The Bride Who Was Never Meant To Stay”

The SUV's interior was warm…

But Lyra's heart remained cold.

Her tears had stopped flowing — but each breath still carried the sound of something broken inside her. Every heartbeat felt like a silent scream.

She was fighting with herself, angry at herself, questioning why she even got into that car with a stranger.

Why had this unknown man come to help her?

And why, despite everything, had she gone with him?

What was this strange pull she couldn't understand?

It felt like some unseen force had reached in and grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the darkness she had drowned in.

That man...

He didn't utter a single word the entire drive.

He didn't look at her.

Didn't ask her a single question.

Just kept his eyes locked on the road, hands steady on the steering wheel — as if every turn they took was winding deeper into her buried pain.

But in his mind… a storm brewed too.

> "Why am I helping this girl?"

"Why do I care if she's broken?"

"Why is she sitting in my car — on that seat… the one I never let anyone sit on… except one…"

Inside the SUV, the silence was loud.

Only the sound of the tires against the road and Lyra's heavy, uneven breathing echoed in the cabin.

Tension lingered — raw, unspoken, undeniable.

"Where are we going?" Lyra finally asked, her voice so faint, like it had been dragged out of her soul.

The man turned to look at her… just for a second.

Then turned back to the road and said:

> "Somewhere safe."

"I'm not scared of anyone," Lyra replied, trying to sound braver than she felt.

> "Good," he said.

His tone was emotionless — but there was a cold sharpness in it that could cut through bone.

"I mean it. I'm not scared of anyone."

This time her voice had more edge — a stubborn mix of pride and hurt.

His response was simple. Brutal.

> "You're scared of yourself."

Lyra fell silent.

That one line shattered all her fake strength.

It hit a place deep inside her — a place she hadn't dared to visit.

For a moment, she turned her face away, blinking rapidly.

Not because of the tears — but because he was right.

So terrifyingly right.

After a 20-minute drive, the SUV halted in front of a massive iron gate.

Security cameras.

Laser scanners.

Heavily armed guards.

And a stillness so eerie… it was clear — this wasn't a normal place.

This was a zone.

A place where people either survived… or lost themselves.

Once inside, a black mansion stood tall — marble floors, dark-tinted windows, 20-foot ceilings, and a silence that didn't just belong to the night… but to a history of pain.

The man stepped out and said,

> "Get out. Come with me."

Lyra stared into his eyes — Eyes that held an ocean… maybe of pain, maybe of secrets.

Eyes that didn't flinch… even when hers trembled.

They reached a front desk where a guard stood with a register.

> "Your name?" he asked, without looking at her.

"…Lyra," she whispered.

Her voice shaky, but something inside her had stirred.

> "I don't care what your name is," he replied coldly.

"You're here for 7 days. Stay. Fix yourself. Then leave."

She was stunned.

He picked her off the street like he cared…

And now he's telling her to leave in a week?

Was this just a favor? A responsibility? Guilt? Or… something else?

And what did he mean by "fix yourself"?

She wasn't some broken watch.

She was a woman who had been destroyed.

But she didn't say that.

Instead, she looked at him again.

Lyra finally asked:

> "What's your name?"

He took a step back.

Then smirked — not with warmth, but with danger.

Like the moment before a lion pounces on its prey.

> "Raayan. Raayan Malik."

"The world calls me the Devil... and I don't believe in proving them wrong."

No emotion.

No guilt.

No hint of care.

Just a cold, hollow voice.

Like a machine disguised as a man.

Lyra looked at his face —

So still. So lifeless.

But his eyes… they held stories.

Stories of pain.

Of pasts that were too heavy to speak of.

And maybe, of guilt that had nowhere else to go.

That night… Lyra walked through the Devil's door.

And the next 7 days…

Would either write her rebirth —

Or shatter the last remaining pieces of her soul.

---

Moments later, Raayan called out to a maid.

> "Room 13. Set it up. Essentials only.

And no one… no one goes near that corridor for 7 days."

Lyra, still confused, felt only one thing —

> "This man is hurting…

And without knowing how or why —

I've become part of that pain."

***

Rayaan's pov: "She looked like a storm that had forgotten how to scream."

I didn't know why I stopped.

I never stop for anyone. Not anymore.

I've passed by dozens of broken people on these streets. Women crying. Men begging. Kids sleeping hungry.

But her?

There was something in her silence that disturbed my own.

Something in her brokenness that… mirrored mine.

I told myself it was nothing. Just a face. Just a moment. But when I saw her collapse near that traffic signal — something inside me reacted before I could think.

Not out of kindness.

Not out of guilt.

Just instinct.

Or maybe… memory.

That seat… the one she's sitting on now — no one has touched it in years. Not since her.

Why did I let this girl sit there?

Why didn't I stop her?

Why the hell do I care if she lives or dies?

I told her to get in the car like it didn't matter.

But it did.

Damn it… it did.

I shouldn't be doing this. I have rules. Walls. A system.

And now… there's a stranger in my car. A stranger with haunted eyes. A stranger whose pain looks like mine.

She asked, "Where are we going?"

And for the first time in years, I didn't have an answer filled with ice.

I said, "Somewhere safe."

Safe.

As if I even knew what that word means anymore.

---

"You're scared of yourself."

Yes, I said that to her. And I meant it.

Because the truth is — we all are.

Especially people like us.

I watched her in the rearview mirror when she wasn't looking.

The way her fingers trembled.

The way she clutched her own arms like she was trying to hold herself together.

The way her lips moved silently — maybe praying, maybe cursing fate.

She's not just hurt.

She's on the edge.

And I've lived on that edge long enough to recognize it in someone else.

That's why I brought her here. Not because I care.

But because I understand what it's like to have nowhere to go and no one left.

I gave her 7 days.

Not out of generosity.

But because 7 days is all I ever give anyone.

She asked for my name. I gave it — not to connect, but to warn her.

> "Raayan Malik. The world calls me the Devil."

And I'm fine with that.

***

Maybe this was the beginning.

Of unknown bonds, buried secrets, and an inevitable redemption.

Or maybe… it was the beginning of something even more dangerous.

In a house full of silence and scars, two broken souls had just collided.

And what happens when two storms cross paths?

Either they destroy each other…

Or create something powerful enough to burn the world.

---

What happens when a broken girl ends up in the home of a man the world fears — but whose silence hides a scream louder than hers?

Seven days. One house. Two broken souls.

But only one will survive the truth.