Protection or Possession?

Protection or Possession?

There it was—a fleeting flash of something Radhika couldn’t quite place in those dark eyes.

She barely caught it before it disappeared, leaving her wondering if she had imagined it in his eyes.

True, he knew the answer was obvious. He should have seen it coming. And yet, a part of him still felt the pain he was meant to keep buried.

There was no denying how much it hurt him—

the way she reacted to his presence.

No matter how cold he appeared,

there were still fragments of humanity left within him.

And that was the part he refused to let her see—

not because it would make him seem weak,

but because he couldn’t afford to be weak.

Not in front of her.

Veiling his expression in that split second, he let out a booming laugh.

She flinched at the sudden sound, her body tensing instantly.

“Me… or them?”

His eyes were colder than a glacier’s.

“You’re afraid of me—after I just told you how merciless those people are?”

If she couldn’t even bring herself to believe him…then what was the point of any of this?

The thought left a bitter taste in his mind.

Yet it lingered.

She shrank back at the tone of his voice, her anxious eyes darting away from him.

Silence followed.

Her lips parted, but no words came out. Then—

“Yes.”

It was barely above a whisper. But it landed harder than a scream.

Something in his expression stilled.

Not anger.

Not fury.

Something else.

His jaw tightened, but this time—not out of rage.

Out of restraint.

“Y-you…” She stuttered, not backing down from those smothering eyes.

“Why?” The word came out quieter. Almost… controlled.

Her breath trembled.

“Because…” She swallowed, her voice shaking despite herself. “You’re the one hurting me the most.”

That did it.

His hand froze against her.

Completely still.

For the first time—he truly looked at her. Into those wide, gleaming eyes—filled with nothing but pain.

Not through her.

Not over her.

At her.

The redness of her skin.

The tear tracks.

The way she flinched—even now.

And something inside him—shifted.

His grip loosened.

Not fully.

But enough.

A crack, he felt it.

He didn’t speak.

Because for the first time—he didn’t have an answer.

“Is that what you call protection?” she whispered, questioning him again.

She couldn’t understand how someone could act with such brutality—and still call it protection.

The question struck him hard, right in the center of his chest.

At her horrified sob, his grip slackened completely.

He released her—his hand leaving the nape of her neck entirely.

Her tears tasted salty as they slipped into her parted lips.

From her point it was nothing but control.

It was an abuse of power. Of strength.

Something so cruel—so wrong—that she wanted to scream in his face.

This wasn’t normal.

Not even close.

And yet—

she couldn’t escape him.

Could she?

His gaze didn’t waver.

“It’s the only kind that keeps you alive.” It was a quiet murmur.

Her lips trembled.

“Alive?”

Was he being delusional?

A hollow laugh escaped her. It was full of pain.

“This isn’t living.”

That made something in him snap.

His jaw clenched, his expression hardening instantly.

“You think I don’t know that?”His voice dropped—low, dangerous.

He was well aware of her situation—of their situation. It wasn’t something he had the power to change. He had to do whatever he could—even if the worst came to pass.

“You think I don’t see what this is doing to you?”

It wasn’t just her who was suffering.

He was too.

But while she felt it—he buried it.

Carrying everything on shoulders that refused to break, behind a heart he had turned to stone.

He stepped closer.

“But you’re alive. Are you not?”

Each word was deliberate.

“And right now—” His hand lifted slightly… then stopped mid-air. “…that’s all that matters.”

She stared at him, her eyes burning now—not just with fear.

With anger.

“Not to me.”

Silence.

Heavy.

Suffocating.

For a split second—something in his expression broke.

Barely there.

But enough.

But this time—it didn’t sound like an insult.

“Then you’re a fool,” he said quietly. “If that’s what you think, so be it. I can’t change your perception of me when you’ve already made up your mind.”

A pause.

“It’s easier to let you think whatever you want about me.”

His gaze hardened.

“I’m fine with that.”

Another pause.

“What I’m not fine with…” His voice lowered. “...is losing.”

His eyes fixed on her tear-streaked, flushed face.

“I’m not used to it. I never have been.”

His voice was softer. She could barely hear it, yet she felt the chills.

“But if, by even the slightest mistake, someone dared to touch a single hair on your head without my permission…”

Silence.

“Then I lose.”

His gaze darkened—turning deeper, more dangerous.

“And when I lose…”

He stepped closer, until only a breath separated them.

“…my loss becomes someone else’s death.”

Her eyes widened.

“I’ll burn this entire fucking city to the ground if I have to.”

Silence fell between them.

Heavy. Suffocating.

Her lips parted, but no words came out. Her heart pounded violently against her ribs.

He meant it. He meant each and every word he said. She could feel it in her bones. The reality felt ominous when she was able to comprehend what he just told her.

That was the terrifying part.

She could see it—in his eyes, in the way his jaw was set, in the way his presence seemed to swallow the air around her whole.

“You’re insane…” she whispered. The words slipped out before she could stop them.

His gaze didn’t soften.

Not even a fraction.

“No,” he said quietly.

A pause.

“No,” she repeated, just as softly.

Another pause.

“I’m the only one who sees it clearly, it seems then.”

Her breath hitched.

But what about her? Was she wrong to feel this way? Had she ever even been given a chance to decide?

The way he said it—calm, certain—sent a chill crawling down her spine.

She shook her head weakly, taking a step back, her mind blank.

In the midst of everything, the wound reopened—the same wound he had caused just a week ago.

“And I mean every word I say.”

How ironic.

As if she hadn’t already felt the weight of them, without a doubt.

His warmth-radiating fingers against her jaw burned her skin as he tilted her chin, forcing her glazed eyes to meet his.

Unable to form any coherent words, she stood there trembling at his words.

It struck something deep within her.

Her heart felt as though it had dropped inside her chest.

His words were harsher than anything he had ever said to her before.

It was shocking—hearing him speak as if he were staking a claim on something inanimate.

Was she even a person in his eyes?

More like a possession, without a doubt—something meant to sit quietly in a corner, something to be kept, controlled, and locked away from the world?

As if she had somehow become something to control—something to command—something he believed he knew better than anyone else in the world.

But she wasn’t.

She wasn’t an object.

God—she wasn’t.

She was a living, breathing human being.

With emotions.

With thoughts.

With a will of her own.

“You’re insane…” she repeated, as if he hadn’t heard her the first time. She could not stop herself.

Something flickered in his expression.

Not anger.

Not this time.

Something quieter.

“Maybe,” he said.

A pause.

His gaze didn’t leave hers.

“But you’re still alive,” he, too, repeated his answer from before.

Her heart clenched painfully at that.

“At what cost?” she shot back, her voice breaking despite her effort to stay strong.

That did it.

His expression hardened again—like a wall slamming back into place.

“At the only cost that matters.”

He stepped even closer—if that was even possible.

“Yours.”

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