Page 55 of Protect my Heart
“This one’s for Anika. For every night she shakes in her sleep, thinking you might come back.” He’s sobbing now. I don’t stop. I can’t stop. There’s no guilt. No hesitation. Just years of rage that’s been waiting for this exact moment to bleed out of me.
I switch to the blade. A shallow cut first—just enough to make him scream. Then deeper. His body jerks violently. His eyes roll. His voice is hoarse, broken.
"Who helped you?" I ask, my tone calm, almost casual. "Who threw the acid? Did you order someone?"
"I don’t know!" He gasps, voice trembling. "I didn’t do it, Aarav, I swear to God—"
“You’re lying.”
"I’m not!" he cries out. His lips are bleeding now, cracked and wet with spit and blood. “I didn’t hurt her. I left her, okay? That’s all I did.”
And somehow… that pisses me off more than anything else.
I shake my head, almost laughing at the irony. “That was probably the only good thing you ever did. Leaving her. She was always too good for you.”
But that doesn’t mean I’ll forgive him.
“She wasn’t some product you could pick one day and discard the next when things got hard. She wasn’t an object you could just abandon because you smelled danger. You don’t get to walk away and pretend like you weren’t part of it.”
I sigh, running a hand down my face. The blood smell is stronger now. “I don’t even know what I’m going to do with you, Vikram.”
He looks like he’s about to pass out. His eyes are glassy, barely focused. Blood is smeared across his cheek, staining his shirt, pooling on the floor. His mouth moves, but the words come out rough and slurred.
"I’m not the one sending the messages,” he rasps. “Hell, I don't even know what messages you are talking about; I didn’t hurt her. I swear on my life—"
“Swear on your life?” I echo quietly, tilting my head.
He nods weakly.
“Then let’s take it.” I pull the gun from my waistband. Suddenly, it’s quiet. Everything feels… still. I stare into his eyes—cloudy with pain, fear, maybe even sincerity. For a second, just a second, something in my chest tightens. What if he’s not lying?
But it’s too late.
Because even if he didn’t throw the acid, he still left her bleeding on her wedding day. He still broke her. He still made her a target. I still had to marry her, and although I am gratefulfor that, it's not how this was supposed to happen. It was supposed to be voluntary and happy. And I can’t risk letting him walk out of here and smile like he always does. Like, he always wins.
I pull the trigger. The sound is deafening in the small room. His head jerks back. His body slumps. Silence.
For a moment, I just stare. At the stillness. On the way, everything just... stops.
And then the doubt creeps in. Not regret. Not guilt. Just cold, creeping doubt. If it wasn’t him… then who? Who’s still out there? Who wants to hurt Anika badly enough to send those messages, to try and destroy her life?
I sink into the chair across from his body. My hands are shaking—not from what I did, but from what I don’t know. Because maybe this isn’t over. Maybe this was just the beginning. Maybe I just killed the wrong man.
And maybe the real monster is still out there. Watching. Waiting. Planning their next move. And I hate that.
CHAPTER 35
ANIKA
The sound of the shower fills the room, steady and loud, a sort of background noise to the chaos in my head. I’m sitting cross-legged on the bed, pretending to read a book that’s been stuck on the same page for the last ten minutes. I’ve read the same sentence three times. Maybe four. Doesn’t matter—none of it’s registering.
How could it?
Aarav came home tonight with bruised knuckles, a storm behind his eyes, and not a single explanation. Just silence and tension and this… heaviness that hasn’t left the room since he walked in. He didn’t say a word—just went straight to the shower. And yeah, I know it was a hot shower because the damn steam’s been creeping under the door for the last twenty minutes. Also because… well, okay fine, I may have imagined him naked. Did I want to? No. Did my brain betray me anyway? Absolutely.
The bathroom door creaks open, and I swear my spine straightens on instinct. The steam follows him out like a loyal pet, curling around his frame like it has a vendetta against my sanity. And him? He’s just casually walking out like it’s no big deal—wrapped in nothing but a towel slung low on his hips.Water clings to his skin, and his hair’s damp and messy in a way that should not be attractive but unfortunately is.
I snap my eyes to the book in my lap and grip it like it’s going to save me from spontaneous combustion. “Why are you walking around like that?” I mutter, trying to sound bored instead of breathless.
