"This," he said quietly, "is what you look like when you need help."
Shame burned through me. Fear. Relief. All tangled together.
"My father—" I whispered. "They're lying. Someone wants to ruin him. They tried to hurt me because of it."
"I know," Aiden replied easily. "I arranged for someone to try."
The words didn't register at first.
"…What?"
He tilted his head, studying my face like he was gauging how much truth I could survive.
"I needed you to understand," he continued, voice calm, almost gentle, "what the world does to you when I don't step in."
My grip tightened. Horror crept up my spine.
"Why would you help me," he went on, "when you keep me waiting? You smile. You run. You delay." His fingers slid under my chin, lifting my face. "It feels like you're hanging me on a rope made of hope."
"I—I like you," I blurted out, tears spilling. "I do. I'm just… I'm traditional. I wanted to wait. Till marriage. That's why I delayed. I wasn't playing you."
His eyes sharpened.
"Words," he said. "Prove it."
My heart stuttered. "How?"
He reached into his coat and pulled out a folded document. Crisp. Prepared.
"Sign."
I stared at it. "What is it?"
"A promise," he replied. "Legal. Binding. You belong to me in the way that matters. I protect you. Your family stays untouched. Your father walks free."
My hands shook as I took the pen.
"And if I don't?" I asked faintly.
His smile vanished.
"Then I walk away," he said simply. "And the world finishes what it started."
I thought of my mother. My father. The hands on my arm. The way my body had moved on its own to cling to him.
I signed.
The moment the pen lifted, Aiden folded the paper and slipped it back into his coat.
"Good," he said.
My phone buzzed almost immediately. A news update. Charges dropped. New evidence. Apologies issued.
I looked up at him, hollow.
He brushed his thumb under my eye, wiping away a tear.
"See?" he murmured. "You were always safest when you chose me."
And for the first time, I realized the truth—
I hadn't escaped the cage.
I had stepped into it willingly.He didn't give me time to breathe after the signature.
"We're leaving today," Aiden said, as if he were talking about dinner plans. "You'll move in with me,if you want we can do a ritualistic marriage."
The word move in echoed hollowly in my head.
"…Today?" I asked.
"You're my wife now, legally" he replied calmly. "There's no reason to stay elsewhere."
I swallowed. My fingers curled into the fabric of my sleeve. I wanted to argue—wanted to say I needed time, space, my mother—but the memory of hands grabbing me on the street rose too fast, too sharp.
I nodded.
"Okay."
_______
My phone buzzed while I was sitting on the edge of the bed, packing my bag.
Mom.
I stared at the screen for a few seconds before answering.
"Hello?"
There was a pause on the other end. I could hear faint background noise—utensils, the television, my father clearing his throat.
"There's a good news,your dad's name is cleared now," my mother said carefully. "You don't need to return here today."
I swallowed. "I'm… not coming back anymore."
Another pause. Longer this time.
"Why?" my mother's voice came through now, low and controlled. "What's going on?"
I closed my eyes. "I need to tell you something."
My mother's voice sharpened with worry. "Don't scare us. Just say it."
"I'm married."
Silence.
So complete that I thought the call had dropped.
"…What did you say?" my father finally asked.
"I'm married," I repeated, my voice barely steady. "I got married."
"When?" my mother asked. "To whom?"
I said his name.
My mother inhaled sharply. "To Vorghese?" she whispered.
"Yes," I said quickly. "I got into a stalking situation,so i wrapped it up quickly."I lied but I knew she would believe this, because stalking cases are severe.
My father interrupted. "Did he forced you?"
"No."
"Did he threaten you?"
"No."
"Then why?" His voice rose. "Why would you do something like this without telling us?"
I pressed my fingers into the mattress. "Because I needed help."
"With what?" my mother asked.
"With protection," I said. "For all of us."
My father let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "Protection from whom?"
"I can't explain everything on the phone," I said. "But things were getting dangerous."
"For you?" my mother asked.
