The road that should have led back to campus didn't.
Tara noticed it slowly at first—the turns that felt unfamiliar, the streets growing quieter, more secluded, the city thinning out into a stretch of dimly lit lanes lined with high walls and closed gates.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the half-melted ice cream in her lap.
"Aaryan..." she said softly, glancing at him, "this isn't the way back."
He didn't look back at her.
"I know."
He said without any hesitation or an explanation. Something in her chest shifted again, unease creeping back in as she watched his profile, the sharp line of his jaw still tense, the faint blood at his lip not fully dried yet.
"Where are we going?" she asked, a little more carefully this time.
Aaryan finally exhaled, slower, like he was forcing himself to be calmer than he felt.
"My place."
The words landed heavier than they should have.
Tara blinked. "What?"
"You're not going back to campus tonight," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Or tomorrow."
Her brows pulled together, confusion mixing with everything else she had already been feeling.
"Huh? I—"
"You need rest," he cut in, sharper this time, though not angry but just firm, controlled in that same way that always felt like control over her. "You're exhausted, you're shaken, and clearly you're not thinking straight."
That stung.
Her lips parted slightly, but he didn't stop.
"And I'm not sending you back there like this," he added, his voice dropping a notch, quieter but more intense. "Not after tonight."
The car slowed as they approached a large gate, the kind that didn't just suggest privacy, it enforced it. It slid open automatically, and he drove in without breaking pace.
Tara watched everything in silence now.
The house huge. It stood there in quiet authority, modern, dimly lit, surrounded by stillness and space.
Too much space.
Aaryan parked the car and turned off the engine, the sudden silence settling heavily around them.
For a second, neither of them moved.
Then he turned to her.
"You'll take leave," he said, like it had already been decided. "I'll handle it."
Her eyes searched his face, trying to find something softer, something she could hold onto but all she found was that same intensity, that same unwavering certainty.
"And you?" she asked quietly.
Aaryan leaned back slightly in his seat, running a hand over his face before looking at her again.
"I'm not going either."
A pause.
"I'll stay. With you," he added, his gaze holding hers.
The words lingered.
Tara swallowed, her mind racing, emotions still tangled, still unresolved. Part of her wanted to argue, to question him, to push back—But another part of her... Was too tired.
Too overwhelmed.
Aaryan stepped out of the car and came around to her side, opening the door before she could decide anything at all.
"Come on," he said, quieter now, not as harsh but still not asking.
Tara hesitated for just a second before stepping out, her feet meeting the ground slowly, her eyes lifting to take in the house again.
And as the gate shut behind them—It didn't feel like safety.
It felt like something else entirely.
The front door shut behind them with a hard, final click that echoed like a gunshot.
Inside, everything was accurate.
Not just clean—precise. The lighting was warm but deliberate, every piece of furniture placed like it had a purpose, nothing out of line, nothing unnecessary. The kind of space that didn't just reflect taste but his essence of control and discipline.
Aaryan didn't slow down as he walked in, his hand briefly brushing against her back—not gentle, not rough—just enough to guide her forward.
"Come."
Tara followed, her steps quieter now, her eyes flickering around the house as they moved through it. It was beautiful, undeniably so but there was something about it that felt too still, too untouched. Like no one really lived there.
Like it was maintained, not inhabited.
He led her upstairs, down a corridor that seemed to stretch longer in the silence, before stopping at a door and pushing it open.
His room. It was exactly what she expected—and somehow more. Dark wood, clean lines, muted tones. The bed was perfectly made, the sheets crisp, untouched. A faint scent lingered in the air—something deep, expensive, almost intoxicating. Not overpowering, just enough to settle into your senses and stay there.
Everything was in place.
Tara stepped in slowly, her fingers brushing lightly against the strap of her dress, her body still carrying the weight of the night.
Aaryan closed the door behind them.
The sound felt louder this time.
He moved past her, loosening his watch, setting it aside with quiet precision before turning to face her again. For a second, he just looked at her—really looked—taking in her tired eyes, the tear stains, the way she seemed smaller in this space than she had before.
