Vaishali's POV-

I tried to stay away from him.

For two days.

Different corridors. Different timings. Library instead of canteen.

But fate has strange habits.

The peon came to my class.

"Vaishali, principal sir is calling."

My heart dropped.

I walked slowly... telling myself it must be about attendance or fees.

But when I entered the conference room....

It was him.

Rudraksh Rathore.

Standing near the window, sunlight behind him, looking at me like he had been waiting.

I froze.

He didn't smile.

Didn't question.

He just placed a small paper bag on the table.

"Sit," he said quietly.

I sat.

My fingers twisted in my dupatta.

"What is this?" I asked.

"Medicine."

My throat tightened.

"I don't need it."

"You do."

His voice wasn't harsh. It was calm... stubborn.

I shook my head. "Please... I'm fine."

He looked straight into my eyes.

"You've been pretending to be fine for years. Let me help once."

Something inside me broke.

Silence filled the room.

My sleeve slipped a little.

Dark marks showed.

His jaw tightened.

"Show me your arm," he said softly.

I panicked. "No... please..."

He stepped back immediately.

"I won't touch you unless you say yes."

No one had ever said that to me.

Slowly... with shaking hands... I lifted my sleeve.

The bruises were darker now. Purple. Swollen. Some cuts half-healed.

He didn't react loudly.

Didn't ask a hundred questions.

He just opened the bag... took cotton... ointment... antiseptic.

When his fingers touched my skin... they were so gentle.

I winced.

He whispered, "Sorry."

Tears came suddenly.

Because no one had ever said sorry for my pain.

He cleaned each wound slowly.

Carefully.

Like I mattered.

After a while... he asked softly,

"Did someone do this to you?"

I stayed silent.He didn't push.

But his voice grew colder.

"Was it your uncle's family?"

My hands started shaking.

He understood.

I whispered, "Please... don't ask."

He closed his eyes for a second... controlling his anger.

When he opened them... they were calm again.

"You don't have to tell me now."

I looked at him.

"Why are you helping me?"

He answered without thinking...

"Because someone should have... long ago."

My eyes filled again.

I stood up quickly.

"Thank you... sir."

And ran before I cried in front of him.

...

...

Rudraksh's POV -

The door closed behind her.

But her trembling hands... stayed in my mind.

I stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty chair she had been sitting in.

So small.

So quiet.

So broken... and still trying to smile.

My fingers tightened around the ointment tube.

Someone had done this to her.

Not once.

Not by accident.

Again and again.

And she still protected them.

I took a slow breath and I dialled my PA

"Raghav," I said into the phone.

"Yes, sir."

"Put discreet surveillance on Vaishali Sharma's house. Install secret cameras inside the house without their knowledge. Street cameras. Entry and exit logs. Background check on every person living there."

Silence.

Then a careful reply, "Yes, sir."

My voice went colder.

"I want proof. Every detail."

Because this wasn't anger anymore.

This was war.

...

...

Vaishali's POV -

I didn't stop until I reached the washroom.

My hands were shaking.

My chest hurt.

Why did his touch feel... safe?

Why did his voice feel like home?

I splashed water on my face again and again.

"Control yourself," I whispered.

"He's just helping. Nothing more."

But my heart didn't listen.

When I came out, Aishu was waiting.

She looked at my red eyes... then at my arm where fresh bandage showed under my sleeve.

Her face softened.

"He did this?" she asked quietly.

I nodded.

Aishu sighed deeply.

"For the first time... someone is seeing your pain, Vaishu."

I looked away.

"It's wrong," I whispered. "People like him... don't belong in my life."

Aishu held my hand.

"Maybe... he belongs exactly there."

I shook my head.

Because hope was dangerous.

...

...

Rudraksh's POV –

The screen in my cabin was bright.

Colour.

Clear.

Every second alive.

The audio was on.

And then... it started.

Vaishali reached the door, walking slowly, her olive-green kurti dull under the streetlight. One hand held her bag. The other pressed the bandage on her arm.

Before she could knock, the door opened.

Her aunt came out like a storm.

"What is this drama now?" her voice cut through the speakers. "Bandages? You want everyone to think we torture you?"

She grabbed Vaishali's wrist and dragged her inside.

"Chachi please... it's nothing... I slipped..." Vaishali begged.

I leaned forward, jaw tight.

Inside the hall, the camera showed everything.

Her aunt pulled her sleeve up. The bandage showed.

The woman's face twisted.

"So you went crying to rich people? Showing them we don't take care of you?"

"No... I didn't tell anyone..." Vaishali whispered.

The slap came.

Loud.

Sharp.

It echoed in my cabin.

Another slap.

She stumbled.

Didn't shout.

Didn't fight.

Just folded her hands.

"I didn't complain... please believe me..."

At that moment two girls came running from the inside room her chachi's daughters.

They looked at Vaishali like she was dirt.

"So now you are showing your drama outside also?" one of them sneered.

Before Vaishali could speak, the first girl slapped her.

Then the second one.

Back-to-back.

Fast. Angry.

Vaishali didn't even lift her hand to stop them.

Her aunt stormed into the kitchen and came back with a knife.

My breath stopped.

She threw it toward Vaishali.

The knife hit the wall beside her and fell with a sharp clang.

Vaishali flinched, covering her face.

At that moment her uncle walked in.

"What is happening?"

"She is defaming us," the aunt shouted. "Showing people these bandages!"

He looked at Vaishali.

Cold.

Then slapped her.

Hard.

She fell to her knees.

"I didn't say anything... I promise..." she cried.

He grabbed her injured arm.

The bandage tore.

Fresh blood spread slowly.

She cried softly... trying not to scream.

Her aunt kicked her side.

"Ungrateful girl!"

Vaishali kept begging.

"Please... don't be angry... I didn't do anything..."

Not one angry word.

Not one complaint.

Only fear.

Only apologies.

My hands clenched so tight the pen snapped in my fingers.

My eyes burned.

Red.

Deadly.

Like a volcano seconds before eruption.

Every tear she wiped secretly... I saw.

Every new cut... I saw.

Every tremble... I felt.

Enough.

I stood up.

My chair crashed behind me.

"Raghav," I said, voice low.

He rushed in. "Yes, sir?"

"Get the car. Now."

He froze. "Sir...?"

"I'm ending this tonight."

No police.
No warnings.
No patience.

No one touches her again.

Not after today.

On the screen, Vaishali was still on her knees... begging them to stop.

Something inside me broke.

Not anger anymore.

Not just protection.

This was revenge.

For every bruise.
Every belt mark.
Every tear she swallowed alone.

I picked up my keys.

And I made a promise to myself—

I will destroy them slowly.
I will make them feel every pain they gave her.
I will not stop...

Until they beg for death.

And even then 

I won't show mercy.

Because they didn't.

Tonight, their world ends.

And Vaishali's nightmare ends with it.