Hellooo violets...
Kaise ho sab ?
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[19.3K + Words]
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Arini reached the hospital at 3 a.m., the city asleep while the building stood wide awake for her. Every doctor involved in Swayam Rajvansh's treatment had been summoned to the hospital boardroom, no excuses accepted. Guards were already stationed across multiple floors, silent, alert, and heavily armed. The hospital felt less like a place of healing and more like a controlled fortress.
Arini was never truly serious about anything in life.
Until the topic was Swayam Rajvansh.
She walked into the boardroom, heels echoing against the marble floor, her presence alone forcing everyone to straighten. Without raising her voice, she lifted her hand slightly.
"Have your seats, please."
They obeyed instantly.
She took her seat with them, her posture calm, composed, almost unsettling. The air in the room shifted. Everyone felt it. Arini did not need to threaten. Her silence was enough.
The doctor who had called her, the one who had said "There's something really important you need to know," was the first to break the quiet.
"Mrs. Singhania," he began carefully, "your father's condition is improving steadily. His vitals are stabilizing, and the changes are in our favor. But recently, we noticed something. Actually... someone."
Her brows furrowed just slightly.
"Someone?" she asked, her voice low and sharp.
He nodded and gestured toward another doctor. "Dr. Fertz noticed something unusual over the past few days. At first, we ignored it, but once we paid closer attention, we realized his observation was correct."
Her gaze shifted to Dr. Fertz, a man in his late thirties. He cleared his throat.
"There are hospital protocols," he said carefully, "we do not interfere in matters unrelated to a patient's health. But a strange pattern of visitors caught our attention. Some patients even complained. Please look at this footage."
The central screen lit up.
The first clip showed the first floor, the reception area leading to ward rooms, recorded around 1 p.m. A group of men entered, each carrying large bouquets. They registered their names at reception and then split, entering different rooms.
The footage switched.
Next day, 5 p.m.
Same floor. Same men. Same bouquets. This time they walked directly toward the corridor, the camera following as they entered different rooms.
The screen changed again.
Third day, 11 a.m.
Now the second floor. Same men. Same bouquets. Same pattern.
Three days. Three timings. Same faces.
Dr. Fertz spoke again. "At first, we assumed they were part of some event or charity. But later, suspicion grew. One patient even complained. He had a severe allergy to those flowers, and his condition worsened."
The general surgeon leaned forward. "One patient confronted them. The men claimed that a family member was admitted here, and that they regularly buy ten bouquets. One for their family member and nine for other patients."
Dr. Fertz finished quietly, "The receptionist confirmed something important. One of those men always left with a bouquet."
Arini nodded once. Calm. Too calm.
"Replay it," she said.
The footage played again.
This time, her eyes were not following the men as a group. She was counting. Tracking. Calculating.
When the screen finally went dark, she leaned back in her chair and exhaled slowly.
"When they enter," she said evenly, "they are ten. When they go inside the rooms, only nine enter. One hides. Smartly."
The room went dead silent.
She lifted her gaze. "There is a mole in your team. The information you just told me, that my father's condition is improving, that information was leaked before it reached me."
Her voice dropped further, cold and lethal.
"Find that mole. As soon as possible."
Then she sighed, as if shifting gears.
"And about papa," she continued, her tone controlled but dangerous, "I will recreate the exact same medical environment for him at a completely different location. Dr. Fertz, I want you permanently shifted there with him."
She leaned slightly forward. "Do not worry about your family. AR Group's security team, handpicked by me, will take care of them. You will be provided with top-tier medical equipment, personal staff, and everything required for both professional and personal needs. A few more doctors will accompany you."
Dr. Fertz looked down at the table, processing the weight of her words. Then he nodded.
"Understood."
Her gaze swept across the room. "As for this hospital, I have something in mind. I will inform you once it's confirmed."
She stood up, authority radiating off her like a shadow.
"Thank you, doctors, for your time at this hour, and for the information."
Without waiting for a response, she turned and left the room.
Minutes later, she was already calling her chopper toward the helipad, having ensured the area was cleared and the board informed.
It was afternoon, and right now Arini was inside Ranvijay's study in the palace. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, falling across the polished wooden desk, but it failed to soften the intensity in her presence. No one had any idea where she had gone the previous night. She had returned before 7 a.m., silent as a shadow, and whatever questions might have risen were handled smoothly by Bhavya. Arini trusted her completely, and when Arini trusted someone, it meant that person could guard secrets like a vault.
She spoke, calm yet firm, "But I really think you should not back off from this, Uncle."
Ranvijay nodded slowly while scanning the files in front of him. His brows were slightly furrowed, the weight of politics and responsibility visible in the lines on his forehead.
"But politicians won't support this plan, beta," he said thoughtfully. "There's a lot of funding pressure coming from party members, and this project will take time. People won't trust this idea so easily either."
Arini leaned back in her chair, fingers tapping lightly against the armrest, her mind already racing ten moves ahead.
"Hmm," she hummed softly. "Then I have a very good idea that will work in your favor in both funding and trust issues."
He looked up. "Continue."
She tilted her head slightly, the faintest curve of a calculating smile appearing.
"First, let's talk about funds. Let me handle that part. AR Group will raise all the funding as your backbone. You will remain the face, the authority, the one deciding where and how that money gets used. No one questions a leader who already has resources secured."
She paused deliberately, watching his expression shift from concern to interest.
"Now about the project itself," she continued, her voice steady and precise, "we'll run it in three stages. Stage one will be presentation, how you introduce your idea to the people. Your vision, your motives, your long-term plan. Stage two will be trust-building. You'll introduce your team to the public, let them see the faces behind the mission. Stage three will be full execution."
She leaned slightly forward, her eyes sharp with quiet authority.
"In my opinion, AK Corporation would be the best partner for this project. They have a massive workforce, and most of their employees are locals from different states, including Rajasthan. They will connect faster with the people here. When locals explain something, trust builds naturally. Acceptance becomes easier. Resistance disappears before it even forms."
Ranvijay nodded slowly, clearly thinking through every angle. Arini watched him the way a strategist watches a chessboard, already predicting which move he would make next.
She smiled faintly. "And fortunately, the CEO is here as well. I texted him before coming."
Right on cue, a knock sounded on the door.
Aksh peeked inside. Arini gave a small nod, and he entered, composed yet slightly breathless as if he had come quickly.
"Sorry," he said politely, "I was reviewing an important email. I hope I didn't miss anything."
Ranvijay shook his head. "Not at all. Arini and I were discussing my recent project and the issues related to it. She suggested collaborating with you."
Arini leaned slightly toward Aksh and whispered just low enough for only him to hear,
"Chup chap se haa bol dena. Samjhe."
He whispered back without moving his lips much,
"Jaise aaj tak mujhe bada mana karne ka option mila hai."
Then he straightened and spoke aloud, professional and composed,
"Of course, Uncle. As much as I know about this project, Arini is absolutely right. My company has a large number of local employees and interns. When they present your vision to your people, it will be far more effective. People trust those who come from their own cities, their own villages. Familiar faces create confidence faster than any speech ever could."
Arini watched him from the corner of her eye.
Calm. Convincing.
Exactly as she expected.
And for a brief second, something darker flickered behind her gaze. Not anger. Not suspicion. Something colder.
Calculation.
Because while Ranvijay saw a partnership forming, and Aksh saw a project beginning, Arini saw something else entirely.
A board being set. Pieces aligning. And a game quietly beginning that only she knew she was playing.
Her eyes were fixed on the family photograph hanging on the wall. Four figures stood together in it, Reet, Ranvijay, Anavika, and Abhimanyu, beneath a bold caption engraved in gold, "The Rajputs."
For a moment, Arini did not blink.
Her gaze lingered longer than necessary, studying each face as if memorizing details others would overlook, the curve of a smile, the distance between shoulders, the silent hierarchy hidden in posture. Then slowly, a faint smile touched her lips. It was not warm. It was not affectionate. It was the kind of smile that appeared when a thought had just confirmed itself.
She shifted her attention back to the discussion as if nothing had happened.
"Uncle," she said smoothly, "not to brag or anything, but Aksh really has excellent experience. You can trust him." Her tone was polite, measured, respectful. "And please don't worry about finances. We can discuss that once the elections are done. Before that, Aksh and I will handle it." She paused slightly, as if choosing her next words with deliberate care. "But until the elections, I have a small request."
Both Ranvijay and Aksh frowned.
Ranvijay's expression held curiosity, wondering what she could possibly ask for when she was already offering solutions to problems he had not even voiced aloud.
But Aksh's frown carried disbelief. Arini and request were two words that, in his experience, simply did not belong in the same sentence. Arini did not request. She decided. She declared. She executed.
Arini noticed both reactions. Of course she did. She noticed everything.
She smiled.
"Actually," she continued gently, "it's a personal request, Uncle. As we know, in one year... Anu di will officially be handling all these matters. But she mostly stays out of the country. So while she's here, I want her to work and learn things from both you and Aksh."
Her fingers lightly brushed the arm of her chair as she spoke, her voice calm but layered with quiet intent.
"In politics, you will always be there to guide her," she added, her eyes resting on Ranvijay with respectful sincerity. "But business and corporations are best learned from someone who sits at number one in the business world."
Ranvijay's face softened instantly, pride and approval replacing the earlier tension.
"You really snatched the words right out of my mind, Arini," he said with a pleased smile. "That will be perfect. Anavika will work under Aksh until this project reaches execution and gain as much knowledge as she can."
Arini nodded slowly.
Then, almost absentmindedly, she looked back at the photo frame again.
This time, she winked at it.
A small, sharp smirk followed, fleeting yet unmistakable, like a secret shared with herself alone.
Aksh spoke while rising from his chair, still slightly puzzled but agreeing nonetheless, "Then it's final. The rest of the details, my team will email you officially."
Arini stood as well, graceful and composed.
"And don't worry about anything, Uncle," she said softly.
Ranvijay smiled, reassured in a way he did not fully understand.
The two of them walked out of the study together.
Behind them, the photograph remained hanging on the wall.
Once they both entered their room, the door closing behind them with a soft but definite click, he finally spoke, disbelief still clinging to his voice.
"Did you see it as well?"
Arini didn't answer immediately. She walked further inside first, slow steps, unhurried, as if the question itself was too obvious to deserve instant confirmation. Then she nodded once.
"The moment I entered that room," she said calmly, "I knew it."
Aksh exhaled and dropped into the chair, running a hand through his hair, still processing.
"It took me five full minutes," he admitted. "And I didn't even realize you were hinting toward it."
A faint, crooked smile appeared on her lips. Not playful. Not kind. Calculated.
"Of course," she said, tilting her head slightly, "I have eight more IQ points than you."
He blinked at her. Once. Twice.
"What the... Will you ever stop bragging about that stupid IQ score of yours?"
She shook her head without hesitation.
"Never."
Her answer came so easily it sounded like a promise rather than a reply.
He frowned, leaning forward. "Come on, you just got 152 and I had 144."
She lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug, her gaze already drifting elsewhere, as if the comparison bored her.
"Still eight more," she murmured. "Which proves I'm better than you."
She crossed her arms loosely and leaned against the edge of the table, her expression thoughtful now, shadows of calculation flickering behind her calm exterior.
"You noticed the pattern late," she added quietly. "But you did notice. That's why I keep you around."
Aksh stared at her. "That's supposed to be comforting?"
"No," she replied, voice soft as silk, "it's supposed to be honest."
He sighed dramatically, tilting his head back in mock surrender.
"Fine, Queen. Forgive me for breathing the same air as you."
A slow grin spread across her face, sharp at the edges, amused but undeniably pleased. She leaned slightly closer, eyes glinting with quiet triumph.
"Ab itna bol hi rhe ho toh chalo maaf kiya," she said, her tone light but her expression carrying that familiar regal mischief, as if she really had just granted royal pardon.
For a brief second, the room felt warmer.
Then she straightened.
Without another word, she reached for her laptop from the table, movements graceful and unhurried, like someone who never rushed because time itself adjusted to her pace. The faint scent of her perfume lingered as she walked past him, the soft sound of her footsteps fading toward the balcony.
Life is going smooth right now. Papa's condition is improving with every passing day, tomorrow there will be a grand birthday celebration, and for now I have already taken my revenge from Anu di, revenge that was friendly enough not to wound her yet sharp enough to bruise her pride just the way she deserved.
But let me tell you one fact about my life. Whenever my life graph begins to rise, just when things start looking stable, something always happens. A twist. A disruption. A storm I did not invite. And that same graph that had begun climbing suddenly plunges so fast it almost touches rock bottom.
So I never truly enjoy happy moments.
Even when I smile, a part of my mind is already alert, already calculating, already preparing strategies for problems that have not even appeared yet. Because somehow, I sense them. Like distant thunder before lightning strikes. Like footsteps before the door knocks.
Just like right now.
