After one week, Kaya could finally get out of bed.
Get out—that was all.
Walking still hurt. Every step sent a dull, lingering ache through her body, like her bones hadn’t fully agreed to belong to her again. She leaned on the edge of the bed, breathing through it, steady but irritated, because she hated feeling weak more than she hated pain.
Honestly, she felt like saluting those heroines from reverse novels—the ones with seven or eight husbands, collecting them like trophies.
How do they even survive this?
Kaya couldn’t understand it. Here she was, barely alive after being bedded by only two beastn. And they had tried—truly tried—to be gentle.
Still, she had felt close to death.
No. Not close.
This ti, it felt like she had already t the god of death—looked him straight in the eye—
And sohow, staggered back.
.
.
.
As Kaya stepped out of the room, her eyes imdiately fell on Veer.
He was sitting at the table, calmly counting flowers, lining them up one by one as if the world was perfectly ordinary. Like nothing had happened. Like Kaya hadn’t disappeared behind a door and co out looking like she’d been dragged through hell and returned out of pure spite.
And in that mont, Kaya felt everything at once.
Anger.
Shock.
Disbelief—sharp enough to sting.
She knew this place was different. She’d heard it before—here, won could have more than one partner, and no one would bat an eye. It was normal. Accepted. A thing people didn’t fight over the way her world would.
Still... this?
No matter how she looked at it, Veer should’ve been angry. That should’ve been the first reaction. If soone slept with your fiancée, rage should co before anything else.
Right?
But this bastard—
Kaya had seen him bring water. Quietly. Carefully. He had left it outside like a servant, like a guard, like he was protecting the door instead of breaking it down. And then he had walked away without interrupting them. Not once. Not even a single loud step ant to remind them he existed.
Damn it.
The urge to grab these beastn by the head and crack them open surged through her so hard it made her hands curl. She genuinely wanted to see what was inside their skulls, what kind of twisted calm lived in there, what kind of logic made a man act like this was nothing.
How could they be so casual about it?
That was exactly why Kaya couldn’t relax.
The more she stared at Veer sitting there like nothing had happened, the more sothing cold crawled up her spine. People could talk about "different customs" all they wanted, but Kaya wasn’t stupid. Generosity had limits. Even the kindest man in the world had a breaking point.
And this was the kind of thing that should’ve snapped one.
Because it wasn’t just the idea of sharing. It wasn’t just so story she’d heard about won having more than one partner. This was her. In their space. In their bed. Under their roof. If Veer truly loved her the way he acted in front of everyone—if his possessiveness was real—then the most basic reaction should’ve been anger.
At least a fight.
At least a scream.
At least the door being kicked open.
At least Cutie being dragged out by the collar.
At least Kaya being thrown out, or warned, or punished, or made to "choose."
But none of that happened.
Veer didn’t explode. He didn’t threaten. He didn’t even interrupt.
Kaya had seen him. Clear as day in her broken, half-awake monts—Veer bringing water, leaving it quietly, and walking away as if he was guarding them instead of stopping them. Like it was normal. Like it was allowed. Like it was planned.
And that was the part that dug into her the deepest.
Because after everything was finished—after her body gave up and sleep swallowed her—there were a few tis she woke up and saw Veer beside her. Close. Silent. Sitting there like a shadow at the edge of the bed. Not jealous. Not furious. Not even hurt.
Just watching.
Like he was waiting for sothing.
Kaya’s fingers curled without her aning to. Her jaw tightened until it ached. It didn’t matter how tired she was, how weak her legs felt, how much her whole body still scread.
That calm didn’t make sense.
Not if this was love.
Not if this was real.
So no.
There was definitely sothing going on. And Kaya didn’t like being the last person to understand a ga being played around her.
Veer was still counting the flowers when his gaze lifted.
Kaya stood in the doorway.
For a brief mont, his hands stilled. Then a smile—soft, unguarded—spread across his face, as if seeing her there was the most natural thing in the world.
"Oh," he said gently, setting the flowers aside. "You’re awake."
He rose from his seat and walked toward her, unhurried, careful not to startle her.
"How do you feel?"
His voice held no tension, no trace of awkwardness or restraint. Just quiet concern, as though the past days had been nothing more than a bad fever. His eyes moved over her face, checking for color, for steadiness, before he reached out and adjusted the shawl around her shoulders.
"You shouldn’t be standing for too long," he added softly. "Co sit. I was just sorting these for later."
The room remained calm. Ordinary.
Almost unsettlingly so
Kaya sat down and let her gaze fall on the flowers.
They were ordinary—sunflowers with wide, open faces; red roses, deep and vivid; yellow lilies, soft and bright; and a few wildflowers mixed in between. The kind that could be found almost anywhere, growing without care or attention.
Nothing rare. Nothing special.
Yet tied together into a bouquet, they looked... beautiful. Almost too colorful, their shades blending in a way that felt warm and alive.
Kaya stared at them quietly.
For a mont, everything looked normal.
Kaya looked up at him and asked in a hoarse tone.
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