The following weeks were entirely focused on Shambhavi's recovery. Rudrang never left her alone even for a second, making sure she had everything she needed.

By the end of the first week, the wheelchair was pushed into a corner, and by the third, Shambhavi was walking through the corridors on her own.

Her body was healing, the bruises fading into faint yellow marks, but her mind remained a stubborn, locked vault.

No matter how hard she tried to remember the taste of her favourite tea or the sound of her own laughter before the accident, there was only silence.

Rudrang was always there to fill that silence. He was a man of calculated moves, a hunter who knew that the best way to keep a bird was not to clip its wings, but to make the cage feel like the only safe place in the world. He treated her like a queen, but a queen who was never allowed to leave her castle without an army.

"Rudrang, main kab tak ghar baithungi?"

(Rudrang, how long will I sit at home?)

She asked one afternoon as they sat in the garden.

"Mujhe kaam par jana hai. Library... mujhe yaad toh nahi, par mujhe lagta hai mujhe wahan accha lagega."

(I want to work. Library…I don’t remember, but I am sure I would feel good there.)

Rudrang, who was looking at a document on his tablet, looked up. His gaze was intense.

"Maine mana kab kiya, Shambhavi? Tum ja sakti ho. Lekin tumhari safety meri responsibility hai. Tumhare saath hamesha mere guards rahenge. Is par koi sawal nahi hoga."

(When did I deny, Shambhavi? You can go. But your safety is my responsibility. You will always be accompanied by my guards. No arguments on this.)

Shambhavi hesitated. The idea of having burly men in black suits following her among the bookshelves seemed absurd, but the look in Rudrang's eyes told her there was no room for negotiation.

"Thik hai."

(Ok.)

She whispered. As her health returned, so did a new kind of tension between them.

Rudrang shifted his tactics from being a mere caretaker to a man deeply, dangerously in love with his wife. He moved with a predatory grace that kept Shambhavi's heart in a constant state of flutter.

He began to sleep in the same bed, claiming he couldn't bear to be away from her after almost losing her. Shambhavi would wake up in the middle of the night to find herself pulled snug against his chest.

He would be shirtless, his skin warm and smelling of sandalwood and masculine heat. His arm would be draped possessively over her waist, pinning her to him.

"Aap...aapne shirt kyun nahi pehni?"

(You…why are you not wearing a shirt?)

She asked shyly one morning, her face heating up as she looked at the hard planes of his chest and the tattoos that snaked down his shoulder. Rudrang pulled her closer, his voice thick with sleep.

"Aadat nahi hai. Aur waise bhi, apni biwi se kya sharam? It's not the first time you're seeing me like this. You've seen me complteley naked too. Kya tumhe bura lag raha hai?"

(Not habitual. And why shy away from wife?....Do you feel bad?)

"Nahi... bura nahi lag raha."

(No…not bad.)

She murmured, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. The thought of him naked, made her shy. He made it a habit to walk out of the steaming bathroom with nothing but a black towel wrapped around his waist.

He would stand in front of the mirror, droplets of water tracing the muscles of his back, knowing perfectly well that Shambhavi was watching him from the bed. He was a master of seduction, using his body as a weapon to make her forget the questions that haunted her.

He started small. A lingering touch on her shoulder. A kiss on her cheek as he left for work.

"Aaj bohot pyaari lag rahi ho."

(You look really pretty today.)

He whispered one evening, pressing a firm kiss to her cheek. Shambhavi felt the heat rush to her ears.

"Rudrang... aap... aap hamesha aisa karte ho."

(Rudrang...you...you always do this.)

"Kyun? Haq hai mera."

(Why? It’s my right.)

He replied with a smirk that made her stomach flip. Despite the growing affection, the doubts regarding the store room never truly left her. She watched him from the balcony as he paced the hallways at night. Three times that month, she saw him enter that room.

He would stay there for hours. When he finally emerged, he always looked exhausted, his jaw tight and his eyes dark with a hunger she didn't understand.

One night, she finally gathered the courage to ask.

"Rudrang, aap us kamre mein itni der kya karte ho? Roz raat ko aap wahan jaate ho."

(Rudrang, what do you do in that room for so long? You go there every night.)

Rudrang didn't even blink. He continued pouring his drink, the ice clinking against the glass.

"Kaha toh tha, Shambhavi. Purani files hain, office ka kuch zaroori kaam hota hai jo main ghar le aata hoon. Tumhare kaam ki koi cheez nahi hai wahan."

(I told you, Shambhavi. There are old files, office work that I bring home. Nothing that concerns you.)

"Lekin aap itne pareshan dikhte ho jab bahar aate ho. Koi purani yaadein hai kya waha?"

(But you always look tensed when you come out. Are there any old memories?)

She pushed, her voice soft. He set the glass down with a sharp thud. The air in the room suddenly turned cold.

"I told you it's nothing that concerns you. Kyu baar baar ussi baare mai puchhti rehti ho?"

(Why do you keep asking about it?)

His tone was cold. Shambhavi flinched slightly, and seeing her reaction, Rudrang immediately softened. He walked over and took her face in his hands.

"Sorry. Main bas thaka hua hu. Tum bas mujh par bharosa rakho. Main jo bhi kar raha hoon, humare liye kar raha hoon."

(I am just tired. Just trust me. Whatever I am doing, it is for us.)

By the end of the month, Shambhavi felt like she was falling. She was falling for the way he cared for her, the way he looked at her as if she was the only woman in the world, and the way he made her feel protected. 

On a Friday evening, Shambhavi was sitting by the window. The door opened, and Rudrang walked in. He didn't say a word. He just walked up to her, took her hand, and pulled her to her feet.

"Shambhavi, aaj ek mahina ho gaya hai jab se tum hospital se ghar aayi ho."

(Shambhavi, it’s been a month you’ve come back home.)

He said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone.

"Tum ab bilkul theek ho. And this is like a celebration for me."

(You are completely fine now.)

Shambhavi smiled, her heart racing.

"Celebration?"

"Haan. Kal hum bahar jayenge. Sirf tum aur main. Ek special dinner ke liye. I brought a dress for you."

(Yes. We will go out tomorrow. Only you and me. For a special dinner.)

He pointed to a box on the bed she hadn't noticed. She opened it to find a stunning emerald green gown. It was elegant, simple, and looked like it cost more than she could ever imagine.

"Rudrang, yeh bohot sundar hai!"

(Rudrang, this is really pretty!)

He stepped behind her, his hands resting on her waist, his breath hot against her ear.

"Kal raat, main chahta hoon ki poori duniya dekhe ki Rudrang Oberoi ki patni kitni khoobsurat hai."

(Tomorrow night, I want the world to see how beautiful Rudrang Oberoi’s wife is.)

Shambhavi turned in his arms, her eyes shining with genuine happiness. 

"Main chalungi."

(I will go.)

She said, her voice filled with excitement. Rudrang smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He held her close, his chin resting on her head as he looked at their reflection in the mirror.

To Shambhavi, it was a moment of love. To Rudrang, it was a moment of absolute control. The prey was no longer running, she was leaning into the hunter's chest, and, he was going to make sure she stayed there forever.