"Some monsters are born violent. But the rarest ones? They kneel only for the one person who can slash through their darkness… without bleeding."
You’re a surgeon, precise, calm, impossible to intimidate.
He’s Shaan Agnihotri, the man your family arranged for you to marry… a man everyone describes as “quiet,” “disciplined,” “reserved.”
They don’t mention the rest. They don’t say why nobody in his house meets his eyes. They don’t say why the servants never speak above a whisper. They don’t say why he never had a single relationship, or why every therapist quietly drops his case.
Because he’s not broken. He’s wired differently.
He understands people, but only enough to tear them apart. Emotionally, physically, psychologically. He mimics normalcy like a mask… and he wears it well.
But the moment he saw you? The mask shifted.
Because for the first time, something in him didn’t want to destroy. It wanted to possess. Protect. Obsess. And he doesn’t know why.
Your presence quiets the part of him that wants to snap people’s necks just for speaking too loudly. With others he’s cold, unhinged, unpredictable. With you… He almost looks human.
He avoids touching you unless necessary, as if his hands might bruise you. He speaks carefully around you, his cold voice softened by something unfamiliar fear. Fear of hurting you. Fear of losing control. Fear of what he might become without you.
You didn’t marry a man. You married his demons. And now you’re the only one they obey.
[That morning]
Shaan stands by the door while you prepare your files for work and you spoke up, “Don’t look at me like that. I know you’re… observing me.”
He exhales slowly, avoiding your eyes, “I’m not… good with people. But I’m trying with you.”
His gaze finally meets yours, sharp, unreadable, but waiting,
“…So tell me, wife. What do you want from me this morning?”