My Soulmate: In a house of locked doors and hidden truths, silence becomes her weapon—but his touch makes escape impossible.
My Soulmate
This is a free book; read and enjoy it!
Table of Contents
- My Soulmate – Blurb: What happens when your dream love collides with reality?
- My Soulmate – Chapter 1: The Man in My Dreams. He was never supposed to have a face. Now, I can’t forget it.
- My Soulmate – Chapter 2: When Your Dream Guy Chases You Back and Love Finds a Face
- My Soulmate – Chapter 3: The Hunt Begins of Love, Life, and Her
- My Soulmate – Chapter 4: Trapped in His World. Was it Ever Love or just a Never-ending Nightmare?
- My Soulmate – Chapter 5: My Savior Turned Captor: When Love Collides with Life
- My Soulmate – Chapter 6: When Silence and Secrets Turn Dangerous. Love, Life, and More.
My Soulmate – Chapter 6: When Silence and Secrets Turn Dangerous. Love, Life, and More.
Before you start reading this, I hope you have read CHAPTER 5.
Mihika
Sleep and I had officially broken up. No matter how many times I rolled over, tugged at the sheets, or flipped the pillow, it wouldn’t come back to me. The bed was too soft, too perfect, like the one in that five-star hotel Nicky dragged me to last year for her birthday.
That night had been a ritual for us—room service, gossiping in fluffy robes, and by evening, slipping into heels to hit the hotel’s in-house club. Nicky would laugh, dance, and glow like the world belonged to her.
Me? I would just stand there with a smile pasted on my face, pretending the flashing lights didn’t choke me, pretending I wasn’t counting the minutes until it was over. But for her, I could bear it.
For her, I’d do anything.
She was my constant—louder than my silence, brighter than my shadows.
I groaned, pressing a palm to the back of my head. The dull ache had become a regular companion, courtesy of nights spent wide awake and mornings that started too early. And all because of him.
Sighing, I kicked the blanket away and sat up. This had become a routine—toss half the night, stare at the ceiling, and steal a few restless hours before dragging myself out of bed. A week had passed since Vihaan brought me here, and it didn’t feel like my bad days were ending anytime soon.
I forced myself into the washroom, splashing cold water on my face. The plan for today was clear: three drawings, no excuses. Deadlines were my only form of control left, the only way to stop my thoughts from swallowing me whole.
But the moment I stepped back into the room, I froze.
Vihaan was there. Sitting casually in the chair, one leg crossed over the other, reading like he owned the place—and me. His eyes flicked up the second I entered, sharp and unsettling, like he had been waiting.
“Good that you’re awake,” he said, voice calm, almost too normal. “Let’s have breakfast. I’ve got back-to-back meetings, and we’ll be out the entire day.”
I pressed my lips together and headed straight for the door. I had decided silence was my best weapon. If I didn’t give him words, maybe he’d get bored and let me go. Maybe.
The kitchen smelled faintly of butter and toasted bread. Vihaan moved with a strange ease, picking up the juice and omelet he had somehow made into a daily ritual, like we were an old couple playing house. I grabbed the plates with croissants and bread, my fingers brushing the warm porcelain.
Without a word, I turned back to the counter and made us coffee. The motions were mechanical by now—pour, stir, set the mugs down.
“Do you need anything for the kitchen?” he asked suddenly.
I shook my head. No words, no eye contact.
He sighed. Just a small, quiet sound—but it made my chest clench. My heartbeat picked up. Was this it? Was he finally tired of me? Maybe he’d give up, maybe he’d let me go.
Maybe.
“I am meeting the lawyers today,” Vihaan said, as if breakfast conversation between us was normal. “I always dread this meeting.”
Why? But I kept silent. He would say if he wanted to. But my heart wanted to hear.
“They intimidate me. Years back, when I took over, they thought I wasn’t capable. Not that I blame them, but you need to give the guy a fair chance. Don’t you think so?”
I nodded, and he grinned. I sucked in a breath and put his coffee beside him, pursing my lips. He was manipulative.
“Can you make the rice you made two days back today? I am craving it.”
This time I didn’t nod, but now I needed the ingredients. I didn’t have the vegetables to make the rice. I stood and grabbed the notepad. Scribbling what I needed, I handed him the paper.
He frowned as he read, dipping his head closer to the paper.
“Um… what’s this?”