"Yes."
Another silence.
"Is this a real marriage?" my father asked. "Or some arrangement you don't fully understand?"
"It's legal," I said. "There was paperwork."
My mother's voice dropped. "Are you safe right now?"
I hesitated.
"Yes," I said. "I'm safe."
"Are you happy?" she asked.
The question lodged in my chest.
"I'm… okay," I said instead.
My father exhaled slowly. "You should have told us," he said. "Whatever it was, we could have faced it together."
"I didn't want you involved," I replied. "I didn't want you hurt."
My mother's voice softened. "Where are you staying?"
"With him,from now on."
Her breath caught audibly.
"Listen to me," my father said firmly. "If this man ever raises his voice at you, if you feel afraid—"
"I'll come home," I said quickly.
"You promise?" my mother asked.
"Yes."
She was quiet for a moment. Then, "You're still our daughter," she said. "Marriage doesn't change that."
"I know."
"We want to meet him," my father added.
My stomach tightened. "Not yet," I said. "Please."
Another pause.
"…Alright," he said reluctantly. "But don't shut us out."
"I won't," I said.
After the call ended, I lowered the phone slowly.
My hands were shaking.
Not because I had lied—
But because I hadn't told them the worst parts.
___________
Just then,the door opened.
Aiden Vorghese stepped inside.
Not hurried. Not apologetic. As if this room, this moment, already belonged to him.
In his hands was a garment bag.
He placed it on the bed with deliberate care, smoothing the fabric beneath his palm before unzipping it. The color struck me first—deep red, dark and heavy, nothing playful about it. A gown slid into view, long and fluid, followed by a matching veil folded neatly on top.
"This is for tonight," he said.
His voice was calm, final.
I stared at the dress. "What's wrong with my current dress?"
"This is for later, I'll tell when it's the time."
I swallowed. "Why red?"
"Because it's my tradition"
________
7pm—
The house rose from the land like something ancient and watchful. High gates. Cameras embedded so discreetly they were almost invisible. Guards posted at distances that suggested control rather than protection. As the car passed through the iron gates, I felt the familiar tightening in my chest—the same feeling I'd had the first time I was brought somewhere I hadn't chosen.
Except this time, I had signed my way in.
Inside, everything was pristine. Too perfect. Marble floors, muted colors, soft lighting designed to calm rather than impress. It didn't feel like a home—it felt like a place where emotions were carefully managed.
Aiden watched me closely as I stepped inside.
"You're safe here," he said. "No one enters without my permission."
That was supposed to comfort me.
Instead, it reminded me that I wouldn't leave without it either.
Staff moved quietly around us, eyes lowered, efficient. No curiosity. No whispers. As if I were just another object added to the house.
My room—our room, he corrected smoothly—was on the upper floor. Large windows. Locked balcony doors. A soft bed that looked untouched.
"This is temporary," I told myself silently. I just need to understand him. Understand us.
That night, sleep didn't come easily.
Every sound made me flinch—the hum of security systems, distant footsteps, the soft click of doors locking somewhere deeper in the house. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything.
Something didn't fit.
If Aiden was truly the man I had stabbed…
If he was the one who had dragged women into basements and stitched them like dolls…
Then why wait?
Why the patience?
Why the dates, the rules, the restraint?
Why marriage?
A psychopath like that wouldn't need vows.
And then the thought crept in—slow, dangerous.
What if he was telling the truth?
About the body double.
About the "other" Aiden.
About the reason he kept distance, dragged things out, watched instead of touched.
I remembered moments that hadn't matched the monster I'd seen—the way he never crossed the line I set, even when anger flashed in his eyes. The way he always arrived before danger reached me. The way he insisted on legality, contracts, witnesses.
A cage, yes.
But not the same one.
When I finally drifted into sleep, it was with that fragile, terrifying thought wrapped around me:
Maybe I married the wrong devil… or the only one keeping the real monster away.
And that possibility scared me almost as much as the certainty ever had.