I know someone is planning something. I can feel it crawling beneath the surface, silent and unseen. But I cannot pinpoint who is moving which piece on the board. And that uncertainty is worse than any visible enemy.
Thud.
I blinked.
"Wao... ab kya bhoot pret bhi agree kar rahe hain mere saath?" I muttered under my breath.
(Now even ghosts are agreeing with me?)
Right then Aksh's voice came from inside, slightly raised but steady.
"Arini, Anu di is here!"
Oh.
Toh seedha chudail hi aa gayi.
I rose slowly from the chair, closing my laptop with deliberate calm, as if I had all the time in the world. My heartbeat did not change. My expression did not change. Only my eyes sharpened.
I stepped inside the room.
And there she was.
Standing still. Watching me. Not blinking. Not speaking. Just staring straight into my soul.
You know that look.
That look which wasn't just a look.
It was a murderous glare. The kind that didn't merely threaten, it promised. A silent declaration that if she ever caught me alone, she would gladly slide a dagger straight into my heart and watch without blinking.
Good thing I know how to fight. Otherwise she would have succeeded long ago. Honestly, with the number of times we've clashed, I would probably be a framed photograph on someone's wall by now.
I let out a slow breath and flashed her a bright, victorious smile.
"Good afternoon."
She stepped inside and slammed the door shut so hard the walls almost echoed.
"After fucking my afternoon like that, you're really wishing me good afternoon?"
I gasped softly and made the most innocent face I could manage.
"Lo kar lo baat. Hum aapko good afternoon wish karne aaye aur aap toh hum pe hi gussa ho gaye."
Yes, I admit it. I had been scrolling Instagram earlier. And honestly, what is the point of meme knowledge if you cannot weaponize it at the perfect moment? In Mumbai's corporate environment everyone walks around like they swallowed a rulebook. Using memes there is practically a punishable offense. But here? Here I can unleash my full chaotic potential.
She ignored my theatrics and pointed a sharp finger at Aksh like she was accusing him in court.
"You made this green-eyed brat my boss and you seriously have the audacity to wish me good afternoon?"
I smiled wider and shrugged lazily.
"Ohh, you should thank me. I gave you such a handsome boss again. I'm basically improving your work environment."
I brushed invisible dust off Aksh's shoulder with exaggerated care, like he was a rare artifact.
"But don't worry," I added sweetly, "he's not into old married women, you know."
Aksh choked on a laugh and immediately turned it into a cough, pressing his fist to his mouth to hide the grin threatening to betray him.
She took a slow step toward me. Dangerous. Controlled. Like a predator measuring distance.
"You know what... I will end you and your mischiefs today."
I crossed my arms over my stomach and tilted my head.
"WOAH. That's a huge commitment. Should I book a venue too or are we planning a private execution?"
Her jaw tightened.
Yes, I admit it today. Loudly. Proudly. Without shame.
I love rage-baiting people.
But Anavika Singh Rathore?
Oh, she sits on the throne of that list.
Because no one, absolutely no one, combusts with such royal fury the way she does when I poke her pride.
She was just about to open her mouth, probably to launch another verbal missile at me, when a knock sounded on my door.
Perfect timing. Divine interruption. Saved by fate.
Before either of us could react, Raani maa stepped inside.
She smiled warmly, completely unaware, or perhaps deliberately ignoring, the war zone level tension hanging in the room.
"Oh... I've been looking for Anu all over the mansion and she is here. Good thing, now I won't have to repeat what I have to say."
I nodded solemnly, like an obedient child, though mischief was already loading in my system.
"You know her na, Raani maa. She loves gossip. We were just discussing how a best friend nearly killed another one just because she gave her résumé to a hot boss."
Aksh burst out laughing again. Not a polite chuckle this time. A full laugh.
Anu di slowly turned her head toward him. The kind of slow turn that horror movie villains do before someone dies. Honestly, he was one step away from becoming a framed portrait on the wall.
Raani maa, in her royal wisdom, ignored the chaos entirely and spoke like she was assigning ministers their duties.
"Okay fine, discuss your weird gossip later. For now, I am giving you both a responsibility. Both of you will be handling all the celebration arrangements for tomorrow. From decorations to dance and music. I want a proper list by evening."
I straightened instantly, my mind already switching to planning mode.
"Raani maa, apart from the havan, I think we should do everything else in the palace. Music and songs can be traditional, and the dance... we can keep it Bollywood bash style. Loud, Rocking and full party vibes . Cultural plus fun."
Anu di nodded thoughtfully, slipping into her composed strategist mode as if she hadn't been plotting my murder thirty seconds ago.
"I agree with her. The evening party should be only for family and a few very close guests. Havan will be done as usual in the Shiv temple. And for the remaining rituals, we should follow previous years. Donations, distributing clothes, sweets, essentials."
Raani maa nodded with satisfaction.
"Sure. But make a list and give it to me in the evening, otherwise I might forget a few things."
I gave her a confident thumbs up.
"Consider it done."
She smiled once more and walked out, the door closing softly behind her.
Silence. Heavy. Suspicious. Dangerous silence.
I slowly turned my head toward Anu di.
She was already staring at me.
Oh.
War wasn't postponed.
It was just rescheduled.
I cleared my throat and extended my hand toward her, palm steady, eyes sharp, offering something that looked like peace but felt like a ceasefire signed on a battlefield.
"Till tomorrow night," I said evenly, "let's make this birthday memorable."
She didn't answer immediately. First she looked at my face. Then at my hand. Then back into my eyes, like she was scanning for hidden clauses in an invisible contract. Finally, she placed her hand in mine.
Her grip tightened.
Not a handshake. A warning.
The pressure was enough to make bones protest and nerves spark, like she was silently reminding me that alliances with her always came with a risk of fracture.
"Fine," she said, voice low and edged. "Only till tomorrow night."
Our hands parted.
The air didn't relax. It sharpened.
I flexed my fingers once, hiding the sting, then tilted my chin toward the door.
"Get out now."
She stared at me, pure disbelief flashing across her face.
"Are you ser—"
I cut her off without even looking at her.
"Get out from this room, Aksh."
He blinked like someone had just dropped him into a live drama without a script. He pointed at himself slowly.
"Me?"
I shook my head with exaggerated patience.
"No. Not at all you. Tumhara naam thodi Aksh hai. Hoga koi nalla Aksh jisko bol rahi hoon main."
He pressed his lips together, trying not to smile, trying not to die, trying not to get dragged into female warfare. Wise man.
"Fine," he said, raising both hands in surrender. "I hope when I return I see both of you alive."
He turned and walked out.
The door clicked shut.
Silence again.
Next morning, the entire palace buzzed like a living organism, corridors breathing with movement, staircases echoing with hurried footsteps, servants rushing at full speed with garlands, fabrics, lights, trays, ladders. Yesterday's list, the one Anavika and Arini had finalized after arguing over every comma, every color, every flower type, had now become law. And the palace obeyed it like scripture.
Silk drapes were being fastened to pillars. Chandeliers were polished until they mirrored faces. Brass lamps were aligned with mathematical precision. Every corner smelled of fresh marigold, rose water, and the faint electricity of anticipation.
The stage for the evening function was being assembled in the grand hall. Workers adjusted the platform height again and again under strict supervision. And at the center of that storm stood Reet, calm yet commanding, eyes scanning every inch like a general inspecting troops before war. She held the list in one hand, marking off items with a pen, ensuring every detail matched exactly what had been written. Not one ribbon out of place. Not one light dimmer than required. Not one cushion misaligned.
Nothing escaped her gaze.
Meanwhile, in the quieter wing of the palace, far from the celebratory chaos, Ranvijay sat inside his study, door shut, voice low but firm as he spoke on call with ministers. Arini's team had emailed him early that morning, detailed documents, projections, strategies, counterarguments. Files lay open across his desk like pieces of a political chessboard, and he moved through them with sharp focus, analyzing, negotiating, calculating. Outside, a birthday was being prepared. Inside, futures were being decided.
In another part of the world~
"You just need to give one statement. We will handle the rest."
The female voice sliced through the living room, controlled yet edged, like a blade wrapped in velvet. She stood tall in front of a modest couch where a woman sat with her two children pressed close beside her. The room was small, ordinary, sunlight filtering through thin curtains, the air still carrying the warmth of a home that knew struggle but also peace.
The seated woman spoke hesitantly, fingers tightening in her dress.
"But... I have no issues. He was anyway a liar. And they are taking care of my expenses now, much more efficiently."
The visitor inhaled slowly, visibly restraining irritation. Her jaw flexed once before she spoke again, tone calmer but colder.
"I will double the amount. Whatever you're receiving now will be doubled once you give the statement. Just sign those papers and you'll get much more."
The children looked between the two women, confusion clouding their eyes. They didn't understand words like statement, payment, agreement. They only understood tension. And fear.
The mother shook her head gently.
"We don't need extra money or luxury. We already have more than enough. So why should I sign these?"
That was the moment patience snapped.
The visitor stood up abruptly, chair scraping harshly against the floor. In one swift movement, faster than thought, she grabbed one of the children and pressed a knife against his neck.
The room froze.
The child's breath hitched. The mother's soul shattered.
"What are you doing?!" she cried, panic flooding her voice. "Let him go!"
The woman tossed a pen onto the table. It slid across the surface and stopped right in front of the trembling mother.
"One signature," she said, voice now stripped of all pretense, cold and absolute. "And one recorded statement. Then everything will be yours. Or else you lose your child right now. Choose."
Time slowed.
The ticking clock on the wall grew louder. The child's shallow breaths sounded like thunder. The knife glinted under sunlight, merciless.
A single second passed.
The mother grabbed the pen.
Her hand shook so badly the signature barely looked like her own name. Tears blurred her vision as she signed the papers and recorded the statement they demanded, voice breaking with every word. Because for her, her children were not part of her life.
They were her life.
And nothing, nothing in this world came above them.
The woman smirked, satisfaction curling slowly across her lips like smoke rising after fire.
"Look," she murmured softly, eyes gleaming with cruel victory. "That wasn't hard."
Inside the room, Arini was getting ready for the havan. She had chosen a soft pink kurti with flowing palazzos, the fabric light, elegant, almost deceptive in its gentleness, because right now nothing about her mood was gentle.
She stood before the mirror, brows furrowed in concentration, fingers wrestling with a stubborn jhumka that absolutely refused to cooperate. The tiny hook slipped again.
"I swear this piece of..." she muttered under her breath, voice tight with irritation, carefully stopping herself from finishing the sentence because one wrong jerk and the earring would fly across the room.
Her reflection glared back at her. Calm face. Sharp eyes. Hidden impatience.
"Let me help."
Aksh's voice came from behind, smooth, steady, dangerously close.
She saw him through the mirror before turning. He was already dressed in a beige kurta pajama, sleeves folded slightly, collar neat, hair still faintly damp as if he had just run his hands through it. The neutral shade somehow made her pink outfit look brighter, warmer, softer. Like his presence itself was highlighting her.
She narrowed her eyes slightly. "No. You will ruin my hairstyle."
He stepped closer anyway, slow and deliberate, like he was approaching a wild animal that might bite. "I won't. Just trust me."
She shook her head immediately. "Nope. Not happening."
She lifted the jhumka again, trying once more, tongue pressing lightly against her cheek in concentration. The hook slipped again.
Before she could try a fourth time, his hand moved. He caught her wrist gently but firmly mid-air.
Her glare shot to him instantly.
His eyes met hers through the mirror. Calm. Certain. Annoyingly confident. They said without words, 'Relax, woman. I know how to do this.'
She didn't pull her hand away.
He shifted even closer, close enough that she could feel his presence like warmth against her back. One hand hovered near her ear while the other lightly steadied her wrist so she wouldn't move.
He examined the jhumka carefully, fingers surprisingly precise for someone who usually handled files, deals, and chaos instead of delicate jewelry.
She watched him through the mirror.
'One mistake' she thought coolly, 'and he is dead today.'
His fingers brushed her earlobe as he adjusted the hook. The touch was light, almost nonexistent, yet it sent a strange stillness through her spine. His focus was intense, brows slightly drawn, lips pressed in concentration as if he were defusing a bomb instead of fixing an earring.
The room grew quiet. Even the air felt still, as if it too was watching.
He closed the clasp of the earring first, fingers steady, careful, almost reverent. The golden jhumka shimmered faintly, its delicate layers and tiny dangling charms catching the light like drops of sunlight. Then he reached for the fine chain meant to drape across her hair. As he adjusted it, his fingers accidentally pulled the left chain slightly tight.
She hissed softly.
The sound slipped out before she could stop it.
He froze instantly. "Sorry, sorry.." His voice softened with genuine concern. He loosened it at once, his touch turning gentler, slower, as though he were afraid the ornament might break or she might disappear if he wasn't careful enough. He adjusted the clasp again, making sure it rested comfortably against her ear, then focused on the chain, placing it with patient precision along her hair.
