Redemption of Royals (Royal #1: Book 3) | ✔

12

-• helpless •-

Taranya

Seeing Shourya again should have made me furious. It should have pissed me off. But that was far from it. If anything, I felt helpless. Like I had the very first time I met him. I used to think such helplessness was driven by the lack of skill to defend myself. It pushed me to do better, and I worked myself to the bone for three years, hoping the next time I see the man I hate the most, it wouldn't be anything like the past. It was exactly that.

Even when I had my knife to his throat, I was acutely aware of his every little movement, and I've mastered my blade enough to not make it lash against my will. I could have not cared if the knife had hurt him, but it bothered me, and the nasty realisation twisted a gut in my stomach.

"On your twenty third birthday, at 12 in the midnight, I'll be at your doorstep, with a ring in my hand, asking you to marry me."

The confession had me giddy back then.

Then it transformed into a bitter reminder of our intimate past.

Presently, it's my reality.

I've a hundred reasons to say no, I did too, but he didn't look like he cared. He looked proud, almost confident that ultimately my answer will be in his favour. That's what I hate the most about him. He stands in front of me, says the most ridiculous bullshit, and expects I move on and give him another chance. Except, that I did. Because I was a wrecked fool absolutely besotted by that man. Not anymore.

He can't fool me using revenge as a leverage. What did he think of me? That I'm still the same girl who could care less what mask he wore as long as he gave me bits of his attention?

No.

Shourya is a poison to my life.

He'll get me addicted.

And you don't feel that towards death.

It took me so much self loathing and sleepless nights to get him out of my system. After Dad's death, I was a shell. And his confession had just pushed me deeper into the pits. My father and I, we both trusted the wrong person. I'm sure Dad felt the need to sort their differences because of me. If only I hadn't asked Shourya out on a date, his colleague wouldn't have seen us get all cozy outside the cafe, and reported it to dad.

Shourya doesn't deserve my forgiveness, he doesn't deserve me.

I'm not marrying him.

No matter what, I'm not marrying him.

My brother might need his help as he says, but we can't be that powerless. He's trying to rile me up. He's trying to get under my skin using my weakness.

I want to avenge my father's death. But I'm not going marry that monster in exchange of his support. I'm sure we'll find some other way. All of our efforts cannot be at nought just because Shourya doesn't want to help us anymore.

Someone walks inside the room. Tarun's scent is stronger in his presence. His arm stretches forward, my phone in his hand. "Taranya-" grabbing my phone, I take the same hand and flip him in the air over my shoulder. He groans when his back crashes to the floor.

"That's for betraying me, you little fucker." I spit out before storming out of the room.

I abandon the idea of elevator and take the stairs. I need the physical exertion to drown out the mental blocks Shourya has put in my head, rubbing it off on my face that marrying him is my lost option. The man is excellent at making people feel helpless. I've been at the receiving end of his emotional manipulation once, I can't be dumb enough to fall for it again.