The morning sun filtered through the curtains, golden and soft—too soft for a room built on silence and shadows.
Meher stirred, wrapped in silk sheets and confusion.
Kabir sat by the window, already dressed in black, phone in hand. But his eyes weren’t on business. They were on her.
She sat up, the marks of the night still etched on her skin—gentle in places, harsh in others. Not all of it had hurt. And that scared her more than anything.
“You’re watching me,” she said.
He didn’t deny it. “You slept like you belonged here.”
“I didn’t,” she replied.
“But you didn’t run either.”
She looked away. “Running won’t save me. And maybe… I’m tired of running.”
He rose, walked to her side. “Then stay.”
Meher looked up. “As what? Your wife? Your prisoner?”
Kabir’s voice dropped. “As the woman who now knows what it means to be mine.”
Her heart twisted painfully. She should hate him. Should want to fight. Scream. Escape.
But instead, all she could feel was this cold fire that kept pulling her closer.
She whispered, “Do you feel anything at all, Kabir? Or am I just another body you control?”
He stared at her, eyes unreadable.
Then, so softly it broke something inside her, he said—
“I feel… when you look at me like that.”
And for the first time, the cage didn’t just hold her.
It held him too.
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