And then just like that—His expression hardened again.
"Listen carefully," he said, his tone calm but firm, leaving no room for misinterpretation.
Tara's eyes lifted to his instantly.
"You'll stay here," he continued, gesturing slightly around the room. "This room. Use the washroom attached."
A brief pause.
"And nowhere else."
The words settled heavy.
Tara frowned slightly, confusion creeping back in. "What?"
Aaryan stepped closer—not aggressively, but enough to make his presence felt again, to make sure she was paying attention.
"Don't go wandering around the house," he said, his voice lower now, more controlled but just as strict. "If you need anything, you ask me."
Her brows pulled together more, a flicker of resistance surfacing despite everything.
"Aaryan, it's just a house, I—"
"No," he cut her off immediately, sharper this time, his jaw tightening. "It's not just a house."
Silence fell again.
Tara held his gaze, searching for something—an explanation, a reason—but he didn't offer one. Not fully.
Just that same unyielding look.
"I mean it," he added, quieter now but no less intense. "Don't go anywhere without telling me first."
Something about the way he said it deemed like it was caution.
Tara swallowed slightly, her fingers curling faintly at her sides as she nodded once, slowly.
"Okay..."
The word felt small in the room.
Aaryan watched her for a second longer before exhaling, the tension in his shoulders shifting—not gone, just redirected again.
"You need to rest," he said, turning slightly away, running a hand through his hair. "You look exhausted."
That part wasn't wrong. Tara glanced at the bed, then back at him, uncertainty flickering in her expression again.
"And you?" she asked quietly.
Aaryan didn't answer immediately.
He just looked at her again, something unreadable passing through his eyes before he finally spoke—
"I'll be here."
A pause.
"Don't worry about anything else tonight."
But the way he said it—Didn't feel like reassurance but instead felt like a rule.
And Tara, standing in a room that smelled like him, surrounded by a space that felt too perfect, too controlled—Couldn't shake the feeling that she hadn't just been brought somewhere safe.
Tara stood there for a moment, the weight of the room pressing in on her from all sides—the silence, the scent of him, the way everything felt too close, too controlled.
Her fingers twisted slightly together before she spoke, her voice softer now, careful.
"Aaryan... can I just—" she hesitated, choosing her words, "sleep on the couch? Or maybe a guest room?"
Aaryan stilled where he stood, his back half-turned to her, his shoulders going rigid like something inside him had just snapped into place. Slowly, he turned to face her again.
His expression had changed completely.
"Excuse me?" he asked quietly.
Too quietly.
Tara swallowed, already sensing it, but she forced herself to continue. "I just think it would be better if I—"
"Better?" he repeated, the word slipping out in a low, disbelieving tone.
A humourless smile tugged at his lips, but there was nothing amused about it.
"You think it's better to stay away from me?"
Tara shook her head slightly. "That's not what I meant, I just—"
"Then what did you mean?" he cut in, stepping closer, his voice tightening, losing whatever restraint he had been holding onto. "Because it sounds a lot like you're uncomfortable being in the same room as me."
His eyes dragged over her face, searching, accusing.
"And that's interesting," he added, his tone dropping, darkening, "considering where you just came from."
That hit hard. Tara's breath caught, her brows pulling together. "Don't—"
"No, let's talk about it," he snapped, his voice rising just enough to slice through the room. "You had no problem sitting there with him, did you? Letting him get close. Letting him touch you—"
"I didn't let him—" she tried, but he didn't let her finish.
"But suddenly I'm the problem?" he continued, stepping even closer now, his presence overwhelming, suffocating. "Suddenly you need distance? Space? A different room?"
His laugh was sharp, bitter.
"Tell me, Tara," he said, his voice dropping into something colder, more controlled in a way that made it worse, "what exactly makes him easier to be around than me?"
The back of her knees hit the bed making her sit down instinctively. Aaryan loomed over her and leaned down to her level, placing his hands either side of her.
