Aryan stood there, stunned, his mind racing. Meera's words had landed like a punch, knocking the wind out of him. He had given her everything—or so he thought. But as he looked into her eyes, filled with a pain he didn't understand, he realized that none of it mattered to her.
"What do you mean, you didn't ask for this life?" Aryan's voice was harsher than he intended, but he didn't care. He was angry—angry at her, at himself, and at the entire situation. "I saved you! I gave you a way out of that hellhole, and you're acting like I've done something wrong."
Meera turned her gaze back to the window, avoiding his piercing stare. Her hands tightened into fists on her lap, and for a moment, she was silent. Then, with a voice as soft as a whisper, she replied, "I never asked to be saved like this. I never asked to be owned."
Aryan stiffened at the word owned. It stung because a part of him knew it was true. He had never asked her what she wanted, never considered what her desires or dreams might be. He had simply assumed that his wealth, his power, would be enough. But for Meera, it wasn't.
"You're not a prisoner," Aryan snapped, though the words sounded hollow even to him. "I've given you freedom, everything you could ever need."
Meera's lips trembled, her voice barely holding steady. "Freedom? Is that what you call this? I left one cage only to walk into another. I don't belong here, Aryan. I'm nothing in this world of yours."
Aryan clenched his fists, struggling to control his temper. He didn't like being challenged, especially by someone he had gone out of his way to help. He had been patient, kind even—something he wasn't used to being. Yet here she was, accusing him of trapping her.
"What would you have preferred, Meera?" His voice was cold now, every syllable sharp. "Would you have rather stayed there, under the thumb of that vile woman, with no future? I gave you everything, and you repay me with this? Ungratefulness?"
Her eyes flicked toward him, and for the first time, Aryan saw something in them besides fear—something that looked like defiance.
"I would have preferred to be asked," she said quietly. "I would have preferred to have a choice."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Aryan's mind whirled, trying to make sense of her words, of the complex emotions that swirled between them. He had never had to think about someone else's choices before. In his world, power was absolute, and decisions were made without hesitation. He was used to control. And Meera's resistance, her quiet rebellion, threw him off balance.
Aryan's temper flared. "You have no idea how lucky you are," he spat, the mask of calm finally slipping. "Do you know how many people would kill to be in your position? To have the kind of life I'm offering you? And here you are, rejecting it like it's a burden."
Meera didn't flinch, though her hands trembled in her lap. "Maybe I don't want to be one of those people," she whispered, her voice soft but firm. "Maybe I just want to be myself."
"Yourself?" Aryan repeated, his voice incredulous. "And what is that, Meera? Who are you, really? A girl who has nothing, who was treated like a servant in her own home? And you think being yourself will get you anywhere in this world?"
Meera's eyes welled up with tears, but she quickly blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. She stood slowly, taking a deep breath as if steadying herself against the weight of his words.
"I don't know who I am yet," she admitted quietly. "But I want the chance to find out. And I can't do that here, trapped in this… this beautiful prison."
Her words hit Aryan harder than he expected. He had never thought of his mansion as a prison. It was a palace, a symbol of his power and success. How could anyone feel trapped in a place like this? And yet, as he looked at Meera, standing there in front of the vast cityscape, he saw that, to her, it was nothing more than a cage of luxury.
Aryan didn't respond immediately. He turned away, pacing to the other side of the room, his mind racing. He had spent his life mastering control, bending the world to his will, and yet here was this girl, this slip of a woman, defying everything he knew.
He was used to women wanting him—for his money, his status, his power. But Meera was different. She didn't want any of it. And that terrified him.
"You think you'll survive out there?" Aryan asked, his voice low now, almost defeated. "Without me? Without the protection I offer?"
Meera hesitated, and for a moment, Aryan saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes. But she swallowed hard, standing a little taller. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice soft. "But I want to try. I need to try."
Aryan turned back to her, his dark eyes narrowing. He wasn't sure whether to be impressed by her courage or furious at her rejection. No one had ever walked away from him, especially not after he had given them everything.
"You can't leave," he said firmly, the finality in his voice unmistakable. "I won't let you."
Meera's breath caught, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her hands clenched at her sides, but she didn't step back. "You can't force me to stay, Aryan."
He moved toward her, his towering frame casting a shadow over her slight figure. The space between them crackled with tension, a silent battle of wills raging between their eyes. Aryan could feel his control slipping, could feel the urge to bend her to his will, to make her see things his way. But something stopped him.
Something about the look in her eyes, the quiet strength that had been hidden under her fear and submission all this time.
Aryan reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek. Meera flinched but didn't move away. For a long moment, they stood there, frozen in the tension between them, neither willing to break the silence.
"You don't understand," Aryan whispered, his voice suddenly softer, more vulnerable than he had intended. "I can't let you go."
Meera's breath hitched at the gentleness in his voice, but she shook her head, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I'm not asking for your permission, Aryan."
Aryan's hand dropped to his side, the cold, bitter realization settling over him. He could keep her here physically, but her heart, her mind—they would always be out of his reach if he continued to hold her like this.
Without another word, Aryan turned and left the room, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing through the silence.
Meera was free, but it was a freedom Aryan didn't know if he could bear to give her.
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