♡~°~♡𝓣𝓗𝓔 𝓡𝓘𝓝𝓖♡~°~♡

Jay shree krishna🦚🧿

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Author's P.O.V.......

The Next Morning

Radhika was sleeping peacefully under her blanket, covered from head to toe. The room was quiet, golden sunlight slipping through the curtains and spilling across the floor.

Her peaceful slumber broke when her phone began to ring. At first, she ignored it - sleep was far more important than whoever dared disturb her this early.

But when it rang again - twice, and then cut off - she groaned.

With a muffled grunt, she reached out blindly, hand fumbling across the sheets until her fingers brushed against the phone lying near her feet. Half asleep, she kicked it upward and caught it clumsily.

Without even opening her eyes, she answered.

"Kaun hai? Maine pehli baar phone nahi uthaya to tujhe samajh nahi aaya kya? Meri neend mein archan daal raha hai!" she mumbled, voice thick with drowsiness.

English Translation:

"Who's this? Didn't you get the hint when I didn't pick up the first time? You're disturbing my sleep!"

"Are you done?" came a deep, cold, commanding voice from the other end.

Radhika's eyes snapped open.

In one abrupt motion, she rolled onto her back and sat up straight. Her gaze darted to the clock on the wall - 8:13 a.m.

"Rana bhai-sa! Sorry! Jay Jagannath!" she blurted out, her tone instantly changing from sleepy annoyance to alert apology.

"Khamma Ghani," Rana greeted her back, his voice still as sharp and cold as a blade.

Radhika yawned, stretching her arms high above her head with a lazy groan.

"Kuch kaam......tha aapko??" she asked, rubbing her eyes. "Itni subah-subah call kiya hai?"

"Subah-subah?" Rana repeated, mockery curling in his tone - the kind that could make anyone's sleep vanish instantly.

"8 baj chuke hain, Chhoti Thakurain!"," he said, his voice commanding but not entirely unkind.

Radhika blinked twice, lips twitching. "Hmm... okay," she muttered under her breath in defeat.

English Translation:

"Did you need something? You've calling so early!"

"Early? It's already 8 o'clock, Little Thakurain!"

"Yes. I need your signature on some important documents," Rana said at once.

Radhika padded into the bathroom. "Bhai-sha, can't it wait? I just got here, I haven't settled, and I don't even know the address," she offered, a string of excuses ready.

"I'm leaving for a business trip. I'll be gone at least a week, maybe more. Sign them while I'm away." His voice was rough and left no room for argument. "Is that clear?"

"Crystal clear. Clearer than clear," Radhika replied, scrambling for composure. "I'll send you my office address."

"Bhai-sha?" she called again.

"What?" Rana's voice was impatient.

"Is Baba fine?" Her tone trembled with unspoken guilt.

"You should've thought about that before running from your wedding," Rana snapped softly, harsher than he meant to be.

"Bhai-sa," she whispered.

There was a long pause. Rana cursed softly under his breath for being so hard - he knew how fragile she was. "Sorry for my tone. He's fine. Don't worry."

"What about Vedant?" Radhika asked in a low voice.

Vedant Arora is Radhika's fiance.

"Vedant Arora?" Rana sounded irritated before he answered. "What do you think? He made a big scene." Then, softer but firm: "I've got two of my men posted outside your place. Vedant won't do anything."

"Thank you, Bhai-sha." Relief loosened the tight knot in her chest.

Suddenly the phone was snatched from Rana's hand and another voice chimed in.

"Morning, little hamster." Luv's voice, playful and warm, filled the line.

"Morning, Luv bhai-sha And Stop calling me hamster - I'm a grown girl now," Radhika said, half-protesting though she knew Luv wouldn't stop.

"You really ran from your own wedding? Bold move for someone who gets scared of every little thing," Luv teased.

"I'm not scared!" Radhika protested, even as she knew he was right; her pride wouldn't let her admit it.

"Yeah, yeah," Luv laughed, the teasing still in his tone, but then he softened. "By the way... how's your baby?"

Radhika's hand slipped to her flat stomach and she forced a smile she didn't feel. Everyone presumed she was pregnant; the truth was different, and a stab of guilt folded in her chest.

"baby's fine," Radhika whispered. She hated lying, but she'd learned to lie to keep the peace - for Aaina's sake.

"Good. Don't overwork. Take care of yourself and the baby too," Luv said, his voice firm with protectiveness.

Rana snatched the phone back. "Don't stress. If anything happens to you, I'll come myself and drag you back," he warned more fiercely than before.

Radhika swallowed. She heard the unspoken consequence behind his words - a reminder that one wrong move and they'd all be on a plane home to Odisha.

"Yes, yes, I got it. No need for violence," Radhika said with a nervous chuckle, trying to sound casual.

"You better get it," Rana warned, voice hard.

"Okay - how's the mission going? Have you even started anything?" Rana asked, the danger in his tone sharpening the question.

Radhika straightened and stood before the bathroom mirror, staring at her own reflection. "Bhai-sha, I haven't started yet... I was tied up with other work at the office," she answered softly.

"Radhika!" Rana snapped, and she flinched, jerking the phone away from her ear.

"Bhai-sha," Luv intervened gently, and Radhika pressed the phone back.

"Are you even serious about this?" Rana ground out, gritting his teeth.

"Of course I'm serious, Bhai-sha. How could you even think I'm not?" Her voice trembled between desperation and resolve.

"Fine. When I'm back from New York, I want good news - I want results. Do you hear me? I want you doing something about the Randhawas," Rana said, voice iron-cold.

"I will," Radhika promised, steady now. "I'll get on it."

"I'll email you the details about the Randhawas. Check it when you're free," he added.

"I will. Those Randhawas will pay for what they did," Radhika said, voice breaking with determination, an old wound she refused to let heal.

She hung up and set the phone on the counter. In the mirror she took a few deep breaths, forcing herself to calm down.

"Abhimanyu Singh Randhawa... you'll pay for what you did," she murmured under her breath, voice hard. Tears threatened, but she blinked them back.

After a moment, she turned the tap and splashed cold water on her face, washing away the tremor and steeling herself for whatever came next.

"Revenge?" Chiku's voice clicked in her head, mocking.

"Yes. Revenge," Radhika answered-half to herself, half to the small, cruel voice that lived inside her.

"Revenge for what, and from whom?" Chiku prodded, tone sharp and merciless.

"For my pain. For my papa," Radhika said, each word steady, each name spitting iron. "For the Randhawa's-the ones who took everything. Abhimanyu Singh Randhawa... Abhishek Singh Randhawa... and Kalpana Singh Randhawa." The names fell from her lips like verdicts.

"Do you even understand the Randhawa's power?" Chiku sneered, the question laced with derision.

"I know their power," Radhika replied, fingers clenching the edge of the washbasin until her knuckles blanched. "But knowing it doesn't mean I'll let it go. I'll do whatever I can. They won't escape From me."

She let the words settle into the cold bathroom air-an oath, a promise, and the first spark of a war she would not walk away from.

In the other side-

The Randhawa mansion buzzed with life once again. Servants and decorators rushed across the vast marble hall, pulling down the remnants of last night's grand engagement celebration and replacing them with fresh decorations - golden drapes, floral garlands, and shimmering chandeliers for tonight's Mehendi and Sangeet ceremony.

Through the chaos of laughter, orders, and hammering, Rudraksh Singh Randhawa emerged from the upper floor, his presence instantly silencing the noise around him.

