Veer placed a hand dramatically over his chest and declared,
"I’m not married. I don’t have contact with any females. The only contact I have is with you."
Then, as if his own words horrified him, his expression twisted—but only for a second before he brightened again like a fool who didn’t know how close he stood to danger.
"Well, you know," he added with a grin, "my father once said, ’If you like a girl and both of you get married, then she’s your spouse.’"
He spread his arms, eyes twinkling like an idiot.
"So in this case—you’ll be my wife. Oh my God. How romantic."
Kaya blinked. Slowly. Dangerously. Her jaw tightened.
Her voice came out colder than the wind that sliced across the plains.
"And when exactly did we get married?"
Veer shrugged like it didn’t matter.
"Well, not now... but we can. Future plans, right?"
He spun on his heel, already walking ahead like he was narrating a fantasy he was falling deeper into with every step.
"Just imagine," he began, his voice dreamy and far too loud. "We get married. Have three—maybe four—little vultures. Your face, my brains. I’ll push them off a cliff to teach them to fly, and you—ahh, when I come back from hunting, you’ll wipe my wings and hand me hot food. Ohh, how romantic—"
He didn’t finish.
Kaya stared at him. Her eyes were dead calm. Her words, colder than ice, dropped behind him like a blade:
"The only way you’ll be near me..."
A pause.
"...is as firewood."
He gasped, spinning back around with a dramatic stagger, both hands clutching his chest like she’d just broken his heart.
"Oho! So now you do want to keep me warm? Sweetheart, so naughty!"
Kaya turned her face away. Not because she was flustered.
Because if she looked at him a second longer, she might actually throw him into the firepit—for real.
Kaya took a step forward—and then froze.
A sharp, brutal pain suddenly tore through her lower abdomen, like someone had taken a fistful of her insides and twisted hard. Her legs buckled slightly under her, and she gasped, nearly collapsing to the ground.
"Agh—!"
The sound escaped her before she could stop it. The pain was too much—hot, dragging, unbearable. Her knees hit the earth with a dull thud, and she could barely register the sting in her palms as she caught herself.
It wasn’t just her stomach—her thighs were throbbing too, like they were being pulled apart from the inside. And down below—her core felt like it was being torn, every nerve screaming. An ache that burned and stabbed all at once.
Of course.
She should’ve known.
How could a woman forget this kind of pain? The kind that creeps up without warning, knocks the breath out of your lungs, and leaves you at its mercy.
For most women, it came once a month. Regular. Predictable.
But Kaya... she wasn’t most women.
Her cycle hit her every three months—and when it did, it was like being ripped apart from the inside out.
Her eyes burned red, her vision blurring as tears began to fall—hot and angry and helpless. She bit her lip so hard it almost bled, trying to hold back a sob.
Damn it.
Back in her world, she always had a pad tucked away somewhere. Always carried painkillers in her bag, always prepared. She’d learned the hard way never to be without them.
But here?
Here there were no pads. No warm beds. No pills.
Just this damned, brutal body and the cold earth beneath her.
The moment Kaya dropped to her knees, the entire worksite fell into stunned silence.
Shovels paused mid-air. Conversations died on tongues. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
And then—
Cutie moved.
He shot up from where he’d been crouching, eyes wide, panic instantly blooming across his face. Something in him cracked the moment he saw Kaya hunched on the ground, trembling in pain. He tried to push himself forward, nearly tripping over his own feet, desperate to reach her.
But before he could get close, she was lifted—effortlessly, carefully.
By Veer.
Kaya’s limp form rested in his arms, cradled horizontally as though she weighed nothing. His usual smirk was gone. Every trace of his loud, dramatic self had vanished.
Veer’s expression was cold. Focused. Dangerous.
Cutie stumbled back, alarm flashing in his eyes. "Put her down," he said, voice sharp, breath shaking.
"Put her down."
Anup stepped beside him, equally tense—but one look at Veer, and even he faltered.
Veer’s golden eyes locked onto Cutie.
And when he spoke, his voice was like steel wrapped in thunder.
"Get lost from here, you damn rabbits."
The air shifted.
Then came the shove—not violent, but firm enough to send Cutie stumbling backward, wide-eyed and shaken.
Without waiting for another word, Veer turned sharply and began walking toward the hut Kaya had claimed as hers. He didn’t glance back. He didn’t need to ask where it was—he already knew.
He’d been informed.
Veer didn’t need to ask anyone where Kaya stayed—he already knew.
With a quiet sigh, he pulled open the hide-covered doorway of the small hut and stepped inside. The space was modest—just enough room for essentials—but it was clean, meticulously arranged, everything in its proper place.
Typical Kaya.
He glanced around once, then gently lowered her onto the thick animal hide spread on the ground. She was barely conscious, her breathing ragged, body curled in on itself as wave after wave of pain crashed through her.
Veer knelt beside her, his usual grin nowhere to be seen.
He watched her for a moment, then reached out and gently brushed her hair away from her damp forehead. His hand lingered there, warm and steady.
"Kaya?" he murmured, his voice softer than anyone had probably ever heard it. "Sweetheart, talk to me. Where does it hurt?"
But he could see it.
All over.
Her face was tight with pain, her lips bitten raw. She was trembling, the kind of tremble that came not from cold—but from agony so deep, it left a person speechless.