Author's POV:-
Aahan Bharadwaj sat behind the wide oak desk in his home office and let the silence of the room sit around him like a cloak. The city hummed far below, indifferent. He folded his hands and watched the photograph on the desk as if he could- will ruin the man in the picture . Today will be the day, he thought, the promise of it making the crooked lift of his mouth feel almost tender.
Footsteps sounded in the corridor. One of his men stepped into the office, face measured, the envelope in his hand a quiet confession. We have the address of Ritesh Gupta's House, he said.
Aahan did not stand. His smirk widened. Good. He rose and moved with the same calm that made people mistake his patience for mercy. They left in a tight formation, a shadow rolling toward its prey.
Night had already begun to take the edges off the sky when they reached the Gupta house. Lamps glowed through curtained windows. Aahan led, his presence bending the air into a colder place. He pushed the bell with the same slow confidence he used to break men. The lock clicked and the door opened.
A young woman filled the doorway. Her eyes were wide and immediately cautious. She took in the men quickly, measuring threat. What do you want, she asked.
Ritesh Gupta, Aahan answered without preface. I want Ritesh Gupta.
She straightened, voice steady at first. Big brother is not home, she said. He has not come back since yesterday. I will let you know when he returns. What is your name?
Aahan's patience thinned and then broke. He moved past any courtesy. He shoved her aside with a single precise motion. His men flowed into the home, searching under furniture, beneath beds, behind curtains, opening doors that hid ordinary lives. The house smelled faintly of jasmine and old wood, the contrast making every intrusion feel louder.
Why are you barging in? the woman cried. I ....I will call the police.
She fumbled for her phone. Alert, desperate, she pressed the numbers as if the sound of the call could anchor her. A voice answered on the other end asking what happened. Aahan stepped forward and took the phone from her hand. Do not worry, he said into the receiver. This is Aahan Bharadwaj.
The voice on the line cut off abruptly. The connection gone. The moment hung. The girl looked at him with dawning horror.
One of Aahan's men reported from inside. Sir, Ritesh is not in the house.
Aahan let a small sigh.
He turned to Ira. Tell me the truth, he said, voice even. Where is your brother and I will spare you.
I do .... do not know, she whispered. I swear I...I do not know.
Aahan closed the distance between them. He took her wrist and he held it. Not a strike, not at first. A grip that told her he could choose to break bone or to keep her breathing. Tears pooled at her lashes. Her breath shook. Call him, he ordered. If you are truly innocent, call him now.
Ira dialed with trembling fingers. The phone trembled against her ear.
No answer. Nothing but the hollow ring and then silence. The missed call sat on the screen like proof.
Aahan watched her, and in his mind the lack of answer read like betrayal. Take her with us, he said.
They took Ira from the house. Hands on her arms, rough and efficient, they moved her like an object until they reached a place meant to unroot hope. They did not use the cellar that belonged for the Mafia purpose. They put her in a cold, forgotten basement in a house. The light was a thin strip from a high window. The air was damp and tasted of mold. Rats skittered along concrete edges. A single metal cot waited against a wall.
Why did you bring me here, she begged, voice ragged. Please, please let me go. I do not know anything. I have nothing to give you.
She cried through the night until her throat was raw and her body shook without heat. Exhaustion finally caught her and she fell into a fitful sleep, her clothes sticking to her. Aahan did not stay. He left orders and left the damp air to do what threats could not. For him the moment was a tool used and then put away.
Dawn found the city softened into gray. Ritwik, Aahan's assistant, came into the office with papers and a restless look. He shut the door behind him and laid out what he had learned. I tracked Ritesh, he said. He has run off with the money he collected. He fled with Madam Reet's money and the new woman's influence he has been seeing. Someone from inside must have helped him.
Aahan listened while Ritwik spoke, only the tilt of his chin betraying interest. It is suspected someone from their side aided him, Ritwik added.