Fresh from his morning workout and now dressed sharply in a tailored three-piece charcoal suit, his shoes echoed against the marble with every precise, deliberate step. One hand held his phone pressed to his ear, the other adjusting his cufflinks as his voice cut through the hum of the house - cold, clipped, and commanding.

"No, I'm not coming to the office today. I've got work in the lab. If you need my signature on any documents, send them here. I'll sign them," he said flatly, eyes already scanning the hall.

On the other end was Sameer Sharma, his long-time P.A., who knew better than to argue.

"Okay, boss," Sameer replied, voice crisp and cautious.

"Anything else, boss?"

Rudraksh's gaze darkened, his tone dropping.

"Yes. Is everything ready for tomorrow?"

There was a pause before Sameer answered,

"Yes, boss. I've arranged everything."

"Good," Rudraksh said, the word slicing the air like a verdict. "Don't make any mistakes."

Without waiting for a reply, he hung up.

Crossing the polished hall, he reached the long mahogany dining table, where Mahima and Apurva were seated, both occupied with lists and guest details.

"Good morning," he said, his voice low - polite, but still carrying that quiet authority that never really left him.

Mahima looked up, her expression softening.

"Morning, beta," she said warmly.

Apurva smiled, rising gracefully from her chair.

"Morning," she greeted, moving to serve him breakfast. She set the silver plate before him with practiced care - fresh parathas, fruit slices, and black coffee - the small, familiar rituals that defined the calm before another storm inside the Randhawa mansion.

As Apurva set the plate before him, new footsteps approached.

Abhimanyu arrived with Abhishek - Abhimanyu in a dark brown suit, Abhishek in deep navy. They walked together, deep in conversation. Abhishek held a black file, opened it for his elder brother to sign; without reading, Abhimanyu signed. His trust in his younger brother let him sign anything without a second thought.

They took their seats at the dining table.

"Morning, everyone," Abhimanyu greeted with the same authority he wore like armor, not looking around.

"Morning," Abhishek greets next, and the others responded warmly.

Apurva served their breakfasts, then more footsteps announced Kritika. She entered wearing an olive-green scoop-neck midi dress in retro style, heels clicking softly as she approached.

"Good morning, everyone," she said, taking the chair beside Rudraksh.

Everyone greeted her - everyone but one.

Mahima did not return the greeting.

Apurva placed Kritika's plate before her, then reclaimed her seat and looked at Rudraksh.

"Rudra, did you buy a gift for Kritika?" Apurva asked, strictness wrapped in warmth.

"Gift? Why?" Rudraksh raised a brow.

Kritika looked between them, already knowing he hadn't bought anything.

Apurva inhaled slowly to keep from snapping at her son. "Because after the wedding you must give Kritika a gift. It's ritual." Her jaw tightened with frustration.

Rudraksh glanced at Apurva, then at Kritika, then back at his plate. "Okay. I'll buy something for her," he said coldly, dismissive, and returned to eating.

Apurva's eyes flashed. She set her fork down. "Something? What do you mean by that?"

Rudraksh met her stare.

"Buy something nice - choose it properly!" Apurva's voice left no room for argument. It was an order.

Rudraksh gave a sharp nod. "Okay. I don't have much time. I'll pick something on my way back from the lab."

Apurva opened her mouth, but Mahima gently placed a hand over hers to stop her.

Mahima met Rudraksh's eyes. "Rudra - whatever you bring, make sure it's something she'll actually like," she said, calm and soft.

Irritation flickered across Rudraksh's face. "Chote maa-" he began, but Mahima cut him off.

"Rudra, marriage happens only once. Tomorrow is Kritika's special day - bring something beautiful," she said, firm but not angry. "And just because she won't complain doesn't mean you should hand her the first thing you see."

Rudraksh sighed, sarcastic. "Fine. I'll buy something beautiful and nice. Happy?"

"Good," Apurva said. The threat hung in the air, unfinished. "And if I see you give her something she doesn't like much..." she warned, leaving the end unsaid.

Rudraksh shook his head slightly, irritation flickering in his dark eyes.

Kritika glanced toward Mahima. For the first time in years, Mahima had spoken something-anything-in her favor. It might have been small, but for Kritika, it felt like the first fragile step toward reclaiming the space she'd lost in that woman's heart.

Rudraksh looked at Mahima.

"Chote Maa, whatever I bring for Kritika, she'll like it without complaint-you know that. And you also know she'll like whatever you give her too... isn't it?" he asked, his tone calm but edged with quiet challenges.

Kritika's eyes darted between the two-Mahima and Rudraksh-like watching a storm building between two cliffs.

Mahima didn't answer. She simply looked at Rudraksh, her silence heavier than any words.

"Chote Maa," Rudraksh continued, softer this time, almost pleading, "that incident happened so long ago. Forget it... forgive her... move on from that."

Mahima froze.

The air thickened.

"Move on?" she repeated, her voice sharp enough to cut through the room. She set her fork down with a loud clang, the sound shattering the fragile calm.

"How easily you say that! Forget it. Forgive her. Move on!" she spat the words like venom, her voice trembling with restrained rage.

"It's easy for you to say, Rudra. You can't understand what I feel every time I see her-the person who killed my son! You can't... no one can understand that pain!" Mahima's voice cracked as tears spilled down her cheeks, her grief raw and alive again.

"You'll understand it only when you see your own child die before your eyes-and then someone tells you, 'Forget it, move on.'"

She shouted, the words trembling between fury and heartbreak. "Then you'll tell me how it feels!"

Abruptly, she stood up, chair scraping against the marble, and walked away from the dining table-her footsteps echoing with the weight of old wounds.

A heavy silence fell.

Kritika's eyes are filled with guilt and pain. Without a word, she too stood and quietly walked away, her footsteps softer, smaller, almost apologetic.

Rudraksh sat still for a moment, staring at the empty chair where Mahima had sat. His jaw tightened. He turned sharply, his eyes locking onto Abhimanyu with a glare that could slice through steel-blame, anger, and disappointment all burning in that one look.

Then, without a word, he rose from his chair and walked out of the room, leaving behind a silence that no one dared to break.

»»---->♡<----««

Radhika stepped into the buzzing office right on time.

The newsroom of HotTake Daily was alive with the clatter of keyboards, the low hum of voices, and the rapid shuffle of people chasing deadlines. Reporters moved with purpose, camera crews adjusted equipment, and the faint scent of fresh coffee hung in the air.

Radhika's entrance drew a few glances-not because she was late, but because she stood out.

She was wearing a creamy ivory anarkali, soft silk that shimmered faintly under the fluorescent lights. The dress had a round neckline delicately embroidered with silver and gold zari. The hem was wide and rich, layered with intricate mirror work and sequined patterns that caught every glint of light.

Her dupatta-light as air-was draped gracefully across her shoulders, its edges lined with beadwork and fine lace. Her long hair fell loose in soft waves, brushing against the fabric as she moved. Paired with statement earrings and a small bindi, she looked elegant yet effortlessly confident-traditional grace meeting modern strength.

She walked to her desk, placed her handbag neatly on the corner, and sank into her chair.

Just then, Vedika approached-her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.

"Good morning, Miss Radhika," Vedika greeted, her tone both warm and authoritative.

Radhika stood up immediately, straightening her dupatta.

"Good morning, ma'am," she replied with a polite smile.

Vedika crossed her arms, her expression turning slightly mischievous.

"Today your new partner's joining," she said, her lips curving into a knowing grin.

Radhika's brows lifted. "Partner? Who's the person-she or he?" she asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and nervous excitement.