Meanwhile, Arini had become suddenly, acutely aware of everything.
Of how close he was.
Of how his breath brushed the curve of her ear each time he leaned in.
Of how the warmth from his body seeped into her back, spreading like quiet heat through her spine.
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides. Her shoulders felt too stiff.
He arranged the chains evenly on both sides, letting the tiny gold charms fall in a graceful arc. Then his hands moved behind her head, gathering the strands carefully toward the center of her hair. His knuckles grazed the back of her neck while fastening the hook there, and that single accidental touch sent a small shiver down her skin.
Every movement of his was focused. Intent. Gentle in a way that did not match the usual sharpness in his demeanor.
Once he was done, he didn't move immediately. His hand lingered for a fraction longer than necessary, as if confirming it was secure. Or maybe confirming something else he could not quite name.
"There," he murmured softly. "Done."
She blinked once, still watching him in the mirror, her gaze flickering between his reflection and the ornament resting perfectly against her hair.
He finally stepped back.
And only then did she realize she had been holding her breath the entire time.
Her throat felt suspiciously dry. She cleared it lightly, trying to compose herself, then tilted her head to look at it properly.
It was somehow... perfect.
The layered gold jhumka hugged her ear flawlessly, its delicate chains draping across her hair like a royal ornament, each tiny charm aligned as if placed by an artist instead of hurried hands. Not a strand of hair was disturbed. Not a single angle was wrong.
A small smile spread across her face before she could stop it.
"How did you... wow... it's on perfect spot."
Her voice held quiet amazement, her eyes still fixed on the mirror, studying the way it complemented her, the way it glowed against her dark hair.
After half an hour, they both went downstairs together.
She was looking at her phone, fingers scrolling with the same sharp focus she used while analyzing deals or decoding threats. Meanwhile, he was looking at her, not even trying to hide it. Because Arini, being Arini, had chosen elegance over practicality as always. She was wearing high pointed heels sharp enough to double as weapons, and her long dupatta trailed behind her like a royal banner... except that royal banner was dragging on the ground, collecting dust and danger with every step.
Any second, he was sure, she would trip.
Any second, gravity would win.
His gaze kept shifting between her steps and the floor like a guard tracking a ticking bomb.
She didn't even look up when she spoke, her tone dry and unimpressed. "Aise ghur ghur ke dekhoge toh aakhein bahar aajayengi."
He blinked at her, stunned that she noticed even that while staring at her screen. "Muh ke bal girogi na toh daat tut jayenge."
She finally lifted her eyes and shot him a glare sharp enough to slice ego. "I have habit of this, toh ye faltu ki tension na khud lo na mujhe do. 25 ki age me wrinkles le kar mujhe ghumne ka koi shok ni hai. Tumhe hai toh apni tension apne tak rkho."
Her voice held that familiar bite, that effortless arrogance that somehow sounded less like pride and more like a warning label.
He scoffed quietly, but his eyes still followed her steps.
She saw Ranvijay uncle across the hall and immediately walked in that direction, her steps graceful, measured, composed, as if nothing in the world could ever disturb her. "Happy Birthday, Uncle."
Ranvijay's face softened with warmth the moment he saw her. "Thank you, beta."
Aksh stepped forward as well and wished him, voice polite, posture calm. But the instant he turned his head to say something to her...
She was gone.
Not walked away.
Not stepped aside.
Gone.
His brows knitted together instantly. His eyes scanned the hall, the pillars, the staircase, the corners near the windows. One second she had been beside him, the next second she had vanished like mist slipping through fingers.
Where did she go suddenly?
"What the hell was that, Bhavya?" I snapped the moment I reached the corridor and pressed the phone harder against my ear. My voice was low, but sharp enough to slice steel.
Her voice came from the other end, tight with tension. "Mam, they are original papers. It is true. For now I kept them with me and didn't tell anyone in the company. You are the first one to know this, and you need to handle it or else police will get involved. And once that happens you know media will create a mess out of it."
My jaw clenched.
Of course they would.
Media feeds on chaos the way vultures feed on corpses.
"Bhavya, I don't have time right now," I said, pressing my fingers against my temple. "I am going to sit in havan puja and it will take a few hours, and there's an evening party as well. For now try to delay things. I will sort it out once I get time."
"But mam, they are pressurising too much." Her voice trembled slightly now. Not fear. Pressure. Urgency.
I exhaled slowly.
Silence stretched for a second. Then two.
"Bhavya," I said, voice suddenly calm, dangerously calm, "relax. It's fine if you can't control the situation there. Just do one thing. I am sending you a location. I want you to buy that land. Full payment. I want that land on my name. Alright?"
She paused. "Sure mam. But—"
I cut her off instantly. "No ifs and buts. Tell this thing to Chhavi and buy that land. I will handle the rest."
There was a brief silence. Then, "Okay mam."
I hung up.
My grip on the phone tightened.
That son of a bitch.
Even after dying, he is still creating problems for me.
My lips curved slowly. Not a smile. A promise.
Because some people leave this world...
but their mess doesn't.
And unfortunately for them,
I don't clean messes.
I bury them.
But fine. If they think arresting me will solve their problems... then I'll play it exactly the way they want me to. Cooperative. Predictable. At least until I am here in Rajasthan.
"Arini!"
I turned.
Anu di and Aksh were both calling my name at the exact same time, their voices overlapping in the air like two arrows released together. For a split second it almost looked rehearsed. Coordinated. Suspiciously timed.
I nodded slightly. "Yes?"
"You vanished?"
"Come with me."
They spoke in perfect sync again.
My brows drew together slowly. "I what?"
Anavika di stepped forward first, her expression sharp, eyes scanning my face as if trying to read my kundali . "Come with me. I have something to discuss."
I shifted my gaze to Aksh. "And you?"
He shook his head lightly, hands sliding into his pockets like he didn't want to look invested even though his eyes betrayed him. "Nothing. Just... come outside. I'm waiting near the car. Everyone will leave for the temple in a couple of minutes."
I studied him for a second longer than necessary. He didn't look away.
Interesting.
I gave a small nod.
I walked with Anu di , and then I said "I want you to prepare for a case ."
She turned "What ?"
The whole Rajput family, along with Aakarsh, Arini, and Aksh, arrived at the temple together. The morning air carried the faint fragrance of incense and sandalwood, and the distant echo of temple bells floated like whispers through the courtyard. Without waiting for anyone, Arini walked straight inside, her steps calm yet purposeful, and Aksh moved beside her, naturally matching her pace as if his feet had memorized her rhythm long ago.
Behind them, Reet, Ranvijay, and Anavika stayed near the entrance, carefully taking out the essentials for the puja and havan, arranging the prasad plates, camphor, flowers, and sacred threads , etc.
Arini bent slightly and removed her heels, placing them neatly to the side. The cool stone floor kissed her bare feet as she stepped inside. In the center stood the massive Shivling, dark and powerful, adorned with fresh belpatra leaves and droplets of water glistening like tiny stars on its surface.
She joined her hands slowly and closed her eyes.
Inside her mind, her voice whispered in reverence,
Om Namah Parvati Pataye...
Aksh stood beside her, half a step behind, instinctively giving her the front place as if acknowledging her silent authority. He folded his hands and closed his eyes too, and almost in the same breath, both of them prayed,
Har Har Mahadev.
Her lashes remained lowered, unmoving. Behind those closed lids, memories began to rise one after another. Every victory. Every wound. Every betrayal. Every solution she carved out with her own hands. Every storm she survived between her last visit to this temple and today flickered through her mind like scenes from a relentless film. She wasn't just praying. She was measuring her journey.
Beside her, Aksh opened his eyes slightly.
And instead of the Shivling, he looked at her.
Like a complete fool in love.
One and a half months ago, they had stood here together for a ritual, bound by circumstances, motives, and unspoken calculations. Back then his presence beside her had purpose, strategy, intention.
Now it had none of those.
Now he just wanted to be there.
That was the biggest change. Not the situation. Not the alliances. Not the risks surrounding them.
His heart.
While Arini silently prayed for her father's healing, for strength, for control over the storms waiting ahead, Aksh prayed for something entirely different.
Her safety.
And the right to stand beside her, not for a mission, not for a deal, not for a plan.
But forever.
Arini opened her eyes and turned , and saw him "I'll be back in a moment ."
He nodded and she left .
Once she was completely out of his sight, her presence fading from the air like the last note of a song, he turned slowly, almost reluctantly, and then stepped forward toward the Shivling. The noise of the temple softened around him, as if the world itself knew this moment was not meant to be interrupted.
He stood there for a second, just staring.
Then he exhaled softly.
"Yaar Bholenath... thoda toh bholapan mujhpe bhi dikhao na," he murmured under his breath, voice half-pleading, half-complaining, like a child sulking to someone he trusts more than anyone. "Pata nahi kaunsi mati maari gayi thi meri pichle das saal se..."
He paused, throat tightening. His hands slowly came together again, fingers pressing harder this time, not out of ritual, but desperation. Then, with a quiet scrape of cloth against stone, he kneeled down.
"Bhaari mistake ho gaya tha, Maalik," he whispered, eyes fixed on the dark sacred stone. "Aur us ek galti ki itni lambi saza mil gayi... ab itni saari puja bhakti ka thoda sa fal bhi de do na."
(It was a big mistake, And I got such a long punishment for that one mistake... Now please give me a small reward for all this worship and devotion. )
He inhaled deeply, chest rising, and suddenly lifted his hand, pointing his index finger toward the Shivling like he was arguing with an old friend.
"Dekhiye Bholenath," his voice trembled but did not break, "das saal se jo kuch bhi maine kiya, sab confusion me tha. I thought I was correcting a mistake. I thought I was balancing some karmic scale. I thought staying away was the right thing. I thought it was just a guilt... But now everything is clear. That all was real , true feelings for her and I was blind. Too blind to see what was in front of me."
He swallowed hard.
"And now... now you cannot snatch it back from me. You cannot. I have already lost too much."
His finger slowly lowered. His shoulders dropped a fraction, the fight draining out of him, leaving only truth.
He joined his hands again.
"I know I don't deserve her." he admitted quietly. " And I know that dragon won't even let me stand near deserving her,". He gave a faint, broken smile. "But aap toh sab jaante ho na. Aapne sab dekha hai."
(But you know everything, don't you? You've seen it all.")
His voice cracked this time.
"I hurt her. I blamed her. I didn't trust her when she needed me the most. I didn't know the truth about that incident and still I judged her. I chose doubt over her."
His shoulders dropped. His voice lowered.
"But I promise. Kasam se. That will never happen again. I swear. If I ever doubt her again, if I ever stand against her instead of beside her, then I will never show my face here again. Not in your temple. Not in front of her. Not in this fucking world."
Silence wrapped around him and He closed his eyes..
He swallowed, then spoke softer, almost fragile.
"She isn't the same Arini Rajvansh anymore. She has changed. She is stronger. Colder. Untouchable. She doesn't believe me. She doesn't trust me even a bit."
He shook his head softly. "And I am not complaining. I deserve that."
A faint smile touched his lips, soft and foolish.
"But Bholenath... ittu si dosti toh karwa do. Just friendship. Bas itna sa. Baaki dil me jagah mai khud bana lunga. I will earn her trust back. I will fight for it. I will bleed for it if needed."
He rubbed his face with both hands.
"Bas meri furious dragon ko thoda sa friendly bana do mere liye."
(Just make my furious dragon a little friendlier for me.)
A small huff escaped him.
"Aise ghur ke dekhti hai na... lagta hai kacha chaba jayegi. Every cell in my body gets scared when she gives that look."
Then he straightened slightly and added quickly, almost defensively, looking back at the Shivling, his expression softened completely.
"But I am not complaining. Not at all. I am ready to handle her anger. Her silence. Her sarcasm. Her walls. Everything."
He pressed his forehead lightly against his folded hands.
"I just need one chance. Final. Last. That's it."
He stayed there for a few seconds longer, hands still folded, eyes steady, heart louder than any temple bell. For the first time in years, his prayer had no pride.
Just surrender.
A figure stood half concealed behind a carved stone pillar, still as a shadow yet alert as a predator. Their eyes were sharp, calculating, absorbing every single word that left his mouth. Not a breath was missed. Not a pause ignored.
A faint scoff slipped from their lips, low and dismissive, the kind of sound that carried contempt without needing language.
Then, without a sound, the figure stepped back into the corridor's darkness and walked away, their footsteps dissolving into the temple's silence like they had never existed at all.
Unaware of being overheard, Aksh remained kneeling, eyes shut, hands tightly joined. His lips moved in a quiet chant, almost childlike in its urgency.
"Please... please... please..."
Just for her.
A soft hand tapped his shoulder.
His entire body jolted, shoulders tensing, breath catching halfway in his chest as he turned sharply.
"You?"
She stood there.
Arini.
