The wedding night ( Part 2)

The night wasn’t over.

Not even close.

Silence had settled into the room again—but it wasn’t peaceful.

It lingered.

Heavy.

Unfinished.

Zoya stood under the shower longer than necessary.

The water ran over her skin, washing away the weight of the wedding, the stares, the vows that meant nothing—

and yet everything.

But even there—

his voice lingered.

“You’ll forget you ever hated me.”

Her jaw tightened.

“Not happening.”

She turned the water off.

---

Minutes later—

she stepped out.

Wrapped in a bathrobe, damp hair falling over her shoulders, droplets tracing slowly down her neck.

The room was quiet.

Empty.

Exactly how she wanted it.

For a moment—

she allowed herself to breathe.

Alone.

Finally.

She moved further inside, absently drying her hair, her guard lowering just slightly—

Then—

click.

The door opened.

Zoya froze.

Her head snapped toward the entrance.

And there he was.

Aarav.

Leaning against the doorframe for half a second before stepping in.

Different.

His hair slightly messy.

Shirt half unbuttoned, sleeves rolled, collar loose—

like control had slipped just enough to notice.

Not clean.

Not composed.

Not the version the world saw.

His gaze landed on her.

And stayed there.

Not rushed.

Not subtle.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Taking in everything—

the damp strands of her hair…

the water tracing down her skin…

the way the robe sat just a little too loosely—

then back to her eyes.

Zoya didn’t move.

Didn’t step back.

But her fingers tightened around the fabric.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

Steady.

Sharp.

Aarav closed the door behind him.

The soft click echoed louder than it should have.

“Last I checked,” he said calmly,

“this is my room.”

Zoya let out a quiet scoff.

“Then you should’ve stayed gone.”

A pause.

Then—

he walked toward her.

Unhurried.

Certain.

“Disappointed?” he asked.

Her eyes narrowed instantly.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

Silence stretched.

Tight.

Unspoken.

Zoya turned away, reaching for the towel again as if dismissing him entirely.

“I thought you’d be too busy pretending out there,” she added.

Aarav stopped behind her.

Close enough to feel.

Not touching.

But close enough.

“You seem very sure of what I do,” he said quietly.

Zoya turned back.

Too fast.

Too close.

Her gaze locked with his.

“I’m sure of one thing,” she said.

“You don’t belong anywhere that feels real.”

That—

hit.

This time, the shift in him didn’t disappear instantly.

It lingered.

Darkened.

“And yet,” he said, stepping closer—

closer—

until there was barely space left—

“you’re standing here.”

Zoya didn’t move.

Didn’t step back.

“Temporary,” she said.

“Everything about this is.”

A pause.

Then—

Aarav moved.

Fast.

Not rough—

but sudden enough to steal the breath out of her.

Zoya’s back hit the wall.

His hand came up beside her head.

Blocking.

Not touching.

But leaving no space.

Her breath caught.

This time—

not controlled.

Aarav noticed.

Of course he did.

His gaze dropped—

just slightly—

then returned to her eyes.

“That,” he said quietly,

“didn’t look very temporary.”

Zoya swallowed.

Hated that her body reacted before her mind did.

Hated that he saw it.

“You’re imagining things,” she snapped.

But her voice—

just slightly—

betrayed her.

Aarav leaned in.

Not enough to touch.

Enough to feel.

Enough to blur.

“Am I?” he murmured.

Her fingers tightened in her robe.

Her pulse—unsteady now.

Unfamiliar.

“Move,” she said.

He didn’t.

“Say please.”

Her eyes flashed.

“I’d rather walk out.”

A faint tilt of his head.

“Then try.”

Silence.

Sharp.

Challenging.

Zoya didn’t move.

Didn’t push him.

Didn’t leave.

And that—

was answer enough.

Aarav exhaled softly.

Not a sigh.

Not frustration.

Something closer to control tightening again.

Then—

he leaned closer.

Closer than before.

His voice dropping low enough that it brushed against her ear.

“Careful, Zoya.”

A pause.

Slow.

Deliberate.

“Because right now…”

his gaze dipped briefly—

just once—

then back to her eyes—

“…you’re the one losing control.”

Her breath hitched.

This time—

undeniable.

Aarav pulled back.

Just enough.

Just enough to see it.

To confirm it.

And that slight shift in his expression—

that faint, almost invisible satisfaction—

made something in her snap.

Zoya pushed him.

Not hard.

But enough.

Creating space.

Finally.

“You wish,” she said sharply.

But now—

there was something else under it.

Something he had already seen.

Aarav stepped back.

Easily.

Like he allowed it.

Like he decided when distance existed.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he said.

Calm again.

Controlled again.

Like moments ago hadn’t happened.

Like she hadn’t reacted.

But they both knew.

He turned away.

Walked toward the door.

Then paused.

“And Zoya…”

She didn’t respond.

But she didn’t move either.

“If you’re this affected by me standing this close—”

A beat.

His voice dropped.

Colder.

More dangerous.

“—you’re not going to survive sixty-six days.”

The door opened.

Then closed.

And he was gone.

---

Zoya stood there.

Still.

Her back against the wall.

Her breath uneven.

Her pulse refusing to settle.

Her fingers slowly loosening from the fabric she had been gripping.

“This means nothing,” she whispered.

But it didn’t sound convincing.

Not anymore.

Her jaw tightened.

Her eyes darkened.

“Control?” she muttered under her breath.

A slow breath left her lips.

Cold.

Sharp.

“Let’s see how long you stay in control…”

A pause.

Her gaze flickered toward the door.

Something dangerous settling beneath her anger.

“…before you’re the one begging for it back.”

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***