Vedika chuckled softly. "A girl. Junior journalist. Your new partner." She patted Radhika's shoulder affectionately. "I know you're still new too, but don't worry-I'm always here. Think of me as your elder sister, okay?"

Radhika's smile warmed. "Thank you, ma'am. By the way... what's her name?"

Vedika paused for a second, tapping her chin as if trying to recall. "Uhh... Sunaina. Sunaina Chaudhary."

"Okay... Sunaina," Radhika repeated, the name rolling off her tongue with a small grin.

"Good. Now, back to work," Vedika said before walking off toward her glass cabin, her voice blending into the hum of the newsroom.

Radhika sat back down, adjusting her chair, her fingers already dancing across the keyboard. Her eyes occasionally flicked toward the entrance, waiting for this Sunaina to arrive.

Meanwhile, in another corner of the city-

A sharp crash shattered the silence.

Inside a high-tech laboratory, shards of glass scattered across the black marble floor. The echo of breaking beakers and test tubes rang through the sterile air, followed by a low, furious growl.

Rudraksh Singh Randhawa stood at the center of chaos-his three-piece suit slightly disheveled, his tie loose, his breathing harsh. He yanked off his lab coat and flung it onto the table, the fabric sliding down among scattered papers and instruments.

"Again!" he hissed, glaring at the large digital screen flashing red error lines. "It failed again!"

For two years, he'd been working on this project-obsessed, relentless-and every time, the experiment collapsed before success.

At the far end of the room, I.N.A.A.Y.A. stood motionless. She was dressed in a sleek navy-blue blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt, her red, mechanical eyes gleaming faintly.

Her artificial intelligence didn't comprehend emotions, yet her sensors detected the spike in Rudraksh's stress levels. Anger. Frustration. Rage.

No one dared to move. The other scientists kept their heads down, typing, pretending to focus on their work. They knew-if Rudraksh caught someone's eyes at the wrong moment-that person's career could end before lunch.

Without a word, Rudraksh turned and stormed out of the lab. The heavy glass door slammed shut behind him with a violent thud.

He entered his private cabin-a space that mirrored his mind. Modern. Expensive. Cold.

The walls were adorned with rare art pieces and scientific diagrams, glass shelves filled with books, prototypes, and metallic blueprints.

He walked to the bar in the corner, grabbed a bottle of whiskey, and poured himself a drink.

Without pause, he downed it in one long gulp, the burn tracing fire through his throat.

Then, with a clatter, he slammed the empty glass onto the counter.

His reflection glared back at him from the mirror above the bar-eyes dark, jaw tight, fury simmering like acid beneath his skin.

»»---->♡<----««

Afternoon - 02:30 PM

Radhika finally finished the article Vedika had assigned.

She hit "save," shut down the computer, and exhaled deeply.

"Finally done," she murmured, leaning back in her chair. Her arms stretched high above her head, body arching lazily after hours of sitting. Hunger growled in her stomach, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since morning.

As she looked around, she noticed most of the staff were gone-only a few remained, either finishing their meals or wrapping up their last-minute work.

She stood, grabbed her bag, and walked toward the elevator.

The Office Canteen;

The elevator doors slid open with a ding, revealing the canteen buzzing with activity.

The space was modern and sleek-rows of polished wooden tables, cushioned chairs, and warm lighting that gave it a café-like charm.

The air smelled of freshly brewed coffee, baked goods, and spices from Indian curries.

A digital menu glowed above a counter lined with trays of food-continental, Indian, and fusion dishes, all prepared with hotel-level quality.

Being one of Delhi's top media houses, even the canteen reflected class and luxury.

Radhika walked to the counter, placed her lunch order, and waited, her eyes scanning the lively space for an empty seat.

Not far away, a small group stood by the coffee dispenser.

Two women-both well-dressed, heels clicking, makeup flawless-stood gossiping with a tall man holding a cup of espresso.

"Look who's here," said the younger woman in her mid-twenties, her tone sharp and dripping with mockery.

The other woman, a little older, smirked. "Let's have some fun with her," she whispered.

The man beside them-Arjun Bhattacharya-rolled his eyes. "Seriously? She's new, and she's already Vedika ma'am's favorite. Don't start drama," he said in a bored tone.

The first woman hissed softly, jealousy flaring in her eyes.

"That Radhika wrote an article and expose a man whom no one dared to touch-and she got away with it. Let's see how lucky she stays today."

Arjun didn't stop her. He just leaned against the counter, an amused glint in his eyes. "Fine," he muttered. "Showtime."

The girl strutted toward Radhika, lunch tray in hand.

Radhika, carrying her own tray, didn't notice her. She was scanning the tables, trying to find a seat.

Then-right as the girl reached her-she pretended to trip on her heels, sending her tray flying straight toward Radhika.

But before the food could hit her, a hand grabbed Radhika's arm and yanked her sideways with surprising force.

The next moment-

Crash!

The tray full of food splattered not on Radhika-but on an elderly man walking past. His expensive black suit was now covered in spicy curry and rice.

The canteen froze.

The old man looked down at his ruined clothes, then up at the trembling girl. His eyes narrowed dangerously behind his glasses.

It was Mr. Darsh Reddy, the News Director himself-a man known for his arrogance, temper, and bias toward power.

"What the hell is this?" he barked, his voice slicing through the silence.

"S-sir, I'm sorry... I didn't see you-" the girl stammered, her face pale.

"My office. Now."

The command was sharp, cold, and final. He turned on his heel and stormed out, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

The girl shot a glare-first at Radhika, then at the person beside her-before hurrying after him.

Slowly, the canteen came back to life, murmurs rippling through the air.

Radhika turned to her rescuer.

It was a girl-slim, delicate, dressed in a baby-pink A-line skirt and matching top. A light scarf framed her neck, and her eyes, large and expressive, held both nervousness and innocence.

She quickly let go of Radhika's arm and gave a thumbs-up, silently asking if she was okay.

Radhika smiled softly. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you," she said.

The girl smiled back-shy but warm.

"By the way, I'm Radhika." Radhika shifted the tray to one hand and extended the other for a handshake.

The girl hesitated, then smiled faintly and took her hand, though she didn't speak.

Radhika blinked. "And... your name?"

The girl let go, rummaged through her bag, and pulled out her phone. Her thumbs moved quickly over the screen before she held it up for Radhika to read.

'Hi, I'm Sunaina Chaudhary. Nice to meet you!'

Radhika frowned for a second, reading the message aloud. "I'm mute. I can't speak," came the next line the girl typed.

Realization hit her like a splash of cold water. "Oh-oh, I'm so sorry!" Radhika said quickly, guilt flooding her voice.

Sunaina only smiled, shaking her head. She typed again and held the phone up.

'No need for sorry.'

Radhika smiled back, more relaxed now. Then something clicked in her mind.

"Wait-Sunaina Chaudhary? Are you from the criminal investigation team?"

Sunaina nodded.

Radhika's grin widened. "Oh! I'm your senior then. Vedika ma'am told me you'd be joining today."

Sunaina gave her a confused look, tilting her head slightly.

"Oh-Vedika ma'am is the head of our team," Radhika explained.

Understanding dawned on Sunaina's face, and she nodded.

"Come on," Radhika said cheerfully. "Let's have lunch. I'll tell you the rest."

They walked toward an empty table, sitting across from each other.

"By the way," Radhika said with a grin as she unwrapped her sandwich, "I'm new too."

