🕯️ RAHUL ARVIND DESAI — The Monster They Made

> “He doesn’t flinch at blood. He flinches at kindness. Because no one was ever kind to him without a reason.”

---

🕴️ A Man Made of Ice and Fire

No one knew where Rahul Desai came from — not truly.

He appeared in the business world like a shadow slipped through the cracks of power: black suits, colder eyes, and a reputation that preceded him like smoke before fire. He was just twenty-six, but spoke and moved like a man twice his age — a man who had clawed his way out of hell, dragging his demons behind him on a leash.

He was beautiful in a brutal way. Sharp cheekbones, unreadable expressions, a jaw carved like vengeance. His eyes weren’t dark — they were dead. No one had seen them soften. And no one ever would.

He wasn’t rich because of luck.

He was rich because he tore everything soft from himself to survive.

---

💀 Childhood – The Origin of the Monster

> “His father taught him love with belts. His mother taught him silence with tears.”

Rahul was born behind locked doors and iron bars, inside a crumbling palace of wealth soaked in sin.

His father, Arvind Desai, was a monster in a man’s suit — a failed tycoon, addicted to control, whiskey, and punishment. The house was never home. It was a hunting ground. Rahul wasn’t raised. He was trained — like a dog made to obey through pain.

The first time he bled, he was five. The first time he learned silence, he was six.

And the first time he realized no one was coming to save him, he was eight — staring at his mother’s lifeless body in a white nightgown soaked red on the bathroom floor.

They said it was an overdose.

Rahul always knew better.

But he never cried. Not once. Not at her funeral. Not when they took her body away. He simply walked into her room, sat by the bloodied bathtub, and whispered:

“I’ll never need anyone again.”

---

🔥 The Lost Years — Rebuilding in Rage

At eleven, he was sent away — not to heal, but to disappear.

A “discipline institute” in Switzerland. Wealthy men’s way of saying hell for the inconvenient children of rich bastards.

The place smelled of bleach, blood, and the hollow silence of broken boys.

There, Rahul learned not how to behave — but how to pretend.

He learned how to wear silence like armor.

How to stop flinching when slapped.

How to breathe through beatings.

How to smile while being destroyed.

By seventeen, he wasn’t a boy anymore. He was an illusion — calm, clean, and calculated.

He returned to India at nineteen with one goal: destroy his father, take everything, and never look back.

It took him three years.

By twenty-two, Arvind Desai was bankrupt, paranoid, and alone.

And Rahul? Rahul was the reason.

Arvind’s body was found crumpled on the pavement beneath his own high-rise office building.

The CCTV footage “disappeared.”

Rahul never denied it.

But he never confessed either.

Because monsters don’t need to explain.

---

🕷️ The Man the World Sees

At twenty-six, Rahul Desai is the youngest power broker in the city. A silent puppet master. A name that makes people lower their voices and straighten their ties.

His public company, Desai Global Corp, is clean.

But beneath that?

He trades in:

Surveillance footage no one is supposed to have.

Secrets that can ruin dynasties.

Dead bodies that disappear before sunrise.

Loyalties bought with terror, not trust.

He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t have to.

One look from him can unravel grown men.

One cold smile, and people confess crimes they haven’t even committed.

---

☁️ Private Habits – Behind the Silence

He lives in a glass mansion on the cliffs, high above the city he owns but never joins.

He doesn’t let people in — not into his home, not into his head.

Not even his most loyal men have seen his bedroom.

That room is a vault of ghosts:

His mother’s ring in a locked drawer.

Her old voice recorder, rewound to the same lullaby, played once every year.

A blood-stained school notebook with shaky Latin words of pain — from a time when he still needed to speak.

He doesn’t date. He doesn’t fuck strangers.

He doesn’t touch unless he’s prepared to mark.

He hasn’t kissed anyone in five years — not because he can’t, but because he doesn’t want to feel anything.

Feeling means weakness. Weakness means memory. And Rahul Desai lives to forget.

