Morning didn’t arrive gently.
It slipped in through the curtains in thin, pale streaks of light, quiet and almost deceptive—like nothing had happened the night before.
Tara stirred slowly, her body still heavy with sleep, her mind slower to catch up. For a moment, everything felt… Safe, almost.
Until she opened her eyes.
And saw him.
Aaryan was already awake, sitting beside her on the bed, a tray placed carefully near her. A cup of chai steamed softly, the warm, familiar scent filling the air, and beside it—a simple sandwich, cut neatly, like it had been made with deliberate care.
He was watching her.
Not intensely or angrily.
Just… admiring.
“You’re up,” he said quietly.
Tara blinked, pushing herself up slightly, the oversized t-shirt slipping softly against her skin. Her gaze flickered from him to the tray, confusion settling in again, that same disorienting shift from last night repeating itself.
“You should eat,” he added, his tone calm. “You didn’t eat properly.”
Before she could respond, he picked up the cup, testing its warmth before holding it out toward her.
“Careful. It’s hot.”
Tara hesitated for a second before taking it, her fingers brushing against his briefly. The chai was warm, grounding, familiar in a way nothing else had felt in the past few hours.
But she didn’t get to hold it long.
Aaryan took it back gently, setting it aside before picking up a piece of the sandwich instead.
“Eat,” he said, bringing it closer to her.
Tara frowned slightly, confused. “I can—”
“I know you can,” he cut in, not harshly, but firmly enough to stop her. “Just… let me.”
There was something in his voice that was insistent, not kind or polite.
Tara didn’t argue.
She opened her mouth slightly, letting him feed her, her eyes still fixed on his face like she was trying to understand which version of him this was.
He didn’t rush.
Each bite was slow, measured, like he was focused on it—on her—completely. His movements were careful, controlled, his gaze steady, watching her eat like it mattered more than anything else.
And that’s when it hit her.
The slap.
The way he had grabbed her.
The words.
“I’ll do a lot more than just slap you.” Her throat tightened suddenly.
Her eyes burned. And before she could stop it—Tears slipped down again.
Aaryan paused mid-motion, the next bite still in his hand.
For a second, he just looked at her.
Then he exhaled quietly, setting the plate aside.
“Why are you crying now?” he asked, his voice low—not angry, not soft… just steady.
Tara shook her head, her lips trembling slightly as she looked away, wiping at her cheek instinctively.
“I just—” her voice broke, “you were—yesterday you—”
She couldn’t finish it.
she didn't need to.
Aaryan watched her for a moment longer, his expression unreadable.
Then he shifted closer.
He reached for her, his hands firm as he pulled her toward him, turning her slightly before wrapping his arms around her from behind, her back pressing against his chest.
Comforting.
Tara stiffened for a second before her body slowly relaxed into it, her hands resting uncertainly over his arms.
Aaryan rested his chin lightly near her shoulder, his voice dropping lower, quieter now.
“I was like that,” he said slowly, “because I care about you.”
The words sank in.
Softly yet dangerously.
“You think I enjoy losing control like that?” he continued, his tone calm, almost reasonable. “You think I want to get angry with you?”
His arms tightened slightly around her.
“You walked into something dangerous,” he murmured near her ear. “You put yourself in a situation where anything could’ve happened to you.”
A pause.
“And I was the one who had to see it.”
Tara’s fingers curled slightly against his arm, her breathing uneven again, her mind trying to keep up with what he was saying.
“I reacted,” he added, quieter now, almost like he was explaining something simple. “Because I couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to you.”
His hand moved slowly along her arm, not rough, not gentle—just present.
“That’s what caring looks like,” he said softly.
The sentence lingered convincingly and twisted.
“You don’t understand the kind of people you were around,” he continued, his voice steady, almost patient now. “I do. I know what they’re capable of.”
A pause.
“And I won’t let anything happen to you. Not when I’m there.”
Tara swallowed, her eyes closing briefly as another tear slipped down, but this time—
She didn’t pull away.
Because the way he was holding her now—It felt like safety.
Even if it wasn’t.
Aaryan’s hold tightened just a fraction more, his voice dropping into something quieter, something that wrapped around her thoughts before she could question it.
“So don’t cry about what I did,” he murmured. “Understand why I did it.”
