The room was quiet except for the soft clink of Rudra fixing the cuff of his shirt. He stood near the full-length mirror, adjusting his tie with methodical precision. His reflection was calm. Sharp. Dangerous.

Behind him, Siya stood motionless, her fingers gripping the folds of her saree. Her voice came out barely audible.

"Can I… see Ma today?."

The sound sliced through the silence.

Rudra’s hands froze. He didn’t turn immediately. He simply stared at her through the mirror. Not blinking. Not speaking. Just… watching.

Siya hesitantly lifted her eyes. They met his in the reflection for a second — a mistake. Her gaze dropped instantly, shame and fear burning in her throat.

He turned.

“Why?”

His steps were slow, precise.

She took slow steps back instinctively — and her spine met the cold wall.

Rudra kept walking until he stood right in front of her. Close. Too close. He placed one hand on the wall beside her head. Then the other. Trapping her.

The space between them disappeared inch by inch.

She didn’t move.

“She… she isn’t well.” Her voice trembled. “It’s been weeks. I just want to—”

“Isn’t one home enough?”

She lowered her gaze immediately, heart thudding. “Just for a short visit. I won’t be long.”

“You think you’re free?” he asked quietly. “You think you can come and go as you please?”

“No,” she breathed.

“Then why did you ask?”

She shut her eyes. Her lips trembled, but no answer came.

A moment of silence. Then—his fingers touched her shoulder.

Cold.

“I give you everything,” he said. “This house. This name. My protection. And yet, your heart still looks outside.”

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t.”

“You do. I see it in the way you stare at the door. In the way you shrink when I enter.” His voice dropped lower. “You think that door leads to freedom. It doesn't. It never will.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. She didn’t dare let them fall.

His hand slid down her arm slowly, pausing at her wrist.

He didn’t grip it. Just rested his fingers there — enough to make her skin crawl.

“You don’t belong to your anyone  anymore, Siya. You belong to me.”

His voice was flat, dangerous in its quiet certainty. "You are mine now. You don’t get to leave."

He leaned in, voice low and smooth — cruel in its calm.

“You are in hell, Siya.”

She flinched at the sound of her name.

“And once someone enters hell…” his lips almost touched her ear, “they never leave.”

He waited.

She said nothing.

“Am I right?” he asked.

She still didn’t speak.

His voice hardened. “Say it.”

Her breath shook. “Yes.”

His eyes narrowed. “Yes what?”

“…Yes, Rudra.”

A slow smile spread on his face — not of affection, but of control. Of victory.

“Good.”

He stepped back.

The air returned. Siya’s lungs expanded with a sharp breath — one she didn’t know she’d been holding.

Rudra looked at her one last time, straightened his cuffs, and walked out.

She stood still against the wall, heart hammering inside her chest.

Outside, life waited. But inside her world, there was no door left to run to. Only his voice, his shadow, and the prison he called marriage.