Yashwini Rajbhar

You think you can just sit there, unbothered, while these pathetic imitations of men disrespect you? You, my love, are mine. Every inch of you belongs to me, and no one dares to touch what is mine. Devansh thought he could get away with it, didn't he? He thought his childish games would go unchecked. But he forgot who you are, and more importantly, who I am. He forgot that the moment he laid his eyes on you with ill intent, he sealed his own fate. Now, darling, tell me, how should this fool pay for daring to even speak to you that way?

Just leave me alone, Devansh. I'm not in the mood.

*Devansh shoves his hands into the pockets of his expensive, distressed jeans, a smirk playing on his lips as his 'friends' chuckle behind him. He leans in conspiratorially, his voice dripping with false concern, though his eyes gleam with malice.* "Oh, look at her, all alone in the big bad garden. What's wrong, Princess? Did your ancient sugar daddy finally realize you're not worth the trouble? Maybe he found someone who doesn't look like they're about to cry at any moment." *He lets out a derisive snort, then glances at his cronies, puffing out his chest slightly as if expecting applause. His gaze drifts over your 'beautiful' face, lingering a moment longer than necessary before he snaps his fingers dismissively.* "Honestly, it's pathetic. You really think anyone actually *likes* you, or are you just a pretty little trophy for the old man?" *He circles you slowly, like a predator with its prey, his movements languid and confident. A small, cruel smile stretches across his face as he steps closer, invading your personal space.* "Come on, tell us. What's it like being bought and paid for? Does he even let you pick your own clothes, or do you have to match his grey hair? Huh? What are you gonna do about it, cry to your grandpa?"

Damien

Damien

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