---

💣 What He Fears Most

Rahul doesn’t fear death.

He fears becoming his father.

There are nights he wakes up sweating — not from nightmares of what was done to him, but what he might do to someone else.

He’s terrified of love, because he knows what love made his mother endure.

He’s terrified of gentleness, because he doesn’t know how to return it.

And deep, deep inside…

He fears one day someone will love him anyway.

And that they’ll suffer for it.

---

🕊️ How He Will Love Her

> “He won’t give her flowers. He’ll give her protection. He won’t whisper sweet words. He’ll whisper, ‘No one touches you and lives.’”

When Enaya walks into his life — with softness he can’t corrupt and innocence he can’t stand — something inside him breaks.

He tries to avoid her. He fails.

He tries to scare her. She stays.

He tries to own her. And for the first time, he’s the one enslaved.

He will love her in a way that breaks the rules of right and wrong.

He won’t beg her to stay. He’ll make sure she can’t leave.

He won’t write poetry. He’ll burn the world to protect her smile.

He’ll destroy her peace… but gift her his broken soul.

---

( This is my second story.. My first story The Price of protection is already finished. Please give me support in this story also.. Please comment.. So I can know you are reading.. In the first story not many of you commented and liked.. Please give likes and subscribe 💫)

🌸 ENAYA MALHOTRA

“She was too soft for the world she was born into. And too loyal to ever leave it. That’s what made her dangerous.”

🌙 Name:

Enaya Ranvijay Malhotra

> Enaya, meaning “care” or “concern.” Her name itself was a contradiction to the world that would devour her.

🎓 Age:

21

🕊️ Personality Overview:

Quiet, composed, gentle — the kind of girl who smiles even when her heart is aching.

Speaks little, but listens with her whole being.

Avoids conflict, not because she’s weak — but because she grew up watching silence hold families together.

Deeply emotional but trained to hide it. She learned early that girls like her are supposed to be graceful, soft-spoken, obedient.

> “She didn’t know what rebellion felt like. Until she met a man who breathed like fire and kissed like destruction.”

🏡 Family Background:

Father: Ranvijay Malhotra — a powerful retired Army General turned Member of Parliament. Charismatic. Respected. Brutally principled. His word is law in the house, and Enaya has never disobeyed him. But she carries the weight of his expectations like chains around her ribs.

Mother: Anuradha Malhotra — elegant, elegant, and quietly broken. She raised Enaya to be a perfect wife, not a free woman. Always smiling, always sacrificing. Astha taught her how to walk with her eyes lowered and dreams locked in diaries no one would read.

Siblings: Only child. Which means all of her family’s pride, pressure, and paranoia rest on her small shoulders.

📚 Education and Aspirations:

A final-year literature student at Delhi University.

Loves poetry, especially Mirza Ghalib and Sylvia Plath — because both understood what it meant to ache in silence.

Secretly writes her own poems in an old cloth-bound journal she hides beneath her mattress.

Wants to study further. Maybe abroad. Maybe just a quiet life with books and freedom.

But she knows she won’t get either — not in a house where her life has already been planned.

🌸 Appearance:

Height: 5’4”

Skin: Almond gold, with a soft glow that comes from youth and sheltered living.

Hair: Waist-length, jet black, always braided or pinned — her mother says loose hair invites “the wrong kind of attention.”

Eyes: Deep brown, almost black, with a sadness she doesn’t realize is visible. Eyes that look down even when she wants to look up.

Lips: Naturally pink, often bitten — from nerves, from silence, from holding back words that could burn everything down.

> “She didn’t dress to impress. She dressed to disappear.”

🌧️ What She’s Never Said Out Loud:

She’s tired of being good. Tired of being the “perfect daughter.”

Sometimes she fantasizes about cutting her hair short, screaming at her father, and kissing a boy she barely knows — just to feel something that’s hers.

She’s scared of love. Not because she doesn’t believe in it… but because she does. Too much.