His fingers brushed lightly against her arm again.
“And don’t make me have to do it again.”
The warning was soft, almost gentle.
But it stayed there. And Tara, sitting in his arms, held between comfort and control—Didn’t know which part of him to believe anymore.
For a while, Tara stayed quiet in his arms.
His hold hadn’t loosened, his presence still wrapped around her like something constant, something she couldn’t quite step out of—even if she wanted to. The chai sat forgotten beside the bed now, the morning light creeping further into the room, softening everything… except the tension that hadn’t really gone anywhere.
Her fingers rested lightly over his arm.
Then slowly, she spoke.
“Who is he?”
Aaryan didn’t move.
But she felt it—the slight shift in his breathing, the way his arm stilled just a fraction.
Tara turned her head slightly, enough to look at him from the corner of her eye.
“Veer,” she said, more clearly this time. “Who is he?”
Silence stretched for a second.
Then Aaryan exhaled, almost like he had expected this.
“He’s not someone you need to worry about,” he said, his tone flat, dismissive.
That wasn’t enough.
Tara’s brows pulled together, her expression tightening as she turned a little more in his hold, trying to face him properly now.
“And you?” she asked, her voice quieter but firmer. “What exactly are you?”
That made him look at her.
Really look at her.
For a second, something unreadable flickered across his face before it smoothed out again into that same controlled calm.
“I’m the one keeping you safe,” he said simply.
Tara’s expression didn’t change.
That wasn’t an answer either.
“Aaryan,” she pressed, her voice gaining a slight edge now despite everything, “stop doing that.”
“Doing what?” he asked, almost lazily.
“Talking like I won’t understand,” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly.
Aaryan’s lips twitched slightly.
Then he chuckled, amused.
It wasn’t mocking—not entirely—but there was something in it that said he found her reaction… interesting.
“You think too much,” he murmured.
Tara frowned immediately. “No, you just don’t say enough.”
That made his chuckle deepen just a little, his grip around her shifting—not tighter, not looser—just enough to remind her he was still very much in control of the space between them.
“Fine,” he said after a moment, tilting his head slightly as he looked at her. “You want something simple?”
A pause.
“Veer’s a bad guy.”
Another pause.
“And I’m not.”
Tara just stared at him.
Unimpressed.
Her brows lifted slightly, her lips pressing together before she let out a small, disbelieving breath.
“Seriously?” she said, a faint scowl forming now. “That’s what you’re going with?”
Aaryan didn’t respond immediately, just watched her reaction like he was waiting for it.
“I’m not five,” she added, her voice sharper now, frustration slipping through. “You don’t get to just label people like that and expect me to nod and accept it.”
That amused him again.
A soft, quiet laugh left him as he leaned back slightly, his gaze still fixed on her, something almost approving flickering beneath it.
“There it is,” he murmured. “Being a brat again.”
Tara didn’t smile.
Didn’t soften.
She held his gaze, waiting.
Demanding more.
For a moment, Aaryan just looked at her like he was deciding something—measuring how much to give, how much to hold back.
Then he sighed lightly, running a hand through his hair before looking back at her.
“I can’t tell you right now,” he said finally.
The words were calm.
Final.
Tara’s expression tightened again. “Why not?”
Aaryan’s gaze didn’t waver.
“Because you’re not ready for it,” he replied simply.
That stung.
Her eyes flashed slightly. “Or because you don’t want me to know?”
A faint smile returned to his lips.
Not warm.
Just… knowing.
“Same difference,” he said quietly.
Tara shook her head, pulling back slightly now, just enough to create a sliver of space between them.
“No, it’s not.”
Aaryan didn’t stop her this time.
But his eyes followed her movement closely, something darker settling beneath the surface again.
“You’ll know when you need to,” he added, his tone softer now, almost reassuring—but still controlled. “Right now, all you need to know is that I’m the one you should be listening to.”
The words hung there.
Heavy.
Tara didn’t respond immediately. She just looked at him—really looked at him. Trying to figure out where the truth ended…
And where his version of it began.
Aaryan watched her for a moment longer, like he was reading every thought she wasn’t saying out loud.
Then something in his expression shifted again.
Subtle.
Calculated.
“Tara,” he said, quieter now, but with that same underlying authority, “give me your phone.”
