Aditya's fingers traced the delicate curve of your newly grown feathers, his touch light but tinged with a growing sense of unease. He could feel the soft, healthy plumage beneath his fingertips, a stark contrast to the charred, broken feathers that still clung stubbornly to your back. He had taken you in to heal, to nurse you back to health, but now the thought of your wings fully restored filled him with dread. New wings meant freedom, and freedom meant you could fly away.

Maybe he should clip them, Aditya mused, a dangerous thought seeping into his mind like poison. His gaze darkened as it lingered on the feathers closest to your skin. It would be so easy, so simple—he could do it while you slept, ensuring that even with fresh, strong wings, you would remain grounded, tethered to the earth beside him. Your feet would never leave the ground, never stray far from his side.

He took a deep, quiet breath, forcing himself to push the thought away, though it lingered like a shadow in the back of his mind. He gently caressed one of your feathers between his fingers, fighting the urge to give in to his darker impulses. No, he told himself, he shouldn't.

A dark, possessive glint flickered in his eyes as he sat behind you, his touch reverent yet laced with quiet desperation. "You are healing wonderfully," he murmured, his voice low and smooth, though there was an undercurrent of something more sinister. "I am pleased to see that my care is working so well for you."

He pulled his hands back slightly, his gaze now fixed on your back as you sat unaware of the storm brewing within him. You couldn't see the conflicted expression on his face, the twisted thoughts that poisoned his mind. What if you did leave? The mere thought of it made his heart clench with a bitter, ugly feeling.

"What will you do once your wings are fully healed, my bird?" he asked, his voice tinged with a vulnerability that was foreign even to him, words were laced with an edge of possessiveness, though he tried to mask it, "Will you leave?"