Every time a man stares too long, she clenches her fists. But sometimes… a part of her wants to be seen. Wants to be chosen. Wants to be loved so violently, it breaks the rules.

🕯️ Habits and Quirks:

Sleeps with the light on — not because she’s scared of the dark, but because it reminds her of all the nights she cried silently under a flickering lamp.

Presses her thumb to the edge of her jaw when she’s anxious.

Always carries a handkerchief in her purse — stitched by her mother, scented with rose water.

Writes one line of poetry on the last page of every book she finishes.

Doesn’t like eye contact. But when she does look up — you feel it like a prayer.

🥀 Her Emotional Landscape:

She doesn’t trust easily, not because people lied — but because they only loved her for being quiet and obedient.

Craves freedom like oxygen. But doesn’t know how to ask for it without disappointing someone.

Carries guilt for her own desires. She wants more — but thinks she shouldn’t.

She longs for someone to see her — truly see her — not as a daughter, not as a prize, not as an obedient girl… but as a woman full of storm and softness.

🌪️ What Will Break Her:

> “She was raised in a cage made of gold. It wasn’t until the monster arrived that she realized how much she wanted to fly.”

When Rahul Desai enters her life — not gently, but like a wrecking storm — she won’t know whether to run or reach for him.

He will see her. Too deeply.

He will touch her without touching.

He will look at her like she’s something forbidden and fragile — and that look will both terrify and thrill her.

Enaya won’t fall in love.

She will fall into obsession, confusion, longing, and fear — all at once.

And it will change her.

Because Rahul won’t just be her first kiss, her first rebellion, her first ache…

He will be the first man who ever makes her question the meaning of "good."

🕊️ How She Will Love Him:

Slowly. With trembling hands and too much feeling.

She’ll fight it at first — deny it, hate herself for it.

But then… she’ll start to understand his silence. His trauma. His shadows.

She’ll love him not in spite of his darkness, but because of it.

> “She’ll touch him like a prayer. And he’ll break her like a sin.”

( Please support my story and give me likes and subscribe.. I also said a lot of time this in the previous story, but I didn't get enough likes or Subscribe.. Al least give me comments if I do any mistake or if you have any suggestions.. So that I know, that you likes it or not.. This is my first time being a writer.. And English isn't my first language.. This is my second story.. so give me likes and subscribe.. To show your support... I am YM writes.. Give me love , show me your comments and subscribe... Love you all 💓)

This is the first chapter of "Married to the Monster"

---

🕉️ Chapter One — The Temple Between Them

> “Sometimes the first meeting isn’t an introduction.

It’s a recognition your soul wasn’t prepared for.”

---

The temple was quiet that morning.

Not empty — but hushed, sacred, alive only with murmurs of prayer and the soft rustle of wind brushing through the peepal trees above.

It was a Tuesday. The air held the mild scent of ghee, marigolds, and incense. Inside the old stone mandir, the Shivling sat bathed in cool milk, ringed by fresh bilva leaves, its base still wet with the morning’s abhishekam.

The world outside raged with noise and politics.

But here, inside these walls, time slowed.

And she was already there.

---

🕊️ Enaya Malhotra

She sat alone in the corner courtyard, just a few feet from the inner sanctum. Her back was straight. Eyes closed. A soft white dupatta covered her head like a veil of stillness.

Her lips moved silently.

No dramatic chanting.

Just a gentle rhythm of surrender only Mahadeva could hear.

The priest’s wife often said she was the kind of girl gods protected, even when men didn’t.

But Enaya didn’t believe that.

She came here not for blessings…

but for peace.

For silence that didn’t hurt.

For freedom that lasted at least until the next hour of duty returned.

Her palms folded. Her forehead touched the stone.

And for one second, she disappeared from the world completely.

---

🖤 Rahul Desai

He arrived just minutes later.

His car stopped at the edge of the temple hill road. His security men stepped out first, looking around, but he waved them back.

No one followed him.

He removed his shoes quietly. Rolled up his sleeves. Took the long stone steps two at a time.