Aahan's mind snapped to the girl in the house. His jaw tightened.
He moved toward the place where he had left Ira. At that exact moment, the phone in his pocket rang (It was Ira's phone). The small screen lit with a single name. Brother.
Heat rose in Aahan like oil on an open flame. He snatched the phone from his pocket and pressed it to his ear. The voice on the other end was faint, strained. Ira, stay safe, it said. I may be gone for months.
Aahan did not pause to hear more. He cut him off with the same precision he used against men. This is Aahan Bharadwaj, he said, voice quiet and cold. Either you return here, or your sister will pay for your deeds. You will feel the same pain I have felt, and you will learn what it means to watch someone you love be broken.
The call ended. Silence closed in like a curtain. Aahan stepped into the small cell where Ira sat shivering, the phone still warm in his palm. He looked down at her like a judge looking at a guilty defendant. He Ordered "Today , you will marry me."
Ira stared up at him, every part of her trembling. The words did not land as a question. They landed like a verdict.
Ira's voice trembled, each word breaking as it left her lips. I, I, I, I won't marry you. Her hands shook, fisting the edges of her dress, eyes wide with fear and defiance.
Aahan's dark eyes bore into hers, unflinching. Yes, you will. His voice was low, dangerous, leaving no room for argument.
You, you, you can't force me to, she stammered, stepping back, trying to put distance between them, though the small room offered none.
I can, I will, and you will marry me, right now, Aahan said, his tone final, unyielding. The words hung in the air like a blade.
Ritwik hesitated, shifting uncomfortably beside Aahan. Sir, I know that I might be crossing my line, but, sir, don't you think you are going a little overboard?
Aahan's head snapped toward him, eyes blazing. Just do as I say, Ritwik. Do not question what I, do not argue with me. Do not interfere. Stay in your limits.
Ritwik swallowed hard. He had never been spoken to like this, and never had he questioned Aahan before. His hands clenched at his sides. Sorry, sir, I'll get it right now, he finally said, his voice tight with unease.
Moments later, he returned carrying a small, ornate gold chain, the mangal sutra(Nuptial Chain), and a container of vermillion powder (sindoor). Aahan took them silently, the weight of his wrath heavy in his grip.
Ira stepped back, her breaths shallow, her hands rising instinctively to block him. No, please, I, I, I, please don't, she stammered.
Aahan ignored her protests completely. He moved forward and fastened the mangal sutra around her neck, the chain cold against her skin. Her attempts to push him away were weak against his strength. He pressed the sindoor to the parting of her hair with a deliberate, controlling motion, marking her as his bride without her consent.
The moment her forehead felt the warm red powder, something inside Ira snapped. She swung her hand, slapping him across the face.
Aahan froze for a heartbeat, stunned by the audacity, his cheek burning from the strike. Ritwik stepped back, eyes wide, shock written across his face. Both master and assistant were caught in disbelief, though Aahan's dark aura quickly returned, sharper, hotter than before.
His voice came low, cold, and menacing. How dare you slap me?
Ira's eyes welled with tears, but her chin lifted, the defiance still in her gaze. I, I, I, I won't be, I won't be yours, she stammered, voice cracking but unwavering.
Aahan's nostrils flared, and for the first time, the room seemed to shrink around the weight of his anger. He reached for her again, but his hands didn't touch her this time. Instead, he stepped back slowly, measuring her like prey he could hunt at will.
You will regret, he said finally, voice low, sharp, dangerous. Every hour, every moment, every second of your life… you will regret.
Ritwik exhaled shakily beside him, still in shock, unsure if he should intervene or remain frozen. Aahan did not look at him. His attention was entirely on Ira, the air around them thick with tension, fear, and the promise of what was to come.
Ira's heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst. She could feel the weight of inevitability pressing down on her, suffocating, inescapable, as Aahan's presence dominated the room completely.
Aahan then says " Welcome to hell my dear little wife."