She frowned slightly, caught off guard. “Why?”
His gaze didn’t soften.
“I need your passwords,” he said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “All your socials. And turn your live location on.”
The words didn’t register immediately.
When they did—She blinked.
“What?”
“For your safety,” he added, almost patiently, like he was explaining something obvious. “After last night, I’m not taking chances.”
Tara sat up straighter now, her confusion shifting into something else.
Unease.
“That’s… not necessary,” she said slowly, her grip tightening slightly around the bedsheet. “I’m fine, I—”
“No,” he cut in.
Flat.
“You’re not.”
Her brows pulled together, a flicker of resistance surfacing again. “Aaryan, that’s too much. You can’t just—”
“I can,” he interrupted, his tone sharpening, his gaze locking onto hers in a way that immediately made the air feel heavier. “And I will.”
Silence dropped between them.
Tara swallowed, her heart starting to pick up again, that same tension creeping back in.
“I’m not comfortable with that,” she said, quieter now, but still holding her ground. “That’s private.”
That word—Private.
Something about it made his jaw tighten.
“Private?” he repeated, low.
His eyes darkened slightly, his body shifting as he leaned forward just enough to close the space between them again.
“You think I care about your ‘privacy’ right now?” he asked, his voice dropping into something colder. “After what you did yesterday?”
Tara’s breath hitched slightly. “I didn’t—”
“You walked straight into danger,” he continued, cutting over her, his tone rising just enough to press down on her. “You let a man like him get close to you, and now you’re talking to me about boundaries?”
The word came out almost mocking.
“Don’t,” she said, shaking her head slightly, her voice tightening. “Don’t twist this—”
“I’m not twisting anything,” he snapped.
And just like that—The room shifted again.
His patience snapped thin, his expression hardening, that same unhinged edge creeping back into his voice.
“I’m the one making sure nothing happens to you,” he said, each word deliberate, heavy. “I’m the one who got you out of there. I’m the one who stayed. Who’s here right now.”
He leaned closer.
Close enough that she couldn’t ignore him.
“And you’re sitting here arguing with me over a password?”
Tara’s fingers curled into the sheets, her chest rising and falling faster now, her thoughts scrambling between fear, confusion, and the instinct to push back.
“It’s not just a password,” she said, her voice smaller now despite herself. “It’s—everything.”
Aaryan held her gaze.
Unblinking.
“Exactly,” he said quietly.
That one word settled deep.
“Which is why I need it,” he added, his tone dropping again, calmer now—but far more dangerous in its certainty. “So I know where you are. Who you’re talking to. What you’re doing.”
A pause.
“So I can keep you safe.”
The way he said it—
Left no room for doubt.
Tara hesitated.
His expression darkened again, his hand coming up to grip her chin—not as harsh as before, but firm enough to force her to look at him fully.
“Don’t make this difficult,” he said, his voice low, controlled, but carrying that same underlying threat she had already learned to recognize. “You’ve already seen what happens when you don’t listen.”
Her breath caught.
His thumb pressed slightly against her jaw.
“I’m not asking you again, Tara.”
Her resistance wavered under it, her thoughts tangling, her fear outweighing everything else.
Slowly but Reluctantly—Her hand moved toward her phone.
And Aaryan watched her the entire time.
satisfied.
Aaryan didn’t waste a second.
The moment her phone was in his hand, he moved—fast, precise, like he had already decided this long before she gave in. His fingers worked through her apps, logging in one after another on his own phone, memorizing, saving, setting everything up with a kind of efficiency that felt practiced.
Deliberate.
Tara sat there, still, watching him.
A strange, sinking feeling settled in her chest as she realized how easily it was happening… how quickly something that was hers was no longer just hers.
He didn’t look at her while he did it.
Didn’t hesitate. Within minutes, it was done.
Her accounts.
Her messages.
Her world—Open. Accessible. Controlled.
Aaryan finally exhaled, glancing down at his phone one last time before turning the screen off. Then he reached for hers again, unlocking it and navigating straight to her settings.
“Location,” he muttered under his breath, almost to himself.
A few taps and it was on.
Live.
Constant.
He set her phone down beside her like it was nothing.
Like he hadn’t just crossed a line she hadn’t even fully processed yet.
“There,” he said calmly.
Tara didn’t respond.
