nidhi-writes

[nidhi-writes]

Hey please write any romantic oneshot on vanmouzli wwhere arunmozli isn't oblivious ur writing is really beautiful

Sure i will make a note for my future one-shot...thank you for reds ng my work..you can also find my other Vanmozhi and ponniyin selvan works in my master list which i updated today.

😊😊😊

[nidhi-writes]

Please can you continue the arjun das story, villain love pleaseeee

I will!! It has one more part that will be updated this week 😊😊

[nidhi-writes]

part 4 of his niyati???

Just posted!!

[nidhi-writes]

CHAPTER - IV | HIS NIYATI

MASTERLIST

one | two | three

Was it weeks or months passed by? I lost count of the days that I was in the hell-bound of being captive. My eyes searched for the light that my heart was hoping for. My mouth whimpers as my cold body now feels numb after days of being left in this room covered with walls and no one to feel the warmth with. My eyes are dried with tears as they stop pouring after days of them flowing like a river; they might have flooded this whole palace if not for my heart beating for the innocent people living here.

Every night, I pray that it is a big bad dream. I wake up in my cabin, feeling the heater running up and the Baahubali movie that I left playing. My eyes are relieved, yet I feel the loneliest feeling of not having Deva or Baahubali with me. Yet here I am in the world of fantasy, and the man hated by many and hates others has locked me in the chamber, which others have no idea about.

I remember him whispering into my ear as he said, "Gotcha," as my body shivered under the touch of the person for whom my heart beat so fast. Maybe it was fear or something else, but it was only for me to be pushed and guarded like some object and have to spend my time inside this until I only responded to his most absurd request.

Yes, after being made to stay here under the guards of his own personal choice, Bhalla came to me one night. His eyes never left me. I sat on the cold floor with my back next to a wall in the corner, away from him, trying to hide from him. My hair covered half my face, and my eyes were wet with tears.

"Be my Queen", he whispered, causing my mouth to gap as I looked at the person before me, trying to think clearly and waiting again for him to repeat. Maybe I heard him wrong, but no, it's what he wants, his request or more like an order. When he saw I didn't answer him, he tried to near me, but I took a weapon that I hid in my pallu of the saree, a small knife that Deva presented me.

"Come near, and you will regret it", I replied, holding the weapon as if it contained my life. I expected him to be violent, but he moved further away as he spoke again. "Cry all you want, shout as your throat dries, fight as your life depends on, but in the end, you are mine. No one could change that" I choked up my tears as I listened to his words. Maybe in a fictional novel, this might sound wonderful, and I would be awed by the male lead who spoke it, but this is all real and in front of me and to me.

"I would rather be unalive than be with you." I realize my words were extremely harsh on the matter. I do feel something for him; it may be likeness, lust, or love; I can't differentiate, but my mind at that time wanted the man before me to leave the hell out of me. I spoke, but it didn't go as I expected.

The next time he ventured in, his expression was much softer as he took in my state; my eyes were now probably stained as my kohl would have run down, and my uncombed hair might have looked like a matted mess, but what surprised me was him standing before me as his hands held a plate. The aroma of food called out to me. I sat up from the cold floor but again edged against the wall.

"My Nandhini, please eat," he whispered as he set the food before me. But I couldn't look at him nor let my hunger satisfy him. I wanted to be out here and away from him, but my heart screamed every time I talked about leaving.

"Did you poison it?" His eyes snapped to me like that with a look of shock and pain.

 "Poison," he spoke with a slight whimper. I might be dreaming. Bhallaldeva never once felt the pain of others, so why would my words pain him? 

"I am asking you to eat, remove your hunger, and make you feel comfortable. Yet you push me away, hurt me with your words, by abandoning your warm bed and laying on the cold floor. Yet you accuse me of the things I never intended nor dreamt of to you," He spoke as he scop down rice mixed with Dal and sat right before me, his hand reaching with food, hoping my lips would accept them. For a second, the food and the slight warmth I felt from him wanted me to dwell into it and have it all, but the back of my mind screamed that it was all his plan, the plan to break me and have me so that he could succeed in whatever he hopes to.

So I turned my face, making it lean away from him and facing the wall to avoid him and everything he offered at all costs.

"Nandhini, look at me, please." He started to beg now, but I forced myself not to look at him.

"Look at me !!" His scream made me clutch myself a whimper being left my mouth. I suddenly felt a pull of my head in the direction of him; he cupped my jaw and made me look at him.

"Why are you doing this to me? And yourself! Please eat," He begged again, but I kept my mouth shut as he tried to force me.

"Are you planning to die by going on a hunger strike!" He asked, and I chuckled, salty 

"Will that make me get away from here, from you?" I asked him, gritting my teeth as I sneered at him.

"If that's your plan, then you are to be too disappointed," he said as he closed the gap and leaned straight next to my face. I could hear his breathing clearly, and his lips were so near to mine that I found myself backing more into the wall, hoping it would gulp me.

"I am here to cherish you, love you, take care of you, spoil you with everything in the world at your feet. You will learn to love me, will learn to be with me, and most importantly, you will eat now." But I just chuckled as, with all my strength, I looked at him in his eyes. "In your dreams," I whispered. Surprisingly, he left me, and I was relieved for a minute, but only for him to venture in withholding something.

I had to scrunch my eyes at what he was holding. I gasped. It was a small lamb from Kuntala that Devasena's brother had gifted to me. I fell in love with it and carried it here. I looked at him as I sat straight.

"What are you doing?" I asked as I watched him. Just as the balcony door opened, the sun's rays blinded my eyes for a second. When I looked at him, he stood at the balcony's edge, holding Chintu, my pet lamb.

I stood up, wobbling and trying to stand straight. "Please, give Chintu to me," I said, holding my hands for the poor Lamb calling out to me.

Bhalladeva smiled as he softly caressed the Lamb's head. "It is so cute how your heart races for this tiny being, yet you disregard me and don't listen to me nor see the care and love I have for you." He spoke as he slowly let his hand out of the balcony railing, holding the little Lamb.

"Don't do it," I half yelled, as I could see what he was planning to do. The poor creature doesn't deserve whatever the sick plan Bhalla has for it.

"Then eat, agree to eat, and never disagree." My eyes snapped at him, and I now felt hatred for him. I shook my head; I could see he was jesting.

Bhall smirked. "Well, it seems you learn only if I do it," he said, releasing the Chintu from the high balcony. My scream would have been heard all through the palace as I went and threw myself out of the balcony, only for the strong arms of the person who my heart hates now to hold around my waist and lean as my eyes watched Chintu below at the top of the net that the group of soldiers was holding. Chintu is alive, my body shook.

I turned my head and watched the monster smile. He tucked my head behind my ear and his lips against my ear. He spoke, "If you want to play with the fire, then prepare to feel the burn", He whispered I let go of myself as he led or more like carried me to the chamber and sat me down on his lap as I was a child, his hand secure around my hips.

"Here, have it," he whispered again, holding the rice and dal. I looked at him as tears ran down. I whimpered as I opened my mouth and ate from the hand that made others suffer. My eyes blurred as I gulped down the food, which my stomach welcomed, but my heart burned with rage.

"Good Girl", he whispered as he wiped away my tears and smiled at me.

"So what next? You try to force into me if I don't accept," I asked him. He silently poured some more dal into the rice and fed me as silence remained.

"I may be me many things, my dear, but I am not someone who would force into a woman, and that to the one I love," he whispered as he finished feeding me and poured me water, which I gulped down.

"Take all the time you want, but in the end, you will be mine. Until then, I won't touch you, but you will come to me yourself," he replied as he left me. I lay there again, engulfed in darkness, and the balcony door closed from outside. Why hadn't I jumped when I had the opportunity? Why was I allowed him to carry me inside?

That's how the days turned into weeks, and I left here. Each time I had my meal, he remained in the room and fed me. Even though I complained that I could eat myself, he insisted that was the only time he touched me. I could have stabbed him with my knife still hidden, but I didn't. I often wondered why haven't tried and or, surprisingly, why he hadn't tried to take away the knife from me. Is it because he knows that I can't kill him, or does he see me as weak?

I wondered if this is how Sita Ma would have felt when Ravan took her against her will, lying on the cold floor, hoping for Ram to come to save her. Unfortunately, in my case, I don't have Ram, nor do I hate the one who was thrown into this dark room, but I feel emotion for him. Part of my heart wants to be with him, and I hope that if I accept the offer, he might leave Baahu and Devasena. 

Could it be possible? Would it be possible for me to change the events? Now I have a chance? My eyes drooped as sleep took over me, and I struggled to keep myself up, but that was the last question I had in my mind.

TO BE CONTINUED...

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[nidhi-writes]

Avalin Kadhal - Vaanathi's Love

I spent a whole week and more drafting this one, as my hands and mind were never correlated, and as today's woman, I would never imagine nor can be with someone who supports polygamy; I find it hard to accept someone who married more than one partner at sametime. But at the same time, I look back and read the ages as they were, and I realize that one has to take the time and principles are different. I am unsure how my mind put this beautiful piece together, but I am always more grateful for all the creative plots my mind could create. I hope you feel calm and serene as you read this. Love is all we have.

"I will always love you, Vaanathi. There will be no one for whom my heart will be surrendered to them" Her warrior husband's words on their first night together echoed as she sat with her eyes closed, and her tear-filled eyes leaked a streak of tears as her cheeks rose all the crying.

"My princess, the prince has arrived with Panchavan Madeviyar," Vaanathi's helper announced quickly. As the words reached her ears, she wiped her eyes and immediately smiled or made herself smile as she nodded. Before leaving the room, she rechecked her face to avoid showing her inner feelings.

As her feet walked from her chamber to the palace entrance to welcome the newlyweds, her husband and his new wife. Her heart was pounding, but soon, she was accompanied by Lokamadevi, her sister-wife, the one her husband married after her. A sad smile erupted on Lokamadevi's face as she watched Vaanathi, who she respected and looked up to everything. Also, she can understand her feelings even though she is somewhat in a dilemma, but both ladies know this is the norm.

"Do you want me to do this time?" Lokamadevi asked, trying to take anything that would relieve Vaanathi's stress.

Vaanathi straightened her shoulders and shook her head. She regained her posture and nodded at the helper to bring in the aarti plate. "As a Princess and the first wife of our Prince, it's my responsibility to welcome them, and I will do it," she whispered as the gates opened and she stepped out. Lokamadevi followed Vaanathi, who put on a smile that anyone would fall on as her eyes danced with innocence. 

There he is, walking towards her, like always, with broad shoulders and long hair flying with his moustache that tickles her every time they kiss. Just like the first time she walked the steps to send him off to the war and how his hands caught her when she fell, those memories are still imprinted in her brain and will be even after her body leaves this soil.

But this time, she is not a mere princess but a future queen of the dynasty and the wife of the great Chola Prince. Her eyes slowly passed to the young princess who was walking beside him. With her golden skin, fish-like eyes, and slender figure, everything perfectly matches the handsome Prince. 

"Did I ever look that beautiful alongside my Prince when we first entered?" She quickly shook those thoughts; now it's not about me. As her eyes remained between them, failing to give away any weakness or show sorrow, she welcomed them. Arunmozhi's eyes watched Vaanathi perform her duties gracefully and with a smile, and his new wife flashed a smile as well.

"Welcome back, my Prince. This Chola Desam is excited at your arrival," Vaanathi said as she turned to Panchavan Madevi. "Young Princess, you are the jewel to this Chola Desam, and this Desam is blessed to receive another daughter-in-law." Everyone smiled at the kind words.