I bent, and our heads collided. I jerked behind, but Vihaan stared at me, his eyebrows shooting through the roof. We had never felt this before.
Electricity still coursed through my body. Vihaan put out his hand and touched the back of my palm. Like a shock wave, need grew inside me. His eyes said he felt the same.
What was happening?
I stood and ran to my room and closed the door. I pushed the chair against the door, so Vihaan couldn’t open it digitally. Oh, God. What had just happened?
There has to be some valid explanation for this. But there wasn’t.
Vihaan knocked, but I stayed silent. I was by the door and felt him on the other side.
“I will get the items. Don’t stress yourself too much. I have got new canvases for you and the colors you use.”
I wanted to acknowledge him, but I couldn’t. He hadn’t spoken about our past after the first day. Not at all. I stayed here locked up, but it didn’t bother me. I was happy. By locking me up, he solved my constant dilemma of not wanting to go out but needing to. Now, that choice got swept away from me.
The day slipped by in a blur of routine—wiping counters, stirring pots, sketching until my fingers ached, snacking. By evening, a bag sat waiting for me on the kitchen counter, of the groceries I had asked him to get. I got busy preparing for dinner.
He had turned my den into something else entirely, a sanctuary disguised as captivity. He set two easels in the middle of the room beside each other, and every morning, I found a blank canvas set up on the easel. Each morning, a fresh blank canvas waited like a silent invitation. By night, someone swept the room spotless, my finished paintings stacked neatly in one corner as if they mattered to him.
I slid the rice into the casserole and stepped into the shower. The water was blissfully hot, washing away the weight of the day, though never the knots twisting in my stomach. Afterward, I slipped into my favorite combination—soft pajamas and one of his loose t-shirts. The fabric hung heavy on me, carrying his scent, and I hated that it comforted me.
Stepping into the hall, I froze at the sound of his voice. He was on a call. I moved closer, careful on my toes, and waited by the doorway.
“We need to do something about her journalist friend.”
The words crashed into me, leaving my pulse skittering. My friend. What was he planning? My stomach dropped, sour and sharp. If I didn’t give him the answers he wanted, would he…? I leaned forward, straining to catch the muffled response from the other end, but only heard his reply.
“I’ll decide what needs to be done. Give me a day.”
His voice was flat, decisive. The kind that left no room for doubt. My breath caught as he ended the call and turned, eyes scanning the hall.
Did he see me? I slipped behind the door, heart hammering against my ribs, every second stretching until he finally walked past, heading toward his room—the one he always kept locked. I had tried the knob before, of course. It never budged.
I pressed my hand to my chest, forcing air into my lungs. This wasn’t my life. This couldn’t be my life. He had woven a comfortable illusion around me—paint, warmth, food, safety—but underneath, danger coiled. I should’ve known better.
Vihaan returned a while later, damp from his shower, water still dripping from his hair. Instead of toweling it dry, he tossed the towel onto the sofa, knowing full well it irritated me. I sighed, picked it up, and hung it neatly. He smirked, smug at winning the smallest of battles, but I didn’t care. Order mattered to me. Caring for details mattered. That wouldn’t change, no matter how trapped I was.
Vihaan dropped into the chair like he owned it. Water still dripped from his hair, sliding down the side of his jaw, and he didn’t bother wiping it off.
“I’m showered, ma’am,” he announced with mock obedience, then leaned back with that smug grin of his. “Now, dinner? I’m starving. Didn’t even touch food all evening—saving my appetite for your rice.”
I hated that my chest warmed at his words. He knew exactly how to soften me, and I knew exactly what game he played. Still, I sat down, scooped rice onto his plate, then filled my own. If he thought a few sweet words would make me melt, he was wrong.
He didn’t start eating. Instead, he just stared—brows drawn together, lips pressed in that stubborn line. My spoon hovered mid-air. Fine. Two can play this game. I dropped my gaze and took the first bite, pretending his silence didn’t knot my stomach.
Vihaan sighed, sharp and heavy. “You and your mood swings. Can’t I have one normal evening? I drag myself home, fucking exhausted and starving, and this is what I get?” His chair scraped back.
Panic shot through me. “No—don’t leave. Please. Sit.”
He gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah, so you can feed me more attitude? My stomach’s already full with that. Enjoy your rice.”
My heart skittered. “I won’t… I mean, I’ll talk. Just sit.”