Calm. Composed. Watching him like she had caught him doing something illegal.
She gave a small nod, arms folding loosely. "What in the world are you asking for like this, on your knees, Aksh?"
He exhaled, a nervous half laugh leaving him as he pushed himself to stand. "You almost scared me, Arini."
He bowed quickly toward the Shivling, composing his expression before turning back to her, but the faint trace of vulnerability still lingered in his eyes, refusing to disappear completely.
She chuckled softly, head tilting, curiosity glinting in her gaze.
"I'm genuinely curious to know what thing made the great Aksh Singhania drop to his knees in front of Bholenath."
There was mischief in her tone.
Challenge in her eyes.
And something unreadable beneath both.
He didn't hesitate.
"You."
Her brows knitted instantly. "What?"
For a fraction of a second, his honesty almost stayed.
Then instinct stepped in.
He cleared his throat, gaze shifting away as he adjusted his sleeve. "I mean... your revenge gets successful," he corrected smoothly, voice returning to its usual controlled tone, "and maybe a bit more success for myself as well."
She made a small "O" face, lips parting in amused realization.
But she didn't look convinced. Not even a little.
*****
After two hours, the havan puja was finally completed. The sacred fire had softened into glowing embers, thin spirals of smoke still rising as if reluctant to leave the prayers behind. The chants faded. The bells stilled. The air carried the lingering scent of ghee, sandalwood, and burnt offerings, heavy with devotion and secrets alike.
Reet and Ranvijay left soon after, taking prasad and donation items to distribute across Rajasthan, their convoy moving with ceremonial purpose. Their departure left behind a strange quiet, the kind that settles after rituals, when the world exhales and reality returns.
Meanwhile, the rest of them headed back to the palace.
The moment Arini's feet touched the cool marble floor of the parking area, something inside her shifted. The calm devotee vanished. The strategist returned.
She didn't slow down. Didn't glance around. Didn't speak.
She rushed inside.
Her phone was already in her hand before she crossed the hallway. She dialed Bhavya while walking, voice low, sharp, precise. By the time she reached her room, she had pushed the door open with her shoulder, stepped inside, and moved straight to her laptop like a commander stepping into a war room.
The screen lit up.
Files opened.
Focused on upcoming problem .
On the terrace, Aksh stood alone.
Wind brushed against his kurta, ruffling the fabric as he stared at the horizon, but he wasn't really seeing the view. His mind was somewhere else, replaying the moment where Arini had almost caught his truth.
He exhaled slowly.
"She didn't believe me," he muttered under his breath, not annoyed, not upset, just... certain.
And strangely, he didn't mind.
Because if she had believed him so easily, she wouldn't be her.
But he was oblivious to that person who heard his whole prayer and conversation with that shivling .
Elsewhere in the palace, Aakarsh and Anavika walked toward her room, their footsteps echoing lightly in the corridor. The door shut behind them, and the silence that followed was not peaceful.
*****
It was now evening. Everything was ready for the party. The palace that had looked majestic in daylight had transformed into something almost unreal under the golden glow of chandeliers and strings of lights. Soft music floated through the corridors. Servants moved swiftly with trays and decorations, making final adjustments as if preparing a stage for royalty.
Reet and Ranvijay were getting ready in their room, unaware that tonight's celebration would hold far more than just laughter, dance, and birthday wishes.
Arini was already ready.
She stood near the mirror earlier, and even now her reflection lingered in memory like a painting carved into time. She wore an Indo western ivory outfit that looked less like clothing and more like moonlight stitched into fabric. The fitted ruched top traced her frame flawlessly, while the flowing palazzo shimmered with every movement, threads catching light like quiet sparks. Over it, the long embroidered jacket fell like a regal veil, its intricate detailing whispering elegance with every step she took.
Her hair was styled perfectly, soft waves resting over her shoulders like deliberate poetry. Her makeup was subtle, almost deceptive, just enough to enhance, never enough to overpower. She didn't look dressed up.
She looked inevitable.
Aksh had matched her with his own Indo western outfit, coordinated without being obvious, elegant without trying too hard. But the real glow wasn't from his clothes.
It was from him.
He was practically walking on clouds.
Because earlier, when he had asked her to be his dance partner for one performance tonight, he had expected resistance, sarcasm, maybe even a threat disguised as a reply.
Instead, she had simply said yes.
No argument.
No glare.
No conditions.
For Aksh, that wasn't just surprising.
That was history being rewritten.
He was still replaying that moment in his head like a favorite scene he didn't want to end.
Meanwhile Arini, calm on the outside and calculating within, had a completely different storm brewing behind her composed expression.
Yesterday she had challenged Anavika.
Not dramatically.
Just enough for it to sting.
She had declared, with that quiet dangerous confidence of hers, that she would be the one to own the stage tonight.
And ironically, Aksh, completely unaware, had helped her accomplish exactly that. His dance request had handed her the perfect opportunity, the perfect spotlight, the perfect stage to prove a point.
Her lips curved slightly.
Because for Arini, where Anavika is present , parties were never just parties.
They were arenas between two bestfriends and the battle is about to rock it.
And tonight, she intended to win.
And apart from this , she had found the upcoming problem and it's cure . So , it will be double bash .
Aksh was carrying her phone carefully in one hand, as if it were some priceless artifact, and in the other pocket he had kept an extra handkerchief for her, along with her lip gloss. He would never admit it aloud, but he remembered these tiny details about her. Things she never asked for, yet always needed.
Meanwhile, Arini carried herself.
Not just her outfit.
Not just her confidence.
She carried her presence like a storm wrapped in silk.
She looked like a dream in ivory, soft and luminous under the palace lights. But beneath that angelic glow was same devilish soul .
Anavika stood near the sound console, transferring the songs she had chosen for her performance. Her movements were precise, controlled, almost competitive. Arini watched her for a second, then slowly took her phone from Aksh's hand without breaking eye contact with Anavika.
He already knew that look.
Arini walked toward Anavika with measured steps, heels clicking softly against the marble floor. She attached the wire to her phone and tilted her head slightly.
"Ohh... I think I disturbed tonight's loser," she said, her lips curving into an almost sinful smile.
Anavika scoffed, though her jaw tightened. "We'll see that."
Arini nodded as if she genuinely agreed. "Definitely, partner. We will see that by the end of this party."
The word 'partner' dripped with mockery.
Generally, wherever Arini went to parties, she went as the CEO. Or she went because her family was hosting. In both cases, her spine stayed straight, her smile curated, her words measured. There was no room for reckless laughter. No space for careless fun. Every move she made was watched. Judged. Calculated.
Her image was a brand. She herself is a brand.
And brands don't stumble.
But here, in this palace, things were different.
Whenever she attended parties with Anavika here, it was chaos in the best way. Loud music. Competitive dancing. Teasing. Arguments that meant nothing and everything at once. No board members. No media eyes. No strategic smiles.
Just pure, unapologetic enjoyment.
She had celebrated countless birthdays, festivals, and ceremonies in this very palace, organized by Reet and Ranvijay Rajput. From childhood till now, these halls had seen her laughter echo freely. Some of her best memories lived here.
Here, parties meant full bangers and zero filters.
Puja meant complete devotion.
Work meant strategies drawn with clarity and precision.
Meanwhile, everywhere else in her life, it was different.
Parties meant silent deals behind champagne glasses.
Puja meant negotiating with God about survival.
Work meant war.
And tonight?
Tonight she wanted just fun And victory.
*****
"Happy Birthday!"
The entire hall echoed in unison the moment Ranvijay stepped inside. Party poppers burst in the air, colorful confetti raining down like celebration itself had decided to take physical form. Loud clapping filled the hall, music rising in the background, laughter blending with the golden glow of chandeliers.
Ranvijay paused at the entrance for a second, slightly taken aback, then smiled, that warm, steady smile that carried both authority and affection. He nodded gently. "Thank you, everyone."
Reet stepped forward, pride shining in her eyes. "This is all done by Aaru and Anu. They planned everything and executed it beautifully."
Arini and Anavika exchanged a glance before walking toward him together. They hugged him, almost at the same time, their movements perfectly synced despite their endless rivalry.
Arini pulled back slightly and spoke, "Raani maa is giving the whole credit to us when she was the one who made sure that every single detail is perfect."
Her tone was playful, but her eyes were sincere.
Ranvijay looked at Reet, his expression softening even more. "Thank you, Reet."
Arini instantly stepped beside Reet, placing a dramatic hand on her hip. "Uncle, you gave me and Anu di a hug when you found out we planned this and you said just a 'thank you' to Raani maa. Not fair."
Without waiting for a response, she gently pushed Reet a little forward.
There was a brief second of silence, then Ranvijay chuckled and wrapped his arms around Reet properly this time, pulling her into a hug "Thank you, Raani sa."
The hug lingered just enough to make it meaningful.
Arini and Anavika looked at each other and gave a perfectly timed high five, grins stretching across their faces like two mischievous masterminds whose plan just succeeded.
Reet tried to maintain composure, but her cheeks had already flushed pink. "Anything for you," she said softly.
Arini and Anavika immediately hooted, clapping dramatically and grinning like teenagers who had just caught two college lovebirds holding hands behind the library.
"OOHHHH!" Arini exaggerated, pointing at them.
Anavika added fuel to the fire with a teasing whistle.
Ranvijay finally pulled back and looked at Arini with mock seriousness. "Is that enough or do I need to thank her more efficiently, Your Honor?"
Arini tilted her chin upward thoughtfully, pretending to evaluate the scene like a judge in court. "Oh, it was perfect. Approved."
Reet muttered under her breath, shaking her head, "These days, young kids are too much."
But the softness in her eyes betrayed her.
Then both of them left to greet the guests, their smiles effortlessly slipping into place like royalty stepping into a court. Arini watched them disappear into the crowd for a second, satisfied, then turned and walked toward Aksh with quiet purpose in her steps.
"Did you capture it?" she asked, lowering her voice slightly, as if the moment they had just witnessed was something sacred that needed preservation.
He nodded and handed her the phone without a word.
She looked at the screen, her eyes scanning the photo of Ranvijay and Reet mid-hug, confetti frozen in air around them like suspended stars. A slow smile curved her lips, softer than her usual smirk, almost... fond.
"You should've become a photographer instead of a businessman," she murmured. "This looks so good. You caught the exact moment. The expression, the lighting, the timing... everything."
Then her brows knitted slightly as her gaze shifted to the notification bar. "Why is Ms. Agnivanshi constantly calling you?"
Aksh didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached out and gently picked a few stray confetti pieces tangled in her hair, careful, precise, making sure not a single strand shifted out of place. His fingers moved with surprising delicacy, like he was handling glass instead of paper bits.
"You can ask her why she's calling," he said calmly. "I don't want to ruin my mood right now."
"Why should I ask?" she replied, still scrolling through the photos. "She's your assistant."
He removed another tiny piece from near her temple, eyes focused, movements slow so her hairstyle wouldn't be disturbed even a fraction. "Last time when you warned her not to call after hours, it really worked. Since that day, she's barely called. And today suddenly..." he gestured vaguely, "...this many calls."
A soft chuckle slipped from her lips, amused and a little dangerous. "So what? You want me to do that again?"
He shrugged lightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. "I mean, if you want to."
She handed his phone back, her expression returning to its usual composed mischief. "I have better things to do."
One hour later, the cake had been cut, its sweetness still lingering in the air along with laughter and camera flashes. Guests had enjoyed their food and drinks, conversations blending into a pleasant hum across the hall. The traditional songs had echoed with grace, the classical dances had painted elegance across the stage, and now the celebration had shifted into that charged silence which comes right before something unforgettable.
Ranvijay and Reet settled onto the couch placed in front of the stage, side by side, their expressions relaxed yet expectant, awaiting a performance crafted solely for tonight. Around them, guests adjusted their seats, glasses paused midway to lips, whispers fading into anticipation.
Then Anavika stepped forward.
She picked up the mic with slow confidence, the lights catching the sharp glint in her eyes. Her posture alone commanded attention, chin lifted, shoulders squared, presence impossible to ignore.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she began, her voice smooth yet ringing clear across the hall, "a party doesn't feel like a party until the stage has been set on fire... and frankly, I don't feel the rise in temperature yet."
A few amused murmurs rippled through the crowd.
She tilted her head slightly, a teasing smirk forming. "So fasten your seatbelts... or your hearts might just fall out of your chest. Because trust me, you are not ready for what's coming next."
Then lights changed and bass of a song become audible and the audio was increasing by each passing second . Then two spotlights fell on stage and revealed Aksh and Aakarsh , both unprepared but from past one hour while everyone were eating , Arini and Anavika had made them practise for dance .
Hoo akkhan de katore, surma batore
Lagde chichore bade Hi-Fi
The music burst through the speakers like a spark hitting dry fuel, and Aakarsh stepped forward right on cue, body snapping into rhythm as if the beat itself had pulled invisible strings attached to his limbs. His expression stayed perfectly aligned with the one they had drilled during practice, playful arrogance mixed with effortless charm, the kind that made the crowd lean forward without realizing it.