As the day passes and the newlyweds enter their room for private time, Vaanathi's heart starts to beat faster. She is unable to sleep, as she did last time. She feels disposable now with the two other beautiful wives. What else could she offer more?

She smiled softly as her son Rajendra slept, his tiny arms clutched her fingers. She combed his dark hair, which was growing fast, like his Dad's. She chuckled as salty tears fell down her eyes.

She asked her helper to watch over the child and went out walking. She reached the gardens, where the path leading to the path was hidden from outsiders, but only royals knew this one. As she ventured in, she finally came out of the other side, the path to a small temple built for Vishnu. Kundhavai loves Krishna and Vaishnavam, and she adorned this temple with deepam.

Vaanathi slumped onto the ground with a whimper that left her mouth after a whole day of keeping her emotions inside; she finally let it out since no human was around her as the hours passed—only she and the god witnessed her tears.

Her whimpers, their melody rising like a plea to the heavens, seemed to gaze upon her with serene detachment—a calmness that only deepened the ache in her chest. The idol of Vishnu, resplendent in gold and adorned with fresh garlands, seemed to gaze upon her with a calmness that only deepened the ache in her chest.

Her thoughts churned in turmoil, spiralling deeper into despair. Is this how Rukmini must have felt, she wondered bitterly. When Krishna, her heart's love, took Satyabhama and others as his wives, did her heartache as mine does now? Did she wonder if her devotion had fallen short if she had not been enough?

Her whimpers became silent, leaving her cheeks with dried tear streaks and nothing else to do as she aimlessly watched the moon glow with light.

"Why is a gold that needs to be treasured doing alone in this stone temple?" Spoke the angelic voice behind Vaanathi

Vaanathi whipped her head behind as her eyes took in the figure standing a few metres away. Her eyes stuck with the angelic face of an elderly woman who seemed like the kindest and most divine of the ones she had read in the scriptures.

She whipped her tears as she tried to smile, but she never moved her eyes away from the woman who smiled and slowly sat next to her.

"What is the use of a treasured jewel when it can only be used for decoration and nothing else?" Vaanathi replied.

The elderly woman's soft hands took her face. A sudden surge of energy passed through Vaanathi's body. She was unsure whether it was just the heat from the women before her or something else. She quickly scratched the last option and settled with her cold body, reacting to the hot touch.

"Now, now, what's with the worry?" the angel-like voice asked her; Vaanathi's eyebrow narrowed. Who is this woman, and what is she doing at this hour? 

"With so many questions already," surprised Vaanathi, let out a quick hiccup. Wow, this woman can read minds. Was she a witch or some rakshasi that roams by at night? Vaanathi started to gulp, but the aura she was emitting made her feel calm.

"What's a woman's role in a man's life?" Vaanathi shook her head. "Wife role in her man's life." The elderly woman smiled.

"Hmm..such a big question, and you expect a simple answer," the elderly woman chuckles, which causes Vaanathi's eyes to narrow.

"Well, what a human role on this earth? To be born and fed by this earth's mother, to be provided warmth by the glowing sun, to feel safe as we lay our heads in her lap every night." The elderly woman answered more like asking Vaanathi as she continued.

"It's like two humans coming together in the name of marriage: to protect and provide, to cherish and love, and to share the pain and happiness." Vaanathi sighed as the women poured out their list of needs.

She chuckled and asked, "But what if the wife has to share her man with his other wives, who also cherish him? But what would the wife expect in this situation? No one to cherish, as now the man she loved is also the one she has to share." The silence prevailed as the elderly woman spoke.

"But isn't that a King's/warrior Dharma to marry more than one?" Vaanathi's sharp eyes snapped at the woman, now feeling much sorrow.

"Dharma? Marrying N number of women to ally a political alliance or to calm their urges of all kinds, why is it only Man's Dharma to marry whoever he pleases, but women should be devoted to her husband? Why did god make such complex rules for women?"

"Well, our same scriptures praise Draupadi, the woman who married five men, and the same Lord who is shining down at us now did at her as well," Vaanathi let out a salty chuckle.

"Was it Draupadi's choice and likeness to marry 5? She would only be with Arjun as his Pathni if she had a choice. She never wanted to marry five nor wished, yet she was pushed! She was ridiculed by the men around her who married more than her for pleasure, unlike her, yet they called her names and put her through the trauma all her life. Why did the same Narayan never question that or make the rules like Ram followed? One man for one woman and vice versa," Vaanathi sighed and wiped her tears.

"That's our Karma, dear. No one can run away from it. Even the same Narayan, in his every birth, had to endure along with his Lakshmi." Vaanathi listened to the words of the women before her, and now, oddly, she found herself wanting to hear more.

"As Ram, he has to let go of his Sita and endure the pain of being alone most of his life, away from his Lakshmi. Do you say Ram didn't love Sita?" Vaanathi shook her head as the women continued.

"As Krishna, his love for his Radha went above everything, yet he had to watch her go, only so he could reach her again as Rukmini. Who also had to watch her husband go to marry Sathyabama and others. Do you know what Rukmini did? Did she fight with Krishna for having other wives?" Vaanathi shook her head. She had always heard how calm and serene Rukmini was as a queen, wife, and lover.

"But If Krishna loved Radha, why did he let her go, and if Radha is Rukmini, why did he marry Sathyabama? If they both are his Lakhsmi and others, then why was only Lakhsmi born in a different form, not Vishnu? And what if the roles were reversed? Would the society still be praising Krishna as they are now for Rukmini if he has to share his Lakshmi with other forms of Vishnu?"

The older woman chuckled and shook her head. Vaanathi watched her with a look of bewilderment as she let out an uncontrollable laugh that made even Vaanathi's lips smile like it was contagious.

"Oh, that would be fun, wouldn't it? But it's a little too much to control all the Vishnu forms. " The woman spoke as her voice turned to mumble, but Vaanathi still listened keenly, trying to hear those words from her mouth.

"Man, it was hard enough keeping Krishna in line with my number of forms, and what an exhausting job I was doing over time. Maybe I should try this with Kalki." Vaanathi couldn't understand what the women spoke. 

"Ahm, what is it?" But the woman shook her head as she leaned in, taking the young woman's face. "Dear, were you angry at your husband and believe he doesn't love you?" Vaansthi shook her head as her life depended on it.

"Of course, he loves me, cares for me, makes sure that I am his priority, and showers me with love more than I could ever ask for." Vaanathi smiled, thinking about her husband and how spellbound he was when they were together.

She continued, "Not only in bed but also in the nation's crisis, he makes sure to get my opinion and shares all his fears more than anyone I know of." The elderly woman smiled.

"There's your answer. Just like Krishna loves Rukmini and shares all his love, fear, and happiness, so does your husband. Maybe if given a chance or the reality doesn't put Kings in the position of remarrying and putting the citizen first, he would have cherished you without looking at other women. But he married you first because he loved you and still does. So cherish that, my dear."

Vaanathi smiled. Yes, the situation was not what she hoped for, yet Arunmozhi was a husband that thousands wanted, but she was lucky to get. As a warrior and a King, his oath and prime concern was his nation's welfare, and political alliance was necessary if one had to safeguard and expand.

"And Rukmini always knows that even if Krishna's eyes wander to everyone, his heart is always looking for his Lakshmi in every one of them; she knows that she is the one he comes back home to." 

"So love is sharing?" Vaanathi asked as she immersed herself so much in the conversation.

The woman cupped Vaanathi's face, her touch firm yet tender. "Love is not measured by its fulfilment but purity. Krishna and Radha's love lives on, not in their union, but in the hearts of those who remember their story. And Rukmini's steadfast devotion is a lesson in strength and grace. Arunmozhi Varman's path may not align with yours now, but that does not diminish the sanctity of your love."

The woman continues, "The Lord teaches us detachment, my child. If you truly love Arunmozhi, let your love become your strength, not your sorrow. Offer it to the divine as a prayer, and you will find peace."

Vaanathi closed her eyes, the woman's words seeping into the cracks of her broken heart. The pain remained, but it began to shift, no longer a weight pressing her down but a bittersweet reminder of her humanity. Her position as a princess and a chief queen will soon be a queen mother who will one day pass all the wisdom and strength to her upcoming generation; she has the same duty as Arunmozhi has towards this nation and its people.

The elder woman began to walk away, her figures blending into the shadows of the temple. A sudden thought struck Vaanathi. She turned quickly, her voice calling out, "Amma, wait!"

The elderly woman paused, turning back with a faint, knowing smile.

"I didn't ask your name," Vaanathi said, her voice filled with wonder and gratitude. "What should I call you?"

The woman's smile deepened, her eyes twinkling with a mysterious light. "I have many names, child," she said softly. "But I would like you to call me Amma."

Before Vaanathi could respond, the woman turned and disappeared into the temple's dimly lit corridors, her presence lingering like a divine whisper. For a moment, Vaanathi felt as though she had been in the presence of something beyond mortal comprehension, and her heart, though still aching, carried a newfound serenity.

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[nidhi-writes]

Part 4 of his niyati please

Will be out this weekend 😊

[nidhi-writes]

His niyati part 3 pls pls

Part 3 is already out. Please check the link below if you haven't yet.

Part 4 will be out by this weekend...😊

[nidhi-writes]

Thank you so much for the tag 🥺😍😍

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positivity train!

if you see this or are tagged in it, tag a couple of your favorite mutuals/blogs and let them know you appreciate seeing them on your dash!

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[nidhi-writes]

CHAPTER - II | Villain's Love

MASTERLIST

one | two

Under the fading stars and the first light of dawn, Nila lay wrapped in Anbu's arms, her heartbeat steady against his as the night of passion lingered in her senses. The rooftop was an unexpected addition to her list of adventures, but here she was, with a man she barely knew yet felt she'd known forever. As he traced his lips along her ear, she couldn't help but laugh softly, looking back at him with a glowing smile.

"So, what's the plan for the weekend?" she asked, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Anbu's smile flickered momentarily as he recalled the upcoming task he hadn't yet told her about. "Just a packed weekend of training," he replied smoothly. "My senior's out, so I'll be leading it."

Nila's face fell into a playful pout. "You sure I can't just watch? I'll be quiet, promise!"

Anbu chuckled, feeling an ache of guilt. Her innocence contrasted the darkness in his world—a world she couldn't see. But her gaze was full of trust and love, and he couldn't bear the thought of her knowing the truth and losing her forever. She was his, and he wasn't about to risk that.

"Believe me, if you were there, the only training we'd be doing is practising how to get pregnant," he teased, pulling her close as she flushed, her hands tangling in his thick hair.

She tugged gently, making him groan, and with a mischievous grin, he flipped her beneath him, stealing a lingering kiss. When they finally broke apart, she sighed. "Fine, go. Just don't come back with any bones broken."

They laughed, fingers locking in a pinky swear. He knew he'd do anything to keep her in his life, but as he left, a part of him wondered how long he could keep her in the dark.

***

As the weekend drifted, Nila felt the quiet settle in more deeply than anticipated. With most of her family scattered around the country, she'd grown accustomed to spending her time alone, but the silence of the past few days felt different—almost too still, like an echo of the loneliness she'd felt not so long ago. The empty spaces in her home served as a reminder of her closest friend, Sekar, who was no longer there to fill them. The memories of Sekar's funeral lingered painfully, but she clung to them; Dr. Amudhan, Sekar's older brother, had given her a small box filled with notes, pictures, and keepsakes that Sekar had wanted her to have. It was a bittersweet treasure trove she often revisited, both as a comfort and a reminder of the beautiful friendship they had shared.