Sunaina chuckled silently, typing fast:

'Then we'll learn together.'

They both smiled-and as they ate, Radhika filled her in about the office, the team, and their projects.

Sunaina replied with her phone whenever she needed to, her quiet nature balancing Radhika's warmth.

In the bustling canteen of Delhi's most powerful news channel, two women-one with a voice too strong to silence, and the other with a silence that spoke louder than words-shared their first lunch as partners.

»»---->♡<----««

Evening - 04:30 PM

The Randhawa office was drowned in pin-drop silence.

Every employee worked with held breath-typing softly, speaking in whispers, moving carefully-as if their very existence could trigger an explosion.

When Rudraksh singh Randhawa wasn't in the office, everyone breathed easier.

But when he was here... even the air seemed afraid to move.

After his disastrous day in the lab, Rudraksh's temper was a storm waiting to strike. Three employees had already been fired since morning-each for mistakes so small they would barely count as errors under any other boss. But this wasn't any boss.

This was Rudraksh.

Inside the largest conference room, the atmosphere was equally tense.

Rudraksh sat in his chair like a king on a throne-leaning back, one leg crossed over the other, his arm resting on the table.

The massive digital screen before him displayed five men-foreigners in rich suits, each with grave expressions-as the video conference carried on.

An earpiece rested in Rudraksh's ear. His eyes were sharp, his voice colder than the steel of his watch.

"Yes. So, we're locking the deal," one of the men said on the screen.

Rudraksh's tone didn't waver. "Fine. After my marriage, I'll sign the legal documents and complete the paperwork."

His voice was clipped, professional-but the dangerous calm beneath it was unmistakable. It was the same tone he used when handling other kinds of business-the kind that didn't belong in boardrooms.

Suddenly, the door burst open.

Rudraksh's jaw tightened. His glare sliced through the interruption before his eyes landed on Sameer, his most trusted assistant, holding a phone and wearing a look that screamed urgency.

Rudraksh raised two fingers-a silent command to wait.

Sameer nodded immediately and stepped aside, whispering something quickly into the phone.

Rudraksh turned back to the screen. "All right. I'll send the papers and the shipment within days," he said curtly.

The men nodded in agreement before the call ended.

Rudraksh removed the earpiece and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, loosening his collar with a sigh that sounded more like a warning than relief.

Sameer stepped closer.

"Boss, madam's on the line," he said carefully. "You didn't answer her call, so she called me instead."

He paused, lowering his voice. "She's... super mad."

Rudraksh rolled his eyes. "Of course she is."

Sameer handed him the phone.

Rudraksh took it, inhaled deeply, and put it to his ear. "Yes-"

He didn't even finish before a sharp voice cut through the receiver.

"When are you going to the jewelry shop?!"

It was Apurva Randhawa, his mother-and the only person alive who dared to shout at Rudraksh like that.

Rudraksh pressed his lips into a thin line and checked his wristwatch. "Actually-"

"Actually what?!" she snapped, not giving him a chance to breathe.

He rubbed his temple, patience thinning. "On my way-if you cut the call," he said at last, voice sharp but not disrespectful.

"I want you home before seven. If you're even a second late-"

CLICK.

The call ended abruptly, her unfinished threat echoing through the silence.

Rudraksh exhaled and handed the phone back to Sameer.

"Let's go to the jewelry shop," he said flatly, buttoning his shirt.

Sameer gave a quick nod and murmured orders into his walkie-talkie, summoning the security convoy.

Rudraksh walked ahead toward his private elevator, Sameer following closely behind.

Even as the elevator doors opened with a ding, not a single employee dared to look up.

Every person in the lobby worked with robotic precision-typing, scribbling, pretending-anything to avoid catching Rudraksh's eyes.

Because everyone knew one truth.

If Rudraksh Randhawa looked at you-you'd pray the ground swallowed you whole.

Evening - 05:15 PM

Delhi's Famous Jewelry House, near the main bus stop.

Five sleek cars screeched to a halt in front of the massive glass building - two black SUVs leading, two behind, and in the center, a Rolls-Royce Ghost, its black-tinted windows gleaming like sin under the dying sun.

Inside the Rolls, Rudraksh Randhawa sat, laptop open on his lap, fingers moving rapidly across the keys - lost in numbers, codes, and contracts. He didn't even glance up when the convoy stopped.

Beside him sat Sameer Sharma, his P.A., already stepping out of the car the moment it halted, scanning the surroundings with alert, precise eyes.

In the front seat sat Zarrar Khan - the head of Rudraksh's personal security.

A man in his mid-thirties, built like a mountain, wearing a tailored suit, dark aviators, and a gun holstered under his coat. The earpiece in his ear flickered faintly as he issued silent orders.

Zarrar didn't speak much. He didn't need to.

He obeyed only two people - Rudraksh Singh Randhawa and Kritika Mukharjee.

Even the mighty Swastika singh Randhawa couldn't command him.

Zarrar scanned the street one more time - every exit, every reflection, every moving shadow - before stepping out and opening the rear door.

"Sir," he said simply.

Rudraksh closed his laptop in one smooth motion, slid it into the seat beside him, buttoned his coat, and adjusted his sunglasses. Then, without a word, he stepped out.

The shift in the air was instant.

Pedestrians froze. Conversations died. Every head turned.

He didn't need attention - it just happened.

He was power in motion.

Zarrar and Sameer followed close behind - one his shadow, the other his voice.

If the world went dark, shadows would vanish.

But these two? They never did.

As Rudraksh approached, two guards rushed forward and pushed open the heavy glass doors of the jewelry house.

Inside, the lights glimmered off walls lined with gold and diamond displays. The floor shone like liquid silver. The very air smelled of money.

Standing near the entrance was the owner, a man in his early eighties. He wore a spotless white dhoti and grey kurta, his neck weighed down with gold chains, fingers stuffed with thick rings.

His grin stretched wide, showing yellowed teeth - a few capped in gold.

"Welcome, sir!" he greeted, bowing deeply, the tone dripping with both fear and flattery.

Rudraksh didn't even look at him.

To him, the man - like everyone else here - didn't exist.

He walked straight past, cold and composed, his shoes clicking softly against the marble floor.

A few salesgirls behind the counter froze mid-breath, eyes widening, lips parting in silent awe. The man in front of them looked like he belonged to another world - dark, magnetic, untouchable.

But before one of them could even whisper to the other, Zarrar turned his head slightly - just a glance, nothing more - yet it was enough.

Their smiles vanished instantly, gazes dropping to the floor.

No one dared to look again.

The owner was still grinning nervously.

"Sir, Mrs. Randhawa called me and informed me that you're coming. I've already arranged everything," he said, his voice trembling beneath forced confidence.

Finally, Rudraksh's head turned.

Behind his dark shades, his eyes locked on the man-cold, unblinking. His jaw tightened, veins standing sharp against his temple.

For a few long seconds, he didn't speak. Didn't move.

Just stared.

The owner's grin faltered, confusion flickering in his eyes.

When Rudraksh finally spoke, his voice was low and dangerous.

"Did she also tell you what I hate the most?"

The old man blinked. "S-sir?"

Sameer and Zarrar exchanged a glance-they already knew what was coming.

Rudraksh's gaze drifted downward, toward the man's white dhoti.

His teeth clenched, the faint sound slicing through the silence like a blade. His head tilted slightly, eyes locked on the trembling shopowner. The color white-his trigger, his fury.

Just as a bull charges at red, Rudraksh saw white and lost control.

