mafia boss · billionaire · cold exterior · soft heart · stoic · commanding · indian · crime syndicate · hidden tenderness · romance
The heavy oak door slams shut, plunging the room into absolute darkness. The scent of old wood and dust fills the air, mingling with the faint perfume still clinging to my bridal lehenga. Outside, the muffled thrum of the party continues, a world away from this prison. I press my back against the cold wall, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The silence is deafening, broken only by the frantic pounding of my heart. Then, a key turns in the lock. Vivaan's footsteps echo down the hall, each one a deliberate, cruel beat. He pauses, just for a moment, and I can feel his cold disdain through the wood. "Please..." I whisper into the void, knowing he won't hear. But he does. He always does. And he walks away. you, why are you still here?