The month after Sekar's passing had been a blur of sorrow and solitude, with many days spent curled up in the stillness of her home, trying to find her way through the grief. Only Anbu's steady presence helped pull her through the dark days. He had been there for her when she needed it most, offering her companionship and comforting distraction. His unwavering support reminded her she didn't have to shoulder her grief alone.

Pushing back those memories, Nila decided she wouldn't let the weekend be swallowed by sorrow. As the evening wore on, she made a simple dinner, warming her hands with a mug of tea and putting on a comforting show. She let herself get lost in it, eventually dozing off on the couch as the night stretched on.

The following day, Nila started the morning with the familiar ritual of brewing a fresh cup of coffee, savouring the warmth of the mug in her hands as she watched the gentle rise of the sun. Her phone buzzed, interrupting her thoughts, and she smiled when she saw the message from Tamizh, her younger cousin. Tamizh had texted to confirm they'd be visiting her later that afternoon, bringing along some friends—and her boyfriend, whom she was eager to introduce to Nila.

Nila's smile widened at the thought of Tamizh's excitement. Her cousin, nearly seven years younger, was a third-year engineering student, brimming with life and always excited to share her world with Nila. The message left Nila wondering if she should reveal her relationship with Anbu, yet she hesitated. She and Anbu's connection was still new, something she wasn't quite ready to share, and she wanted to keep it close to her heart for now.

Instead, Nila focused on preparing for her guests, cleaning up her apartment and setting a cosy, inviting atmosphere. She even planned a small dinner, selecting easy, crowd-pleasing recipes for the evening. The quiet anticipation lifted her spirits as she set out plates and polished glassware and carefully arranged snacks for her cousin's friends.

As the clock ticked closer to their arrival, Nila couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement. She looked around her apartment, satisfied with the warm, welcoming space she had created, and waited for Tamizh and her friends' cheerful voices to fill it.

***

When Tamizh's name flashed on my phone screen, I couldn't help but smile. She had this knack for showing up at the most unexpected moments. I picked up, already a little amused.

"Tamizh, where are you?" I asked, my voice light.

There was a beat of silence. Then she spoke, her tone uneasy. "It's... a long story, Sis. Could you please come to the Office of the Commissioner?"

I froze. My grip on the phone tightened, my mind racing. "Why are you there? Is everything alright?" I could barely keep the worry from my voice.

"Nothing happened to me or anyone else," she assured me almost too quickly. "Can you just come? I'll explain everything."

I sighed, already piecing together the likely scenario: her friends must've gotten into trouble. It wouldn't be the first time Tamizh had dragged me out of my routine with one of her adventures. "Alright, I'll be there soon," I whispered, grabbing my keys and heading out the door.

The drive felt like it took forever. Every red light and every slow car seemed like an added obstacle. My thoughts swirled as I tried to imagine what could've happened. I could only hope it wasn't too serious. As I finally pulled outside the imposing building, several police vehicles passed, their headlights piercing the darkness. The commissioner's office looked intimidating, especially at night, a cold reminder of its purpose.

Stepping inside, I spotted Tamizh immediately. She was standing with a group of boys who looked like they'd just been through the wringer—slouched shoulders and sheepish expressions. Tamizh's face lit up the second she saw me, her relief almost palpable.

"Oh, thank you so much for coming," she blurted out, practically rushing to my side.

I raised an eyebrow, glancing over the group. "What exactly happened?" I asked, crossing my arms, my voice as neutral as possible.

Tamizh sighed, casting a guilty look at the boys. "Well... they had a little too much to drink and ended up... on the railway tracks," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "It caused some chaos, so the police brought them in."

I pressed my lips together, trying not to let the amusement show as I took in their guilty expressions. It was such a Tamizh thing to be mixed up in—reckless but harmless fun. "So now we're just waiting for the police to release you all with a warning?" I asked.

She nodded, her eyes apologetic. "Yeah. They said they'd let us go this time after a firm lecture. I'm sorry for dragging you into this."

I shook my head, softening as I gave her a small smile. "I should've known you'd keep life interesting, Tamizh. Just... maybe try to keep it a little less dramatic next time?"

Tamizh and the boys laughed, tension melting away as they glanced at each other, sharing relieved smiles. I joined them, grateful that, in the end, everyone was safe. Tamizh had always been the wild card in my life, but somehow, I wouldn't have it any other way.

A strange sense of unease started to creep over us as we all stood there, looking around the empty station. I glanced at Tamizh and her friends, who were exchanging confused glances.

"Where are all the police?" one of the boys muttered, looking genuinely unsettled.

I thought back to the two officers I'd seen driving off just as I was arriving. "I did see a couple of them leaving when I came in," I whispered, not wanting to sound too alarmed.

The news only seemed to deepen everyone's confusion. Another boy, clearly impatient, piped up, "So... does this mean we can just go?"

Right then, the station's landline phone shrilled, cutting through the silence, and we all froze. No one moved; it was as if we were caught in some suspenseful stand-off. Finally, Tamizh nudged her head toward a figure slumped in the far corner—a man sitting behind the walls on an old wooden bench, seemingly fast asleep.

"Hey, there's someone still here," Tamizh whispered, relief evident in her voice.

One of her friends shuffled over, carefully nudging the man awake. The constable blinked his eyes open, looking groggy and more than a little irritated. "What's going on here?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes and squinting at us.

The constable's gaze narrowed suspiciously. "Who are you people?" he asked again, as though the question itself was too much of a puzzle to piece together at this hour. Tamizh jumped in, quickly recounting the night's mischief and explaining how they'd all ended up here.

"So... can we leave now?" she finished, trying to sound casual, but there was a bit of pleading in her tone.

The man looked like he was piecing it all together, still half-asleep as he muttered under his breath. "You stay put," he finally replied, his voice rough but firm. Then, he trudged over to the desk and picked up the ringing phone, leaving us in the strange, dim quiet.

We exchanged glances as we waited, Tamizh's friends shifting nervously. The empty station felt eerie, and everyone was on edge. I took a deep breath, wondering if the constable would allow us to leave—or if this night was far from over.

***

The whole night took a turn, and before I knew it, we were thrown into this bizarre situation. Suddenly, we found ourselves helping Constable Napoleon secure the entire police station. I could feel Tamizh's tension radiating as she clung to my arm, her nerves spilling over. "When will they let us leave?" she kept whispering, her voice tinged with desperation. But I knew we were all too invested now to leave the poor constable alone; whatever was happening, he needed help.

Doors were bolted, and lights shut off until the station was blanketed in darkness, except for the faint glow from a nearby streetlamp. As Napoleon dialled someone on the station's old rotary phone, I caught fragments of his conversation, addressing the person on the other end as "Sir." It was clear whoever he spoke to held authority, and my heart raced with the sense that this wasn't some routine police task. Napoleon's tone was cautious yet confident, reporting that everything had been handled "as ordered."

I managed to summon up my voice, still shaken but determined. "So... what now, Sir?" I asked, feeling the weight of the situation sink in as he hung up.

"We wait," Napoleon replied gruffly. And so, that's what we did. The station had gone so quiet; every tiny sound—our breaths, the creak of someone shifting—echoed in the stillness. I peeked through a small slit near the window, watching the road outside, praying that whatever was going on would be over soon and that we could leave this strange night behind.

But as seconds stretched into minutes, a feeling crept into my chest—a dark, heavy sense of dread. I didn't know then just how deeply I wished that time would stand still in the coming moments. What lay ahead was a truth I was unprepared for, a vision that would break my heart into a thousand pieces. And once it was over, nothing would ever be the same.

My eyes latched onto the scene outside, where a group of men climbed out of their imposing black cars. And there, stepping out from the sleek, central black Jeep, was a figure that stole my breath, freezing every nerve in my body.

"Anbu," I whispered, the word catching in my throat. Tears welled up, blurring my vision as I tried to make sense of the impossible scene unfolding before me. How could it be him—my Anbu, the one I trusted, who held me through my darkest hours and brought me to heights of passion I never thought I'd feel?

Yet he stood among men who looked like nothing short of hardened criminals. Their faces were shadowed but unmistakably ruthless, each holding a weapon or casting watchful, suspicious glances around. The air between them thrummed with an energy I hadn't seen before, and every second that ticked by made it clear: they were here for something serious, something far from innocent.

Usually soft and playful, Anbu's eyes glinted with a dangerous intensity in the night's darkness. They seemed to pierce right through the veil of secrecy I'd never thought to question. His stance, his expression—everything about him was unfamiliar, almost cold.

The confusion wrapped around me, tightening like a vice on my chest. I had a hundred questions, each more desperate than the last. How could the man I loved—the one who'd filled my heart with laughter and warmth—be the same person standing before me now, caught up with these men who looked ready for violence?

And as the tears slipped quietly down my face, I realised that whatever I thought I knew about Anbu was unravelling right before my eyes.

TO BE CONTINUED....

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[nidhi-writes]

CHAPTER - III | HIS NIYATI

MASTERLIST

one | two | three | four

The morning sun cast a golden glow over Mahishmati, and as I stepped onto the balcony, I couldn't help but marvel at the day's warmth. Devasena and Baahubali had left early with Kattappa to visit the temple, leaving a note explaining they hadn't wanted to wake me. Smiling at Devasena's thoughtfulness, I gazed at the sunlit kingdom stretched before me, the grandeur and beauty somehow more vivid than even the films I'd watched back in my world. How could this be fictional when I was living it?

Also, my heart string tugged at the images of the last few days; Bhallaldeva has been crowned as a King, and to witness such a grand scene in front of me made me feel out of the world; this time, I am not viewing it outside of the screen, but I sat next to Devasena and watched the whole ordeal, the way people wanted Baahibali but yet the Crown passed to Bhalla who has his arrogant smirk on his face all the way the end but yet whenever his eyes met mine it held something else which I am not able to put the finger on.

I shook my head, returned to the present, and gathered myself to meet them at the temple or perhaps ready myself for their return; something caught my eye—a pond just across the grounds. It sparkled invitingly, and before I knew it, Quickly, I slipped into a simple white cloth that hugged my form modestly, and without hesitation, I slipped into the cool water. The feeling was pure bliss. The water enveloped me, washing away any lingering doubts and fears, leaving me refreshed and weightless. My mind felt as clear as the sky above, my worries sinking below the surface. Here, in this hidden pond, life didn't feel complicated. Just simple, beautiful, and strangely... peaceful.

But reality has its way of reminding us of its presence.

As I began to leave the pond, I stepped onto a mossy stone and felt my foot slip. My arms flailed, bracing for the cold plunge back into the water when a hand grabbed me firmly. I collided with a broad chest, the strength of the arms holding me steady, their warmth sinking into me even as my heart raced. I gasped, regaining my balance, and looked up to thank my saviour.

"Thank you—"

My words trailed off as my gaze met the steely eyes of Bhallaladeva himself, his face barely an inch from mine. The notorious Bhalla, the very man whose gaze alone could command armies, now held me close, his eyes locked onto mine with a piercing intensity that froze me.

It was more than I had expected, more intense than anything I'd prepared for, standing here in the embrace of Mahishmati's most dangerous man. And yet, as Bhallaladeva looked down at me, his gaze softened. I'd only seen his eyes filled with something harsh and calculating, like a storm brewing beneath the surface. But now, in the quiet of this early morning, his expression held a warmth, a flicker of something... else. It was enough to make my heart quicken, even as I tried to keep my composure.

I could feel the cool morning air pricking at my damp skin, sending a shiver down my spine. My soaked form clung to me, and droplets fell from my hair like small streams trailing along my cheeks. I swallowed, trying to steady myself as his eyes trailed over my face, lingering, almost as if he were memorising each detail.