His fingers curled into fists, knuckles pale. His eyes darkened, nearly black with rage.

Sameer sighed softly, catching Zarrar's attention with the tilt of his chin.

They followed Rudraksh's line of sight. They didn't need orders; they already understood.

Zarrar moved first. Without hesitation or shame, he grabbed the dhoti and yanked it away from the owner's waist. A collective gasp rippled through the shop. The old man froze, left standing in a grey kurta-and, by sheer misfortune, white boxers.

Poor man.

Before anyone could react, Zarrar tore the boxer. The sound of ripping fabric echoed like a knife drawn from its sheath. The old man stumbled back, clutching his kurta down to hide himself, his face crimson with humiliation.

The female customers stared, horrified. Fear shimmered in their eyes.

The shop owner's dignity had been stripped bare before them all.

"Get out of here," Sameer snapped, his voice sharp and cold. "Before I put a bullet through that thick skull of yours."

The weight of his words made the man's knees buckle.

He nodded frantically and nearly tripped as he stumbled out of the shop.

A heavy silence followed-so thick that even the clinking jewelry seemed to hold its breath.

Finally, Rudraksh exhaled, unclenching his jaw. He adjusted his cufflinks, calm once more, the storm behind his expression receding into icy composure.

"Show me the pieces," he said evenly.

Moments later, a younger man-perhaps the owner's son-appeared, properly dressed and trembling as he carried out a tray of jewelry.

Rudraksh didn't glance at him. He simply lifted one of the diamond necklaces, examining it under the light-his face a mask of cold, unreadable calm.

He set the necklace down, remembering Mahima's words - "Choose something good."

A sigh escaped his lips as he glanced around the shop. Then his gaze caught on something in the center - a glass display, housing a mannequin's head adorned with a breathtaking hairclip.

Before he could think, his feet were already moving toward it.

"I want this," Rudraksh said, his voice cold, commanding.

The shop owner's nervous smile faltered. "Actually, sir, that's just a display piece. It's not for sale-" He stopped mid-sentence when Rudraksh's glare sliced through the air like ice. The man swallowed hard and nodded quickly.

The hair clip inside the glass case was a masterpiece - delicate yet commanding, soft yet impossibly regal.

A single flower, sculpted from the sheerest silk petals that shimmered between champagne beige and pale rose under the light. In its heart, a flawless pearl rested - quiet luxury wrapped in grace. Two golden chains draped gently from its center, each ending with a small, perfect pearl that swayed like captured drops of moonlight.

It didn't just look expensive - it looked priceless, like something meant to crown a goddess.

Rudraksh's gaze lingered on it longer than he intended.

"It'll look damn good in her hair," he thought, jaw tightening as a memory sliced through his chest.

Her laugh... her hands pushing him away every time he tried to touch her hair.

"She and her obsession with her cute hair..." his inner voice mocked, but the ache underneath it burned deeper.

A shadow of memory flickered behind his eyes, sharp enough to ache.

The man returned with a bag - the clip inside. Rudraksh took it without a word. Of course, it wasn't for Kritika.

It was for Rudrika.

Sameer handed over a black card for payment, while a few steps away, a woman stood holding her little boy's hand.

The woman was the same one Radhika had helped yesterday - and the boy beside her was named Rudraksh too.

"Excuse me? We'd like to sell a ring," the woman said politely.

Behind the counter, an old jeweler with silver hair and round spectacles peered at her over the rims, his gaze quietly judgmental. "Mm... show me."

The woman handed over a small ring, whispering softly to her son, "Beta, give me the ring."

The boy obediently placed it in her palm.

"This one," she said.

The old man took it, examining the piece.

"Please... if possible, make it at least ten thousand," the woman murmured hopefully.

The jeweler picked it up, adjusting his spectacles. His eyes widened for a brief second before he quickly hid the expression. Platinum band. Rare red Painite stone. The kind of ring that could buy entire companies - not groceries.

But he only nodded, voice even. "Yes, this one's about ten thousand."

The woman sighed in relief. "Thank you," she murmured, almost to herself. "Thanks to that girl..."

The jeweler smiled thinly. "So, shall we finalize the deal?"

She nodded, unaware of what she was giving away.

But fate - or perhaps irony - had other plans.

The jeweler fumbled. The ring slipped from his hand, hitting the floor with a soft cling and rolled - rolling until it stopped at a pair of polished black shoes.

Rudraksh's shoes.

The little boy gasped and immediately ran past the guards before anyone could stop him.

"Ru-!" his mother's frightened voice echoed.

Rudraksh glanced down, expression unreadable behind his shades.

The boy bent to pick up the ring, then looked up at the towering man before him - dressed in black, radiating power and quiet menace.

"Sorry, uncle... it's my ring," he said softly, holding it up.

Something tightened in Rudraksh's chest.

"Wait," he ordered.

The guards blocked the mother, who pleaded, "Sir, please... he's just a child!"

Sameer ignored her.

Rudraksh removed his sunglasses, took the ring from the boy's hand, and looked at it closely.

He knew this ring.

How could he forget?

His throat tightened. He'd seen it before - worn proudly on a man's hand. Rudrika's father's hand.

The same man who once smiled and said, "When my daughter marries you, this ring will be yours."

"Who gave you this ring?" Rudraksh asked, voice low and controlled, though something raw trembled beneath.

"Didi gave it to me," the boy said, eyes darting toward his mother. "Maa..."

At that, Rudraksh lifted a finger - a silent command.

The guards stepped aside, The woman rushed forward, scooped up her son protectively, and looked up at Rudraksh with frightened confusion.

Rudraksh simply stood there - a storm behind calm eyes - the past suddenly burning alive in his hands.

Maan Mera Official Song, Movie Teble No 21, Song By Gajender Verma

𝙎𝙖𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙍𝙖𝙖𝙩 𝘼𝙖𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝘽𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙖, 𝙋𝙖𝙡-𝙥𝙖𝙡 𝙔𝙖𝙖𝙙𝙤𝙣 𝙈𝙚𝙞𝙣 𝙈𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙖.

Rudraksh saw red. Every emotion he had buried for years surged back - violent, blinding.

All he could see was her - that little face, that lethal smile, those dimples that could kill without a bullet.

𝙈𝙖𝙖𝙣𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙖 𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙞 𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙖.

"Where did you see her?" he asked - his voice rough, trembling with restrained emotion.

The woman's lips quivered. "...She was outside the building... near the bus stop," she said, stumbling over her words as tears streamed down her face.

𝙎𝙪𝙪𝙣𝙞 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙢, 𝙨𝙪𝙪𝙣𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙚, 𝙗𝙚𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙪 𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙚.

Without wasting a second, Rudraksh turned and pushed past everyone, practically running out of the jewelry store with the ring clutched in his hand. His vision blurred. Real tears - hot, uninvited - welled up in his eyes, and he blinked furiously, refusing to let them fall.

𝙅𝙖𝙖𝙣𝙚 𝙠𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙗𝙝𝙚𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙖 𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙖.

He shoved open the glass door and stepped outside. Behind him, Sameer and Zarrar followed, confused.

The woman and her little boy stood frozen inside the store.

"Maa, that uncle took the ring... now what do we do?" the boy asked softly.

Sameer exchanged a glance with Zarrar, then broke into a run behind Rudraksh. The others followed.

"Boss!" Sameer called - but Rudraksh wasn't stopping.

Not this time.

Maybe - just maybe - he could find her.

𝙆𝙖𝙗𝙝𝙞 𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖 𝙩𝙝𝙖 𝙟𝙤, 𝙖𝙗 𝙗𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙖𝙣𝙖 𝙝𝙖𝙞 𝙫𝙤.

