Hu-Hukum sa… I thought she was trying to—”

“You thought?” He cut him off, his tone pure venom. He stepped closer until his shadow swallowed the man whole. “You don’t think in my empire. You obey.” His voice dropped lower, every word edged with rage. “If she hurts or bleeds, it will be because of me, because I made her. Not you. Not anyone else.”

The guard fell to his knees and started apologizing. His jaw tightened, his eyes burning with fire that could scare the hell out of anyone. “Take him”, he ordered, voice low but cold, almost dead. “Basement. Alive.”

The order was obeyed instantly. Two guards dragged the man away. His screams faded as he was dragged from the hall. The rest of the staff looked down, afraid to meet his eyes. He didn’t watch them go. He was already kneeling beside Siya. Her lashes trembled faintly. Her breath was shallow. He reached out slowly, almost cautiously — his hand hovering above her face like he didn’t trust his own touch. He had slapped her earlier, hard enough to leave a mark. But that was his right.
His anger.
His rules.
But seeing someone else raise their hand to her? It made his blood boil in a way even he couldn’t understand.

He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek with surprising gentleness. Her eyes fluttered open. Barely. She looked at him — not the ceiling, not the chaos around her.
Just Him.
And then, without a word, a lone tear slid from the corner of her eyes.
Not from the pain.
Not from fear.
But from him.
Because he was the reason. The reason she was here, bleeding and hurt.