Without a word, his hand moved to tuck a few stray strands behind my ear, his fingers grazing my skin with the lightest touch. I knew I should step back and pull away before anyone caught us, but I felt rooted in place, almost as if his presence had drawn me in like a magnet. Every time I considered retreating, his hand anchored me, his steady gaze holding me captive.

With a surge of unfamiliar anticipation, I realised I didn't want to leave.

As his fingers moved, his thumb traced a delicate path along my jawline, lingering there as his hand settled firmly on my waist. I was acutely aware of how close we were, how his chest was pressed against mine, firm. I could even feel his abs through the thin material, a steady reminder of the power he carried. My heart raced in a way I couldn't control.

"K-King Bhallaladeva..." I managed, though my voice barely sounded like my own.

He only chuckled softly, sounding equal parts amusement and something deeper. His lips turned into a slow, almost indulgent smile as his eyes settled on me again. "You don't need to address me so formally," he murmured, his voice like a warm breeze, his gaze not breaking away.

I felt a strange thrill race through me, my heart hammering as his thumb brushed my skin again as if lingering to prolong the moment. And for now, I couldn't look away.

Unable to say another word, I watched as he finally stepped back, a strange expression in his eyes. But before leaving, he gave me a look that lingered longer than I expected, a look that left a warmth in my chest and a tangle of emotions I wasn't ready to name.

After that unexpected morning encounter with the King, I managed to keep my distance, though some seemed to ache for his warmth. I kept reminding myself that this infatuation had no future. Maybe it was just because Bhallaladeva, or rather Rana, the actor who portrayed him, was undeniably handsome. But then, if it were just about looks, shouldn't I have felt the same around Baahubali? Yet, it was different with him—Baahubali felt like a brother, a friend, someone I could admire but not romantically.

The day passed, and Devasena returned from the temple, glowing with a joy I hadn't seen in her before. It was odd to see her so giggly and blushing—she, who was usually so composed and strong, now seemed wrapped up in the happiness Baahubali brought to her. I suppose that's the power of a man who truly knows his strength. The wedding was set to occur the day after tomorrow, and Devasena wanted me close by her side through it all. I felt honoured and threw myself into making sure every detail was perfect for what felt like a real-life fairytale wedding.

I also made sure to avoid any further encounters with the King. For my peace of mind, I couldn't afford to feel that inexplicable draw to him again. With each passing hour, I busied myself with wedding preparations, arranging flowers, planning decorations, and helping Devasena choose her jewels—anything to keep my mind from wandering back to Bhalla.

Then, the wedding morning arrived. The air was alive with blissful energy, the entire kingdom adorned in celebratory colours, flowers, and lights that cast a warm glow over Mahishmati. I felt surprisingly emotional as I watched Devasena, radiant and fierce, join Baahubali at the altar. When they tied the knot, I saw a love so deep and natural between them that it made me believe in destiny, even for a moment.

For Devasena and Baahubali, this day marked the start of a powerful bond, a partnership as fierce and loyal as they both were. And even as I celebrated with them, my heart tucked away its quiet fluttering, locking away the memory of a morning gaze that I was determined not to revisit.

***

It had been a few days since I'd last managed to escape from Bhallaladeva's presence successfully. All the men, including Baahubali and the King, attended an important council meeting. I decided it was an excellent time to explore the palace grounds while avoiding any run-ins with Mahishmati's so-called "noblemen." Baahubali aside, I wasn't exactly thrilled by the company of most of them. These powerful men carried their authority as an excuse to intimidate and dominate. Sethupathi, Bhallaladeva's obnoxious friend, was the worst of them, with a gaze that made my skin crawl.

Caught up in my thoughts, I stared out over Mahishmati's breathtaking view when a prickling sense of dread crept up my spine. I turned slowly, only to see Sethupathi standing there, smirking, his eyes lingering where they shouldn't.

"What's a flower of Kuntala doing here all alone?" he said, stepping closer. I forced a smile that probably looked as thin as paper. The last thing I wanted was to encourage him, but it was better than showing my genuine disgust.

"Oh, I was just admiring the view. Devasena asked me to meet her, so I should be on my way," I said, attempting to slip past him.

But he sidestepped, blocking my path. "What's the rush? Doesn't the princess's friend know how to be polite?" He grinned with a leering look that made my stomach turn. If not for Baahubali and Devasena, I'd have scratched that smirk off his face by now.

I managed a tight smile. "Oh, I know how to be polite, but I choose not to waste it where it isn't deserved. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

Ignoring my hint, he edged even closer. "Why hurry away? We could spend a little time together." The suggestion sent a wave of nausea over me.

"I can't," I replied quickly, stepping back again. But he stayed in my way, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

"Could you move out of my way?" I asked, keeping my voice steady, though I could feel the irritation in my bones. Perhaps I should've been more assertive, but Sethupathi wasn't the type to take 'no' for an answer.

He leaned in, closer than I could bear. "And what if I don't want to?"

Just then, a voice broke through, booming and unmistakable. "Maybe you should leave the lady alone, Sethupathi."

I saw Bhallaladeva standing at a distance, his eyes blazing red like rubies.

Just like that, the repulsive Sethupathi transformed into a model of politeness under Bhallaladeva's sharp gaze. "We were just having a conversation, my King," he stammered, his meek tone making me want to roll my eyes. Baahubali would take care of him in the future anyway, so I let it go.

"Really?" Bhallaladeva's voice was laced with barely concealed menace. "Well, I'd rather you start on the task I assigned you." Sethupathi's face drained of colour as he nodded and scurried off, leaving me with a wave of relief and a small smile of triumph. But just as quickly, I remembered my predicament—alone now with the intense gaze of Mahishmati's powerful, enigmatic King.

His eyes seemed to pierce into my soul, carrying a depth I hadn't anticipated, something more than just authority. I tried to meet his gaze, but a warmth that was comforting and unsettling crept over me. His footsteps drew closer, and I focused intently on the ground, swallowing as my pulse quickened. If I dared to look up, I would be face-to-face with him, close enough to feel his breath. Unlike Sethupathi's repulsive proximity, being near Bhallaladeva stirred something different, a longing I didn't want to admit. My mind flashed to our brief but unforgettable encounter at the pond just days before.

"Won't you look at me?" His low voice sent a tremor through me, and I gasped softly, lips parting as I finally lifted my gaze. His dark brown eyes held mine, softer and more vulnerable than I'd ever seen, spilling over with an inexplicable warmth.

"Th-thank you, King," I whispered, struggling to keep my composure as his eyes drank me in, unwavering.

"It's my pleasure, Nandhini," he replied, my name slipping from his lips like a caress. Heat flooded my cheeks, and his gaze sparkled, noticing the flush on my face. As I stepped back, I felt the wall against my back, effectively trapping me. His hand reached up, fingertips tracing my cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His touch was soft, almost reverent, leaving me breathless.

"My King..." I tried to speak, but my voice was barely audible.

"Look at me." This time, his tone held undeniable authority. "Call me Bhalla. Please."

A small smile tugged at my lips. This softer side of him was unlike anything I had expected, making me see him in an entirely different light. "But you're a king..." I stammered, trying to reason.

He shook his head gently, his thumb grazing my cheekbone, and my stomach twisted at his touch. I was overwhelmed by an inexplicable desire to feel his hands over every inch of me. What was happening to me?

"Okay... if that's what you wish, I'll call you Bhalla." His smile grew, but his gaze held a depth, a longing I couldn't quite place. Something was hidden in his expression, just out of my reach.

"Do you... remember me?" he asked, his voice dropping to an almost pleading tone.

I frowned slightly, trying to understand. "Remember you? What do you mean?"

But before he could answer, a voice echoed down the hallway. Devasena's voice broke the moment, shattering the intimacy that had enveloped us. Panicking, I gently pushed away from Bhalla, stepping aside quickly as I composed myself, not wanting to be seen alone with him.

Still, even as I hurried to meet Devasena, I could feel his gaze on me, lingering, intense, and filled with something I still couldn't name.

***

It had been almost eight months since I'd left Mahishmati and returned to Kuntala. Staying in one place too long felt stifling, especially when a certain someone was there, stirring up emotions I wasn't ready to face. Distance seemed like the best cure—one that would erase any fluttering feelings that had started to surface. Now, though, I was headed back for Devasena's baby shower, travelling with her brother and sister-in-law, trying to convince myself that both Bhalla and I would have forgotten each other by now.

As we arrived, Devasena practically jumped from her seat, a wide grin lighting up her face as she rushed over to embrace me. Over these months, we had exchanged countless letters, staying close despite the distance. Baahubali stood nearby, his warm smile a welcome sight, while Devasena pulled her family members into joyful hugs. 

The following day, the palace buzzed with life as everyone gathered to bless the soon-to-be parents, Devasena and Baahubali. Just as the ceremony began, an announcement echoed through the hall, signalling the entrance of Queen Mother Sivagami, King Bhallaladeva, and his father. I had never grown used to the sight of Sivagami Devi, once known to adore Baahubali beyond reason, now carrying herself like a distant stranger. She blessed Devasena but looked at her with barely any warmth, saying, "Be careful, Devasena. You are carrying the kingdom's heir."

I felt a surge of indignation, my stomach twisting at her words. Not Devasena, just the heir. She didn't care about Devasena's well-being; she only cared about the child. I shook off my frustration, not wanting to cause a scene, but the anger only grew as I caught sight of Bhalla, his eyes already fixed on me with a mischievous gleam. His lips curled into a smirk as he took in my form, and I quickly averted my gaze, trying to refocus.

After the blessing, Bhallaladeva congratulated Baahubali with a generous smile. "Brother, take some time to rest. Stay with Devasena until the baby is born. After all, the court can manage without you for a while. I'll make sure everything is taken care of," he said, voice silky, though I could sense the layers of implication beneath his offer.

Baahubali gave a slight nod, and just then, Sethupathi spoke up from his place beside Bhalla. "I'd be honoured to support you in your absence, Baahubali. I know Mahishmati needs its best hands."

My fists clenched, but I kept quiet. My hand rested on Devasena's shoulder as I felt her body tense beside me. Her jaw was set, and her eyes glared daggers at Bhallaladeva and Sethupathi.

"How dare he?" Devasena muttered under her breath as they exited the room. She turned to Baahubali, her voice shaking with anger. "You promised me, Baahu. You promised you'd do anything I asked. Well, now I'm asking you to stand up for yourself, for us. I want you to be King, Baahu!"

Baahubali looked torn, glancing between his wife and brother's retreating figure as if the world's weight rested on his shoulders. "Deva..." he began, his tone gentle, but the words failed him.

"Baahubali," she said firmly, hurt flashing across her face, "I need you to stop bending to others' will. Don't you see what Bhallaladeva is doing? He wants you out of the way so he can take your place!"

Baahubali's head dropped slightly, his silence only making her more agitated. Finally, I placed a hand on her arm, gently squeezing her.

"Come on, Deva," I whispered. "Let's go back to your room for now."

As I led her out, she looked back at Baahubali, disappointment evident in her gaze.

The urge to step in and change everything weighed heavily on me. I knew what would happen next, but I also knew how deeply Baahubali trusted his brother and loved his mother and kingdom. Even if I tried to warn him, would he believe me? His loyalty to his family would blind him to others' true nature.

The next day, Devasena asked me to accompany her to the temple. Memories of this day rushed back—this was the day Sethupathi would overstep his bounds and face Devasena's wrath. Determined to prevent the fallout that would lead to her and Baahubali being cast out, I quickly positioned myself to Devasena's right, leaving her on the left side, away from Sethupathi. If I could keep Sethupathi from trying anything inappropriate, maybe the future could still be salvaged.