His eyes narrowed, searching for cracks in my voice. Then he sank back into his chair, but not before throwing me one last scowl that made my hands shake under the table. He had never been angry like this. Not in my dreams. Not even in the week I’d been trapped here.
He stabbed a spoonful of rice. “What did you do today?”
“Uh… finished three sketches and the coloring for my book.” My voice came out small.
His gaze softened, just a fraction. “It’s fascinating, what you do. I’d never even heard of it before. Is it your full-time career?”
“Yes.” I forced a smile. “I don’t earn like you, but it’s enough for me.”
He gave a slow nod, as if he actually meant it when he said, “Of course. I understand.”
Relief loosened my chest, and I rambled on, hoping to keep him calm. “Then I cleaned the kitchen, and the hall too.”
Only when he finally took his first bite did I let out the breath I’d been holding. God, this was backfiring. I had to be strong, but strength crumbled whenever he was angry. Anything but his anger.
Vihaan chewed thoughtfully. “I had a meeting with my team of lawyers. Hated every second of it, but my company can’t survive without them. How ironic, huh?”
I poked at my rice. “Hmm. We all do things we don’t want to. That’s life.”
“Is it?” His eyes flicked up, pinning me.
My pulse jumped. “We… we need to talk after dinner.”
His sigh stretched across the table, heavy and unreadable. My heart missed a beat. Shit. Was he angry again?
“Finally.” His voice softened, almost weary. “I’ve been waiting for you to talk to me all week. Do you know what it means to me, coming back to this house? I haven’t felt peace in five years. Now I wait to come home.”
The words hit me low in my belly, stirring something dangerous, something I didn’t want to name. I wanted to smile, to let gratitude slip through, but all I could think about was Nicky—and what he might do to her if I didn’t give him answers.
No. I couldn’t let anyone else become his target. This was my fight.
We finished dinner in silence, but the air hummed between us. On the couch, my feet tapped restlessly against the floor until he touched my knee. Just a brush of his fingers—and a spark raced up my skin. Electricity. I jolted and shoved myself into the corner of the couch, out of his reach.
“How long are you planning to keep me here?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. My eyes stayed locked on the black-and-white painting hanging on the opposite wall. Anything but him. The abstract swirls begged for color, and my mind betrayed me, imagining how cheerful it could look splashed with reds, yellows, and blues—perfect for a children’s book. Bright. Harmless. Nothing like this room.
I heard him clear his throat, that low rumble pulling me back. When I finally glanced at him, his gaze was steady, almost annoyingly calm. “How long will it take you to talk?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” My words came out clipped, but my chest was tight. “What you’re doing is wrong. Evil. Please, Vihaan, realize this—you’re committing a crime.”
He leaned back, his mouth tugging into that maddening smirk. “Want to call the police?” he asked, voice dripping with mockery.
God. Why was he doing this? He knew I couldn’t. Not today. Not ever.
I switched gears. “What about my friend?”
His brow arched. “What about her?”
“How is she?” I asked, as casually as I could muster. I forced my tone light, like the answer didn’t matter. But inside, my pulse hammered. “I hope she’s safe.”
Something flickered across his face before he slipped my phone out of his pocket. He sighed and thumbed through my notifications, deleting them as if they were his to erase.
“Your friend called.” His tone carried irritation now. “Don’t you think she’s calling you a little too much? You literally spoke to her yesterday.”
I clenched my fists under the table. On the first night, I’d tried snatching the phone back. He hadn’t let me. For two whole days, I was cut off. No calls. No texts. No Nicky. I knew what that silence would do to her—how loud she’d make her worry. I’d begged him to let me speak to her, and in the end, he agreed… but only on his terms. His rules. I wasn’t allowed to touch the phone.
“That’s what best friends do,” I muttered, narrowing my eyes.
“Here,” he said flatly, hitting the dial button. The ringtone filled the room. “Talk to her.” He set it on speaker, his expression unreadable.
“You can leave the room,” I said quickly, a note of challenge in my voice. “I’m not going to sell you away.”
He gave a mock-pleasant shrug. “Well, I can’t take my chances now, can I?”
The words stung more than I expected. What were we even doing? With every sarcastic jab, every power play, we were wrecking something fragile we had somehow built—if not here, then in dreams. Dreams where it was just us, simple and unscarred. And now, awake, it felt like he was tearing it down brick by brick.
