13.1 Stockholm Syndrome

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When he fell in love with his kidnapper

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When he fell in love with his kidnapper.

Was it her beauty?
Or his psychology...
Attraction?
Or the Situation?

But whatever it was, it bloomed into love 💕

Anubhav's PoV

"What the fuck did I do", I cursed my self withdrawing from her lips. She was flushed. I just kissed my friend, Sneha. "I...I am sorry Sneha, I didn't mean to"

This happens when you are drunk so much and a place like this. Club. People sweating, dancing, flirting and making out at corners.

"It..'s okay...neither did I...but fuck you took my first PDA", she scrunched and giggled on my chest. After effects of alcohol. The coping mechanism always puts you to things you would never do.
My friends were shocked when I agreed to a party like this. It was back in college when I did such things. I ran past the party people outside to get some fresh air. I opened my top two buttons and walked in the now almost deserted lanes of Cannaught Place.

I sighed. Frustrated with the happenings. The new fight I took with my father this morning. The shameless act just now. I raked a hand through my hair and opened my phone to book a cab. Like a coward not wanting to return to her. I just wish she would forgive me in the same way tomorrow after  the alcoholic influence vanishes. I don't want to make our friendship awkward. She means a lot to me. And I know she likes someone else which doubled my guilt.

The cab arrived. I blinked my eyes twice to confirm that the driver was a woman. Sexist but Delhi, night time and infamous clubs- safety doesn't go with them. I wonder why she was a driver. As she asked me the code to verify the ride, I saw her beautiful eyes entirely through the rear reflection and the sweet voice that accompanied.

Control your drunken hormones! I chided myself and closed my eyes. If I hadn't drunk and it was in daylight, I would wish to spare a few glances at her attractive face. But in the current situation. A NO. Behave civil and not freak out the woman driving me home.

My mind slowly traveled back to my father. How he wanted me to go for medical but I ditched it for business. And now when I have completed my post-degree and worked for two years in a consulting firm for money and experience...still he doesn't believe I could do with my startup.

He is a well reputed doctor in AIIMS, Delhi. Money and Respect both tower him. He has earned it but my passion never matched his. I was always inclined to run a business.

He had good relationships with influential people- politicians and business men. I have a funding round open and he believes I would not be able to survive without using his name. Even if I don't want to, people will help me because I am his son. They will invest in his name and reputation but not for my idea. And that's what the argument is about. Since long...My Eleventh Class.

It has increased exponentially over the years, troubling my mother more than us.

"Sir...aage rasta band hai", she said and I looked at her again coming out of my thoughts. Her dusky skin glowing against the yellow street lights. "Dusra rasta badha hai aapka charge badh jayega", she added.

"Umm...koi baat nahi"

"Okay sir" She tapped a few buttons on her screen and pulled up her mask. I grew conscious if I stared at her but I was sure I did not. I looked away suddenly feeling suffocating.

Drink more. Idiot. What would it look like if I threw up in her taxi but suddenly it felt more. My vision blurred. The last thing I saw was her pulling down the mask with a smirk on her face.

___________________________________________

"What the hell! Where the fuck I am?", I yelled at the lady in front of me. Call it my male ego but I was kidnapped by a woman.

And she was all smirks after I passed out in the car. She walked near me and traced her nail from my forehead and scratched it harshly on my cheek.

"Agli baar mujhpe aise chikaya na, toh ye chot knife se lagegi"

I still glared at her. Daring. She sat on a chair in front of me and kept her gun on a stool beside.

I gulped. Sweat beads formed on my face and anxiety gripped me. Why was she doing this? Money or some revenge? Will I be safe? I don't want to die, especially when the last conversation with my family was technically a fight.

"Men", she shook her head. "Bahout ghamand rakhte ho tum log", she eased, stretching her legs outwards on the edge of the chair I was tied too. This time I didn't spat back. It was neither a ac6tion film nor I was a hero. I was stuck with her, in an unfurnished flat. She was loaded. I was weak and tired.

Acting smarter, I softened and accepted my defeat.

"What do you want?"

"Smart", she mouthed and opened her phone. My eyes widened knowing the last dialled number was my father's!

"Paisa chahiye mujhe. Sakt zarurat hai. Tere baap se maine 2 crore rupe maange hai. Request hai tujhse. Don't act smart, provoke me to harm you. Mujhe jaise hi paise milege mai chod dungi tumhe. Unharmed"

"I know how you look... still", It was hard to believe her straight forward demand. She grinned.

"Your father won't let you take any action against me. And I know how to make this sure"

I cursed my fate, complained to God...why was all of this happening to me? We started at each other in the dull room. My body was not cooperating. I started to feel more nauseous in the closed room with no ventilation.

"Suno.."

"I will throw up", I could barely breathe.

"No...No", she made a face. Her actions worked even faster as opened my ropes and pushed me to the bathroom.

I emptied my stomach, but felt more acidic. As I relaxed I thought of ways I could run away. I was freed of ropes. She would think I am weaker. Maybe it could work...

Upcoming- I grabbed his throat and pushed against the wall. He may be taller and fit but I had known these tricks for years.

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Also, check out my other story, For A Thousand Lifetimes

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