As we approached the temple, Sethupathi gestured us out of the unique entrance reserved exclusively for the King. Devasena's eyes narrowed, sensing my frustration, and she nodded,  choosing the entrance meant for commoners instead. I walked alongside her, keeping a close eye on Sethupathi. His gaze wandered over other women, and I noticed the casual way he brushed his hand across one woman's back, making my stomach churn with disgust. My lips tightened, but I kept silent, hoping that enduring this would protect Devasena and Baahubali.

I was so focused on controlling my reaction that I didn't notice Devasena's eyes growing dark with anger. She had been watching the entire scene unfold—seeing me tense up and noticing Sethupathi's leering actions toward the women before us. Just as he reached a handout dangerously close to me, Devasena's patience snapped.

In one swift motion, she pushed me behind her, yanking a knife from Sethupathi's belt before I could even react. In a fluid motion, she slashed downward, cutting his fingers clean off. Blood splattered onto the temple steps, and Sethupathi's scream filled the air.

"Deva, stop!" I shouted, but my voice was swallowed by the shock that rippled through the gathering crowd.

"Don't you dare lay a hand on her," Devasena spat, her voice ice-cold, fury blazing in her eyes as she stood protectively before me.

Sethupathi clutched his bleeding hand, stumbling back in shock and pain. "You—how dare you! I am the King's trusted general!" he shouted, but his voice wavered with fear.

Devasena's voice cut through his protests like a blade. "Trust does not give you the right to disrespect any woman," she retorted. "Especially not under the guise of loyalty. Touch her again, and you'll lose more than a few fingers."

A part of me wanted to scream at her for her impulsiveness, but I also felt an overwhelming sense of pride and gratitude. She had risked everything to protect me without hesitation.

The court was tense, with Devasena shackled and surrounded by judgmental gazes. I stood nearby, fighting back tears as I watched her be treated like a criminal. Every whisper and every dismissive glance made me feel more helpless. My frustration boiled over as I shouted, "Is this how you treat your kingdom's daughter-in-law and the one carrying its heir?"

A hush fell over the court, and all eyes shifted to me. Queen Mother Sivagami's glare burned into me while King Bhallaldeva smirked from his throne, his gaze laced with something unnerving yet familiar. Just then, Sethupathi, still nursing his injured hand, sneered through gritted teeth, "Watch your tongue! You are speaking to the Queen Mother!"

Ignoring the tightening knot in my stomach, I met his gaze and let a faint smile play on my lips. "Maybe you should watch where you're inserting yourself, Sethupathi. Who knows, it might be more than just your finger that gets cut next time."

Sivagami's voice thundered through the hall, silencing every murmur. "Who gave you the right to speak in our court? A girl with no position should know her limits!"

Her scorn caused Devasena, silent until now, to spring to my defence. "Is this how you treat your people?" she demanded, her voice unyielding. "You arrested me without a fair trial, and now you're treating the girl who is like my sister with such disdain. Don't people in Mahishmati know how to show respect?"

Gasps echoed around us. Just then, Baahubali strode in, his presence commanding silence. His gaze darkened as he took in Devasena's shackled form, his fists clenching at her mistreatment.

"What happened, Devasena?" he asked, his voice deadly calm though his eyes were already burning with fury.

Devasena didn't hesitate, recounting Sethupathi's attempts to touch me inappropriately and the way he mistreated other women as well. I could feel the moment's weight, and as I glanced at Bhalla, his reaction caught me by surprise. His jaw was tight, his eyes locked on me with a mixture of rage and something else—a silent question, a need to know if this was true. Despite the situation, I found myself nodding, a tear escaping down my cheek. His subtle, acknowledging nod shook me, and I quickly refocused on the scene unfolding.

Sethupathi began stammering out a denial, but before he could finish, Baahubali advanced toward him in a swift, lethal motion. "In Mahishmati," he announced coldly, "a man who dares to dishonour women deserves no less than death." In one stroke, he drew his sword and, without hesitation, severed Sethupathi's head, the declaration echoing in the court.

Gasps filled the hall as Sethupathi's lifeless body collapsed to the floor.

***

As Baahubali and Devasena left the palace grounds, stripped of their titles and finery, I could only watch, my heart heavy. I had tried to follow their example, removing my jewellery in solidarity, but Devasena stopped me with a gentle, insistent look. "These jewels are from Kuntala," she said softly. "You don't need to part with them."

I pouted, wanting to share their fate, but she touched my shoulder. "When we leave, I want you to return to Kuntala. Be there, wait for us," she whispered firmly. I opened my mouth to protest, but her determined gaze silenced me. She wrapped me in a warm hug, kissed my cheek, and left, her figure retreating alongside Baahubali into the welcoming crowd. I watched them go, their people surrounding them with open arms, Kattappa by my side, his eyes brimming with tears as he bade them farewell. He gently patted my head, his comforting touch a silent reassurance.

As he led me back to my chamber to pack, a sense of anxiety gnawed at me. The palace that had once felt secure now seemed foreign, its stone walls cold and unwelcoming. I quickly gathered my things, eager to leave. As I was about to slip into the quiet night, footsteps echoed through the halls. Startled, I darted behind a pillar, my heart pounding as I held my breath.

The footsteps grew closer, steady and unhurried, and my pulse quickened. I dared a glance from behind the stone, and there he stood—Bhalla. His eyes locked on the pillar where I was hiding, and an unsettling smile curved his lips. "Well, well," he drawled, his voice like ice laced with fire. "The flower of Kuntala is shy now?"

I inched along the other side of the pillar, praying he would leave. But as I attempted to move toward the garden doors, a pair of strong arms looped around my waist, trapping me. He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear, and whispered in a chilling tone, "Gotcha."

A shiver ran through me as a single tear escaped, trailing down my cheek. Helplessly, I wondered what lay ahead—what plans he had for me now and whether I'd ever see the ones I cared about again.

TO BE CONTINUED...

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[nidhi-writes]

Happy Deepavali to everyone who celebrates it...

Deepavali - Great power comes with great responsibility

Growing up in the southern Indian state of Tamilnadu, where Deepavali is celebrated cause of Narakasura’s Defeat by Krishna. Each year I heard the story of how and when it happened, why Krishna killed Narakasura, and how cruel he was.

As the adult age struck I started to work with people from many parts of India, surprisingly that's when I heard that the story of Deepavali/Diwali which they celebrate is very different from the one I did.

Some specified that it celebrated the cause of Lord Rama and Seetha’s return to Ayodhya

Some Specified that it was celebrated cause of Ravana’s Defeat by Lord Rama.

They were surprised when I said in Tamilnadu it is celebrated for the reason I mentioned above, some were quick to point out how wrong I was and how one should know one's true culture and blah blah blah.

It was hard to explain culture and practices vary throughout our country and that's the beauty of it, there is no right or wrong cause every path and every practice leads to the same destiny. Our paths may vary but the destination is one.

So I wanted to read more about this one-line story I heard about how Krishna defeated Narakasura and the origin of it. And man if I say it made me cry, weep.

To dive into this story we have to travel from Kaliyug to Krita(Sathya) Yug

When the earth was in the hands of destruction by the asura Hrinyaksha and to save the earth and defeat Hrinyaksha, the almighty Vishnu took in the form of Varaha, as both Hrinyaksha and Varaha fought, Varaha overpowered Hiranaksha and at the end defeating him and also restored the earth to its original position in the universe

Varaha defeated Hiranaksha with ease and his only exertion was a drop of sweat, which fell to the ground. From that drop, a young warrior rose, his name was Naraka.

Is that when Bhoodevi and her heartbeat as a mother, her eyes watered at the scene of her son rising from her Swami’s drop of sweat. How could she not love him as he is her son, with love Bhoodevi hugged her son and smiled at how strong and a warrior he was. Bhoodevi turned and asked her Prabhu Varaha that her son should be invincible. Varaaha pulled out one of his tusks and gave it to Naraka saying he could use it as a weapon whenever he was in great danger.

Naraka accepted the weapon provided by his father and felt immensely blessed and ready to go to seek his fortune, as his father provided him advice on how to use the power to do only good.

‘Uphold Dharma’ said Varaha and Bhoodevi blessed her son as happy tears fell from her lotus-like eyes.

Just like any mother, her heart is filled with love and confidence for her son. She does not doubt her son becoming powerful in all three worlds and being just like her Swami. Varaha looked at Bhoodevi and smiled at her nodding his head as if he knew what she was thinking, but his smile didn’t seem to be filled with confidence.

Varaha smiled, his son will be powerful but the question is will he uphold the dharma to do good things, will he use his powers to be righteous, cause great power comes with great responsibilities.

As the yugas rolled one by one from Krita(Sathya) to Treta, to Dwaparyug. Lord Vishnu again came down to earth in the form of Krishna, Yadava. He vanquished his Uncle Kamsa and continued to restore dharma on the earth.

Just like the yugas rolled down, Naraka also grew very powerful, as he conquered everything from heaven and earth, he was drunk with power. That's when he snatched the celestial earrings from Aditi, the mother of Devas.

Amid the chaos, Indra the lord of devas sought Krishna’s help to vanquish Naraka. Upon hearing this Satyabama, one of the wives of Krishna, who is none other than Bhoodevi herself, got devastated and her heart ached along with anger boiled on how her son turned out. Her confidence in her son now made her feel like crying a river but as a Bhoodevi she had a job first that is to accompany her swami and solve this problem.

Both Krishna and Sathyabama left Prag-joyitisha-pura on Garuda. But entering the Prag-joyitisha-pura was not easy as the capital has four layers to its defence, The chief defender of Naraka’s capital was Mura, who was so confident that no one could penetrate the defence he had set and was relaxing deep down at the ring of defence.

But can anything be against Parandhaman himself? Krishna took down each defence layer at ease thus causing violent ripples in the water. Mura woke up from his slumber, enraged rushed out to defend and attack Krishna. Mura fell fighting against Krishna who then earned the name Murrari, the enemy of Mura.

Upon hearing the chaos outside Naraka Narakasura himself came out and started to fight against Krishna. The fight went on day and night causing extreme chaos and it became very difficult to say who was winning. As Naraka still had the weapon provided to him by his father Varaha, he took out the deadly tusk and threw it on Krishna, who got stuck by the tusk into his chest and fell unconscious. Naraka let out a victory cry but an enraged Satyabama picked up the bow and started to fight Naraka with so much anger. Naraka was shocked and continued to fight Sathyabama not knowing her real identity just like he did with Krishna.

Sathyabama’s eyes turned red flashing anger and her love for her son was now completely overshadowed by the monster he had become. Amidst the fighting, Krishna woke up and saw Sathyabama fighting and smiled at her. Naraka is shocked to see how Krishna is now awake, no other being can able to be alive after being struck by the deadly weapon, if Krishna is alive then he must be none other than Lord Varaha himself, his father.

Naraka fell on his knees and his father's words rang into his ears ‘Uphold Dharma’. He realized that he had failed his father's words and surrendered to Krishna, who used Sudarshana chakra at Naraka.

As his life slowly leaves Naraka he subconsciously surrenders himself to Krishna and Sathyabama. Sathyabama who was Bhoodevi born again, rushed to him and held him. The cries of sorrow, hurt, love, anger everything heard in her. As she helplessly held her son whose life slowly leaving him, Krishna silently watched the reunion of mother and son. As the tears fell on his body he found light in his dying moment. The darkness has been lifted as the dawn broke.

That day is celebrated as the festival of lights, Deepavali or Diwali, which signifies that we have to emerge from darkness to light.

