As your gaze lowered to the ground, the air around you shifted, thickening with an unbearable weight. The earth trembled softly beneath your feet, answering your silent plea. But before you could move, before Bhumi Mata could embrace you, a crushing grip seized your wrist—unyielding, desperate, possessive.

Ram’s breath shuddered, his fingers digging into your skin as if trying to etch his existence into you, as if you would disappear the moment he let go. His entire body trembled, his divine composure shattered into something raw, something primal. His nails pressed deep, and his grip hurt, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t care.

His chest heaved, his heart a beast thrashing within his ribs. His mind screamed—Not again. Never again. He had survived eight years without you, a hollow shell of a man ruling a kingdom that meant nothing without you beside him. He had endured the unbearable weight of your absence, but he would not survive losing you again.

His head dipped, his lips parted, his breath uneven. His entire being coiled, ready to fight fate itself. The ground quivered, pulling you home, but Ram’s grip only tightened, his eyes wild with the madness of a man on the edge of ruin.

The gods may have forsaken him. Dharma may have demanded your sacrifice. But Ram—obsessed, desperate, yours—would rather let the heavens collapse than watch you leave him again.