Dil pe daraati, saade chal jaati
Maare dil gulati, pooche why why
Aksh joined him smoothly, sliding into position like a second flame catching the same wind. His body swayed with fluid confidence, every movement polished yet natural. Years of dancing with Arini during childhood functions and school events showed in the way his shoulders rolled to the beat and his feet landed exactly where the rhythm demanded, as if music had always known his name.
Haan akkhan de katore, surma batore
Lagde chichore bade hi-fi
Dil pe daraati, saade chal jaati
Maare dil gulati, pooche why why
Chai mein dooba biscut ho gaya
The audience chuckled and clapped along as the tempo lifted. Both of them mirrored each other with razor sharp timing, feet tapping, shoulders bouncing, wrists flicking in playful precision. Their synchronization was so tight it looked less like practice and more like telepathy.
Main toh ainvayi ainvayi ainvayi ainvayi lut gaya
Ho main toh ainvayi ainvayi ainvayi ainvayi lut gaya
Main toh ainvayi ainvayi ainvayi ainvayi lut gaya
Ho main toh ainvayi ainvayi ainvayi ainvayi lut gaya
Their signature move landed perfectly with the chorus, drawing whistles from the younger guests and delighted laughter from elders. The stage lights flashed across their faces, catching the gleam of confidence in their eyes and the thrill of performance running through their veins.
Haye hatt re nigode, neem ke pakore
Pichha kyon na chhode, ghume dayein bayein
Then Anavika entered from the left like a storm wrapped in grace, her step sharp, her chin tilted, her expression dripping with mock annoyance as she pushed Aakarsh lightly with her elbow in rhythm. She lip synced each word dramatically, brows lifting, lips curling, every expression exaggerated just enough to make the crowd burst into applause.
Tujhko sudharoon, jutti main utaroon
Sar pe de maroon tere dhayein dhayein
Arini slid in from the opposite side, grabbing Aksh's hand and pulling him forward before pointing a sandal at him exactly the way they had rehearsed. Her eyes flashed mischief, her smirk lethal, her timing flawless. The gesture looked teasing on surface, but the intensity she carried turned even that playful threat into a scene stealing moment.
Romeo bina permit ho gaya
Now the stage belonged to all four. Their movements locked together like gears of the same machine, spins matching spins, claps striking air at identical angles, feet stamping the floor with a rhythm strong enough to echo through the hall. It no longer felt like a performance. It felt like a celebration erupting into motion.
Tu toh ainvayi ainvayi ainvayi ainvayi lut gaya
Tu toh ainvayi ainvayi ainvayi ainvayi lut gaya
Ho tu toh ainvayi ainvayi ainvayi ainvayi lut gaya
Tu toh ainvayi ainvayi ainvayi ainvayi lut gaya
Ho main toh ainvayi ainvayi ainvayi ainvayi ... lut gaya
Ho main toh ainvayi ainvayi ainvayi ainvayi
Ho main toh ainvayi ainvayi ainvayi ainvayi
Ho main toh ainvayi ainvayi ainvayi ainvayi ... lut gaya
Then the beats shifted again and the lights snapped from warm gold to electric neon, slicing through the hall like streaks of lightning. Aksh and Aakarsh stepped down from the stage with dramatic flair, yielding the battlefield as if they knew what storm was about to take over.
All eyes turned.
Arini and Anavika stepped forward into the spotlight, their silhouettes cutting through the haze of light. In one synchronized motion, they lifted black sunglasses to their eyes, the gesture slow, deliberate, dripping with attitude that felt almost dangerous. The crowd erupted even before the next beat dropped.
Sun lo sari duniya walon
Jitna bhi tum zor laga lo
Karenge party sari raat
Gaane mein dum hai to band karwa lo
Arini lip synced each line like she owned the lyrics, her expressions sharp and playful at once. Her chin tilted with challenge, brows lifting in mock dare, lips curving into a smirk that promised chaos. Every flick of her wrist and sway of her hips matched the rhythm perfectly, like the music itself was following her lead instead of the other way around.
Aaj botlan khullan do
Daru sharu ghullan do
Whisky da peg laga ke..
Saari duniya bhullan do
Anavika mirrored her energy effortlessly, stepping in with equal fire. Her shoulders rolled to the beat, her stance bold and unapologetic, her movements teasing yet powerful. Together they looked less like dancers and more like two rival queens sharing a throne for one night only, each refusing to be overshadowed, each shining brighter because of the other's presence.
Bajaate raho, sabki
Bajaate raho, sabki
Bajaate raho, sabki
Bajaate raho..
They danced in perfect coordination, circling each other like playful challengers. Every time Anavika lip synced "Bajaate raho," Arini snapped her head toward the audience and mouthed "Sabki" with a wicked grin, pointing outward as if she had personally chosen her next target. Their timing was razor sharp, their chemistry electric, their rivalry turning into entertainment gold.
Aunty police bula legi
Aunty police bula legi
Aunty police bula legi
Aunty police bula legi
Phir bhi party yun hi chalegi
Party yun hi chalegi
Party yun hi chalegi
Party yun hi chalegi...
They grooved harder as the chorus blasted, steps growing bigger, spins sharper, laughter flashing between them like sparks , heels tapped, hair swayed, and the stage lights reflected off their sunglasses, hiding their eyes but somehow amplifying their presence.
The lights shifted again, brighter this time, pulsing like a heartbeat through the hall. They slid their sunglasses off in perfect sync and tossed them aside, reclaiming the center of the stage with twice the fire, twice the confidence, twice the danger. The air itself seemed to tighten with anticipation as if the room knew something explosive was about to unfold.
Anavika stepped into the first line smoothly and revolved around Arini, her hand resting lightly on Arini's shoulder as they rotated in flawless rhythm, their movements stitched perfectly to the beat like choreography carved into muscle memory
Poonam ke chand ko,
Ghoonghat ke neeche chhupa ke
Laayi tere liye, duniya se nazrein chura ke
Her voice matched the lyrics with teasing expressions while Arini tilted her chin, eyes half lidded with mischief. Right on cue, Arini ducked her shoulder, letting Anavika's hand slide off as she glided forward to take over her verse, the transition smooth as silk yet sharp as a blade.
Peechhe kuwan, aage mere khaai
Tu hi bata jaun main kahan
Mujhko dua kiski lagi bhai
Aake padhara hoon jo yahan
Her steps flowed with the rhythm, hips swaying, feet tapping in crisp precision. The audience could barely blink, afraid they might miss even a second of it. Then both of them jumped lightly in sync, landing together and rolling their shoulders into a fluid wave that rippled down their bodies like electricity traveling through water.
Ille fikar, aaja idhar
Beat pe laga le tu thumka
They threw every ounce of energy into the hook step, movements sharp, playful, commanding. Anklets chimed, heels struck, wrists flicked, and their expressions shifted between challenge and invitation like they were daring the crowd to keep up.
1 2 3 4 get on the dance floor
One Two Three Four get on the dance floor
Booti shape, pooti shape
Dappan koothu hard core
Shoulder hichak michak, body hichak michak
Give me, give me, give me, give me, give me, give me, some more
Near the stage, Aksh murmured under his breath, almost stunned, "What an intense stamina they have." His eyes followed every move, equal parts impressed and completely captivated.
Ho aankh bhi, jaane kahe, bhadke meri bhadke meri baayi
Kundali pey hoo jaise ulti dasha ulti dasha aayi
Anavika took this verse, stepping forward with bold footwork, lip syncing with dramatic flair, her brows lifting and dropping in rhythm, shoulders snapping with precision. Her aura screamed confidence, like she was born for stages and spotlights.
Latak matak latak matak si chaal thi
Arey bhatak bhatak dhyan sabhi ka
Bhaiya dhadak dhadak dhadak dhadak dil na chhupa hua
Aaya bada sant kahin ka
Then Arini stepped in and claimed the stage completely. Her movements sharpened, spins faster, pauses more deliberate, every beat landing exactly where it should. She didn't just dance, she commanded attention, pulling every gaze toward her like gravity had shifted in her favor.
Ho khatre ki kyoon ghanti lage
Gori tere kaanon ka jhumka
Together they exploded into the signature step again, power surging through their synchronized motions, feet striking the floor in perfect unison, hair swaying, expressions blazing. The crowd's cheers rose louder, claps syncing with the rhythm as if the entire hall had become part of their performance.
One two three four get on the dance floor
Booty shape, pooty shape
Dappan koothu hardcore
Shor naal hichak michak, party hichak michak
Give me, give me, give me, give me, give me, give me, some more
PLAY : 'Ghunghroo Toot Gaye' by Arijit Singh , Vishal-Shekhar [WAR film]
The lights went off so suddenly that the hall gasped as one. Darkness wrapped around the stage like a curtain of suspense. Anavika and Arini stepped down gracefully, breaths still slightly uneven from the intensity of their performance. The four of them had practiced only till that point, that was the plan, that was the limit.
But then, just as murmurs began to ripple through the crowd, a single spotlight returned, pale and soft like moonlight spilling onto the stage. The air shifted. The music that followed was no longer loud or fiery. It was slow, velvety, intimate.
Met In The Sun And Sand
The Sea In The Night
And I'm Feeling Alright
And I'm Feeling Alright
Aksh stepped onto the stage alone, his figure glowing under the lone beam. He lip synced softly, movements fluid and unforced, his body swaying with the rhythm like he belonged to the melody itself. His expression held a calm confidence, but beneath it was something warmer, something deeper.
Below, Anavika and Aakarsh exchanged surprised looks. This wasn't rehearsed. This wasn't planned. This was him, choosing the moment.
Kyun Lamhe Kharab Kare
Aa Galti Beheesab Kare
Do Pal Ki Jo Neend Udi
Aa Poore Saare Khaawb Kare
He extended his hand into the soft light, palm open, inviting. For half a heartbeat nothing happened. Then another hand slipped into his.
Arini stepped onto the stage.
A small smile curved her lips, the kind that wasn't meant for the audience. It was meant only for him. This song needed no rehearsal, no counts, no cues. Their bodies remembered it. Years ago, they had danced to this very track at their annual function and had stolen the spotlight along with the Best Dance of the Night award. Muscle memory and memories of laughter returned at once.
Kya Karne Hai Umron Ke Wade
Ye Jo Rehte Hain Rehne De Aadhe
Do Baar Nahi Ik Baar Shahi
They swayed left and right in slow waves, her standing just ahead of him, his presence close enough to feel but not touch. Then their fingers intertwined, and with a gentle pull he twirled her like royalty, placing her beside him with practiced ease.
Ek Raat Ki Kar Le Tu Yaari
Subah Tak Maan Ke Meri Baat
Tu Aise Zor Se Naachi Aaj
And they both slipped into the signature step while looking straight into each other's eyes first, as if the world around them had dissolved into silence, and then slowly turned their gazes toward the audience together, perfectly timed, perfectly aligned. The stage lights shimmered over them like molten gold, and for a second it felt less like a performance and more like a duel of rhythm and charm.
Ki Ghungroo Toot Gaye
Ki Ghungru Toot Gaye
She placed one hand lightly on his shoulder, fingers barely resting yet steady, and revolved around him once, her steps sharp yet graceful, fabric swirling like a soft storm around her ankles. The moment she completed the circle, she snapped back into the signature step again, heels striking the floor with crisp confidence.
Chhod Ke Saare Sharam Aur Laaz
Main Aise Zor Se Naachi Aaj
Ki Ghungru Toot Gaye
Ki Ghungroo Toot Gaye
She moved forward during this part, syncing every lyric with precise expressions, her brows lifting, lips curving, eyes glinting with mischief. Each motion she made seemed to carry its own spotlight, as if even the lights obeyed her presence.
Dil Lena Dil Dena Zaroori Nahi Hai
En Baaton Ke Siva Bhi Baatein Kai Hai
Ek Lamhe Se Jaada Ki Khaawhish Nahi Hai
Fir Chaahe Dowara Na Milna Kahi
He stepped closer, gently catching her hand, his fingers closing around hers with practiced ease, and twirled her smoothly. The spin was flawless, her hair fanning out for a heartbeat before settling back like silk falling into place. He matched the next steps with her instantly, their movements mirroring each other as if they were reflections instead of two people.
Mere Sapne Nahi Sidhe Saade
Hain Galatfamiyan To Mita De
Do Baar Nahi, Ek Baar Shahi
Ek Raat Ki Kar Le Tu Yaari
Subah Tak Maan Ke Meri Baat
Tu Aise Zor Se Naachi Aaj
They slipped into the hook step again, sharper this time, stronger, as if they had saved the last burst of energy just for this final strike. Their feet hit the floor in perfect rhythm, shoulders snapping, expressions fierce yet playful, and for those few seconds the entire hall felt like it was moving to their command. Every beat echoed through the marble walls, through the chandeliers, through the crowd that stood frozen in admiration.
