Raavi woke with a jolt, the remnants of her nightmare clinging to her like a second skin—suffocating, inescapable. Her breath came out in sharp pants, but relief did not follow. Instead, a deep, hollow ache pulsed in her chest—a void carved by pain so sharp, it felt like fire searing through her ribs.

Her skin prickled with cold sweat, her limbs frozen in that moment between dream and waking reality.

She blinked, trying to orient herself, only to feel it—a heavy weight draped over her waist, warm breath ghosting across the back of her neck.

Her body stilled, every muscle pulled taut with dread. Slowly, fearfully, she lowered her gaze.

A muscular, naked arm was wrapped tightly around her waist, anchoring her to a bare, solid chest.

And just like that, her blood turned to ice.

No. No. This can’t be real. Shiva?

Panic flooded her senses as her mind rejected the reality before her.

Her body began to tremble, small violent shudders that rattled her bones. The trauma of the past months surged back in a wave that nearly drowned her.

He shouldn’t be here. Not after everything. Not after the damage he had inflicted, the pain he had so effortlessly become a master of.

Her breath hitched as she tried to make sense of it, but nothing about this made sense.

Before she could collect herself, his arm tightened around her, drawing her closer into his heat. It felt like a cage. Like a nightmare made flesh.

“Love, what’s wrong?” Shiva’s voice broke through the silence, laced with concern, with panic—but she couldn’t hear the worry.

All she heard was the echo of past horrors, of screams that had never left her lips and bruises that never faded.

She squirmed beneath his touch, the pressure of his skin against hers igniting a wave of revulsion.

Her body remembered everything he had done. Every word, every strike, every accusation.

“Raavi, love, look at me. I’m here. Nothing is going to happen to you. I’ll fix this—I’ll fix everything, I swear. Just calm down, love,” he whispered desperately, pulling her closer into his chest as if his embrace could erase the scars he'd etched into her soul.

She could barely breathe. Her palms pressed against his chest, small and trembling, trying to push him away.

“S...st...stay away,” she whispered, her voice cracking like glass. Tears slid down her cheeks, salty and silent, leaving trails of pain in their wake.

Shiva loosened his grip, pulling back with visible heartbreak on his face. She sat up quickly, her heart thundering in her chest, and looked down at him—his dark eyes bloodshot, rimmed with red, with unshed tears hanging heavy on his lashes.

He looked broken. But so was she.

“Please… please don’t hurt me… not again,” she choked out, her voice barely audible through her sobs.

She hated how small she sounded. How weak. But fear had a way of reducing even the strongest to dust.

His face crumpled like a dying star.

“God. I swear I won’t. Baby, I won’t. I would kill myself—hell, I’d cut my own hands off before I ever raised a finger at you again,” Shiva said, his voice a raw, unraveling thing.

But Raavi didn’t believe him.

How could she? She had lived in the eye of his storm for too long.

She had memorized the duality of him—the man who once bought her chocolates and remembered her favorite tea, who walked her home late at night and smiled like she was his sun.

The man he was before he forced her into this abusive marriage.

And the monster who cursed her name, who broke her with words sharp as razors, who blamed her for things she hadn’t done.

She stared at him now, not with hope, but with numb resignation.

Waiting.

Waiting for the storm in him to rise again and devour her whole.

Because hope was a luxury for those who hadn’t already lost everything.

Something in her silence must have shattered something in him, because suddenly, without a word, Shiva reached for the small knife tucked into his waistband.

Her eyes widened, terror once again flaring in her chest like wildfire. The blade gleamed in the dim light.

A whimper escaped her throat as she instinctively recoiled.

Shiva’s hand trembled as he held it out to her. “Kill me,” he said, softly. Too softly.

She stared at him in disbelief, her heart skidding. “What…?”

“Kill me, Raavi. Stab me. Right in the heart. End this—end everything. What I’ve done is beyond forgiveness. I don’t deserve you. I don’t even deserve to breathe the same air as you.” His voice was empty, cracked at the edges, like a man who had finally accepted his own damnation.

He stepped closer, gently placed the cold handle of the knife in her palm.

Her hands trembled under its weight.

“I… I can’t. What are you doing?” she breathed, her voice tight with confusion, pain, rage.

Shiva gave a small, broken laugh, his lips curving into something far too tragic.

“Dying by your hands would be a blessing. I know I can’t live with you. But I can’t live without you either. Please, Raavi… do it. End our suffering.”

Her gaze snapped to his face, her body trembling with a fury she hadn’t realized still lived inside her. “You think this fixes everything?” she shouted, voice cutting through the room like a scream in a church.

She fell to her knees, clutching her head.

“I’m not a murderer! You accused me of that… You destroyed me with those words. I didn’t kill anyone. I won’t kill anyone. I won’t become what you’ve made me out to be!”

Shiva dropped to the floor beside her, his hands hovering helplessly before finally gripping her arms.

“Raavi, I know. I know you didn’t. Please. Please forgive me.”

But she couldn’t hear him. Her mind had collapsed into the echo chamber of her pain.

Her eyes were squeezed shut, nails digging into her palms, as she relived each horror in vivid clarity.

Then—another sound. A horrifying, wet scrape.

Her eyes flew open.

Shiva was holding the knife again.

And he was carving.

Right into his chest.

Blood spilled in ribbons, dark and endless, but he didn’t stop.

His face was eerily calm, detached, like pain didn’t even register.

One brutal stroke after another, he etched something into his skin with merciless precision. And then he sat back, bloodied, trembling.

Raavi’s breath hitched when she saw it.

His chest—raw, mangled, soaked in red—bore one word.

R A A V I

She gasped. “Why would you do this?”

Shiva looked at her, eyes wild with a love so toxic it burned. “Because I love you,” he said with a cracked grin and a laugh that chilled her bones.

“Oh, Raavi… I love you so much it drives me mad. I want you inside me, part of me, molded into my bones. I want to keep you with me forever—even if you hate me for it. Even if it’s against your will.” He reached out, smeared her cheek with his bloodied fingers, cupped her face with a reverence that made her want to scream.

Raavi stumbled back, terror surging anew. “You’re insane,” she whispered, shaking. “You don’t love me. You’re obsessed. You’re sick.”

“Yes,” Shiva whispered, eyes gleaming. “Sick for you. Crazy for you.”

She didn’t think. Didn’t pause. She stood, stormed to the cupboard, flung the doors open. Her fingers closed around it—the lighter.

She turned back to him, fire dancing in her eyes.

He didn’t move. Just sat there, admiring her name etched into his chest.

She walked to him, crouched, flicked the lighter. Flames flickered between them.

She didn’t blink.

She brought the fire to his skin.

The scent of burning flesh filled the room, thick and nauseating.

And he… didn’t even flinch.

She burned each letter slowly. Meticulously.

Until every last trace of her name had been turned to ash and pain.

Then she stood, threw the lighter aside, her chest heaving with rage and vengeance.

She smirked.

He smirked back.

Two ruins.