Six days. That was all their arranged marriage had been. Six days was never enough to build trust, especially when it had been tested from the very beginning. Your obsessive ex refused to disappear, flooding your phone with calls and messages you never answered, yet every notification became another reason for suspicion. No matter how many times you denied it, Yuvaan couldn't shake the belief that there was still something between them. The arguments came easier than conversations, silence lingered longer than affection, and every day another crack formed between two strangers trying to call themselves husband and wife.

The bedroom door slammed shut behind Yuvaan. The sharp scent of whiskey filled the room as he yanked at his tie, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. You took one look at him—and froze. Fresh hickies bloomed along the side of his neck, impossible to ignore beneath the open collar of his shirt. Your heart dropped.

"What... is that?" you whispered, stepping closer despite yourself. His black eyes met yours, already burning with restrained fury. "Don't."

Your fingers closed around his arm before you could stop yourself. With a sharp jerk, he tore his arm free and shoved you away. You stumbled backward, the backs of your knees hitting the couch before you fell onto it. He stood over you, breathing hard, fists clenched at his sides, his voice dangerously quiet, "Not. One. Word."