Her fingers curled slightly into her lap, her gaze fixed somewhere ahead but unfocused, her thoughts too loud to form anything coherent.
Aaryan noticed.
Of course he did.
He shifted closer again, his presence filling the space around her, his hand coming up to tilt her chin slightly so she had to look at him.
“Don’t start overthinking this,” he said, his voice low, controlled. “And don’t fight me on it.”
Tara’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
Not immediately.
“I’m not doing this to control you,” he continued, softer now—but not less intense. “I’m doing this so I know you’re safe.”
The words sounded right.
Almost.
His thumb brushed lightly against her jaw, his gaze steady, unwavering.
“After what happened last night, I’m not leaving anything to chance,” he added. “I need to know where you are. Who you’re around.”
A pause.
“And now I do.”
Something about the way he said it—Settled too easily.
Tara swallowed, her voice quiet when she finally spoke. “You didn’t even ask…”
Aaryan’s expression didn’t change.
“I told you,” he replied simply.
His hand dropped from her face, but his eyes didn’t leave hers.
─── ⋆⋅🎀⋅⋆ ───
The rest of the day unfolded in a way that felt almost unreal.
Like the night before had belonged to a different world.
Aaryan didn’t bring it up again.
Instead, he shifted, completely.
By late morning, he had set up a small space for her on the desk in his room—her notebooks laid out neatly, a pen placed exactly where her hand would reach for it, her math book already open to a page he had marked.
“Sit,” he said, not harshly this time. Just… expectant.
Tara hesitated for a second before walking over, her steps slower, her mind still catching up with the change in him. She sat down quietly, her fingers brushing over the pages, the familiarity of it grounding her in a way nothing else had since last night.
Aaryan pulled a chair beside her.
“Start from here,” he said, tapping lightly on a problem, his voice calm, controlled—back to the version of him she had first known. The teacher. The one who explained things, who broke them down patiently, who made things make sense.
And he did.
He explained every step slowly, clearly, his tone steady, his focus entirely on her work. When she got something wrong, he corrected her—not sharply, not cruelly, just firm enough to push her to try again.
“Think,” he murmured once, leaning slightly closer, his hand hovering near the page. “You know this.”
Tara nodded faintly, trying again, her mind slowly slipping into the rhythm of it. Numbers. Logic. Something predictable.
Something safe.
For a while, it worked.
The tension faded to the background, replaced by quiet concentration, the soft scratch of her pen against paper, his voice occasionally guiding her back when she drifted.
And every now and then—
She’d glance at him.
Trying to match this version of Aaryan with the one from last night.
They didn’t fit.
By afternoon, he closed the book.
“That’s enough,” he said, taking the pen gently from her hand. “You’ll just start making mistakes if you keep going.”
Tara blinked, a little surprised. “Already?”
Aaryan gave a small nod. “You’re tired.”
He stood up, stretching slightly before walking toward the door.
“I’ll get you something to eat.”
Before she could respond, he was already gone.
Tara sat there for a moment, alone in the room again, her eyes drifting over the neatly arranged desk, the silence settling in.
It felt… normal.
Too normal.
When he came back, it was with food—simple, warm, rice and dal. He set it down in front of her, watching to make sure she actually ate this time.
“Finish it,” he said.
She did.
Quietly.
No arguments.
After that, the day softened even more.
He stayed in the room with her, sometimes on his phone, sometimes just sitting there, but always… present. If she got up, his eyes followed constantly.
At one point, when she looked a little too lost in thought, he reached over without a word and adjusted a strand of her hair behind her ear.
“You think too much,” he murmured.
Tara didn’t reply.
She didn’t know how to.
By evening, exhaustion started creeping back in, her body reminding her that she hadn’t really rested, not properly.
Aaryan noticed before she said anything.
“Lie down,” he said quietly.
This time—
She didn’t hesitate.
She moved to the bed, lying down slowly, her body sinking into the sheets again. Aaryan stayed for a moment, watching her, his expression unreadable, before he stepped closer.
His hand brushed lightly against her arm.
“You’re okay,” he said, low, steady.
Tara nodded faintly, her eyes already growing heavier.
And as the day faded into night—He stayed.
Attentive and caring.
All at once.
And somehow—That made it harder to tell what part of it was real.
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