"Nothing," she said quickly, her voice unsteady now, "That's not—"
"Then don't act like it," he snapped.
Aaryan's jaw clenched as he stared at her, something unhinged flickering in his eyes now, something that wasn't just anger anymore—it was deeply personal and twisted.
"You walk into a place like that without thinking twice," he continued, quieter now but far more dangerous, each word deliberate, cutting, "sit across from a man like Veer Oberoi, let him look at you like that, talk to you like that—"
His voice dropped further.
"Touch you."
Tara's breath hitched, her hands curling at her sides. "I didn't have a choice—"
"There's always a choice," he said immediately, straightening up enough to look down at her in resentment.
"And yet here you are," he added, his gaze burning into hers, "telling me you can't even stay in the same room as me."
The accusation sat unfair and heavy.
Tara shook her head, her voice breaking slightly. "That's not what this is—"
"Then what is it?" he demanded.
Silence.
She didn't have an answer he would accept.
Aaryan let out a slow breath, something snapping behind his eyes as he turned abruptly, walking to the door. For a split second, Tara thought he was leaving—Until she heard a click.
The lock.
Her head turned sharply toward him, her heart sinking.
"Aaryan—"
He faced her again, leaning back against the door now, blocking it completely, his expression dark, resolved.
"You're not sleeping anywhere else," he said, his voice low, final. "You're staying here."
A pause.
"With me."
Tara's pulse quickened, unease flooding back in stronger now. "You don't have to lock the door—"
"I do," he cut in coldly. "Because apparently you don't understand simple things unless I make them very clear."
He straightened, pushing off the door and walking toward her again, slower this time, measured, each step deliberate.
"You don't get options tonight," he said, his tone dropping into something that felt less like anger and more like a warning. "You don't get to decide where you sleep or how far you stay from me."
Her breath hitched as he stopped in front of her again, close enough that she had to look up to meet his eyes.
"You'll stay here," he repeated quietly. "Or you won't sleep at all."
The words settled into the room like something permanent.
Tara's throat tightened, her body going still as the reality of it sank in—the locked door, the way he stood between her and any sense of exit, the way his voice had shifted into something that didn't feel negotiable anymore.
Aaryan held her gaze for a moment longer before tilting his head slightly, something almost mocking flickering across his face.
"Funny, isn't it?" he added softly, cruelly. "How you were brave enough to walk into a stranger's territory..."
A pause.
"But suddenly you're scared of mine."
He didn't wait for her to respond. Didn't give her the chance.
Because whatever this was now—It wasn't a conversation anymore.
It was control.
Tara didn't move.
Not because she didn't want to—but because something in her body had gone completely still, like every instinct was telling her the same thing at once.
The locked door. The way he stood in front of it. The look in his eyes.
It all pressed down on her at once.
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides, her breath shallow now, uneven, her gaze flickering between him and the door like she was trying to calculate something that didn't have a solution.
"Aaryan..." she said, barely above a whisper, and for the first time that night—there was no defiance in it.
Just the raw and unhidden fear.
For a second, something shifted in his expression—not softness, not regret... something darker. Something that noticed the fear and didn't step back from it.
Stepped closer instead.
"Now you're scared?" he murmured, his voice low, almost thoughtful, like he was studying the reaction.
Tara instinctively took a step back.
He followed. Slowly. Unhurried.
"You weren't scared in there," he continued, tilting his head slightly, his gaze locked onto hers, watching every flicker of emotion cross her face. "Sitting with him. Talking to him."
Another step.
The distance between them shrank again.
"But here?" he added quietly, his voice dropping further, almost a whisper now. "With me?"
Tara's back nearly brushed against the edge of the bed again, her pulse racing, her throat tightening as she shook her head slightly, even though she didn't have words to explain it.
"This is different," she managed, her voice trembling despite her effort to steady it.
Aaryan's lips curved cruelly.
"Yeah," he said softly. "It is."
Silence stretched for a second.