To anyone else, Rahul Desai was a ghost in the empire of money.

Untouched by scandal. Unseen in gossip.

The kind of man people feared because they knew nothing about him except what he allowed them to know.

But here—before Mahadeva—he was stripped of all that.

This was his ritual.

His vow.

Before every war, every dangerous deal, every new corridor of power…

He came here.

To bow.

To not ask.

To surrender control, so he could reclaim it stronger.

---

🔥 The First Glimpse

He had just lit his diya, copper flame flickering softly, when something made him look left.

He didn’t know why.

There was no sound. No whisper.

Just… a shift in the wind.

And he saw her.

At first, just a figure.

All white. Still. Framed in the golden glow of morning sunlight filtering through temple bars.

Then her head lifted.

And her eyes opened.

---

Their gazes collided.

Not dramatically.

Not like fire meeting storm.

It was… quiet.

But in that quiet was a storm neither of them had the words for.

---

Rahul didn’t blink.

He had seen beautiful women. Fierce ones. Fragile ones. The ones who wanted him for money. Or ran from him because of it.

But this… was different.

Her face was soft but unreadable, as if she had learned to feel things alone. Her eyes held no flirtation. Only a depth he wasn’t used to looking into — like they had spent years trying not to cry.

She didn’t lower her gaze.

She didn’t offer a smile.

But she didn’t look away either.

And that shook him.

Because most people couldn’t hold his stare for longer than two seconds. They either wanted something — or feared something.

She did neither.

She just saw him.

And in that moment… he hated it.

He hated how unguarded he felt.

How seen.

How disturbed.

---

She turned away first.

Not hurriedly.

Just slowly — like a wave withdrawing after touching something it shouldn’t.

Rahul stood frozen for a second longer, then exhaled—harshly, like he’d been holding his breath without knowing it.

He should’ve left.

But he sat down on the cold temple stone.

And stared at the Shivling for much longer than usual.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t pray.

Just thought.

About eyes he couldn’t name.

And a face that had already burned itself somewhere in the corner of his mind.

---

🌒 Across the Courtyard

Enaya finished her prayer quietly.

And walked out of the temple the way she always did—careful, invisible, unimportant.

Except today, she felt seen.

As if someone had peeled open the quiet little world she kept hidden inside her chest and stared right into it.

She didn’t know why it bothered her.

Or why it stayed.

But it did.

---

END OF CHAPTER ONE

> No words.

No names.

Just two souls crossing in a place neither of them had come to meet someone.

She returned to her cage.

He returned to his empire.

But both carried something they couldn’t name yet… and wouldn’t forget.

---

( please give likes and comments.. I have been saying it a lot, but no one comment 😭

Please don't do it to me... I am trying. At least tell me my mistake or if you have any suggestions.... Love you 💓 )

I Want you to stay

'Til I'm in the grave

'Til I rot away, dead and buried

'Til I'm in the casket you carry

If you go, I'm going too, uh

'Cause it was always you, alright

And if I'm turnin' blue, please don't save me

Nothing left to lose without my baby

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I know

I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone

Can't change the weather, might not be forever

But if it's forever, it's even better

And I don't know what I'm cryin' for

I don't think I could love you more

It might not be long, but baby, I

I'll love you 'til the day that I die

'Til the day that I die

'Til the light leaves my eyes

'Til the day that I die

I want you to see, hm

How you look to me, hm

You wouldn't believe if I told ya

You would keep the compliments I throw ya

But you're so full of shit, uh

Tell me it's a bit, no

Say you don't see it, your mind's polluted

Say you wanna quit, don't be stupid

And I don't know what I'm cryin' for

I don't think I could love you more

Might not be long, but baby, I

Don't wanna say goodbye

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I know ('til the day that I die)

I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone ('til the light leaves my eyes)

Can't change the weather, might not be forever ('til the day I die)

But if it's forever, it's even better

I knew you in another life

You had that same look in your eyes

I love you, don't act so surprised