Sanya descended the sleek staircase of the penthouse, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. She had changed into a fitted black dress that reached just above her knees, simple yet elegant, a stark contrast to the suffocating bridal gown she had worn the night before. The delicate fabric clung to her frame, but no matter how expensive the dress was, she still felt like she was wrapped in invisible chains.
Aarush sat on the leather couch, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal his toned forearms. A glass of whiskey rested in his grip, the amber liquid swirling lazily as he leaned back, his long legs stretched out in a way that made it clear he was in control of everything in this space—including her.
Sanya took a slow breath and stepped closer. "I have a job here," she said, voice steady despite the weight pressing against her chest. "I don't want to leave it."
Aarush didn't react immediately. His gaze flickered over her, taking in the change of clothes, the way she carried herself—like she was trying to hold on to something, anything, that was still hers.
Then, without looking away, he took a slow sip of his drink and smirked. "A job?" His voice was laced with amusement, but there was something dangerous underneath. "You think that matters?"
Sanya's hands curled into fists at her sides. "It matters to me."
Aarush chuckled darkly, setting his glass down on the sleek glass table beside him. He pushed himself up from the couch, closing the distance between them in a few effortless strides.
She didn't back away.
He tilted his head, studying her like she was some puzzle he was trying to solve. "You really think you get to have a say in this, don't you?" His voice was smooth, deceptively calm.
Sanya lifted her chin, refusing to break eye contact. "I'm not asking for permission. I built that job for myself. I worked for it. And I won't just give it up because you say so."
Aarush exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair, as if trying to rein in his frustration. Then, in a blink, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, the warmth of his body pressing against hers.
"You don't understand, Sanya," he murmured, his breath fanning against her cheek. "You don't get to live a normal life anymore."
She swallowed hard, her pulse racing at his proximity. "Because of you?"
A ghost of a smirk touched his lips, but his grip on her wrist tightened slightly. "Because of the choices your father made. And because now, you belong to me."
Sanya jerked her hand free, stepping back. "I don't belong to anyone."
Aarush let out a low chuckle, dark and humorless. "Then prove it."
She stared at him, confused.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a sleek black card, and tossed it onto the table. "Go ahead. Book a flight. Walk out that door." His voice was mocking, challenging. "Let's see how far you get before the world reminds you exactly who you are now."
Sanya didn't move. She knew the truth. She could leave, but she wouldn't be free.
Because Aarush had already made sure there was nowhere else for her to go.
Sanya's gaze flickered to the black card resting on the table, its glossy surface reflecting the dim lighting of the penthouse. She let out a quiet breath before looking up at Aarush, her expression hardening.
"I don't want your money," she said firmly.
Aarush raised a brow, his smirk deepening as if she had just told him the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. "No?" he mused, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Then how exactly do you plan to survive? You think your little paycheck is going to be enough?"
"I've managed just fine without you," she shot back. "And I'll continue to."
Something flickered in his eyes—annoyance, amusement, something in between. He took a step closer, towering over her. "You don't get it, do you?" His voice dropped lower, almost amused. "Everything in your life is tied to me now. Whether you take my money or not, you're still mine. Mine to destroy."
Sanya clenched her fists at her sides, forcing herself to hold his gaze. "I may be trapped in this marriage, but I still have a choice. And I choose not to depend on you."
Aarush let out a slow chuckle, shaking his head as he studied her. "Stubborn little thing," he muttered. Then, with a lazy shrug, he turned away, heading back toward the couch. "Fine," he said, sinking into the leather. "Be my guest. Struggle all you want. Just don't come crying to me when reality hits."
Sanya swallowed her anger, her nails digging into her palms. She refused to let him see how much his words affected her.
"I won't," she said quietly, before turning on her heels and walking away.
Aarush watched her go, a dark glint in his eyes.
She could fight all she wanted.
She wasn't going anywhere.
Sanya stormed toward the bedroom, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor. The weight of Aarush's words pressed down on her, but she refused to let them sink in.
She wasn't naïve. She knew surviving without his money would be difficult. But the thought of relying on him—of being another pawn in his twisted game—was unbearable.
Reaching the bedroom, she yanked open the wardrobe and pulled out a fresh set of clothes: a simple white blouse and high-waisted black trousers. The silk fabric felt cool against her skin as she slipped into them, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat of Aarush's presence.
She wouldn't let him control her life.
Not now. Not ever.
When she stepped back into the living room, Aarush was still lounging on the couch, his legs stretched out, his phone in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other. He barely spared her a glance.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Sanya adjusted the strap of her handbag over her shoulder. "To work."
Aarush's gaze finally lifted, his dark eyes narrowing. "Work?" he repeated, as if the concept itself was ridiculous.
"Yes," she said, lifting her chin. "I have a job, and I don't intend to leave it."
A slow smirk tugged at his lips as he placed his glass down on the table. "You think you get to make that decision?"
"It's my life."
Aarush let out a low chuckle, standing up and closing the distance between them in a few unhurried steps. "Your life," he echoed mockingly. "Let me remind you, Mrs. Aarush Rathore, that your life belongs to me now."
Sanya clenched her jaw. "I will not sit around and play the obedient wife. I worked hard for this job. I'm not giving it up just because you think you own me."
His smirk faded. "Do you even understand the position you're in?" His fingers brushed against her wrist, not in a gentle way but as a quiet assertion of power. "You think the world will see you the same way after last night? That you can just walk into your office like nothing's changed?"
Her heart clenched. She knew what he was implying. The world would now see her as his wife, a woman tied to a man as powerful as Aarush Rathore. Whispers would follow her, eyes would linger, assumptions would be made.
But she refused to let that stop her.
"I don't care what people think," she said. "I care about my independence."
Aarush's grip on her wrist tightened for a fraction of a second before he let go, stepping back with an unreadable expression. "Fine," he said smoothly. "Go."
Sanya frowned. His agreement came too easily.
"But don't come running to me when you realize just how cruel this world can be."
With those parting words, he turned away, leaving her standing there with the eerie feeling that she had just walked into a battle she wasn't prepared for.