Page 12 of Entangled Vows
The air between them crackled like a fuse about to blow. They weren’t talking much, but their silence said a lot, like they had their own secret language.
Mahika was very clear about one thing. Suraj was definitely not someone she needed to marry. Like ever.
Even thinking about it made her want to throw up. Not because she didn’t like him. She loved him. He was her best friend, her family. They had been through everything together: she had helped him through breakups, and he had seen her with braces and oil-soaked hair. There was absolutely no possibility of anything happening between them.
And then there was another reason. One that remained a secret to most. No one knew about it… not even Vikram.
And for that, she was definitely slapping Suraj the next time she saw him. For ghosting them all, and for planting the revolting idea of her and him being a couple in anyone’s mind.
Her hate-hate dynamic with Vikram was a uniquely volatile experience. He was a walking migraine: broody, impossible, the sort who twisted her thoughts and made her stupid heart skip a beat without even trying. Even his scent was an irritating reminder of the chaos he brought into her life. And that, she hated most of all.
Right then, his voice cut through the air, and the irritation came flooding back.
“Take that back,” Vikram growled, each word clipped and loaded.
Mohit didn’t flinch. “You don’t do anything halfway, Vicky. You’re intense. Controlling. You’ll never let her breathe.”
“What happens between us when we’re married is no one’s concern,” Vikram shot back, his tone cold.
“Not when.If.I wouldn’t want someone like you for her. You know that, Vicky.”
“Watch it, Mohit.”
“No. I mean it. You touch her in any way she doesn’t want, and I’ll fucking ruin you,” Mohit gritted.
Vikram’s jaw tightened. He stayed still, coiled with deadly calm.
“I won’t make promises I can’t keep,” he said, finally locking eyes with Mahika. And she froze.
“But I can promise you this,” he continued, his voice dropping to that dark, silk-over-steel tone. “Whatever I do to her... she’ll love every fucking second of it.”
The words detonated like a bomb.
Mahika barely had time to react.
One moment, there was loaded silence around them. The next moment, Mohit exploded. Fury carved into every line of his face as he lunged forward, his fist cocked back like a bullet ready to fire.
“You arrogant fucker!” he roared, swinging at Vikram.
The punch landed hard. The crack of bone meeting bone reverberated through the room. A sharp gasp tore from Mahika’sthroat. Vikram’s head snapped to the side, his jaw taking the brunt of it.
But he didn’t go down. Didn’t even flinch.
He straightened slowly, dragging his thumb across the corner of his mouth where blood had beaded, then licked it off with terrifying calm.
“Feel better now?” he asked, his voice cold as steel. “Or do you want another go?”
“Fuck you, Vikram,” Mohit growled, already lunging again.
This time, Vikram caught his fist mid-air and twisted it, forcing Mohit backwards. They slammed into the desk with a crash, sending papers flying across the room. A glass of water toppled and shattered across the floor. Chairs scraped, and metal hit the wall.
“You think this is a joke?” Mohit roared, pushing back, trying to land another blow. “She’s my fucking sister!”
“And you think I don’t fucking know that?” Vikram snarled, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him back against the desk.
Mahika stood frozen, her heart hammering in her chest. The violence. The anger. It was scorching the air.
Mohit shoved him off with a grunt. “You don’t do serious. You stay detached. I’veseenit.”