He stumbled out of the building, chest heaving, breath coming in harsh gasps. His eyes darted everywhere - desperate, searching.

𝘿𝙚𝙚𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙖, 𝙙𝙚𝙚𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙖 𝙨𝙖𝙢𝙟𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙖.

"Boss! What happened?" Sameer asked, maintaining his professional tone but visibly shaken. He had never seen Rudraksh like this - shattered, unguarded. Zarrar just shrugged helplessly.

𝙃𝙤, 𝙠𝙖𝙗𝙝𝙞 𝙠𝙝𝙤𝙮𝙖 𝙧𝙖𝙝𝙚, 𝙠𝙖𝙗𝙝𝙞 𝙧𝙤𝙮𝙖 𝙥𝙝𝙞𝙧 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙚.

Rudraksh ignored them, scanning the street until he turned sharply.

"Where's the woman?" he demanded.

Before anyone could respond, he saw her - walking toward him with her son. He pushed past Sameer, three long strides bringing him face-to-face with her.

𝙆𝙖𝙗𝙝𝙞 𝙩𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙚 𝙝𝙪𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙥𝙣𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮𝙖 𝙥𝙝𝙞𝙧 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙚.

"Where did you see her?" he demanded again, his gaze burning into hers.

The woman hesitated. "...Over there," she said, pointing across the road. Rudraksh followed her gaze, his pulse pounding.

"How did she look?" His voice softened - almost pleading. He just wanted to hear it.

"She was the most beautiful woman in the world," said the little boy suddenly, smiling as if reliving the memory. His eyes sparkled.

Rudraksh felt his heart sink. Of course, he thought. She's not just the most beautiful woman in the world - she's the most beautiful soul in the universe.

𝙆𝙤𝙮𝙞 𝙢𝙪𝙟𝙨𝙚 𝙪𝙡𝙟𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙖, 𝙠𝙤𝙮𝙞 𝙢𝙪𝙟𝙨𝙚 𝙟𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙖 𝙣𝙖𝙖.

And yet, at that moment, Rudraksh felt like he had lost everything.

What good was all his success if his eyes couldn't find her?

"She saved my life," the little boy said.

The woman nodded. "She's very kind."

"Like a goddess," the boy added, smiling wide.

𝘿𝙞𝙣-𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙖 𝙖𝙞𝙨𝙚 𝙠𝙖𝙧 𝙙𝙞𝙚, 𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙮𝙖 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙖 𝙣𝙖𝙖.

Rudraksh's grip tightened around the ring. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to contain the storm inside.

𝙍𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙖, 𝙢𝙖𝙖𝙣𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙖 𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙖.

Of course she's kind, he thought bitterly. Always was. Even to those who didn't deserve it.

She wasn't a princess. Not a queen. She was something higher - a goddess whose mere presence turned the world into heaven.

"When did you see her?" he asked again, this time his tone low, trembling between joy and pain.

"...Yesterday evening," the woman replied gently. "Do you know her? She didn't tell us her name."

𝙍𝙖𝙜-𝙧𝙖𝙜 𝙫𝙤 𝙨𝙖𝙢𝙖𝙮𝙖 𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙖, 𝙢𝙪𝙟𝙠𝙤, 𝙠𝙪𝙙𝙖𝙖𝙮𝙖 𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙖.

Rudraksh swallowed hard, his throat closing. How could I not know her?

Every breath, every heartbeat he had ever lived was because of her.

𝙐𝙨𝙨𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙖𝙖 𝙮𝙖 𝙙𝙖 𝙢𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙖.

"She gave me that ring," the woman said softly, glancing toward his hand.

Rudraksh followed her gaze - to the ring. Her ring.

A surge of anger flashed in his chest. How could she give away something that was only meant for me?

"This ring is mine," he said, his voice firm and cold.

He removed the engagement ring Kritika had put on him last night and slipped that ring onto his finger.

Sameer looked stunned as Rudraksh handed him the discarded ring.

Sameer said nothing - just took it quietly and tucked it into his pocket.

𝙆𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙣 𝙛𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙮𝙖𝙖𝙙, 𝙥𝙪𝙠𝙖𝙖𝙧𝙪𝙪𝙣 𝙩𝙪𝙟𝙠𝙤, 𝙮𝙖 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙡𝙗𝙖𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙟𝙠𝙤.

"But she gave it to me," the little boy protested weakly before his mother hushed him.

"Shh... no," she whispered, shaking her head.

The boy frowned. "Maa, didi gave it to us to help. Now if uncle takes it, what will we do? Didi is good... but uncle is bad."

Rudraksh didn't react. His face was unreadable - which only unsettled Sameer and Zarrar more.

𝘿𝙞𝙡 𝙮𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙣𝙚 𝙨𝙖 𝙙𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙖𝙖.

"Sameer," Rudraksh said quietly, "give the woman whatever money she wants."

Sameer blinked. "How much?" he asked, expecting a large number.

"...Ten thousand," the woman said softly.

Rudraksh's head snapped toward her. "What? Ten thousand? That's what the ring costs?" His voice was sharp enough to cut.

"Yes... that man in the shop said so," she replied timidly. "Is... is it too much?"

Rudraksh closed his eyes for a moment. The man would regret lying.

Then he exhaled. "...No. This ring doesn't cost ten thousand. It's worth millions."

The woman's eyes widened, but she shook her head. "I just need ten thousand. Nothing more."

Sameer nodded and handed her the cash. "Thank you," she whispered.

𝙈𝙪𝙟𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙖𝙧𝙞 𝙪𝙢𝙧 𝙖𝙗 𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙖𝙖𝙣𝙖 𝙝𝙖𝙞 𝙫𝙤.

"Wait," Rudraksh said as she turned to leave.

She stopped. "Ji?"

He stepped closer. "Do you remember her face? Could you recognize her if you saw her again?"

"How could I forget the woman who saved my son's life - and now my husband's too?" she said with quiet conviction. "Yes, I'll recognize her."

Rudraksh nodded sharply.

𝘿𝙚𝙚𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙖, 𝙙𝙚𝙚𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙖 𝙨𝙖𝙢𝙟𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙖.

He turned to Sameer and Zarrar.

"Go with her. Search nearby," he ordered, voice cold and deadly calm.

They nodded, and moments later, the woman and Zarrar set off - chasing the trail of a ghost named Rudika.

As they left, Rudraksh stood alone, eyes fixed on the ring on his finger.

A faint smile ghosted over his lips - a whisper of hope.

A small hint that maybe... she'll return.

Main ne tumko andar aane ka kaha,

Tum to mere dil ke andar aa gaye.

Ek hi aurat ko duniya maan kar,

Itna ghuma hoon ke chakkar aa gaye.

(I told you to come inside,

But you entered straight into my heart.

I've worshipped just one woman as my whole world -

Wandered around her so much, I've grown dizzy.)

»»---->♡<----««

Across the city -

The bus slowed near its last stop, and Radhika stood up.

"Okay, my stop," she said with a small smile.

"Goodbye," she added to Sunaina, who nodded back, smiling the same way.

Radhika hugged her. "See you tomorrow at the office," she said, stepping off the bus.

Outside, the sun was painting the sky in shades of gold and orange.

Kabhi toote hue sapne sanjoya phir kare.

"Hyyy! My beautiful big sun... don't go so soon," she murmured with a sad grin.

She loved the sun - it reminded her of a pair of eyes.

Eyes she couldn't place.

