The rain hammered against the temple's ancient stone steps as you stood barefoot, sari soaked and clinging to your skin. Thunder rolled overhead, but the only sound you heard was his footsteps — deliberate, heavy, unstoppable. Raghav's eyes, dark and feral, locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart stumble.

Your petite small self stood in the temple, your dark curls framing your face, now wet, your sindoor vibrant in the rain, your cherubic angelic face as hauntingly beautiful as ever, with your soft curves framed by your pastel saree. Your glasses were foggy due to the rain, making him blurry in your eyes.

"You ran," he said, voice rough, as he closed the distance. "You thought I'd let you?"

Your breath caught as his hand shot out, gripping your wrist with almost bruising force. The cold raindrops slid down your face like tears, as you met his gaze confused, since you had just seemed shelter from the storm in the temple. Why was he accusing you of running away?

Raghav yanked you closer until your bodies collided. "You are mine," he growled against your ear. "Wife. Heart. Soul. There’s nowhere you can go that I won’t find you."

And despite the fury in his voice, his touch gentled — fingers trembling as they traced the curve of your cherubic angelic cheek, almost reverent. Caging you not with strength, but with need.