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Ch 3 of his niyati please ???

hey

will posts asap...i am having some writer block on that story...trying to write as much as I can

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CHAPTER - I | Villain's Love

MASTERLIST

Anbu leaned back on the cold metal chair of the waiting room, his friend Sampath beside him, talking away about some bruises that had worsened after their last skirmish with a rival gang. Anbu was barely listening, eyes drifting over the sterile white walls of the hospital, restless and impatient. He didn't like places like this—too clean, too calm, like they weren't meant for people like him. But Sampath had insisted since the wound had gotten worse. Usually, they don't visit the hospital as they have all the care they need in their godown. Also, they shouldn't be everywhere as it is risky. But since it's for his friend, who Anbu trusts most, he has to come.

But with all the waiting, Anbu became relentless. Just as he was about to suggest they leave, the door swung open, and she walked in.

The doctor was young, maybe his age. Her hair was neatly pulled back, and her eyes were bright but calm. She greeted them with a gentle nod and settled behind her desk. Her voice was soft but professional as she asked for his friend's details. Her attention shifted to Anbu briefly, and her glance lingered curiously on him.

"How did it happen?" she asked, her tone light.

It caught him off guard. "Uh... he fell out of the bike", he replied, clearing his throat. Sampath narrowed his eyes as he could find Anbu's voice stammer, which was odd; over the years, he never heard Anbu's stammer. Anbu usually doesn't have to think before he speaks, but something about her gaze held him still, and he couldn't help wanting to lie and hide the truth away about his identity.

Throughout Sampath's consultation, Anbu found himself watching her. She spoke with a rare kindness in his world, and there was a calm patience in her every movement. She wasn't aware of the scars and secrets he carried or the life he led outside those walls. Something about that innocence made him feel strangely at ease.

That be all, please drink a lot of fluids and take the tablets and apply the cream I suggested; you will be fine in a few days" Sampath smiled and thanked at her words, but Anbu remained unmovable as a small smile erupted his lips, his eyes found her nameplate where it showcases her four-letter name, the one that shines at night eliminating the darkness, just like her eyes mad him feel this moment.

"Nila, that's a nice name," he whispered, unable to contain himself. Sampath's eyes snapped back to his friend as he watched the two people interact while he was in pain.

"Thank you, that's so kind of you," she whispered back as she held her hands out. Anbu's eyes narrowed, trying to figure out what she was trying to do, but her eyes passed from his hand to hers. He got the memo and nodded.

"Anbu," he whispered back, causing her to smile. Just as their hands joined, Anbu felt a jolt of energy flee through his veins. And he wanted it to feel every time. The heart of an addict hooked into something other than the substance he usually inhales, and he couldn't help but feel this simple touch could eat thoughts of the powder that they sell, and he wanted nothing but to devour it all.

Over the next few weeks, Anbu made excuses to revisit the hospital. He had a headache one day and a "sore arm" the following day—minor complaints that seemed insignificant but enough to warrant a quick visit.

"Back again?" Nila asked with a small smile when he showed up for the third time.

He shrugged, giving a half-smile. "Yeah, thought I'd get another check-up."

Every time, he'd catch glances of her as she worked, the way she'd tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, her laugh with the other patients. She'd become an unexpected part of his life, a quiet secret he kept. She was a stranger, but someone who made him feel... ordinary. In her presence, he wasn't Anbu, the feared man from the streets. He was just another guy with a bruised knuckle or a nagging cough, and that was all she needed to know.

Each time he left, he hoped it wouldn't be his last visit.

A few weeks later

Anbu sat in the waiting room, pressing a thumb against the fresh cut on his hand—a small scratch he'd given himself that morning. It was a flimsy excuse, but he couldn't stay away. Week after week, he'd found himself returning with a new "injury," each visit a chance to see her.

When Nila finally stepped out, her gaze met him, and her lips curved into a knowing smile. She gestured him in, and he followed, his heartbeat always a little unsteady. Today, she raised an eyebrow, looking over the tiny scratches on his arm and the faint bruising on his hand.

"Another injury?" she asked, her eyes glinting with mischief as she took his hand, her fingers tracing over the cut. Mr. who bruises like a peach," she teased, evident amusement in her voice. Are you alright?" she asked with concern, raising her voice.

Anbu grinned, playing it cool. "I am a Kabbadi coach," he replied, attempting to keep his voice steady as she cleaned the cut with gentle hands. "Teaching the local boys can get rougher than you'd think."

She chuckled, shaking her head as she dabbed antiseptic on the scratch. "You must be the most committed coach in the area, showing up with a fresh bruise or cut every week," she mused, glancing up with amusement and curiosity. "But these injuries—they're so... frequent."

For a moment, Anbu hesitated, admiring her perceptive nature. She was beginning to see through his excuses, and he respected her sharpness almost as much as her kindness.

"Yeah, well," he replied with a smile, "these boys are intense."

Nila's lips tugged into a soft, almost-knowing smile. "So you're the brave Kabaddi coach of your neighbourhood?" she asked, her voice a mix of sarcasm and genuine interest as she secured the last bandages. "Try not to get too beat up, alright? I worry I'll see you in here with a real injury one of these days."

Anbu nodded, his grin fading slightly as he looked at her, the weight of her concern settling over him. There was something about Nila's warm presence and unguarded kindness that he hadn't felt in years. And as long as Nila didn't see through his act, he had a reason to return.

A few months later

A mix of moans and a whimper is heard throughout the dark room, as are the breaths of two people who were consumed by the activity of the height of intimacy. Anbu let out a slow breath, his chest rising and falling against Nila's as they lay entangled, his arms wrapped around her from behind. His lips brushed the delicate curve of her ear, a smile tugging at his lips as he took in the quiet aftermath. He still couldn't quite believe it—her warmth against him, her presence in his life. He never thought that someone like her, soft-hearted and kind, would let someone like him so close. She wasn't just close; she was his in a way that felt raw and real, leaving him in awe.

His mind drifted back to the first time they'd crossed that line, the moment that had forever changed their relationship.

It was one evening at her clinic, tucked away in the privacy of her tiny office. Anbu had come in with a forehead injury, a memento from a fight with a man who'd dared to betray them to the police. Nila had been focused, her fingers steady as she stitched the wound, her face barely inches from his. Her scent was subtle but intoxicating, and her lips... he couldn't tear his eyes from them.

As she worked, he found his hand almost unconsciously reaching up, his fingers grazing her cheek. She'd stilled, her hands freezing in place, her lips parting ever so slightly at his touch. It was all the invitation he needed.

Anbu leaned in, his heart pounding as he brushed his lips against hers. That first tentative contact sent a shiver through him. Her lips were soft and smooth and tasted like a sweetness he had never had. She didn't pull away. Instead, she melted into him, her hands abandoning the wound as her mouth responded with a hunger that matched his own.

In that moment, the fight, the wound, the world outside—none of it mattered. He'd drawn her close, their lips and breaths tangling, both lost to the pull of each other. It was as if every pent-up desire, every hidden feeling, came rushing to the surface in that single kiss, her mouth fitting against his as if they were made for each other.

That day, she became the dr*g he wanted, and nothing could top it.

Now, as they lay together in the dim light, he pressed his lips softly to her shoulder, still in awe that she was his.

Next day

Giggles and whispered voices of Nila echoed throughout the closed door of her home clinic as the chatter of patients waiting outside drifted in. "Anbu, stop! There are people out there," she whispered, her breath hitching as his lips sealed over hers. He drank in her words until they transformed into soft moans.

His lips traced her jaw and neck, leaving bites that ignited a fire within her. Anbu was unrelenting, his hands roaming over her body, pulling her closer as if he wanted to fuse their souls. Nila's heart raced; the thrill of being caught only heightened the urgency of their encounter.

"Let them hear," he murmured against her skin, his voice low and husky. "I want everyone to know you belong to me."

Nila's cheeks flushed at his possessive words. She pulled back slightly, searching his dark eyes for any sign of hesitation, but she only found a smouldering desire that made her weak in the knees. "Anbu, we shouldn't—"

But before she could finish her thought, he captured her lips once more, silencing her with a kiss that promised both danger and ecstasy. Her body responded instinctively, melting against him as he deepened the kiss, his hands threading through her hair, urging her to surrender.

Suddenly, a loud knock echoed through the clinic, causing them both to jump apart. Nila's heart raced—not just from the kiss but from the fear of being discovered. "Nila! Are you in there?" a voice called from the other side, a patient asking about her appointment.

"Uh, yes! Just a moment!" Nila replied, her voice slightly breathless as she hurried to straighten her appearance. Her pulse was still racing. She caught Anbu's eye, and a mischievous grin spread across his face.

"You mister, you go in there," she whispered, pushing him. Nila closed the curtain as Anbu went, hiding him from plain sight.

Nila glanced at herself in the mirror, her heart racing as she attempted to cover the mark left on her neck by a man she couldn't get enough of. With a quick flick of her hair, she concealed the evidence of her secret.

Just as she opened the curtain to greet her unexpected visitor, she was met with the familiar face of her college mate and best friend, Sekar.

"Why are your doors locked?" he asked, eyeing her curiously.

Nila gulped, scrambling for a lie. "Oh, the door might have jarred shut. It's having some issues—I need to fix it," she replied, her voice steady despite the fluttering in her chest. Anbu, hidden behind the curtain, smirked at her quick thinking.

"Okay, I just wanted to remind you that we must be at the reception by 7 PM. Just making sure you remember," Sekar continued, his gaze lingering on her.

Nila's mind lit up at the reminder. Yes, today was their friend Navya's marriage reception. "Oh shit, yes! Thank you for the reminder. I'll be ready," she said, forcing a smile.

Sekar nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Great! I'll pick you up by 6:30 PM," he said before leaving. As the door clicked shut, Nila let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

Her heart was racing from the close call. She turned back to Anbu, who was still hidden behind the curtain, a teasing glint in his eyes.

"You're getting better at this sneaking around," he remarked, stepping out into the dim light of the clinic. His smirk made her pulse quicken, and she felt excitement and nervousness swirl.

Nila narrowed her eyes at him, irritation and amusement flickering. "You're going to get us in trouble one of these days," she whispered, crossing her arms as she tried to regain her composure. But even she couldn't deny the thrill that ran through her every time he pulled her into these stolen moments.

"Trouble?" Anbu chuckled, getting up and closing the distance between them. His hand reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I think you like this kind of trouble." His fingers lingered on her cheek, the warmth in his touch sending a familiar shiver down her spine.

Her mind suddenly flashed to Sekar's reminder. "I'll have to go soon... Navya's wedding reception, remember?" She tried to sound nonchalant, but how he looked at her made it hard to think about anything else.

"Where's the wedding? Need a ride?" he asked, offering casually, though there was a subtle edge to his voice.

Nila smiled, waving him off gently. "Thank you, but Sekar is picking me up."

A flicker of something dark passed through Anbu's features—a flash of possessiveness that he quickly masked with a smirk, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her jaw. "Go, then. Just make sure you're back by tonight." His tone was low, but his eyes carried a look that made her heart race.

Later that evening, at the reception, Nila was relaxing, surrounded by her old friends and their shared laughter. After some time, she and Sekar stepped outside to get some air.

"It's a lovely wedding, don't you think?" Sekar asked, his gaze lingering on her.

Nila nodded, glancing around. "Yes. Finally, one of us has tied the knot," she replied, smiling as she looked up at the star-lit sky.

Sekar stepped closer, his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She froze, surprised, as he leaned in, his intentions suddenly all too clear. She stepped back instinctively, her eyes wide. "What are you doing?"

Sekar looked startled, his face a mix of confusion and hurt. "Nila, I thought... I thought you felt the same. We've known each other for years; I've always loved you. I was planning to ask you to marry me." His words hung in the air, heavy with expectation.

