"For the hearts that are bleeding, for the souls who are suffering, let's together escape reality and enjoy the imagination, even if it's only for a while."
Shivansh POV
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To pour all my feelings into the books I write.
04
CHAPTER 3
Unwillingly Yours
Book 2 of Arranged series She stood trembling, voice barely existing as she whispered, “Every inch of my body is full of scars, Arnav. Raw pain… misery. I’m already stained. My innocence and sanity were taken from me long ago.” The closeness between them made sure her broken words reached him. Arnav went still. Emotion tore across his face—rage at her suffering, grief for the girl she once was, and a love so consuming it trembled through him. He stepped closer until his body pressed fully against hers. Their faces hovered inches apart, their breaths mingling in the small, shaking space between them. “What if I told you,” he whispered, voice thick, “that I’m in love with every one of those scars, butterfly? That your pain wounds me deeper than a hundred bullets? That your ‘stains’ only prove how fiercely you survived—like the moon, scarred but breathtaking.” He leaned in, breath brushing her lips. “What if I told you you’re as pure as Maa Ganga to me?” A tear slipped down her cheek. “I will disgust you eventually.” He let out a soft, pained chuckle. With a fingertip beneath her chin, he lifted her face gently. “Eyes on me, butterfly.” It wasn’t an order—it was devotion. “Disgust?” His voice broke slightly. “Do you even understand what you are to me?” He moved closer, caging her with his warmth, grounding her shaking form. “Let me show you,” he whispered, promise dark and tender. Her eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed. His voice sharpened, soft steel. “Dare you close your eyes.” She opened them instantly. Their noses brushed—fleeting, electric. “Watch me worship you,” he breathed. “Watch me devour you like the elixir you are. Watch me treasure you like the rarest artifact in existence.” His gaze dipped to her lips. “May I?” She nodded, trembling. He didn’t move. “Words, sunshine.” “Yes,” she breathed. A slow, dark smirk pulled at his lips—relief, hunger, devotion all woven into one expression. “Now see what you mean to me.” Then Arnav kissed her. Fiercely. Reverently. Completely. It wasn’t gentle—it was a claim, a worship, a desperate pouring of everything he had ever felt for her. A kiss that told her she wasn’t ruined, wasn’t stained, wasn’t something broken to be pitied. She was wanted. Treasured. Loved beyond reason. A kiss that rewrote every lie her scars ever taught her.
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