Then he leaned in slightly, close enough that his presence felt suffocating, unavoidable.
"You think this is bad?" he asked, his voice barely audible now, the words brushing against her like something cold.
Tara's breath caught.
He held her gaze, unblinking.
"This hasn't even started yet."
The words landed heavy as a chill ran through her, her body going even more still, her mind scrambling to catch up with what he meant—but not wanting to understand it at the same time.
Aaryan straightened slowly, watching her reaction like it told him everything he needed to know.
And then, almost casually—
"Get some rest," he said, like the moment hadn't just shifted into something far more dangerous. "You're going to need it."
He turned away, like the conversation was over.
Like he hadn't just said something that would echo in her head long after the room went quiet.
And Tara stood there—Heart racing. Breath uneven. Realising, for the first time that whatever she had walked into tonight... She hadn't seen the worst of it yet.
The fight had drained out of her somewhere between the locked door and the way his voice had dropped into something she didn't recognise anymore. Her body felt heavy, her mind louder than ever, and yet somehow... empty at the same time.
Slowly, she moved toward the bed.
The sheets were too neat, too untouched, the fabric cool beneath her as she sat down first, then shifted, lying back without really thinking about it. The black dress clung to her still, slightly wrinkled now, carrying the weight of the night with it—everything that had happened, everything she couldn't process yet.
She didn't even realise she was still wearing it.
Her eyes stared up at the ceiling, unfocused, her breathing finally starting to even out—but not because she was calm. Just... tired.
Aaryan watched her for a moment.
From where he stood, she looked smaller somehow. Not in presence—but in energy. Like something in her had dimmed, even if just for now.
His jaw tightened slightly.
Then he turned away.
He walked to his wardrobe, pulling it open with a quiet motion, his movements controlled again, deliberate—like he needed something normal to focus on. His fingers skimmed through neatly arranged clothes before he pulled out a black oversized t-shirt.
He turned back to her, walking over and stopping near the bed.
"You're not sleeping in that," he said, his tone firm, but no longer sharp.
Tara blinked slightly, her gaze shifting from the ceiling to him, like she had to pull herself back into the moment.
"What?" she asked faintly.
Aaryan held the t-shirt out toward her.
"Change."
No force in the word this time.
Just expectation.
Tara pushed herself up slowly, sitting again, her eyes flickering between him and the shirt in his hand. For a second, she hesitated—not out of defiance, not even discomfort... just exhaustion, confusion, everything blending together.
Then she reached out and took it.
The fabric felt soft against her fingers.
Warm.
She held it for a second, then looked back at him, unsure. Aaryan seemed to understand the hesitation without her saying anything.
He exhaled quietly, running a hand through his hair before turning slightly away, giving her his back.
"I'm not looking," he muttered.
It wasn't gentle.
But it wasn't harsh either.
Just... something in between.
Tara stood slowly, her movements careful, almost mechanical as she stepped a little further away, her back to him now as she slipped the dress off her shoulders. The fabric fell softly, pooling at her feet before she quickly pulled the oversized t-shirt over herself.
It swallowed her frame instantly, the hem falling mid-thigh, the sleeves loose around her arms.
Comfortable.
In a way she didn't expect.
"Done," she said quietly after a moment.
Aaryan didn't turn immediately.
He waited a second.
Then another.
Only when he was sure did he glance back. For a brief moment, something in his expression shifted again—subtle, almost unreadable—as he took in the sight of her in his clothes. Smaller. Softer. Still shaken, but no longer as guarded.
His.
The thought came uninvited. He looked away almost instantly.
"Sleep," he said, his tone back to controlled, steady, like he was putting distance between himself and whatever had just crossed his mind.
Tara didn't respond.
She simply lay back down, pulling the sheets over herself this time, curling slightly onto her side, her body finally giving in to the exhaustion she had been fighting all night.
The room fell quiet again.
But not peaceful.
Aaryan stood there for a moment longer before moving to the other side of the room, his presence still heavy, still there—even when he wasn't close.