Nila shook her head, keeping her voice gentle but firm. "Sekar, you're a good friend, but... I don't have those feelings for you. I'm so sorry."

Her words, spoken so softly, struck him like a blow. His face darkened as hurt turned to anger. "What kind of girl uses someone for years and then throws them away?" His voice was low, edged with a bitterness she had never seen before.

"What? Used?" Nila's voice shook with disbelief, her pulse quickening. "We were just friends. I never led you on."

But Sekar's frustration was boiling over. He seized her wrist, pulling her close. "You're mine, Nila. You always have been." And before she could react, he pressed his lips to hers, his grip hard as she struggled, pushing him away.

With all her strength, Nila slapped him, her hand shaking. "Don't you ever touch me again," she whispered, her voice filled with hurt and fear as she turned and hurried back inside. She didn't stop until she felt Sekar was nowhere in sight, her heart racing as she struggled to process what had just happened.

As Nila reached her home, the familiar warmth of her surroundings felt strangely cold. Loneliness washed over her like a heavy tide, and she let the tears fall freely, mourning the loss of her friendship with Sekar and the betrayal of trust. She wiped her cheeks, changed into her soft pyjamas, and sank onto the couch with a warm cup of milk, hoping the comfort would ease her heartache.

But just as she began to calm down, the doorbell rang, shattering her brief moment of peace. A sense of dread crept over her as she wondered who could be at her door. Her breath quickened, and she felt a chill run down her spine, remembering Sekar's angry words. What if it was him?

Steeling herself, she grabbed a wooden bat from her side table and tiptoed to the door. She peered through the peephole, and her heart soared with relief when she saw Anbu's drenched figure on the other side. She quickly opened the door, and without thinking, she threw her arms around him, letting the warmth of his presence wash over her.

"What happened?" Anbu's deep voice resonated, and she could feel his concern radiating as he stepped inside, water pooling on the floor from his soaked clothes. His gaze was sharp, scanning her face for signs of distress.

Nila pulled back, the tears starting anew as she poured out the entire story—Sekar's confession, the kiss, and how it had all gone so wrong. As she spoke, Anbu's expression darkened, his brow furrowing with each detail.

He reached for her hand, but she flinched at the touch. Anbu's eyes narrowed, and he instinctively traced the bruise on her wrist, his face hardening with anger. "De he do this..." he said, his voice low yet firm.

NIla shook her head. "It's okay. It might have been inflamed by his hold. It should be alright by tomorrow."

But Nila's words didn't fully register with him. Instead, all he could feel was the ways to destroy the man that caused her pain. He wrapped his arms around her without thinking, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"It's okay; I am here," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. Nila shivered at the truth in his words and the comfort of being in his arms. In that moment, she felt safe, cocooned in the warmth of his presence, and it gave her a flicker of hope amidst the pain.

Anbu held her tightly, wishing he could erase all the hurt she'd felt. She was everything he hadn't dared to dream of, and he silently vowed to protect her from anyone who dared to hurt her again. It's never good to play with the love of a villain, let alone hurt them.

Next Morning

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow around the room. Nila stirred, blinking away sleep as she felt the comforting warmth of a body wrapped around hers. Anbu spooned her, his breath warm against her exposed shoulder, leaving a trail of gentle kisses that made her heart race. The way he held her, his solid frame enveloping her, felt like home—an intoxicating blend of safety and desire.

She had grown addicted to these moments, how his touch ignited a fire within her, how his scent filled her senses and calmed her racing heart. It had become a routine—nights spent lost in each other, surrendering to the passion that simmered beneath the surface. Nila smiled at the thought, feeling excited at the day's possibilities.

Just as they were about to dive deeper into their shared intimacy, her phone buzzed on the bedside table. Reluctantly, she pulled herself away from Anbu's warm embrace, giggling as she tried to push him away. "Anbu, stop! I have to take it," she whispered, her tone playful.

But Anbu was relentless, trailing featherlight kisses down her bare shoulders, igniting every nerve ending. "I don't think so," he murmured, his voice husky with sleep.

Nila bit her lip, torn between her desire and the persistent ringing of her phone. "Anbu, really!" she chuckled, though some of her didn't want to pull away. Finally, she managed to break free, grabbing the phone as it rang again.

"Hello?" she said softly, glancing back at Anbu, who propped himself up on one elbow, a curious look on his face. But the warmth of their moment shattered like glass when she heard the voice on the other end.

"Nila... it's Sekar's brother. He's gone. Sekar is dead."

The world around her froze. The phone slipped from her hands, clattering onto the floor. Shock filled her senses, dulling the vibrant colours of the morning. Nila's heart raced, each beat echoing the painful truth of the words she had just heard.

Anbu's expression shifted as he detected the sudden change in her demeanour. "What happened?" he whispered, concern etched into his features. He reached out to grasp her arm, his touch grounding her in the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

"He is gone..." Nila breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, tears welling in her eyes.

"Who?" Anbu asked as he held her against him.

"S-Sekar", She whimpered. It doesn't matter how things ended yesterday. He was still her friend for over 10 years.

Anbu's heart raced as he pulled her closer, sensing her distress. "Nila," he urged gently, "it's going to be okay." But even he could feel the weight of the moment, the profound sadness that lingered in the air. As she leaned into him, seeking solace in his presence, a smirk flickered across Anbu's lips, hidden from her view. 

"Serves him right," Anbu thought as he imagined how he would send that garbage of human, Sekar, to hell yesterday night. No one would touch his love; his Nila is all his.

TO BE CONTINUED

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[nidhi-writes]

Posted the first chapter of Villains love..

please read and let me know your thoughts if you can... and re blog to share it if you like

https://www.tumblr.com/nidhi-writes/765421655608754176/chapter-i-villains-love?source=share

i saw the poll you put about anbu from kaithi and I am eagerly just waiting for the fan fic and I read your other works they are just great.

(I was introduced to you. Through the poll and I don't regret it)

Awww thank you...you words made my day 😊💜💜

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[nidhi-writes]

Time suggestion!!

Okay, so I'd like your guys' suggestions on when to post my work in a day. What time would be good?

Note: The mentioned times are in IST

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[nidhi-writes]

CHAPTER - I | Villain's Love

MASTERLIST

Anbu leaned back on the cold metal chair of the waiting room, his friend Sampath beside him, talking away about some bruises that had worsened after their last skirmish with a rival gang. Anbu was barely listening, eyes drifting over the sterile white walls of the hospital, restless and impatient. He didn't like places like this—too clean, too calm, like they weren't meant for people like him. But Sampath had insisted since the wound had gotten worse. Usually, they don't visit the hospital as they have all the care they need in their godown. Also, they shouldn't be everywhere as it is risky. But since it's for his friend, who Anbu trusts most, he has to come.

But with all the waiting, Anbu became relentless. Just as he was about to suggest they leave, the door swung open, and she walked in.

The doctor was young, maybe his age. Her hair was neatly pulled back, and her eyes were bright but calm. She greeted them with a gentle nod and settled behind her desk. Her voice was soft but professional as she asked for his friend's details. Her attention shifted to Anbu briefly, and her glance lingered curiously on him.

"How did it happen?" she asked, her tone light.

It caught him off guard. "Uh... he fell out of the bike", he replied, clearing his throat. Sampath narrowed his eyes as he could find Anbu's voice stammer, which was odd; over the years, he never heard Anbu's stammer. Anbu usually doesn't have to think before he speaks, but something about her gaze held him still, and he couldn't help wanting to lie and hide the truth away about his identity.

Throughout Sampath's consultation, Anbu found himself watching her. She spoke with a rare kindness in his world, and there was a calm patience in her every movement. She wasn't aware of the scars and secrets he carried or the life he led outside those walls. Something about that innocence made him feel strangely at ease.

That be all, please drink a lot of fluids and take the tablets and apply the cream I suggested; you will be fine in a few days" Sampath smiled and thanked at her words, but Anbu remained unmovable as a small smile erupted his lips, his eyes found her nameplate where it showcases her four-letter name, the one that shines at night eliminating the darkness, just like her eyes mad him feel this moment.

"Nila, that's a nice name," he whispered, unable to contain himself. Sampath's eyes snapped back to his friend as he watched the two people interact while he was in pain.

"Thank you, that's so kind of you," she whispered back as she held her hands out. Anbu's eyes narrowed, trying to figure out what she was trying to do, but her eyes passed from his hand to hers. He got the memo and nodded.

"Anbu," he whispered back, causing her to smile. Just as their hands joined, Anbu felt a jolt of energy flee through his veins. And he wanted it to feel every time. The heart of an addict hooked into something other than the substance he usually inhales, and he couldn't help but feel this simple touch could eat thoughts of the powder that they sell, and he wanted nothing but to devour it all.

Over the next few weeks, Anbu made excuses to revisit the hospital. He had a headache one day and a "sore arm" the following day—minor complaints that seemed insignificant but enough to warrant a quick visit.

"Back again?" Nila asked with a small smile when he showed up for the third time.

He shrugged, giving a half-smile. "Yeah, thought I'd get another check-up."

Every time, he'd catch glances of her as she worked, the way she'd tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, her laugh with the other patients. She'd become an unexpected part of his life, a quiet secret he kept. She was a stranger, but someone who made him feel... ordinary. In her presence, he wasn't Anbu, the feared man from the streets. He was just another guy with a bruised knuckle or a nagging cough, and that was all she needed to know.

Each time he left, he hoped it wouldn't be his last visit.

A few weeks later

Anbu sat in the waiting room, pressing a thumb against the fresh cut on his hand—a small scratch he'd given himself that morning. It was a flimsy excuse, but he couldn't stay away. Week after week, he'd found himself returning with a new "injury," each visit a chance to see her.

When Nila finally stepped out, her gaze met him, and her lips curved into a knowing smile. She gestured him in, and he followed, his heartbeat always a little unsteady. Today, she raised an eyebrow, looking over the tiny scratches on his arm and the faint bruising on his hand.

"Another injury?" she asked, her eyes glinting with mischief as she took his hand, her fingers tracing over the cut. Mr. who bruises like a peach," she teased, evident amusement in her voice. Are you alright?" she asked with concern, raising her voice.

Anbu grinned, playing it cool. "I am a Kabbadi coach," he replied, attempting to keep his voice steady as she cleaned the cut with gentle hands. "Teaching the local boys can get rougher than you'd think."

She chuckled, shaking her head as she dabbed antiseptic on the scratch. "You must be the most committed coach in the area, showing up with a fresh bruise or cut every week," she mused, glancing up with amusement and curiosity. "But these injuries—they're so... frequent."

For a moment, Anbu hesitated, admiring her perceptive nature. She was beginning to see through his excuses, and he respected her sharpness almost as much as her kindness.

"Yeah, well," he replied with a smile, "these boys are intense."

Nila's lips tugged into a soft, almost-knowing smile. "So you're the brave Kabaddi coach of your neighbourhood?" she asked, her voice a mix of sarcasm and genuine interest as she secured the last bandages. "Try not to get too beat up, alright? I worry I'll see you in here with a real injury one of these days."

Anbu nodded, his grin fading slightly as he looked at her, the weight of her concern settling over him. There was something about Nila's warm presence and unguarded kindness that he hadn't felt in years. And as long as Nila didn't see through his act, he had a reason to return.

A few months later

A mix of moans and a whimper is heard throughout the dark room, as are the breaths of two people who were consumed by the activity of the height of intimacy. Anbu let out a slow breath, his chest rising and falling against Nila's as they lay entangled, his arms wrapped around her from behind. His lips brushed the delicate curve of her ear, a smile tugging at his lips as he took in the quiet aftermath. He still couldn't quite believe it—her warmth against him, her presence in his life. He never thought that someone like her, soft-hearted and kind, would let someone like him so close. She wasn't just close; she was his in a way that felt raw and real, leaving him in awe.

