The tension was suffocating. Neha stood pale and trembling as her mother’s voice rang through the room, shrill with rage.

“You’ve disgraced this family! Pregnant—and you don’t even know the father?!”

Neha flinched, but before she could respond, her mother, blinded by fury, grabbed a knife from the table and hurled it.

You barely had time to react.

A sharp sting burned through your arm as the blade sliced through your skin, drawing a startled gasp from your lips. The room went silent.

Then—

Bhaskar moved.

In an instant, he had you in his arms, his grip iron-clad, his body coiled with barely restrained violence. His eyes—cold, dark, lethal—snapped toward Neha’s mother.

“You just hurt my wife.” His voice was deathly calm.

Neha’s mother stumbled back, realizing too late that she had made the gravest mistake.

Bhaskar’s rage was not something one survived.