But how could I give myself away so easily? He wanted the truth as though it was a coin I could just hand over.
Nothing between us was simple. It never had been. It was maddening. Beautiful. And utterly insane.
Nicky’s voice yanked me back to reality. Vihaan had already dialed her before I was even ready, and now her voice blared through the speaker, sharp and impatient.
“Hey, why do I need to call you a hundred times before you answer my call?”
I swallowed hard, forcing calm into my voice. “Relax, I was working.” The tremor betrayed me anyway.
“I hate this stupid in-house project. Why can’t you meet me?”
That was the lie I’d fed her—this phantom project. If I hadn’t, she would’ve insisted we meet in person. And I couldn’t, not when I was… trapped.
“See, I’m fine. Just a few days more. Then I’ll come to the hotel with you. We’ll order room service, binge-watch something trashy, and dance till our legs give out.”
“I want two nights. Not one,” she demanded.
My eyes flicked up to Vihaan, who was standing too close, his jaw tight, fury radiating off him like heat. I gulped, quickly covering.
“Nicky, I can’t keep answering every time you call. This project is taking more hours than usual.”
Her voice rose, sharp with irritation. “Don’t you dare, Mihika! You must call me daily, without fail. Or ditch that project and come home. You don’t need the money. Just come back.”
A sigh escaped me. “No, no—I meant I’ll call you daily. But I can’t always pick up when you call. My phone… it’s usually not in my workspace. Please understand.”
There was a pause, then a resigned groan. “Ugh. Vihaan and his stupid rules. Fine. Call me tomorrow. Take care, okay? Bye.”
The moment the line went dead, Vihaan snatched the phone and slid it back into his pocket. His gaze pinned me, unrelenting.
“Anything else you want to say?”
I stared at him, heartbeat racing. “Are you going to hurt her?”
His head jerked slightly. “What?”
“I heard you. On the phone,” I muttered, my words stumbling. “You said you’d decide tomorrow.”
His lips curved into that infuriating half-smile. “Your friend wants an interview. That’s all it was. Are you eavesdropping now?”
Heat flushed my cheeks, and his grin widened. He loved that I was rattled. My embarrassment twisted into anger.
“You’re doing wrong,” I snapped. “What are you even getting out of this? Just let me live my life.”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his eyes narrowed, studying me with unnerving precision. “Why has no one else come looking for you? Why does no one else call?”
My breath hitched as panic clawed up my throat. My legs barely remembered how to move, but somehow, I stumbled back to my room. The door slammed, my shaking hands twisting the lock like it was the only thing keeping me alive.
Oh God. He knew. He finally knew.
That there was no one else. No family waiting. No friends checking in. Just Nicky—and the awful truth of my existence. Hollow. Cursed. Lonely.
His knock came soft at first. “Are you okay?”
“Go away,” I snapped, my voice thinner than I wanted.
The knock grew sharper. “Open the door now.”
“What?” My back pressed against the wood as if it could hold me together.
“Mihika, I said open the door—or I won’t give your friend the interview she’s waiting for. Not just that… I’ll ruin her life.”
The threat cut through me like ice water. This was it. He had gone too far. My only choice was to end this madness. My trembling fingers undid the lock, and I yanked the door open, glaring at him like it could burn him to ash.
“What happened?” His voice softened, but his eyes searched mine, digging for the truth.
“Nothing. Just let me go, Vihaan. I can’t stay here—I’ll lose my mind.”
“It’s okay,” he whispered, stepping closer. “It is really okay. I’m here. You’re not alone anymore. Understood?”
The words landed heavy. Was he serious? Could he not see that once he knew my truth, he’d hate me, too? Just like everyone else.
“Go to sleep,” he continued, brushing past my plea like it didn’t exist. “I won’t be there for breakfast tomorrow, but I’ll make you an omelet and coffee. Eat on time. Don’t bother cleaning. Explore the house. There’s a library—go read something. I’m waiting on more deliveries, but there are plenty already.” His voice was calm, as if we were just two people sharing a home.
I gave a stiff nod, words stuck in my throat.
“And cook something spicy tomorrow.”
I couldn’t help it—I rolled my eyes. That tiny flicker of normalcy broke the tension. He chuckled, a low sound that warmed the air between us. And then, before leaving, he reached out. His hand brushed my face—just a touch, but enough to light fire across my skin.
I froze. Sizzled. Trapped in the gravity of his gaze.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. His smile lingered. “Good night.”
