Meher sat at the edge of the bed, draped in soft ivory silk, her wrists resting in Kabir’s hands.
He wrapped the silver cuffs around her slowly—not tight enough to hurt, just enough to bind.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, voice low.
She looked him dead in the eyes. “Do you trust me?”
He didn’t answer.
That silence said everything.
The cuffs clicked closed.
“You like control,” Meher said. “But these chains... they’re not about power. They’re about fear.”
Kabir raised an eyebrow. “Fear?”
“You think if you don’t hold me, I’ll leave. You think without chains—silk or steel—I’ll slip through your fingers.”
He moved closer, lips brushing her ear. “Maybe I just like the sound they make when you try to resist.”
She shivered—but not from fear.
Because she wasn’t resisting anymore. Not really.
These weren’t the chains that had held her captive in the beginning.
These were the ones she had walked into willingly.
And Kabir felt it too—the difference. The danger.
She wasn’t weak beneath his touch.
She was awake.
Alive.
Watching.
Later, when he unlocked the cuffs and kissed the inside of her wrists, he whispered, “I should never have let you this close.”
And she smiled darkly.
“Too late, Kabir. You didn’t chain me.”
She stood, brushed the silk from her skin.
“I chained you.”
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