Ki Ghunghroo Toot Gaye
Ki Ghunghru Toot Gaye
Chhod Ke Saare Sharam Aur Laaz
Main Aise Zor Se Naachi Aaj
Ki Ghungru Toot Gaye
Ki Ghungroo Toot Gaye
And then the music stopped.
Not faded. Stopped.
The last note snapped into silence like a thread pulled tight, and for a heartbeat the hall held its breath with them. Arini's chest rose and fell slightly from the exertion, a faint sheen of effort glowing on her skin, while beside her he remained poised, eyes still locked on her and a hand on her shoulder to help her calm down .
Then-
Applause exploded.
Not just clapping. A full eruption. Cheers, the sharp rhythm of palms colliding filled the air and bounced off every wall. Some guests even rose halfway from their seats without realizing, pulled to their feet by pure adrenaline.
Reet and Ranvijay stood up completely, smiles spreading across their faces, pride shining openly in their eyes as they clapped for them. Their applause wasn't polite. It was warm, loud, and filled with that unmistakable affection reserved only for people who had just stolen the entire show.
They both stepped down from the stage, the echoes of applause still ringing faintly in the hall like a lingering spell. Their breaths had barely steadied when Reet moved closer, eyes shining with pride and amusement.
"You four were absolutely amazing," she said warmly, her voice carrying that soft authority only affection could give. "And Aksh and Aaru, your last performance... it didn't just impress. It stole the stage completely. For a moment I forgot there were other people in this hall."
Ranvijay nodded in strong agreement, his expression glowing with satisfaction. "Bilkul. Jaan daal di tum logon ne party mein. You didn't perform, you ignited it. Now go, all of you, eat something and rest. You've danced enough to exhaust an army. Especially you, Arini. You pushed yourself the most."
Arini gave a small obedient nod, though her eyes still held that familiar spark of defiance that never truly rested. She turned slightly, about to walk away with her usual composed stride, when suddenly—
An arm wrapped firmly around her waist.
Another slid beneath her knees.
And before she could even react, the ground vanished from beneath her feet.
The world tilted.
The next second she was in the air.
Aksh had lifted her effortlessly, like she weighed nothing more than a whisper. His grip was steady, unshaken, his expression calm yet faintly amused as if this outrageous act was the most natural thing he could have done.
"She will rest, Uncle," he said smoothly, smiling at Ranvijay and Reet as though carrying a furious woman bridal-style was a perfectly reasonable conclusion to the evening. "Good night, everyone."
Arini stared at him in utter disbelief, eyes wide, lips parted, brain still catching up with reality. "Put me down, you giraffe," she snapped under her breath, her voice sharp but hushed enough that only he could hear.
He tilted his head slightly toward her, gaze steady, tone low and dangerously calm. "I've already told you. My neck is within your reach. Snap it and break free from my arms. Otherwise, my dear Mrs. Singhania..."
His hold tightened just enough to make his point unmistakable.
"Shut up," he murmured, "and let me do what I'm doing."
And despite the glare she shot him, despite the fire in her eyes, he kept walking forward without the slightest hesitation, carrying her through the hall as if he had every right in the world to hold her like that.
Every single day of my life feels like an episode of Khatron Ke Khiladi, because right now my beloved wife might actually murder me for what I'm about to do. And honestly, I wouldn't even blame her. I deserve it. But sacrifices must be made in the name of her well-being... and unfortunately today, that sacrifice might be my nose.
Once we stepped inside the room, she changed into comfortable clothes and walked straight to the balcony with her laptop, like a warrior returning to her battlefield. That laptop is officially my sautan. It steals her attention, her time, her focus, her everything. And normally I tolerate it. But tonight? Tonight she danced for hours, burned half her energy, ignored food, ignored rest, and now she's planning to work again like she's powered by lightning instead of blood.
Which means... intervention is necessary.
I had already brought food for her because I know her. If left alone, she would happily conquer empires on an empty stomach and collapse later without realizing why. But food isn't enough. She needs sleep. Real sleep. And convincing Arini to rest voluntarily is like convincing a storm to calm down politely.
So my current mission: kidnap her away from my digital rival and trap her in bed.
Simple plan.
Deadly execution.
Because trapping Arini sounds easy only in theory. In reality it's a life-risking operation. One wrong move and she will break my nose, my jaw, and probably my pride in under three seconds. Still... I made Bholenath my ally today. Divine backup is on my side. And I'm doing this for her.
Yes, Aksh. You have height advantage. Strength advantage. Determination advantage.
You can do this. Probably. Hopefully. Maybe.
I grabbed a thick duvet from the closet like a soldier picking up armor, then tiptoed toward the balcony. She was sitting facing away, fully absorbed in her screen, fingers moving rapidly, mind miles away. Perfect chance. Now or never.
Come on, Aksh. Do it. Before courage runs away.
In one swift motion, I wrapped the duvet around her like a cocoon, leaving only her head free, and locked my arms around the bundle.
"What the hell is wrong with you!" she snapped instantly.
Her fists started landing. Fast. Sharp. Deadly accurate. I got dragged half a step back from the force of her resistance, but the duvet absorbed everything like a shield. Her attacks hit fabric instead of bone.
Thank God for quilts.
Before she could free her arms, I lifted her like a sack of potatoes, securing the bundle tighter.
"I will kill you, Aksh!!"
"Put me down, you jerk giraffe!!"
Ignoring the threats to my life, I carried her to the bed, dropped her gently onto it, and immediately lay beside her, still holding her captive. I trapped her legs with mine over the duvet too, sealing every possible escape route. She glared at me like I was a criminal mastermind who had just committed a national crime, twisting and struggling, but adrenaline had taken over my survival instincts.
This was war.
And I was fighting for my future.
"If this duvet wasn't here," she hissed, eyes blazing, "I would've ended your future generations. I swear."
"I know," I nodded sincerely.
"THEN MOVE ASIDE, DAMN YOU."
I shook my head calmly.
"Sleep, Arini. You need rest."
"I'm not tired. Now move."
"Even if you're not tired, close your eyes and sleep. I'm not going anywhere. Either you sleep... or you stay trapped like this."
This stubbornness is absolutely going to cost me tomorrow. She will take revenge. Brutally. Creatively. Possibly publicly. But for now? I'm accepting my fate.
"Kaha fass gyi hun main..." she muttered, sighing dramatically. Then louder, "I'm not sleepy or tired or dizzy or anything, Aksh."
"Still sleep. It's almost midnight."
"It's just 11 pm."
"Same thing."
I heard her curse under her breath. Then she exhaled slowly, surrendering just a little.
"I will kill you tomorrow."
"I have no issues," I replied peacefully. "Anyway we're going back to Mumbai tomorrow."
She shook her head. "No... we need to stay here a few more days. Maybe one week."
One week?
I hummed. "Fine. But close your eyes now."
"Aksh I—"
Before she could continue, I pulled her slightly closer, her voice muffling against my chest. I rested my chin gently on her head and started patting her back slowly, rhythmically, my fingers brushing through her hair in soft strokes.
"Just close your eyes," I murmured quietly. "If you're still awake at midnight, I'll move aside and let you work. Okay?"
She paused. Then nodded reluctantly. "Finee."
It's been five minutes.
Five very long, dangerously peaceful minutes. She hasn't said a word, hasn't tried to punch me again, hasn't threatened to assassinate my bloodline. But she's not asleep either. I can feel it. Her eyelashes keep brushing against my neck in tiny, feather-light flickers, like soft whispers of rebellion reminding me she's still very much awake and very much plotting something.
"Arini," I murmured softly, tightening my hold just a fraction, "close your eyes also."
"I don't want to."
Of course she doesn't.
"Can you please listen to me once?" I tried again, voice lower, patient, almost pleading.
"No."
God. This woman. If stubbornness ever decided to take human form, it would borrow her soul, her attitude, and her terrifying determination. Mountains would move faster than her decisions.
I exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling like a man negotiating with destiny.
"Okay," I said finally, bargaining like a businessman signing a risky deal. "I will fill the fuel in your BMW for the entire month. From my own money. Personally. Now please close your eyes."
Her blinking stopped instantly.
Silence.
Then her tone shifted, suspicious but interested. "Sachchi?"
I hummed softly, hiding my smile against her hair. "Muchchi."
She adjusted slightly in my arms, still wrapped like an annoyed burrito, but this time her resistance melted just a little. Just enough for victory to peek through.
"Fine," she muttered, settling her head more comfortably against me. "Only till midnight."
Deal accepted. Victory secured. Survival extended .
[A/N : Arini be like - Vaise toh mai bdi sakt hun par yaha (BMW ke liye) mai pighal gyi ]
Dear Bholenath, show me a sign that you have accepted my prayer. Just one sign. A microscopic hint. A divine notification. Anything. Because right now my fate, my bones, and possibly my future children's existence all depend on whether this woman decides to sleep or not.
If Arini sleeps before midnight, I'm taking it as a clear yes from you. A celestial confirmation. A holy stamp of approval. But if she doesn't... well, then honestly I won't survive long enough to interpret any signs anyway, so the result will still be clear.
I shifted slightly, careful not to loosen my hold on her, and lowered my voice to a whisper meant only for the universe to hear.
Please sleep, my furious dragon.
Because when she's awake, she breathes fire. When she's annoyed, she breathes lava. And when she's sleep deprived, she becomes a full natural disaster with legal authority to destroy me.
Her lashes brushed my skin again. Slow. Heavier this time. Not rebellious. Not plotting. Just... tired.
I held my breath.
Come on, Mahadev. I've negotiated with billionaires, faced boardrooms, handled crises, survived her temper. But this... this is the real test of faith.
Just this once, put the dragon to sleep.
His fingers kept moving in slow, absent-minded circles at the back of her head, gentle, patient, almost reverent. She was wrapped inside the duvet like a larva in its cocoon, tucked, secured, protected from the world and from herself. The soft rhythm of his touch worked like silent hypnosis, easing the knots inside her mind one by one without ever announcing what it was doing.
SLEep began to creep over her senses quietly, cautiously, as if even it feared startling her. Her muscles loosened first, the rigid tension melting from her shoulders, then from her spine, then from her jaw. Her breathing changed next, shallow breaths turning deeper, slower, steadier, each inhale softer than the last.
And he felt everything.
Every shift.
Every sigh.
Every fraction of weight she unknowingly let rest against him.
The closeness made him aware of details no one else would ever notice. The faint warmth of her cheek through the fabric. The delicate flutter of her lashes when her mind tried to fight the drowsiness.
Minutes stretched.
Then more.
Around half an hour later, despite her insomnia, despite her iron defenses, despite her midnight threat to beat the life out of him, she lost the battle.
She fell asleep.
Not deeply yet. Not fully surrendered. But enough.
Her lips parted slightly, her expression softened, and the fierce sharpness she carried all day dissolved into something achingly peaceful. The storm was gone. The thunder silenced.
In sleep, she looked nothing like the woman who terrified boardrooms, strategized wars, and glared like she could end lives with a glance.
In sleep... she looked fragile. Quiet. Human.
And he didn't dare move even a millimeter, afraid that if he did, the spell might break and the dragon might wake.
It continued like that, the quiet stretching gently around them, thick with stillness and warmth. Time slipped past unnoticed until his eyes finally drifted toward the clock on the wall.
1 AM.
Midnight had long passed.
And she was sleeping.
Not pretending. Not resisting. Not plotting revenge in her head. Actually sleeping.
He blinked once, almost suspicious of it, as if the clock might be lying to him. But no, the second hand kept ticking, steady and undeniable. He had won. Or rather, sleep had won. And for once, she had let something win against her.
Very carefully, like a man diffusing a bomb instead of lying beside a woman, he tilted his head down a fraction. It was a risk. A dangerous one. Because if she woke up and caught him staring, his obituary would be printed before sunrise.
Her face wasn't visible.
It was buried against the curve where his neck met his collarbone, hidden in the shelter of him. All he could see was the crown of her head, the soft line of her hair, and the slow rise and fall of her breathing brushing against his skin. Each exhale warmed him, feather-light, steady, real.
A smile slipped onto his lips, quiet and disbelieving, like someone who had just witnessed a miracle meant only for him.
"So it's a yes from Mahadev," he whispered to himself, voice softer than the night.
As if sealing that silent blessing, he lowered his lips and pressed the faintest kiss on the top of her head, right along her hair partition. It was so light it barely counted as touch, more like a promise breathed into her hair than a kiss.
Then he rested his chin there again, carefully, protectively, like that spot had always belonged to him.
Constant ringing of my phone dragged me out of sleep, sharp and insistent, like reality yanking me back by the collar. I groaned, half-awake, half-lost in whatever dream I had been floating in, and blindly reached for it.
"Boliye chachu," I mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.
