Vaishali's POV -

Morning came too fast.

I stood before the mirror, wearing my olive-green kurti, adjusting the sleeves again and again.

They were loose... but not enough.

The bruises still showed faintly under my skin.

I pulled my dupatta tighter.

No one should see.

No one ever does.

When I reached college, the campus felt louder than usual. Students laughing. Bikes honking. Someone playing music near the gate.

Normal life.

Something I was never part of.

In the canteen, Aishu froze the moment she saw me.

Her eyes moved to my arm.

Then to my wrist.

Then to my neck.

Her face turned pale.

"Vaishu..." she whispered. "What is this?"

I tried to smile. "Nothing. I slipped yesterday."

She grabbed my hand suddenly.

The sleeve slid back.

Dark bruises. Swollen skin. A thin line of dried blood.

Her eyes filled with tears. Then anger.

"You didn't even put ointment?" she almost shouted.

People looked.

I pulled my hand back quickly. "Please... Aishu... not here."

Her voice shook. "How long will this go on?"

I didn't answer.

Because I didn't know.

She clenched her fist. "One day I'll take you away from that house."

I gave a small smile.

"Where will I go?"

Silence fell between us.

Then suddenly, the principal walked into the canteen.

Everyone stood.

He looked straight at me.

"Vaishali Sharma, come to the conference room. Scholarship interview."

My heart stopped.

"I... I didn't apply, sir."

He smiled politely. "You were recommended."

Aishu and I stared at each other.

Recommended?

By whom?

...

...

...

Rudraksh's POV-

She walked in slowly.

Olive-green kurti.

Eyes lowered.

Hands shaking just a little.

I kept my face calm.

Only I was in the room.

No directors. No staff.

Just me.

And her.

She froze seeing me.

"Sit," I said gently.

She obeyed.

Her fingers tightened around her file.

But I noticed everything.

She sat across from me.

"Relax," I said softly.

She nodded.

But she wasn't relaxed.

Not even a little.

I opened her file.

"Vaishali Sharma. Final-year student. Good grades. Part-time work."
I looked up. "Why do you work so much?"

"To pay my fees," she replied.

No complaint. No self-pity.

Just truth.

I asked another question.

"What is your goal after graduation?"

"To live peacefully," she said.

Peace.

Such a small word. Such a big wish.

I leaned back.

"What is your biggest fear?"

She paused.

"Depending on someone forever."

My chest tightened.

"What do you do when life hurts you?"

She smiled faintly.

"I stay quiet."

I watched her carefully.

Every answer was simple.

Honest.

Broken.

"Do you trust people easily?" I asked.

"No."

"Why?"

"Because promises are expensive."

Silence filled the room.

I leaned forward slightly.

"Tell me about your parents."

Her fingers froze.

Her face lost colour instantly.

Silence filled the room.

"I... don't remember much," she whispered. "They died when I was five."

Her voice cracked... but she forced a small smile.

"They loved me. That's all I know."

Something twisted painfully inside me.

A child who barely remembered love.

And never got it again.

I asked quietly, "Who takes care of you now?"

"My uncle's family."

No emotion.

No warmth.

Just a statement.

Then I asked one final question...

"If someone offers you protection... will you accept it?"

Her eyes finally met mine.

Just for a second.

Then she looked away.

"I don't deserve that," she whispered.

My hands clenched. I understood everything in that silence.

The interview ended.

She stood quickly, almost escaping.

Her file slipped from her hand.

Papers scattered.

She bent to pick them.

Her dupatta shifted.

And I saw.

Dark purple bruises across her arm.

Finger marks.

Belt marks.

My vision went red.
My breath stopped.

I caught her wrist gently.

"What happened to you?"..."Who did this?"

She pulled back.

"I fell."

I held her gaze.

"You're lying."

She stayed silent.

I asked softly, "Did someone beat you?"

Her eyes filled instantly.

Her body started shaking.

She didn't answer.

She didn't need to.

I pulled her into my arms.

She froze... like she didn't know what comfort felt like.

I kissed the top of her head gently.

"You're safe," I whispered.

For one second...

She leaned into me.

Then she pushed me away suddenly.

"No... please..."

Fear in her eyes.

Not anger.

Fear.

She ran out of the room.

And I stood there... burning with rage.

Because now I knew.

Someone was hurting her.

And whoever it was...

I would destroy them.

...

...

Vaishali's POV -

I didn't stop running until I reached the empty corridor.

My heart was racing.

My hands were shaking.

Why did he hug me?

Why did it feel... safe?

Why did I want to cry in his arms?

No.

No.

I looked at my bruises in the mirror.

Ugly. Dark. Painful.

I washed my face and whispered,

"This is wrong... this is wrong..."

Men like him don't belong in stories like mine.

I pressed my hand to my mouth to stop crying.

"Don't trust anyone," I told myself.

"Don't dream."

...

...

Rudraksh's POV - 

I stood alone.

Her warmth still in my arms.

Her bruises burning in my eyes.

But her pain told the truth.

I picked up one paper she left behind.

Her handwriting was neat.

Careful.

Like she was afraid even ink might anger someone.

My voice came out cold.

"Find her house," I told my assistant on the phone.

Silence.

Then a scared reply.

"Yes, sir."

I looked at her photo again.

A bubbly child.

Turned into silence.

Someone had done that.

Someone would pay.

Because one thing had become clear....

She may run from me.

She may lie to me.

But I would still protect her.

Even if she never asked.

Even if she never loved me.

Because now...

Vaishali was mine to protect.

And no one in this world would hurt her again.

...

...