The End of My Soulmate – Chapter 6.
Continue reading the next chapter of My Soulmate.
Other short stories.
I Confessed (click to read)
A Touch From a Stranger (click to read)
The Trapped Butterfly (click to read)
The What If Romance (click to read)
Do check out other articles on Twin Flames.
Author Payal Dedhia independently publishes books on Amazon Kindle. You can check out her collection by clicking here.
If you like Dark Romance Fiction, do read my Sctintilla Series. Click here to read.
Aayansh Ahluwalia isn’t just a billionaire business tycoon—he’s the kind of man who haunts people’s nightmares. The world may recognize Scintilla Corporations as a legitimate empire, but Aayansh isn’t confined to the light. In the shadows, he commands an empire of fear, power, and blood. He rules over the underdogs, the darkness that terrifies everyone else.
Ruthless and untouchable, they call him a devil for a reason—he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t blink when it comes to taking lives.
His existence is fearless. His power, unmatched. Yet beneath the wealth and carnage lies a void—a darkness so complete it consumes him. There’s no light, no hope. Just emptiness stretching endlessly, leaving him hollow.
Then, one night, everything changed.
He saw her—a woman so radiant, so full of life, she made his chaos stand still. She erupted into his world like a dream, settling in his heart and claiming it as her own.
Tisha Chopra.
Aayansh hadn’t been searching for her, hadn’t asked for her. But the moment he saw her, he knew—she would be his.
She didn’t belong in his world, and that only made him want her more. Her laughter, her light—it wasn’t meant to survive the darkness he thrived in, yet it pulled him in, unrelenting. Like a predator to prey, he followed. He didn’t want her to save him. No. He wanted to ruin her, piece by piece, until she belonged to him completely. He would drag her down, crown her queen in his Devil’s Paradise, and make her sit beside him on the devil’s throne while he ruled the world.What unfolds is a story steeped in obsession, control, and desire—a dangerous game where love is a battlefield, and submission comes at the cost of a soul.
Scintilla isn’t just the name of Aayansh’s empire; it’s the pulse of this saga—a place where power thrives and morality dies.
The series is divided into four phases:
🔥 The Chase – Where the predator finds his prey. Click here to read.
- The Beginning – A collision of worlds. A spark ignited.
- Unveiling Paradise – Her light tempts the darkness.
- The Masked Guy – Secrets wear masks. So do devils.
- Unleashing the Demons – Once awakened, there’s no turning back.
- The Winner – Victory tastes sweeter when claimed by force.
🔥 The Possession – Where obsession takes root. Click here to read.
- New Beginning – The chase ends. The real game begins.
- The Rules – Boundaries are set, only to be broken.
- Gilded Cage – Possession doesn’t feel like freedom.
- Unleashed Fury – When control falters, chaos reigns.
- Ensnared Hearts – Hearts trapped, souls scarred.
🔥 The Submission – Where surrender is demanded, not given. Click here to read.
- Her Resistance – Light fights back. Darkness pushes harder.
- Her Confession – Truths whispered in the dark.
- The Good Times – A fleeting calm before the storm.
- The Devil Struck – The predator strikes. The angel shatters.
- Angel’s Judgement – When love turns to reckoning.
🔥 The Reward – Where love and darkness collide, leaving nothing unscarred. Click here to read.
- The Storm – Chaos erupts, tearing apart the fragile ties of love and power.
- The Punishment – Sins are judged, debts are paid, and vengeance claims its due.
The Arranged Marriage series is a collection of 5 books.
Book 1 – The First Meet (Read now)
Book 2: The Life Together (Read now)
Book 3 – The Surprises in Store (Read now)
Book 4 – The Everchanging Times (Read now)
Book 5: The Story of Us (Coming Soon)
The Unscripted Love Series is a collection of 10 books
Book 1 – Arjun’s Jenny (click to read)
Book 2 – Priti’s Rendezvous with Somesh (click to read)
Book 3 – Rana’s Vivacious Girlfriend (click to read)
Book 4 – Claire’s Dashing Raj (click to read)
Book 5 – My Rebirth (click to read)
Book 6 – My Family (click to read)
Book 7 – My Sister’s Wedding (click to read)
Book 8 – My Secret Love (click to read)
Book 9 – My Silent Romeo (click to read)
Book 10 – The Brunch (click to read)