There was a pause on the other end.
"Arini, what happened? Your voice seems different."
Different?
My brows knitted lazily. "Yeah... I slept early yesterday and just woke up," I blurted without thinking, words spilling out before my brain could even catch up.
Silence.
Then, slowly, carefully, "What?"
"Haa chachu, I slept before midnight and it's just—"
My eyes shifted toward the clock.
And froze.
8 AM.
My spine straightened instantly like someone had poured ice water down it.
"Chachu, I'll call you later. Bye."
I cut the call before he could say another word.
For a second I just sat there, phone still in my hand, staring at the clock as if it might apologize and change its answer.
8:02 AM.
The room was bright. Sunlight streamed through the open windows, soft golden rays sliding across the floor. Curtains swayed lazily in the morning breeze, whispering against the walls. Everything looked peaceful.
Too peaceful.
My heartbeat slowly began to pick up.
How did I sleep for this long?
I hadn't taken medicine. Hadn't drunk anything. Hadn't even been exhausted enough to pass out. And I remembered sleeping. Clearly. There was no blackout, no dizziness, no blur.
Just sleep.
Real sleep.
Then yesterday's words slammed into my mind like a flashback ripping through a screen.
"Just close your eyes. If you're still awake at midnight, I'll move aside and let you work. Okay?"
"Finee."
"I will fill the fuel in your BMW for the entire month. From my own money. Personally. Now please close your eyes."
"Sachchi?"
"Muchchi."
"Fine. Only till midnight."
My eyes widenedd.
Oh fuck. I actually fell asleep.
Like that. In his arms.
My hand instinctively touched my hair, then my neck, then the pillow beside me, as if I might find proof of it there. Heat crept up my ears.
What is wrong with me? How can I... how can my mind...
Did my insomnia just... surrender?
Or did he do something?
No. No. Impossible. I don't sleep like that. I don't relax like that. I don't trust like that.
Then how? How did I fall asleep so easily?
I pushed the blanket aside and stood up quickly, eyes scanning the room, alert now, sharp again, instincts snapping back into place.
Empty. No sign of him.
I narrowed my eyes slightly, lips pressing into a thin line as suspicion slid back into my veins like it had never left.
"Where's that kidnapper..."
I swear, if I found him, I would give him such a brutal kneeshot that not only he but his next ten generations would remember exactly who ended their bloodline. The kind of strike that echoes through ancestry. The kind legends warn their descendants about.
With that vow burning inside my chest, I marched to the bathroom, took a quick cold shower to steady my nerves, and dressed with calculated precision. A crisp blue shirt. White flared pants. Hair pulled into a sharp ponytail. A blue pendant resting against my collarbone like a quiet threat.
I looked at myself in the mirror one last time. Calm face. Perfect.
My phone buzzed in my hand. Three messages from Bhavya.
Bhavya: Mam, the work you gave is done.
Bhavya: You were right, they had ordered Rajasthan police now.
Bhavya: Chhavi ma'am and I have boarded the flight.
I closed the chat and stepped out of the room, the door clicking shut behind me with a quiet finality. The corridor was still, washed in soft morning light, but my mind was anything but calm. My eyes scanned the hallway like a predator searching for prey.
Specifically, prey with green eyes.
I walked downstairs, silent steps, sharp gaze, senses alert. And there he was.
In the kitchen. Peacefully doing something.
Peacefully.
After legit kidnapping me like that yesterday.
The audacity.
The calm on his face made my blood boil even more. As if he hadn't carried me off like some caveman claiming territory. Oh, he was dead now.
I pushed the kitchen door slowly, carefully, letting it close behind me without a sound. Then in one swift movement, I lunged forward and wrapped my forearm around his neck from behind, locking him in a chokehold and yanking him back with full force.
"You will not be able to see tomorrow's sunrise, Aksh fucking Singhania."
He choked, shoulders jerking as he tried to breathe. "Arey suno toh—"
"Mujhe nahi sunna kuch!"
He tried to pry my arm away. "Arey meri jaanleva biwi, it was for your own good."
I kicked the back of his knee.
His leg buckled instantly and he dropped onto one knee with a sharp, "Ow!"
"That was for calling me that nickname," I said coldly, tightening my grip around his neck, pressing just enough to remind him I absolutely could end him if I wanted.
Then—
Something warm and sweet drifted into my nose.
A smell.
A dangerous smell.
My brows twitched. I paused for a fraction of a second, nostrils flaring slightly as the aroma wrapped around my senses like a trap. But my arm didn't loosen.
"Ye kya kha rahe the tum?"
"Bolne dogi toh bataunga na!" he croaked dramatically.
I released him abruptly.
He coughed, hand flying to his throat as he inhaled sharply, then stood up and turned toward me, eyes watering slightly but lips already twitching with suppressed amusement.
"I wasn't eating anything," he said, adjusting his sleeves. "I was making it for you."
I narrowed my eyes. "Meri shakal mein bewkoof likha hai kya? Matlab tum kuch bhi kahoge aur main maan lungi?"
Without arguing, he simply picked up a bowl and held it in front of me.
"Look. I was making this for you. Thoda meetha khaogi toh meetha bologi. Par nahi, tum toh meri jaan ke peeche hi padi rehti ho."
I blinked. I leaned closer to inspect.
Looked at the bowl.
Looked at him.
Looked at the bowl again.
"You made this? You? With your own hands?"
"Arini," he said dryly, "unfortunately I was not able to learn how to cook from my legs. So yes. I made it with my hands."
Jerk.
I blinked again, slower this time.
"You made Ghewar for me??"
"It's your favorite, right? So I thought... yesterday's compensation." he said casually, but there was something careful in his tone. Something hopeful.
My disbelief deepened. "You made GHEWAR... for ME... alone?"
"Yes," he said calmly. "And if you don't believe me you can ask anyone in this palace. Or inspect the utensils. Or call forensic department to match my fingerprints with the kitchen evidence."
I stared at him.
He did all this... for me.
And I knew how hard Ghewar was. It wasn't some instant dessert. It was delicate, stubborn, technical. The batter consistency. The oil temperature. The layering. It almost never comes out perfect on the first attempt. Even professional cooks messed it up on first attempts.
He reached for my hand before I could say anything and gently pulled me out of the kitchen, guiding me toward the dining chair like I was someone fragile instead of someone who had just tried to choke him.
"Here. Eat it," he said, placing the plate in front of me. "Then rate it out of ten."
I picked up a piece of Ghewar.
It looked perfect. Crisp edges. Even golden texture. Syrup soaked just enough.
Took a small bite.
My eyes widened on their own.
I took a bigger bite. Then slowly looked at him.
"It's same like—"
I stopped.
He finished softly, "Like Swayam uncle made?"
My throat tightened. "How did you know?"
I whispered. "It's the same taste. Same sweetness. It's perfect."
He smiled, small but proud. "Ruhani maa had told me once that your papa had a diary. He wrote down all the recipes that you and your mom liked. So... I asked her to send a few of them."
I blinked rapidly.
He did not just cook. He researched.
He asked. He tried.
He remembered.
My chest felt... strange.
"So?" he asked, leaning slightly forward. "Rate it out of ten."
Infinite.
I cleared my throat, forcing composure back into my voice. "It's 10 on 10."
He looked relieved, like he had been holding his breath for hours.
"You did all this for me?" I asked, disbelief and something far softer flickering in my eyes before I could hide it. The anger had melted somewhere between the first bite and his explanation.
He nodded without hesitation. "This is the bare minimum I could do."
For a brief moment, everything felt still. Safe. And then it shattered.
The mansion doors burst open. Wood slammed against the walls with a violent crack that ricocheted through the marble corridors, the sound sharp enough to slice through conversation all at once. Boots thundered inside, heavy, authoritative, unapologetic. The air shifted instantly, like someone had drained warmth out of the room and replaced it with steel.
A group of police officers stormed in. Before anyone could react, before a single question could form, the SHO's voice cut through everything.
"We are here for Mrs. Arini."
Silence.
The kind that presses against your ears. The kind that makes every heartbeat sound loud. The kind that turns celebration into suspense within seconds.
So it started. Today's entertainment.
Lights. Camera. Action.
I stepped forward. Calmly.
Every step measured, heels touching marble like I was walking into a board meeting instead of a confrontation. My face held no panic, no confusion, no anger. Just stillness. Just control.
"Yes."
The SHO unfolded a paper and held it up, the crisp rustle of it sounding strangely dramatic in the quiet hall. "There's been an FIR filed against you in a murder case. You need to come with us to the station and you are free to assign a lawyer for yourself."
Murder.
For a fraction of a second, something cold slid through my veins.
Not fear. Recognition.
Ah. So that's the move they chose.
I nodded once, slowly, as if he had merely informed me about a delayed meeting.
Then I turned my head. My gaze locked straight onto Anu di.
Not hurried. Not startled. Direct.
A smile curved on my lips.
The kind of smile that carries a message only the other person understands. I gave a small nod to her.
Then I extended my hands forward. "Sure. No problems."
Gasps whispered through the room like wind through dry leaves. Someone shifted. Someone inhaled sharply.
I did not look at anyone else.
Not at the officers.
Not at the family.
Not even at him.
My eyes stayed forward, steady, unblinking, as the cold metal cuffs closed around my wrists with a sharp click. The sound echoed louder than it should have. Like a starting gun.
They began escorting me out. And I let them. Back straight. Chin high.
Expression unreadable.
The walk from the hall to the entrance felt longer than usual. Not because of distance. Because of eyes. So many eyes. Shocked. Worried. Suspicious.
Watching.
But I did not look back. Not once.
Outside, the police vehicle waited with its door open like a silent invitation. Flashing lights painted the mansion walls in red and blue streaks. Somewhere beyond the gates, I could already sense movement. Curiosity.
They guided me into the vehicle. I stepped inside without resistance and sat down as if this were my choice, not theirs. The door slammed shut. The engine started.
And as the vehicle rolled forward toward the police station, I leaned back slightly, wrists still bound, expression calm, pulse steady.
Because this was not chaos. This was a game. Not chess , yet . But UNO.
And they had just made their first move without knowing that I have all +4 , +2 and skip cards .
Arini stepped inside the police station.
The air smelled of old files, dust, and authority. Tube lights hummed faintly above, their pale glow flattening every color, every shadow, every expression. Boots scraped against the floor somewhere in the corridor. A typewriter clacked in the distance. The place wasn't loud, yet it wasn't quiet either. It was the kind of silence that listened.
She exhaled slowly.
"Calling the land owner in station like this? Swagat toh kariye hamara."
Her tone was light. Too light.
The SHO frowned, confusion tightening her brows. "What?"
Arini tilted her head slightly, the ghost of a smile resting on her lips, calm and composed as if she were hosting them instead of standing detained inside their station.
"I do respect police. They are doing a very important job," she said gently, voice smooth as silk. "But not doing homework is not appreciated. Go to your seniors and ask whom you've brought here."
No anger. No fear. Just certainty.
Then, without waiting for permission, she pulled a chair back and sat. Casually.
As if this were her office and they were guests. She didn't mention the handcuffs.
Didn't complain. Didn't protest. She simply rested back slightly and folded her hands loosely in her lap, eyes calm, breathing steady.
"I've got all the time in the world," she added, almost lazily. "And I do have a reputation, so I won't run. And I am certainly not carrying any weapons. So relax."
That last word landed softly, yet it somehow sounded like an order.
The SHO stared at her for a moment longer, measuring, reassessing, recalculating. Then she turned and left.
The remaining officers stayed. Standing. Watching.
Guarding.
Minutes passed. Not long.
Arini didn't fidget. Didn't shift. Didn't sigh again. She simply waited, gaze drifting once across the room, absorbing details, exits, windows, distances, habits. Her stillness wasn't patience. It was observation.
Finally, footsteps returned. The SHO walked back in "Open her hands."
The command was immediate.
One of the constables stepped forward and unlocked the cuffs. The metal released with a click, and the moment the pressure left her wrists, Arini leaned back in her chair as if she had always owned that space.
The SHO spoke again, voice formal now "You are free to get yourself a lawyer. You may roam around in this station property freely and can have any type of basic necessities fulfilled. But you are not allowed to step out from here, or we have permission to shoot you directly."
No hostility. Just procedure.
Arini nodded once. "Sure. Thanks."
Simple. Polite. Controlled.
The SHO turned to leave.
"Mam, wait."
The officer stopped and looked back. Arini's expression remained perfectly pleasant.
"Actually," she said, tone almost apologetic, "I have a back pain. So I would really appreciate if I can get a couch rather than this half-broken chair."
Not a demand.
Not a request.
A statement disguised as courtesy.
The SHO studied her for a second, then nodded slightly and said something to the SI beside her before walking out again.
And Arini? She stayed exactly where she was.
Relaxed.
Poised.
Unbothered.
Like a queen who had simply decided to inspect a police station for amusement.
