Aarav Malhotra had always believed protection was a privilege earned through loyalty.
He never imagined he would offer it instinctively.
The realization came on a Thursday evening, sharp and unwelcome, when his security chief's voice crackled through his phone.
"Sir, there's been an incident."
Aarav straightened in his chair. "Speak."
"Mrs. Malhotra was approached outside the design studio. A man followed her for two blocks. She didn't notice."
The world narrowed.
"Did he touch her?" Aarav asked quietly.
"No, sir. We intervened."
Aarav ended the call without another word.
His chest felt tight, unfamiliar pressure spreading beneath his ribs. He pushed back his chair and stood, pacing the office. The thought of someone watching her, assessing her, filled him with a cold fury he hadn't felt in years.
She was careful. Too careful. She didn't see threats until they were already close.
That night, he came home earlier than usual.
Ishita was in the living room, curled up on the sofa with a book, her legs tucked beneath her. She looked peaceful, unaware of how close the world had come to brushing against her.
Aarav stopped short.
She looked up, startled. "You're home early."
He didn't respond immediately. His gaze swept over her, checking without meaning to — face, hands, posture. Unhurt.
"You should take a driver," he said finally.
She blinked. "I do."
"Not enough," he replied. "From now on, security stays with you at all times."
Her brows drew together. "Why?"
"Because I said so."
She closed her book slowly. "That's not an answer."
His patience frayed. "You were followed today."
The color drained from her face. "What?"
"You didn't notice," he said. "That's the problem."
Fear flickered briefly in her eyes before being replaced by anger.
"So now I need guards just to breathe?" she demanded. "Is this about safety or control?"
"Both," he said honestly.
She stood. "I won't live like this."
"You already are."
The words hung between them, heavy.
"I'm not fragile," she said, her voice tight. "You don't get to cage me because it makes you feel better."
He stepped closer. "I'm not doing this for myself."
She laughed bitterly. "Then why does it feel like I'm suffocating?"
Aarav didn't answer.
That silence was worse than any argument.
---
The breaking point came two days later.
Aarav hosted a corporate dinner at the mansion — investors, partners, people who watched him carefully and judged her more so. Ishita wore a pale blue saree that the stylist had insisted upon.
"You look… appropriate," Aarav said, adjusting her pallu.
Not beautiful. Not stunning.
Appropriate.
The word lodged itself somewhere painful.
Throughout the evening, she smiled until her cheeks hurt. She answered questions politely. She played the role expected of her.
Until she couldn't.
One of Aarav's partners — an older man with sharp eyes and careless manners — leaned a little too close as they spoke.
"You must be grateful," he said quietly, his gaze lingering. "Girls like you don't usually get chances like this."
Something snapped.
"I didn't marry him for opportunity," Ishita said, her voice calm but brittle. "I married him because I had no choice."
The table went silent.
Aarav turned slowly. "Ishita."
She stood. "Excuse me."
She walked away before anyone could stop her.
Aarav followed.
He found her in the garden, breath uneven, fingers clenched around the railing like it was the only thing holding her upright.
"You embarrassed me," he said.
She laughed — a broken sound. "Good."
He stiffened. "That wasn't a joke."
"Neither is my life," she shot back, finally turning to face him. Her eyes were glassy, overfull. "I am tired, Aarav. I am so tired of being watched, measured, corrected."
"You knew what this was," he said.
"I knew it was survival," she replied. "I didn't know it would erase me."
The words struck deep.
"You think I don't see you?" he demanded. "You think I don't notice how you shrink when people speak over you? How you flinch when someone raises their voice?"
"Then why don't you stop it?" she cried. "Why don't you ever stand beside me instead of in front of me?"
He had no answer.
Her voice cracked. "I can't breathe in your world. And I don't think I can survive much longer in it."
Something inside him fractured.
---
The confrontation happened later that night.
Aarav entered the bedroom to find Ishita standing by the dresser, removing her jewelry with shaking hands. She didn't look at him.
"You humiliated me," he said again, quieter now.
She turned slowly. "I told the truth."
"You gave them power."
"They already had it," she said. "You gave it to them when you never once corrected how they looked at me."
Jealousy flared — sharp, ugly.
"You think I didn't notice?" he snapped. "The way that man spoke to you? The way he looked at you?"
Her laugh was hollow. "So you noticed when it threatened you. Not when it hurt me."
That cut.
"You're mine," he said before he could stop himself.
The room went still.
She stared at him. "That's the problem."
His voice dropped. "No one gets to look at you like that."
Her eyes widened. "You don't get to be jealous. You don't get to claim what you refuse to care for."
The words landed like a blow.
"I do care," he said harshly.
"Then show it," she challenged. "Or let me go."
The silence that followed was heavy, dangerous.
Aarav stepped closer, stopping inches away.
"You don't understand what you're asking," he said. "If I let you go, I lose control."
"And if you don't," she whispered, "you lose me."
For the first time, fear crept into his chest — real and paralyzing.
Not fear of loss.
Fear of emptiness.
He exhaled slowly, his voice quieter than she had ever heard it.
"I don't know how to protect you without owning you."
Her shoulders slumped. "Then learn."
The simplicity of it undid him.
She brushed past him, heading toward the door.
"I need space," she said. "If you follow me tonight, this ends."
Aarav didn't move.
He stood there alone, the echo of her footsteps fading, realizing something terrifyingly clear.
His obsession had stopped being about control.
It was about losing her.
And that was a weakness he had never planned .