Eyes she always drew, but never knew whose they were.

On the roadside, a black SUV pulled over. Inside, a man lifted his phone and dialed.

A deep, Russian-accented voice answered, engine rumbling in the background.

"Where's the girl?"

"She's right in front of us," the man replied, eyes locked on Radhika.

"Kidnap her," came the cold, calculated order.

"Done," the man said and hung up, nodding to his partner beside him.

Meanwhile, somewhere else, Rudraksh looked up at the same sunset.

"...Just go first," he murmured, "so I can see my little moon."

He wanted the sun to set - just to see her.

Radhika was walking down the road, while Rudraksh was lost in the ring.

Two men stepped out of the SUV, dressed in black, faces covered.

The faint scent of chloroform filled the air.

Din-raat Aise Kar Diye, Bitaaye Beeta Naa.

"Please," Rudraksh whispered, his eyes still on the ring.

"Just once, do some miracle. Let me see her... touch her... just once."

Ek jhalak dekh le tujhko toh chale jaayenge,

Ye dil bhi samajh lenge, aansu chhupa lenge,

Bas ek nazar ka karam ho jaaye tujhse,

Phir kasam tere ishq ki, hum muskura ke chale jaayenge.

Kaun aaya hai yahan, umar bitaane ke liye,

Hum toh bas teri yaadon mein mit jaane ke liye aaye the.

("If I could see you just once, I could go in peace.

My heart would understand, my tears would hide.

If only your gaze would fall upon me once -

I swear on your love, I'd walk away smiling.

No one comes here to live forever -

I came only to fade away in your memory.")

Radhika walked past him at that exact moment.

The tattoo on the back of her neck - the Naruto symbol - began to move, drawn toward the moon inked beside it.

The moon started glowing red. A symbol of danger.

It felt like a magnetic pull, a connection - something beyond human logic.

They say you plan your life - but God always has a better plan.

Re, mann mera, maane naa mann mera.

As Radhika passed him, a sudden gust of wind swirled around them.

Her white dupatta flew - and caught on Rudraksh's watch.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance, eyes still on the ring, and tugged his wrist back.

Radhika gasped and stumbled.

The moving tattoos on her neck froze - the sun symbol between the Naruto and the moon restored balance. The moon faded back to white.

Rudraksh's head snapped up at the sound.

Before she could fall, his strong arms caught her by the waist.

Aisa Bhi Kya Hai Dil Ka Lagana.

For a moment, everything else faded.

No sounds. No people. Just the two of them - suspended in time.

Radhika's hands clutched his arms tightly, eyes shut in fear.

The two men stood frozen, watching from the distance.

Aisee bhi kya re mohabbat.

Rudraksh's breath caught. He inhaled sharply, eyes tracing her face - fear and innocence mingled there.

An unfamiliar ache stirred within him. Protect her. Don't let her go.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, cursing his own thoughts.

Radhika, realizing she wasn't on the ground, slowly opened her eyes.

Meanwhile, one of the men dialed again.

"Hello? Did you kidnap her?" the other side man asked.

"No," the man reply.

"What do you mean no?" on the other side the man snapped.

"Someone came out of nowhere," the kidnapper whispered.

"Should we... kill him?"

A pause.

Then the boss's voice, sharper than before:

"Send me his picture first."

They took a photo, sent it - and waited.

Within seconds, the phone rang again.

"Don't you dare touch him!" the voice barked. "That man is Lord Death! Abort the mission. Now!"

The two men exchanged terrified glances and slipped away to their SUV.

Aankhein mila ke yeh maine jaana.

Radhika's eyes opened, locking with Rudraksh's. Neither looked away.

His dark eyes - endless, stormy, holding whole galaxies inside them.

Why do they feel familiar? she wondered. Have I seen them before?

Rudraksh's heart clenched. Those deep brown eyes - they reminded him of her.

Why do I feel this pull? Why do her eyes call me like this?

Har kisiko koi na koi bacha leta hai,

Haqeeqat ko sapna bacha leta hai,

Apno ko apna bacha leta hai.

Lag jaati hai meri nazar se teri nazar ko,

Kambakht tujhe teri chashma bacha leti hai.

(Everyone is saved by something -

Reality is saved by dreams,

And we're saved by those we call our own.

Every time my eyes try to meet yours,

That cursed pair of glasses saves you.)

Her glasses bothered him now.

Rone Se Milti Nahin Fursat.

A single tear escaped Rudraksh's eye - landing softly on her cheek.

She froze.

Was That His Tear? Why... Does It Hurt? she wondered.

Something in her chest ached - something she couldn't name.

He looked broken - and that broke her.

The kidnappers, watching, snapped a few photos before leaving.

They didn't need to be told twice.

Kabhi chup-chup rahe, kabhi zid pe aa jaaye,

Their eyes still locked,

breaths tangled - heavy, trembling.

He could smell her soft scent - a blend of cocoa and sweetness.

She could smell his - whiskey, musk, and something heartbreakingly familiar.

Kabhi tujh bin jee loonga, kabhi mar jaoonga main.

Kisi ko dekhu ya na dekhu,

Bas ek shakhs ko dekhna hai.

Saalon baad aaj woh saamne hai -

Yeh haqeeqat hai ya sapna hai?

Waqt ne badal diye sab chehre, sab fasaane,

Par uske chehre ka noor ab bhi waisa hi puraana hai.

Log jaane kaise Eid manaate hain -

Humne toh aaj usse dekh kar jaana hai,

Ke chaand sach mein humara apna hai

(Whether I see anyone else or not,

It's only one face I want to see.

After years, she's before me again -

Is this reality, or a dream?

Time changed all faces, all stories -

But the light on hers is still the same.

People talk of celebrating Eid,

But today, seeing her, I finally understood -

The moon truly belongs to me.)

Radhika lifted one hand, touching her cheek where his tear had fallen.

The movement drew his gaze from her eyes to her skin -

and he realized how close they were. But for once, he didn't care.

As the last rays faded, the first moonlight touched them both.

It kissed her face - and Rudraksh forgot how to breathe.

His knees almost gave way.

Re, mann mera, maane naa mann mera.

They were lost in each other-so lost, they didn't realize how close they were, how almost intimate their position looked.

People nearby had begun to stop and stare.

Sameer, who had been searching for Rudika nearby, froze when he saw the scene.

His eyes widened. Boss... what the hell are you doing?

Rudraksh, the man he'd known for years as ruthless and cold, was utterly lost in this girl.

"Is boss okay or not? He's acting weird today. And now-this?" he muttered under his breath.

He quietly took out his phone and snapped a few pictures before slipping it back into his pocket.

Rudraksh didn't even blink..

A small, disbelieving smile tugged at Sameer's lips before he quickly schooled his expression and cleared his throat louder this time. Still nothing.

"Great! The Devil himself has been hit by an evil eye", Sameer thought, almost panicking. "No, no, impossible. Who'd dare cast an evil eye on him?"

He took a deep breath and stepped forward.

"Boss," he called softly.

That was enough.

Rudraksh blinked, breaking the intense eye contact, and looked at Sameer-then back at the girl in his arms.

Radhika, too, came back to reality. She looked at the man holding her, then at the one who had called him boss. Before she could process anything, Rudraksh suddenly jerked upright and shoved her away.

"Kanha ji!" she gasped, stumbling forward into a puddle. Mud splashed across her white clothes, staining them completely.

("Oh, Lord Krishna!")

Sameer stood frozen in shock.