And Tara, lying in a bed that smelled like him, wearing something that belonged to him—Closed her eyes.
Aaryan stayed where he was for a while after she lay down.
The room had gone quiet, but his mind hadn't. It kept replaying everything—her walking into that bar, Veer's hands on her, the way she had looked at him, unafraid... and then the tears, the way she had broken down in his arms.
It didn't sit right.
None of it did.
He exhaled slowly, running a hand over his face before turning away and heading toward the bathroom. The door shut behind him with a soft click, and a few moments later, the sound of running water filled the silence.
Inside, he stood under the shower longer than necessary, the cold water doing little to calm the heat still burning under his skin. His knuckles stung when the water hit them, the cuts reopening slightly, but he didn't react.
Pain was easier to deal with than whatever else this was.
By the time he stepped out, the edge had dulled—just enough.
He changed into something simple, dark track pants and a t-shirt, his movements slower now, more controlled. When he stepped back into the room, Tara hadn't moved much.
She was curled slightly on her side, the oversized t-shirt swallowing her frame, her breathing soft and uneven but deeper now.
Asleep.
For a moment, he just stood there, watching her.
All that fire, all that defiance... gone quiet like this. It did something strange to him. Something he didn't have a name for, didn't want to examine too closely.
His jaw tightened faintly before he walked over to the other side of the bed.
He paused for a second.
Then lay down beside her.
The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, the distance between them small but noticeable. For a moment, he stayed like that—on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his body still tense despite everything.
But it didn't last.
His gaze shifted toward her again.
The way she had curled in on herself.
The faint crease between her brows, even in sleep.
Something in him gave.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, he turned onto his side and moved closer, his arm sliding around her waist, pulling her gently toward him. Not rough this time. Not forceful.
Just... there.
Tara stirred slightly at the contact, a soft shift of her body, but she didn't wake. If anything, she leaned into it instinctively, her back fitting against him without resistance, like her body had decided before her mind could.
Aaryan's hold tightened just slightly.
Protective.
Possessive.
Both.
He rested his head back against the pillow, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before finally closing his eyes.
The room was still.
Quiet.
But even in that silence—There was something unresolved.
Because the same arms that held her like this—Were the ones that had hurt her just hours ago. And neither of them had forgotten.
Sometime in the middle of the night, Tara woke up.
Not fully at first—just enough for awareness to creep in slowly, like a shadow stretching across her thoughts. The room was dark, the silence deeper now, heavier than before.
And then she felt an arm around her waist gripping her tightly and firmly.
Aaryan.
Her breath hitched slightly as the memory of everything came rushing back at once—the bar, the fight, the slap, the locked door, his voice, the way he had looked at her.
The fear returned just as quickly.
Carefully—so carefully—she tried to move.
Just a slight shift at first, testing, her fingers pressing lightly against the mattress as she attempted to ease herself out of his hold without waking him. His arm felt heavy around her, his body warm behind hers, his breathing slow and steady against the back of her neck.
For a second, she thought—Maybe she could do it.
Maybe she could slip out, get to the door, figure something out—Her body moved another inch.
And then—His grip tightened painfully making her wince.
A sharp breath left her lips as his arm locked around her waist, pulling her back against him in one swift motion, leaving no space between them.
"Where do you think you're going?"
His voice was low and hoarse from sleep.
Tara froze. Her heart started racing again, her fingers going still where they had been pushing against the bed.
"I—I wasn't—" she tried, her voice barely steady.
Before she could finish, he pulled her back fully, turning her slightly so she was forced to face him, his hold unrelenting, his hand pressing into her side just enough to remind her she wasn't going anywhere.
"You were leaving," he said, not a question—just a fact.
His eyes searched her face in the dim light, sharp, unreadable, but there was something else there now too. Something wounded and twisted.
"Why?" he asked, quieter now, but heavier. "Why would you do that?"
Tara swallowed, her breath uneven, her body still tense under his hold. "I just... I needed some air, I—"
"Don't lie to me," he cut in immediately, his grip tightening again for a second before easing just slightly.