His mind drifted back to the first time they'd crossed that line, the moment that had forever changed their relationship.

It was one evening at her clinic, tucked away in the privacy of her tiny office. Anbu had come in with a forehead injury, a memento from a fight with a man who'd dared to betray them to the police. Nila had been focused, her fingers steady as she stitched the wound, her face barely inches from his. Her scent was subtle but intoxicating, and her lips... he couldn't tear his eyes from them.

As she worked, he found his hand almost unconsciously reaching up, his fingers grazing her cheek. She'd stilled, her hands freezing in place, her lips parting ever so slightly at his touch. It was all the invitation he needed.

Anbu leaned in, his heart pounding as he brushed his lips against hers. That first tentative contact sent a shiver through him. Her lips were soft and smooth and tasted like a sweetness he had never had. She didn't pull away. Instead, she melted into him, her hands abandoning the wound as her mouth responded with a hunger that matched his own.

In that moment, the fight, the wound, the world outside—none of it mattered. He'd drawn her close, their lips and breaths tangling, both lost to the pull of each other. It was as if every pent-up desire, every hidden feeling, came rushing to the surface in that single kiss, her mouth fitting against his as if they were made for each other.

That day, she became the dr*g he wanted, and nothing could top it.

Now, as they lay together in the dim light, he pressed his lips softly to her shoulder, still in awe that she was his.

Next day

Giggles and whispered voices of Nila echoed throughout the closed door of her home clinic as the chatter of patients waiting outside drifted in. "Anbu, stop! There are people out there," she whispered, her breath hitching as his lips sealed over hers. He drank in her words until they transformed into soft moans.

His lips traced her jaw and neck, leaving bites that ignited a fire within her. Anbu was unrelenting, his hands roaming over her body, pulling her closer as if he wanted to fuse their souls. Nila's heart raced; the thrill of being caught only heightened the urgency of their encounter.

"Let them hear," he murmured against her skin, his voice low and husky. "I want everyone to know you belong to me."

Nila's cheeks flushed at his possessive words. She pulled back slightly, searching his dark eyes for any sign of hesitation, but she only found a smouldering desire that made her weak in the knees. "Anbu, we shouldn't—"

But before she could finish her thought, he captured her lips once more, silencing her with a kiss that promised both danger and ecstasy. Her body responded instinctively, melting against him as he deepened the kiss, his hands threading through her hair, urging her to surrender.

Suddenly, a loud knock echoed through the clinic, causing them both to jump apart. Nila's heart raced—not just from the kiss but from the fear of being discovered. "Nila! Are you in there?" a voice called from the other side, a patient asking about her appointment.

"Uh, yes! Just a moment!" Nila replied, her voice slightly breathless as she hurried to straighten her appearance. Her pulse was still racing. She caught Anbu's eye, and a mischievous grin spread across his face.

"You mister, you go in there," she whispered, pushing him. Nila closed the curtain as Anbu went, hiding him from plain sight.

Nila glanced at herself in the mirror, her heart racing as she attempted to cover the mark left on her neck by a man she couldn't get enough of. With a quick flick of her hair, she concealed the evidence of her secret.

Just as she opened the curtain to greet her unexpected visitor, she was met with the familiar face of her college mate and best friend, Sekar.

"Why are your doors locked?" he asked, eyeing her curiously.

Nila gulped, scrambling for a lie. "Oh, the door might have jarred shut. It's having some issues—I need to fix it," she replied, her voice steady despite the fluttering in her chest. Anbu, hidden behind the curtain, smirked at her quick thinking.

"Okay, I just wanted to remind you that we must be at the reception by 7 PM. Just making sure you remember," Sekar continued, his gaze lingering on her.

Nila's mind lit up at the reminder. Yes, today was their friend Navya's marriage reception. "Oh shit, yes! Thank you for the reminder. I'll be ready," she said, forcing a smile.

Sekar nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Great! I'll pick you up by 6:30 PM," he said before leaving. As the door clicked shut, Nila let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

Her heart was racing from the close call. She turned back to Anbu, who was still hidden behind the curtain, a teasing glint in his eyes.

"You're getting better at this sneaking around," he remarked, stepping out into the dim light of the clinic. His smirk made her pulse quicken, and she felt excitement and nervousness swirl.

Nila narrowed her eyes at him, irritation and amusement flickering. "You're going to get us in trouble one of these days," she whispered, crossing her arms as she tried to regain her composure. But even she couldn't deny the thrill that ran through her every time he pulled her into these stolen moments.

"Trouble?" Anbu chuckled, getting up and closing the distance between them. His hand reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I think you like this kind of trouble." His fingers lingered on her cheek, the warmth in his touch sending a familiar shiver down her spine.

Her mind suddenly flashed to Sekar's reminder. "I'll have to go soon... Navya's wedding reception, remember?" She tried to sound nonchalant, but how he looked at her made it hard to think about anything else.

"Where's the wedding? Need a ride?" he asked, offering casually, though there was a subtle edge to his voice.

Nila smiled, waving him off gently. "Thank you, but Sekar is picking me up."

A flicker of something dark passed through Anbu's features—a flash of possessiveness that he quickly masked with a smirk, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her jaw. "Go, then. Just make sure you're back by tonight." His tone was low, but his eyes carried a look that made her heart race.

Later that evening, at the reception, Nila was relaxing, surrounded by her old friends and their shared laughter. After some time, she and Sekar stepped outside to get some air.

"It's a lovely wedding, don't you think?" Sekar asked, his gaze lingering on her.

Nila nodded, glancing around. "Yes. Finally, one of us has tied the knot," she replied, smiling as she looked up at the star-lit sky.

Sekar stepped closer, his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She froze, surprised, as he leaned in, his intentions suddenly all too clear. She stepped back instinctively, her eyes wide. "What are you doing?"

Sekar looked startled, his face a mix of confusion and hurt. "Nila, I thought... I thought you felt the same. We've known each other for years; I've always loved you. I was planning to ask you to marry me." His words hung in the air, heavy with expectation.

Nila shook her head, keeping her voice gentle but firm. "Sekar, you're a good friend, but... I don't have those feelings for you. I'm so sorry."

Her words, spoken so softly, struck him like a blow. His face darkened as hurt turned to anger. "What kind of girl uses someone for years and then throws them away?" His voice was low, edged with a bitterness she had never seen before.

"What? Used?" Nila's voice shook with disbelief, her pulse quickening. "We were just friends. I never led you on."

But Sekar's frustration was boiling over. He seized her wrist, pulling her close. "You're mine, Nila. You always have been." And before she could react, he pressed his lips to hers, his grip hard as she struggled, pushing him away.

With all her strength, Nila slapped him, her hand shaking. "Don't you ever touch me again," she whispered, her voice filled with hurt and fear as she turned and hurried back inside. She didn't stop until she felt Sekar was nowhere in sight, her heart racing as she struggled to process what had just happened.

As Nila reached her home, the familiar warmth of her surroundings felt strangely cold. Loneliness washed over her like a heavy tide, and she let the tears fall freely, mourning the loss of her friendship with Sekar and the betrayal of trust. She wiped her cheeks, changed into her soft pyjamas, and sank onto the couch with a warm cup of milk, hoping the comfort would ease her heartache.

But just as she began to calm down, the doorbell rang, shattering her brief moment of peace. A sense of dread crept over her as she wondered who could be at her door. Her breath quickened, and she felt a chill run down her spine, remembering Sekar's angry words. What if it was him?

Steeling herself, she grabbed a wooden bat from her side table and tiptoed to the door. She peered through the peephole, and her heart soared with relief when she saw Anbu's drenched figure on the other side. She quickly opened the door, and without thinking, she threw her arms around him, letting the warmth of his presence wash over her.

"What happened?" Anbu's deep voice resonated, and she could feel his concern radiating as he stepped inside, water pooling on the floor from his soaked clothes. His gaze was sharp, scanning her face for signs of distress.

Nila pulled back, the tears starting anew as she poured out the entire story—Sekar's confession, the kiss, and how it had all gone so wrong. As she spoke, Anbu's expression darkened, his brow furrowing with each detail.

He reached for her hand, but she flinched at the touch. Anbu's eyes narrowed, and he instinctively traced the bruise on her wrist, his face hardening with anger. "De he do this..." he said, his voice low yet firm.

NIla shook her head. "It's okay. It might have been inflamed by his hold. It should be alright by tomorrow."

But Nila's words didn't fully register with him. Instead, all he could feel was the ways to destroy the man that caused her pain. He wrapped his arms around her without thinking, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"It's okay; I am here," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. Nila shivered at the truth in his words and the comfort of being in his arms. In that moment, she felt safe, cocooned in the warmth of his presence, and it gave her a flicker of hope amidst the pain.

Anbu held her tightly, wishing he could erase all the hurt she'd felt. She was everything he hadn't dared to dream of, and he silently vowed to protect her from anyone who dared to hurt her again. It's never good to play with the love of a villain, let alone hurt them.

Next Morning

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow around the room. Nila stirred, blinking away sleep as she felt the comforting warmth of a body wrapped around hers. Anbu spooned her, his breath warm against her exposed shoulder, leaving a trail of gentle kisses that made her heart race. The way he held her, his solid frame enveloping her, felt like home—an intoxicating blend of safety and desire.

She had grown addicted to these moments, how his touch ignited a fire within her, how his scent filled her senses and calmed her racing heart. It had become a routine—nights spent lost in each other, surrendering to the passion that simmered beneath the surface. Nila smiled at the thought, feeling excited at the day's possibilities.

Just as they were about to dive deeper into their shared intimacy, her phone buzzed on the bedside table. Reluctantly, she pulled herself away from Anbu's warm embrace, giggling as she tried to push him away. "Anbu, stop! I have to take it," she whispered, her tone playful.

But Anbu was relentless, trailing featherlight kisses down her bare shoulders, igniting every nerve ending. "I don't think so," he murmured, his voice husky with sleep.

Nila bit her lip, torn between her desire and the persistent ringing of her phone. "Anbu, really!" she chuckled, though some of her didn't want to pull away. Finally, she managed to break free, grabbing the phone as it rang again.

"Hello?" she said softly, glancing back at Anbu, who propped himself up on one elbow, a curious look on his face. But the warmth of their moment shattered like glass when she heard the voice on the other end.

"Nila... it's Sekar's brother. He's gone. Sekar is dead."

The world around her froze. The phone slipped from her hands, clattering onto the floor. Shock filled her senses, dulling the vibrant colours of the morning. Nila's heart raced, each beat echoing the painful truth of the words she had just heard.

Anbu's expression shifted as he detected the sudden change in her demeanour. "What happened?" he whispered, concern etched into his features. He reached out to grasp her arm, his touch grounding her in the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

"He is gone..." Nila breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, tears welling in her eyes.

"Who?" Anbu asked as he held her against him.

"S-Sekar", She whimpered. It doesn't matter how things ended yesterday. He was still her friend for over 10 years.

Anbu's heart raced as he pulled her closer, sensing her distress. "Nila," he urged gently, "it's going to be okay." But even he could feel the weight of the moment, the profound sadness that lingered in the air. As she leaned into him, seeking solace in his presence, a smirk flickered across Anbu's lips, hidden from her view. 

"Serves him right," Anbu thought as he imagined how he would send that garbage of human, Sekar, to hell yesterday night. No one would touch his love; his Nila is all his.

TO BE CONTINUED

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