Page 6 of Entangled Vows (Destined Diaries #2)

She caught Mohit staring at Vikram… like really staring at him.

“You seriously didn’t know about this?” Mohit spoke with disbelief.

The question hung in the air. Mahika’s heart skipped a beat when she looked at Vikram. His expression was unreadable as he looked at Mohit, but she caught the slight shift in his body language. Jaw clenching. Shoulders stiffening. Tension radiating off him.

“No,” Vikram said quietly. “I didn’t. Not until three days ago.”

Mohit just scoffed. “Great. Then don’t do it, dude. We’ll fight this. It doesn’t have to happen.”

“You think it’s that simple?” Vikram said, his voice bitter.

“Since when do you let anyone dictate your life?” Mohit let out a short, humourless laugh. “You know, if this were Suraj…” He shook his head, his voice casual but edged with something unspoken. “I’d probably be relieved.”

Mahika’s pulse thudded in her throat.

Why the hell was Mohit even bringing up Suraj?

Vikram’s gaze snapped to him. “What the fuck do you mean?”

Mohit met his glare. “Exactly what you think. If Suraj were here, I’d be less worried. He’s… gentler.”

The air between them crackled like a fuse about to blow. They weren’t talking much, but their silence said a lot, like they had their own secret language.

Mahika was very clear about one thing. Suraj was definitely not someone she needed to marry. Like ever.

Even thinking about it made her want to throw up.

Not because she didn’t like him. She loved him.

He was her best friend, her family. They had been through everything together: she had helped him through breakups, and he had seen her with braces and oil-soaked hair.

There was absolutely no possibility of anything happening between them.

And then there was another reason. One that remained a secret to most. No one knew about it… not even Vikram.

And for that, she was definitely slapping Suraj the next time she saw him. For ghosting them all, and for planting the revolting idea of her and him being a couple in anyone’s mind.

Her hate-hate dynamic with Vikram was a uniquely volatile experience.

He was a walking migraine: broody, impossible, the sort who twisted her thoughts and made her stupid heart skip a beat without even trying.

Even his scent was an irritating reminder of the chaos he brought into her life. And that, she hated most of all.

Right then, his voice cut through the air, and the irritation came flooding back.

“Take that back,” Vikram growled, each word clipped and loaded.

Mohit didn’t flinch. “You don’t do anything halfway, Vicky. You’re intense. Controlling. You’ll never let her breathe.”

“What happens between us when we’re married is no one’s concern,” Vikram shot back, his tone cold.

“Not when. If. I wouldn’t want someone like you for her. You know that, Vicky.”

“Watch it, Mohit.”

“No. I mean it. You touch her in any way she doesn’t want, and I’ll fucking ruin you,” Mohit gritted.

Vikram’s jaw tightened. He stayed still, coiled with deadly calm.

“I won’t make promises I can’t keep,” he said, finally locking eyes with Mahika. And she froze.

“But I can promise you this,” he continued, his voice dropping to that dark, silk-over-steel tone. “Whatever I do to her... she’ll love every fucking second of it.”

The words detonated like a bomb.

Mahika barely had time to react.

One moment, there was loaded silence around them. The next moment, Mohit exploded. Fury carved into every line of his face as he lunged forward, his fist cocked back like a bullet ready to fire.

“You arrogant fucker!” he roared, swinging at Vikram.

The punch landed hard. The crack of bone meeting bone reverberated through the room. A sharp gasp tore from Mahika’s throat. Vikram’s head snapped to the side, his jaw taking the brunt of it.

But he didn’t go down. Didn’t even flinch.

He straightened slowly, dragging his thumb across the corner of his mouth where blood had beaded, then licked it off with terrifying calm.

“Feel better now?” he asked, his voice cold as steel. “Or do you want another go?”

“Fuck you, Vikram,” Mohit growled, already lunging again.

This time, Vikram caught his fist mid-air and twisted it, forcing Mohit backwards. They slammed into the desk with a crash, sending papers flying across the room. A glass of water toppled and shattered across the floor. Chairs scraped, and metal hit the wall.

“You think this is a joke?” Mohit roared, pushing back, trying to land another blow. “She’s my fucking sister!”

“And you think I don’t fucking know that?” Vikram snarled, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him back against the desk.

Mahika stood frozen, her heart hammering in her chest. The violence. The anger. It was scorching the air.

Mohit shoved him off with a grunt. “You don’t do serious. You stay detached. I’ve seen it.”

Vikram’s eyes darkened. “And yet here I am. Not running. Not hiding like your golden boy, Suraj.” Vikram laughed, low and bitter. “I may not be the perfect choice for her, you dumbass, but do you think she wants someone who disappears the second life gets hard? Wake the fuck up.”

Mohit swung again, this time landing a hit on Vikram’s ribs. A grunt tore from him, but Vikram grabbed Mohit’s arm and twisted it into a painful angle.

“Hit me all you want,” Vikram hissed into his ear. “But I’m not going anywhere. And if you think I’ll let you scare me off, you don’t know me at all.”

Mohit tore free, breathing hard, his eyes wild. “Stay the hell away from her, Vikram.”

Vikram’s gaze snapped to Mahika for a heartbeat before he looked back at Mohit. “Not happening.”

Mohit lunged again, fists raised, but Mahika threw herself between them.

“Enough!” she shouted, her voice cracking.

“Gentlemen, please—” Mr. Rao scrambled to his feet, alarmed, his voice cutting through the chaos for the first time. He had been trying to stop the fight for ten minutes, but no one had listened.

Mahika barely registered him.

“Just fucking stop it!” she screamed, her voice hoarse with panic.

She grabbed Mohit’s arm and tried to drag him back, but he was lost in his fury. And she understood it. That bone-deep desperation to protect the ones you loved, even if it meant drawing blood, was something she recognised.

Her pulse thundered as Vikram shoved Mohit back, making him stumble.

“You’ll hurt her, you dumbfuck,” his voice came low, lethal.

Then his eyes met hers. Stormy. Angry. Unreadable. His jaw was tight, split at the corner, with blood trickling slowly, yet didn’t flinch. Rage still simmered through every inch of him, but behind it, there was something else. Something she couldn’t understand.

And it hit her.

He let Mohit hit him. On purpose.

He’d stood there and taken the brunt. For her.

It was one thing to have someone ready to throw punches for you. But for someone to take punches for you? That was something else entirely.

The realisation curled inside her, low and hot, twisting through her with a sharp ache. Her breath stuttered in her chest.

It shouldn’t have mattered to her.

But it did. Too damn much.

Seeing him bloodied, angry, yet still choosing to restrain his actions for her, made her insides turn soft and stupid. And she hated it. Hated the heat licking up her spine, the ache blooming in her chest.

This man. This damn moment.

Again, none of it was supposed to feel like this.

And yet, it did. Too much. Too fast. And the worst part?

She didn’t even realise how quickly this feeling would come crashing down like a wave and drown her before she had a chance to breathe.