His jaw clenched, his gaze hardening, but his voice—Shifted.
Not louder.
Softer.
And somehow worse.
"You were trying to leave," he said, almost like he was confirming it to himself now. "Sneak out... like I'm something you need to run from."
The words sank in.
He let out a quiet, humourless breath, his forehead lowering slightly, almost touching hers but not quite.
"Do you have any idea what that does to me?" he murmured, his voice rougher now, like something had cracked underneath. "After everything tonight... after I've been trying to keep you safe..."
Tara's lips parted slightly, confusion mixing with fear again.
"I wasn't—"
"I brought you here so nothing happens to you," he continued, cutting over her again, his tone low, intense, pulling her deeper into it. "I stayed. I didn't go anywhere. I made sure you were okay."
A pause.
His grip softened just enough to feel different—but not enough to let her go.
"And this is what you do?" he added, his voice quieter now, almost hurt. "You try to run away from me?"
Tara shook her head slightly, her voice small now, unsure. "I was just scared..."
Something dark flickered in his eyes, but it didn't explode this time. It settled.
Deeper.
More controlled.
His hand came up slowly, brushing against her cheek—not rough, not soft—just enough to make her look at him again.
"I'm the one making sure you're safe," he said, his voice low, steady, almost persuasive now. "From people like him. From situations like tonight."
His thumb traced lightly along her cheek, wiping away a tear she hadn't realised had fallen.
"And you're trying to run from me?"
The question lingered, heavily unfair yet effective.
Tara's breath trembled slightly, her thoughts tangling again, confusion pulling against fear, against instinct. Aaryan watched her closely, reading every flicker, every hesitation.
Then he pulled her closer again, his arm tightening around her, not as harsh as before—but not letting her go either.
"Don't do that again," he murmured near her ear, his voice quieter now, almost calm—but firm enough to settle like a command. "Don't make me feel like I'm the one you need to escape from."
A pause.
His hold remained.
"You don't need to go anywhere," he added softly. "You're safer here. With me."
And the way he said it—Made it harder to tell where protection ended... And control began.
For a few seconds, Tara just stayed there in his hold.
Breathing unevenly, her thoughts tangled, his words echoing louder than her own instincts. The fear hadn't disappeared—but it had shifted, blurred at the edges by the way he was speaking to her now... quieter, controlled, almost like he was the one being hurt.
Her fingers loosened slightly against his wrist.
Then, slowly—She moved.
Turning in his arms, carefully, until she was facing him fully. The movement was hesitant at first, like she was testing whether he would stop her—but he didn't. His grip adjusted, letting her shift, his eyes never leaving her face.
For a moment, they just looked at each other.
Close enough to feel each other's breath.
Close enough that there was nowhere else to look. Tara's eyes were still soft from crying, lashes damp, her expression unsure—but something in her had quieted. Not settled. Just... quieter.
She slowly lifted her arms and before she could overthink it, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer, closing whatever distance was left between them.
Aaryan stilled.
Completely.
Like he hadn't expected that.
Her face pressed lightly against his shoulder, her voice small, muffled, but clear enough—
"I'm sorry..."
For a second, he didn't react. Didn't move. His hands stayed where they were, like he was processing it, like something in him had paused.
Then—His arms tightened around her.
His hand slid up her back, holding her closer against him, his chin resting lightly against the side of her head. His eyes closed for a brief moment, something shifting inside him again—something darker easing, just a fraction.
"Don't do that again," he murmured quietly, his voice no longer sharp, no longer cruel—but still carrying that same underlying weight. "Don't try to leave like that."
Tara nodded faintly against him, her grip tightening slightly around his neck.
"I won't," she whispered.
Aaryan exhaled slowly, his hand moving through her hair in a steady motion, almost soothing now, like he was calming something in both of them.
"That's all I need," he said under his breath.
His hold didn't loosen.
If anything—It settled.
Like this was exactly where he wanted her.
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