Meanwhile, the news reached Reet. For a second she didn't react. Then it hit.
"They arrested her for murder? And you guys were watching it?"
Her voice wasn't loud, yet it carried something heavier than anger. Shock. Fear. Disbelief. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the table as if she needed something solid to hold onto, because the thought of Arini in a police station did not sit right in her chest. Not Arini.
Anavika answered calmly, almost too calmly. "Maa, that's Arini. You know her. She might be relaxing in the police station as well."
Reet turned to her sharply, eyes flashing. "Kaisi baat kar rahi ho Anu. Bechari pareshan hogi vo vaha. We should go there for her help."
Her concern was real. Maternal. Protective. The kind that refuses logic and listens only to instinct.
Behind them, Aakarsh muttered under his breath, voice barely audible. "Help toh unn police valo ko lagegi ab."
Anavika ignored him and spoke again, tone softer now, trying to steady her mother's worry.
"She already called Chhavi as her lawyer. She'll reach the station in an hour. Arini will be out. Nothing will happen to her."
She sounded confident. Certain.
But only because she knew Arini.
Just then footsteps echoed from the staircase.
Aksh.
He descended quickly, expression tight, jaw locked, mind clearly running ten steps ahead of everyone else. He was already heading toward the main door when Reet stopped him.
"Beta, where are you going?"
"I'm going to the station," he replied without slowing. "Even if she gets bail, until Chhavi arrives it'll be better if someone stays there."
"No need to go there," Anavika said immediately.
He stopped. Turned. "And why should I obey you, Queen Victoria?"
Her eyes sharpened. For a split second it looked like she might actually throw something at him. Her hand twitched near the fruit knife lying on the table. She controlled herself, walked up to him instead, and spoke low enough that only he could hear.
"Tumhari kismat achhi hai ki Arini ne warn kara hai mujhe pehle se. Varna backyard ko main tumhari graveyard bana deti."
Her voice was sweet. Her threat wasn't.
Then she inhaled slowly, forcing her temper down. "This is all Arini's plan. She told me not to let anyone go to the station until she returns."
Aksh's eyes narrowed. "And why do I trust you?"
"Fine," she said flatly. "Step out from this palace and it'll be the last time you'll ever walk."
Silence stretched between them. A challenge. A test of wills.
He held her stare, unblinking, then gave a small nod "Okay. But if I find out she never said that, then you will have a hard time working under me in Ranvijay uncle's upcoming project."
And just like that he turned and walked away.
No argument.
No drama.
Just a warning placed neatly on the table between them.
Anavika watched him go, lips pressing into a thin line before she muttered under her breath, "Dono miya biwi ek jaise hain. Dhamki dene me sabse aage. Iss Aksh ke toh jyada hi parr nikal rahe hain."
Yet despite her words, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.
Because whether she admitted it or not, she knew one thing very clearly about Arini. Whatever was happening at that police station right now. She was already ten moves ahead.
Here, in the station, Arini sat alone in a corner. Not like someone detained. Like someone observing. Her posture was relaxed, one ankle resting over the other, fingers loosely interlocked in her lap, but her eyes, her eyes were alert, sharp, calculating. They moved slowly across the room, scanning every officer, every movement, every whisper, every exchanged glance. She didn't look nervous. She looked like she was studying a chessboard.
Like she was searching for a piece.
Then the station's SI approached her. He stopped beside her and said, voice dipped in false sympathy, "The case against you is very strong, Madam."
She turned her head toward him, expression calm, almost bored, and nodded once.
"Case strong ya weak hone se farak nahi padta. Proofs and records ke sath jab tak court approval na de, tab tak I am just an accused person."
Her tone was polite. Her words were precise.
He sat beside her without permission.
Her brows knit slightly, displeasure flickering in her eyes, but she stayed silent, letting him speak, letting him reveal more.
"But the evidences are very strong," he continued. "And the opposition party is very sure. Chances of their victory is higher. They got a very famous lawyer as well."
She tilted her head a fraction. "Famous?"
He nodded eagerly. "Yeah. Chahal Chandani. Very new lawyer but with very high win rates."
A soft chuckle slipped from her lips. "Oh. Impressive."
The SI shifted closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
"If you don't have a better lawyer, I have some great connections. I'll get you even better lawyers. Though money must not be a problem for you... as you own this land where this station is made."
Her gaze hardened, just a shade. "Connections either aren't a problem for me."
He laughed lightly, mistaking her restraint for compliance.
"Yeah, yeah, definitely. But Madam, why hustle for anything? I know you rich people. Murders and kills aren't a big thing for you. If you don't want a scar on your image, just tell me. Their every evidence will be erased. It's not the first time. There have been so many cases... murders, violence, rapes even. But the world runs on money. And who wants to mess with rich people?"
Her jaw tightened. For one dangerous second, the air around her felt colder.
Her fingers curled slowly into her palm, nails pressing against skin, fury rising like venom in her veins. She wanted to snap his throat right there. Wanted to wipe that smirk off his corrupt face. But she didn't.
She inhaled.
Exhaled.
And asked calmly, "You guys clear images of rich people?"
He nodded proudly, arrogance dripping from his voice.
"Not all. People like the SHO of this station and a few officers are honest. But their honesty doesn't help anyone. Every file goes through us. I present each case to her. And a little false information... changes everything. If corruption is bringing me wealth, what's wrong in it?"
Her fist tightened again. Then loosened. Slowly.
"Persone come te non meritano di vivere in questo mondo. Persino l'inferno sembra una benedizione per te," she murmured under her breath.
[People like you don't deserve to live in this world . Even hell sounds like a blessing for you .]
He blinked. "What?"
She stood. Face blank. "Nothing."
Then she added, voice cool as glass, "And I don't need your help. By the way... meet my lawyer. Ms. Chhavi Malhotra."
She gestured toward the entrance.
He turned.
A woman in formal attire walked in with calm authority, files in hand, heels echoing across the station floor like a verdict already decided.
Chhavi stopped beside Arini. "Arini. You got bail for now. But tomorrow you need to be present in court."
Arini nodded once, then looked back at the SI. "I hope you've heard about her. The lawyer with 100% win rates. And yes... Chahal Chandani worked under her for two years. He was a good intern."
A pause. A faint smile. "It'll be nice to see him in court."
Her words landed softly. But they struck like bullets.
Then she turned, spine straight, presence unshaken, and walked out of the station beside Chhavi, leaving behind a silence that felt heavier than noise.
"That motherf*cker Inspector. I will kill him." The words tore out of me like a gunshot as my fist slammed into the wall.
Thud.
Pain shot up my arm, sharp and electric, skin scraping against concrete. My knuckles burned instantly, the skin turning red, then darker, blood rushing beneath the surface like rage had taken physical form. But I didn't flinch. I didn't even blink. The sting felt deserved. Necessary. Like punishment for not snapping that man's neck when I had the chance.
"Arini... mera hi room mila tha tumhe gussa nikalne ke liye? Batao toh kya hua?" Anu di's voice came, calm but alert, eyes scanning me carefully.
I turned sharply and placed both my hands flat on her table, leaning forward.
"That fucker SI. He is a corrupt bitch." My voice was low, shaking, not with weakness but with fury barely held on a leash. "How simply, how casually, with that smug face he confessed that he helps rich people... and promotes them to continue whatever crimes they want."
My chest rose and fell harder. Breath hot. Jaw tight. I dragged a hand through my hair and exhaled slowly, forcing my pulse to slow before I actually went back and committed murder for real.
"He said it like it was an achievement. Like it was something to be proud of. That he helps criminals, harassers, rapists... just because they're rich and he gets paid."
My eyes lifted to hers. "Do you even understand, Anu di? People like him aren't just corrupt. They are the reason monsters walk freely. They are the reason victims never get justice. These kinds of people..."
My voice dropped to a cold whisper. "...are a scar on humanity."
She didn't interrupt. Didn't argue. She simply slid a glass of water toward me. "Calm down, Arini. Drink this first. Sit."
The authority in her tone wasn't loud, but it was enough.
I sat. Picked up the glass. Drank it in one go.
The cold water slid down my throat, cooling the fire just enough so I could think again instead of burn.
"I wanted to end him right then and there," I admitted quietly. "God knows how hard it was to stand there and listen. Every second felt like I was committing a crime by letting him breathe."
Silence lingered for a moment.
Then she asked gently, "But you got what you wanted, right? Rest I'll handle."
I nodded once.
Without a word, I reached up, unclasped the chain around my neck, opened the tiny concealed lock in my pendant, and placed it on her desk.
"It has both voice and video recording. Video quality might be slightly low... but faces are recognizable. Every word he said is recorded."
Her eyes flickered with approval. She nodded. "Good. Go now. You need to explain all this to Chhavi as well."
I picked up my phone. Didn't say anything else. And exited her room .
It's not like I'm some kind of saint. Not some shining hero. Not a heroine wrapped in righteousness who turns blind whenever darkness breathes nearby.
I see it. I recognize it. I live in it.
Because I am not innocent either.
I am a villain too.
I destroy lives. I end people. I take revenge. I cross lines others are too afraid to even look at. My hands are not clean, my conscience is not white, and my path has never once been lit by moral fairy tales. I have walked through blood, through betrayal, through ashes of people who thought they could burn me first.
But there is a difference.
A difference so sharp it could slit truth open.
I don't kill for pleasure.
I don't destroy for greed.
I don't harm for sport.
I do it for justice.
For revenge.
For betrayal repaid.
For blood that demanded blood.
For wars that were declared against me long before I picked up a weapon.
In Aakarsh's realm, the rule is simple. Brutal. Absolute.
Death for death.
And I follow it without apology.
It's been almost six years since I stepped into this underworld of shadows, deals, secrets, and silent wars. Six years of knives hidden behind smiles. Six years of reading lies in people's pupils. Six years of becoming something the world would fear if it ever truly saw me.
And yet...
Not once.
Not even once.
Have I touched an innocent.
Not a child.
Not a helpless soul.
Not someone whose only crime was existing.
Because monsters who prey on the defenseless are not predators.
They are parasites.
I don't wait for karma. I don't sit back hoping the universe will balance scales someday. I don't trust law, nor fate, nor destiny to punish evil.
I become karma.
I deliver what they earn.
Exactly how they earn it.
No more. No less.
But that Inspector...
That man isn't a wolf. Wolves have honor.
He's a lice.
A parasite that feeds on the very people he is sworn to protect. One who drinks from the veins of this country's citizens, grows fat on corruption, and breeds more filth like himself while the system weakens beneath him.
People like him don't make mistakes.
They are the mistake.
And mistakes like that... don't deserve mercy.
Good thing mercy was never something I was known for giving.
And he won't get it either.
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BLURB : [One blurb from the previous chapter is still remaining but yeah it will be covered in next chapter ]
She gently lifted Varika's injured hand, her fingers trembling slightly as she turned it carefully to examine the swelling. Her eyes flickered with deep concern, scanning every bruise and every faint discoloration as if she could absorb the pain herself. Her brows furrowed, and her voice softened despite the worry that was evident in it.
"How did it get fractured, Varika?" she asked, almost afraid of the answer.
Varika forced a faint smile, though the memory still sent a sharp sting through her body. "Me and my friends went on a trip," she began slowly, her voice carrying both hesitation and embarrassment. "We were climbing near a rocky hill. I slipped on a hard stone and fell badly. I felt immense pain immediately. It was unbearable, like my bones were screaming. I couldn't even move my hand properly. When the doctor checked it later, they confirmed it as a fracture."
She paused, remembering the shock on her friends' faces, the panic, the hospital's antiseptic smell, and the way her world seemed to narrow down to nothing but pain.
Arini let out a deep sigh, the kind that carried frustration mixed with fear. "How careless you guys are," she muttered, though her tone wasn't angry, it was protective. "You never think before doing anything adventurous. This isn't just a small injury. It will take a few months to recover properly. And sometimes... even after healing, the impact stays forever."
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"Who is he? Who is helping us?" a man's voice echoed in the darkness.
The screen in front of him was pitch black, but it wasn't just a blank monitor. Behind that darkness, someone was listening. Watching. Breathing. His face remained hidden, concealed deliberately, as if anonymity was his greatest weapon.
There was a brief silence, heavy and suffocating.
"Someone very sharp-minded," the person behind the screen finally replied, his voice calm yet dangerously steady. "He is a predator. Ruthless. Patient. I convinced him to hunt her."
A faint smirk curved on his unseen lips.
"The story I fed him was fake," he continued, almost amused by his own deception. "But that doesn't matter to me. Truth is irrelevant when desire is involved."
His tone darkened.
"I want her," he said, each word slow and deliberate. "And I can go through any means to get her. Manipulation. Lies. Destruction. It doesn't matter."
The darkness around him felt alive, as if it approved of his intentions.
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[19.3 K+ Words ]
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Your Author ~ ITA 🫶
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