Caged in Silk

Janhavi's POV

The door slammed so hard it rattled the glass panes.

And then... silence.

But inside me, everything was chaos.

My knees buckled as soon as I was alone, the strength in my legs finally giving way. I sank onto the floor, pressing my palm against my chest, trying to calm the rapid, uneven beat of my heart. My breathing was shallow, uneven. I felt the edge of panic licking at my throat again—tight, suffocating.

I blinked through the tears still clinging to my lashes, but his words kept echoing in my head.

"You were forcefully pushed into my life..."
"You're my wife in name only..."
"I'll make your life a living hell..."

Each sentence had landed like a slap, but worse. Words hurt more than bruises. They didn't heal. They etched themselves into your bones and whispered their poison again and again.

And still, I'd nodded.

Like a coward.

Like a puppet.

I hated myself for it.

But what could I have done? He was Reyansh Singhania. Powerful. Ruthless. Chosen. And I was just... the girl locked in the basement. The girl Meera raised like a shameful secret.

I curled up tighter against the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees, forehead pressed to them.

"You'll obey me."

Tears spilled again, silently now.

Why did I think he might be different?
Why did some stupid, childish part of me hope he'd see me? Protect me? That maybe—just maybe—I was more than just a pawn on someone else's board?

I had dreamed of love once. Of a wedding filled with flowers and colors and music. My father walking me down the aisle, his arm strong beneath mine. My little brother showering petals from a silver plate. Laughter. Hope. Warmth.

But those dreams had died long ago, hadn't they?

Still, some small part of me had clung to them.

Until now.

Until he shattered it all with one cruel declaration.

I wiped my face with my sleeves, swallowing the ache in my throat. I had to pull myself together. I had to—because this was real now. And no one was coming to save me.

I was alone.

As always.

I didn't know how long I stayed curled up like that. But eventually, I heard the door open again. My heart leapt instinctively—hope? fear? I didn't know.

It was Reyansh.

Still as cold as ice.

He didn't spare a glance at the tears streaking my face, didn't acknowledge the raw red mark on my arm from where he'd grabbed me earlier. Nothing.

He just strode to the center of the room and looked down at me like I was some unfortunate stain he couldn't get rid of.

"We're getting married tomorrow," he said curtly.

My eyes widened. My chest went tight again.

"Wh–what?" I breathed.

He arched a brow. "Is your memory weak too, or just your backbone?"

I flinched. "Tomorrow?"

He nodded. "Court marriage. Legal. Quiet. You'll sign the papers, smile for the photos, and keep your damn mouth shut."

I could barely keep my voice steady. "But... there's no—no wedding?"

His mouth curled into a smirk, but it wasn't amused. It was cruel.

"A wedding? For you?"

The words hit like stones.

"You really think you deserve that kind of fairytale?" he sneered. "You're lucky I'm even going through with this farce. You should be grateful."

He paused, taking a slow step closer. I stood up instinctively, hands trembling at my sides.

"You're not the kind of woman men dream of marrying, Janhavi," he said, voice dropping to a venomous murmur. "You're the kind they get stuck with because someone made a deal behind their back. A contract. That's what you are. A signature in exchange for land."

He turned to leave, but not before throwing one final dagger.

"Get used to being forgettable."

Then he walked out.

And the door didn't slam this time.

It clicked shut.

Soft. Final.

I stood there, silent. Frozen. Like the air had been pulled from the room.

So that was it.

No wedding dress. No father holding my hand. No music. No sacred vows.

Just ink on paper. A signature. A name change. A cage with a golden lock.

My hands trembled as I pressed them against my chest.

I felt hollow.

And stupid.

How foolish of me... to hope.

To believe that maybe—just maybe—there was a space in the world where I could be more than someone's bargaining chip.

Tears welled again, blurring everything. I didn't bother wiping them.

What was the point?

I wasn't the girl who got a wedding.

I was the girl who was bought.

And tomorrow, I would become someone's wife.

On paper.

Not in heart.

Not in love.

And certainly not in freedom.