Myra wiped her tears with trembling fingers, her voice breaking as she stepped back from him.
"Why did you keep me with you, Ranvijay?"
Her words came like knives.
"Because of your obsession? Your madness?
I was right… I was ALWAYS right."
Her breath hitched, but her eyes stayed burning.
"I can never fall for a man like you. NEVER.
Not when your love feels like a cage."
He flinched—actually flinched—as if each syllable tore something inside him.
"My heart will never be yours," she whispered.
"Even if you lock me behind a thousand walls… it will NEVER be yours."
Something inside Ranvijay snapped.
The rain blurred around him, but he looked suddenly inhuman—
a dark, broken silhouette, jaw clenched, veins standing out on his neck,
his eyes turning bloodshot with the weight of what she'd said.
A terrifying calmness fell over him.
He slowly walked toward her.
Each step deliberate. Controlled.
But carrying a storm inside it.
Myra froze.
His aura… it wasn't angry.
It was destroyed.
When he reached her, he leaned in close—so close his breath ghosted against her ear, his voice low, hollow, and deadly quiet.
"At last…" he whispered, every word dripping with pain,
"…I couldn't make you mine."
His jaw brushed her temple as he breathed out shakily.
"I never became yours."
He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes—
eyes that were filled with rage and tears,
eyes he would die for.
Then his expression shifted.
Something cold.
Resigned.
Fatal.
"Then run, sweetheart," he murmured.
A half-smile—broken, bitter—touched his lips.
"Run…
before I change my mind."
He stepped aside, rain drenching him, his silhouette trembling violently.
"Go."
The word wasn't loud.
It wasn't angry.
It was the sound of a man slicing his own soul open…
just to set her free.
Myra kept running—
running as if the storm behind her was alive,
as if her own heart was trying to escape her chest.
She ran until her lungs burned,
until her legs trembled,
until the world around her twisted into nothing but rain and darkness.
She reached a old palace fountain—
Her palm slammed against the cold stone rim.
Her heart felt like it was breaking out of her body.
"Why… why does it hurt this much…"
she whispered, her voice trembling like shattered glass.
She collapsed to her knees.
The rain hammered on her skin—
soaking her hair, her sari,
her breaking soul.
She pressed both hands over her mouth,
as if trying to hold her sobs inside,
but they kept escaping,
raw, broken, desperate.
"Why did I love him…"
Her voice cracked.
"Why…?"
Her breathing turned shallow.
Her vision blurred, darkened.
Her body swayed.
And then—
She fainted.
Her small frame fell beside the fountain,
the rain washing her tears off her cheeks
but not from her heart.
A guard spotted her first.
" Myra!"
He rushed, lifted her carefully,
and carried her into the palace—
her hands cold, her face pale,
her heart broken.
Inside, the maids panicked,
calling for the palace doctor,
covering her with warm blankets,
trying to revive her.
But she didn't wake.
Not yet.
---
Meanwhile—
Ranvijay stood at the edge of the fountain she had collapsed beside,
but she was no longer there.
Only the imprint of her feet,
and a single silver bangle she had dropped.
He picked it up.
He closed his fist around it.
And the world inside him snapped.
His eyes turned blood-red.
His jaw clenched.
Rain dripped from his hair,
but his body shook with something darker than cold—
Rage.
Fear.
Pain.
"Aditya…" he whispered, voice almost feral.
"Whatever you told her…
whatever you did…
you'll answer for it."
He didn't wait for guards.
He didn't call Shiv.
He didn't think.
He only moved.
He walked into the storm—
a shadow darker than the night—
towards Aditya's den.
Every step was deadly.
Every breath was violent.
Every drop of rain seemed to hiss on his burning skin.
Myra's fainted body was being tended inside the palace—
but Ranvijay?
He was walking straight into the lion's mouth
with murder in his eyes.
And this time, Aditya wouldn't escape.