TRECHAROUS PROPOSAL

The thunder roared through the dark sky, a low rumble that shook the very air. Rain poured

relentlessly, hammering the ground and drenching everything in its path. Arya sat by her

window, watching the storm unfold, her mind still restless from the events of the day.

A flash of lightning illuminated the street, and that’s when she saw it—a tall figure stepping

out of a sleek Bentley, rain cascading off his broad shoulders. Shiv.

Her breath hitched. He stood there, drenched, his hair plastered to his forehead, the sharp

lines of his face highlighted in the storm's glow. He looked like a man on the edge, his suit

soaked but his stance unyielding.

Without a second thought, Arya grabbed an umbrella and rushed down the stairs, her heart

racing. She pushed open the door, the rain instantly soaking her feet, and ran toward him.

“What are you doing out here?” she yelled over the storm, holding the umbrella above his

head.

Shiv’s intense gaze locked onto hers, his dark eyes unreadable but brimming with something

she couldn’t place. He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached out, his hand gripping her wrist

tightly.

“Shiv?” she asked, her voice softer now, unsure.

The umbrella slipped from her grasp, forgotten, as his hand slid down to entwine with hers.

Rain drenched them both, clinging to their skin, but neither moved away.

“Marry me,” he said suddenly, his deep voice cutting through the storm like a blade.

Arya froze, her lips parting in shock. “What?”

“I’m not here to explain to you” he continued, his voice steady despite the chaos around

them. “I’m here to tell you. Marry me, Arya.”

Her heartbeat thundered louder than the storm. “Shiv, you’re insane. This is—”

He stepped closer, his drenched shirt clinging to his chest, his presence overwhelming. “I

don’t care what you think.MARRY ME’’

40 hours before

The shop was eerily quiet after Meera left, the faint hum of crickets filling the air as Arya

moved to lock the doors. She sighed, exhausted from the day, her thoughts preoccupied with

tidying up when she heard it—a faint, deliberate creak from the attic.

Her hand froze on the door.

"Meera?" she called out, her voice trembling slightly. She knew Meera had left, but her heart

clung to denial.

Another creak. This time closer.

Gripping a Torch from the counter, Arya moved cautiously toward the attic door. The air

felt heavy, pressing down on her as if warning her to stop. But curiosity, or perhaps fear,

pushed her forward.

The attic door was slightly ajar, shadows shifting behind it.

Her pulse thundered in her ears as she pushed it open.

Suddenly, a strong hand clamped over her mouth from behind, yanking her backward with

brutal force. The flashlight fell from her hands, clattering onto the floor.

Arya thrashed violently, muffled screams tearing from her throat as she elbowed the attacker

in his ribs. "Get off me!" she screamed through gritted teeth, her voice muffled by his grip.

"Stop fighting," he growled, his voice cold and detached, sending a shiver down her spine.

Arya’s adrenaline surged as she stomped hard on his foot, twisting her body with all her

strength. His grip loosened momentarily, enough for her to wrench her head free.

“Help! Someone, please—”

Before she could finish, his other hand grabbed her hair, yanking her back painfully. She

cursed loudly, clawing at his face, her nails dragging down his cheek.

“You little—” he spat, his voice laced with anger. He twisted her arm behind her back,

shoving her hard into the wooden beams of the attic. Pain shot through her body as her head

slammed against the wood, stars exploding in her vision.

“You think you’re tough?” he sneered, his breath hot against her ear.

Arya’s chest heaved as she pushed against him with all her strength. "You’re going to rot in

hell, you sick bastard!" she spat, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and terror.

The stalker’s laugh was low and chilling, devoid of emotion. "Hell’s a long way off,

sweetheart."

She kicked backward, her heel connecting with his shin, but the man was relentless. He

grabbed her throat, slamming her to the ground. The impact knocked the air out of her lungs,

leaving her gasping and disoriented. Blood trickled down her temple from the earlier blow,

her vision blurring.

Arya’s screams filled the attic, desperate and raw. "Let me go, you coward!"

He crouched over her, his shadow swallowing the faint light. "No one’s coming to save you,"

he said, his tone unnervingly calm, as if her terror was a game to him.

Arya’s vision dimmed, her strength fading, but she refused to stop fighting. Her hands clawed

at the floor, her legs kicking wildly as she cursed him.

The man leaned closer, his voice a low, sinister whisper. "I like your feisty behavior."

With one final, brutal blow to her temple, her world went dark.

footsteps echoed through the shop as Meera hurried back, grumbling to herself. "Charger

bhool gayi! Arya will kill me if I interrupt her cleanup."

As she stepped inside, she immediately noticed something was off. The shop was eerily quiet,

darker than it should’ve been. "Arya?" she called, her voice uncertain. No response.

Her eyes darted toward the attic door, now slightly ajar. A cold chill ran down her spine.

"Arya, are you up there? Stop scaring me, yaar!" she said, trying to mask her unease.

Suddenly, a faint rustling sound reached her ears, followed by hurried footsteps from above.

Meera froze, her heart pounding. The next moment, the sound of someone descending hastily

through the other side of the attic made her jump.

"Who's there?" she yelled, but the only response was the sound of the back door slamming

shut.

Her hands trembled as she climbed the attic stairs, muttering, "Arya, if this is a prank, I swear

I'll kill you!"

The sight waiting for her at the top stole her breath.

"Arya!" Meera screamed, rushing forward. Arya lay crumpled on the wooden floor, blood

trickling down her temple, her face pale and battered.

Meera dropped to her knees, shaking Arya gently. "Arya! Get up! What happened?" she

cried, her voice breaking.

Arya didn’t respond. Meera’s hands were trembling as she cradled Arya in her arms, her tears

falling onto her friend's face.

"No, no, no! Wake up, Arya!" Meera sobbed, her voice desperate as she fumbled for her

phone. She dialed for an ambulance with shaking fingers, barely able to hold the device

steady.

"Hello? Emergency! My friend—she’s hurt—she’s unconscious! Please, come quickly!"

She clutched Arya tighter, her panicked voice rising as she yelled for help, her tears

relentless. "You’ll be fine, Arya. You hear me? You’re going to be fine," she whispered, her

voice breaking, though she wasn't sure if she was trying to convince Arya or herself.

The sound of distant sirens eventually reached her ears, but to Meera, it felt like an eternity.

She stroked Arya’s hair gently, her heart hammering in her chest.

Her voice cracked as she whispered, "Arya wake up look lo..ok I..m here please please pleas-

- don’t ..."

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