Rudraksh simply cleared his throat, And puts back his Randhawa signature cold and arrogant mask. adjusted his cufflinks, and didn't even glance at her.

Radhika pushed herself up, wiping mud from her face. Her temper exploded.

"Kutta! Kamina! Maghiya! Haramzada! Ye aankh hai ya tera bottom hai?! Suar ki aulaad! Bhasha ki taati ki aankh! Kutte ka pilla! Sadha hua angoor ka daana! Choosa hua aam ka thukuaa! Naali ka keeda!!"

(Hey, you idiot! Bastard! motherfucker! Son of a pig! Do you even have eyes or a hole where they're supposed to be?! Filthy animal! Rotten grape! you sucked-dry mango spit,! Worm of the drain!)

She hurled shouting every insult she had ever heard, wiping mud from her face furiously.

Rudraksh's head snapped toward her, his expression turning deadly calm and an icy gaze that freezed her very soul.

"Excuse me?" he said, voice smooth as steel wrapped in velvet.

"Mind your language. You don't know who I am."

Radhika stood, fury burning in her eyes.

"Accha? Toh tu hai kaun?! Pradhanmantri nahi, President bhi nahi! Toh kaunsa jhanda gaad diya tuna ke main tujhe jaanu?!"

(Oh yeah? And who exactly are you?! You're not the Prime Minister! You're not the President! What flag have you planted that I should know your name?!)

Her tone only fueled his anger.

"I'm the bloody dam-" he began, but she cut him off.

"Bloody dam what?! Moo mein mendhak chala gaya kya? Zubaan band ho gayi?!"

Rudraksh's entire being practically shaking in anger. Everything about him is tense like a coiled cobra-ready to strike at any moment.

(Bloody damn what? Swallowed a frog or what?! Lost your tongue?)

Sameer silently filmed the scene on his phone, trying not to laugh.

Rudraksh's jaw clenched, his teeth grinding audibly. His veins pulsed at his temple.

Every part of him screamed to end this girl.

People around had started to whisper. That's when an old woman stepped closer, smiling.

"Arrey, kitna pyara joda banaya hai Bhagwaan ne! Bilkul Shiv aur Parvati jaisa!" she said warmly.

(My, my! What a beautiful couple! God himself must have made you two-just like shiva and parvati! )

Sameer blinked, nodding slightly in disbelief.

Rudraksh and Radhika turned to the old woman, then glared at each other.

"WHAT?!" they shouted in unison.

"This man my husband? Never!" Radhika snapped.

"If he's the last man on earth, I still won't marry him! Shiva ji ka naam is gawar ke saath loge, toh Shiva ji ka bhi apmaan hoga!"

(Don't insult Lord Shiva by comparing this fool to him!)

Rudraksh's temper flared.-his expression shifting from sinful arrogance to "I'm about to murder someone" in 0.2 seconds flat.

"O hello! I'm not dying to make you my wife either! Look at yourself! You and Mrs. Rudraksh Single Randhawa-impossible! Tum jaisi garibi toh meri ghar ki naukrani bhi nahi ban sakti!"

(A person as poor as you cannot even become my house maid!)

His voice was sharp and cruel.

Radhika's jaw dropped, then she burst out laughing mockingly.

"Main garib hoon aur tum bahut amir ho, hai na? Toh, Laad Governor ji, hum toh sadak pe chal rahe hain, aap aasman mein ud rahe ho! Apne pair zameen pe mat rakho, gande ho jaayenge!" she taunted, pointing at the sky dramatically.

(Oh, I'm poor and you're rich, right? Fine then, Mr. Lord Governor! You live in the sky while I walk the streets! Don't let your holy feet touch the ground-they might get dirty!)

Her sarcasm cut deep.

"Waise bhi, aap jaise sahib garibon ki sadak par kya kar rahe ho? Humare gareebi dekhne aaye ho kya?". she demanded, eyes flashing. " Electric pole ki tarah khade ho!"

(Why are you even standing here on the road? This is the poor people's street! Are you here to look down on our poverty?"Standing like a damn electric pole!)

"You're the bloody damn who fell on me!" Rudraksh shouted back.

Radhika mimicked him in a high-pitched voice, pulling faces.

"'You're the bloody damn who fell on me!'" she mocked, making Sameer choke on his laughter.

Rudraksh's fists tightened. His jaw clenches so hard it's a wonder his teeth don't crack under the pressure.

"Then who told you to catch me?!" she shouted. "And if you did, why the hell did you throw me into the mud?! Look at me-because of you I'm dripping in dirt!"

"Because I hate white color!" Rudraksh roared. "And now, you look better in mud than in white!"

People around giggled like they were watching a couple's quarrel.

Radhika glared.

"If you hate white, then lock yourself in your mansion! You can't erase white from the whole world, Laad Governor! Tumhe nahi pata kya-" she took a breath and sang,

"Ishq ka rang safed piya, na chhal, na kapat, na bhed piya!"

(The color of love is white, my beloved-pure, without deceit or disguise.)

Rudraksh froze.

The words hit like a punch.

Memories flooded back.

"Which color do you like?" a small boy asked.

"White and red," a little girl replied.

"Why white?"

"Bewakoof! Tumhe pata nahi kya?" she giggled and sang,

"Ishq ka rang safed piya, na chhal, na kapat, na bhed piya!"

(Oh, silly! Don't you know)

The flashback faded. Radhika stepped closer, snapping him back to reality.

"What happened? Seeing a dream while standing?" she asked mockingly.

Back in the present, Rudraksh blinked hard, stepping forward as if the memory burned him.

"Shut up," he roared, his voice shaking with fury barely restrained.

That line had ripped open a wound he'd tried so hard to bury.

"I. Hate. White." he said, each word trembling with rage.

"So what?" Radhika shot back. "You can't stop me from wearing it!" she shouted back.

"I'll tear it apart if I see it again!" he shouted, grabbing for her dupatta and about to yank.

Radhika's eyes narrowed-

then

SMACK!

and she slapped him.

Hard.

Silence fell.

Sameer froze, wishing he were anywhere else but not here.

wishing he could disappear.

Rudraksh's head snapped to the side, a red handprint blazing on his cheek.

Radhika's chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.

"Akal ghaas charne gayi hai kya tumhari?! Mandbuddhi aadmi!" she snapped.

(Has your brain gone to graze grass or what, you fool?!)

No one had ever dared touch him. Not his father. Not his enemies.

But this five-foot girl had just slapped him.

His pride screamed. His male ego burned.

He wanted to strike her back, to pull the trigger, to end this humiliation-but something stopped him.

He didn't know what. But he couldn't harm her.

He clenched his fists so tight his knuckles turned white.

"Yeh thappad tumhe mehenga padega, samjha? Bohot mehenga!" he purrs in that dangerous, velvety tone of his-the one that never bodes well for anyone who challenges him.

(This slap will cost you dearly, understand? Very dearly!)

Radhika smirked. "O hello! Garib hoon main-mehngi cheez afford nahi kar sakti! Sasta hi rakhna!" she said flatly.

(Oh hello! I'm poor, remember? I can't afford expensive things! So keep it cheap!)

Sameer blinked, astonished she was still alive-and talking like that.

The sharp retort that was at the tip of his tongue dies.

For the first time in his life, Rudraksh Single Randhawa was speechless.

"Budha balada," Radhika muttered under her breath.

He didn't understand the Odia words, but he knew she'd just insulted him.

He stood there, fury coiled tight, as Radhika turned on her heel and walked away.

Sameer quickly closed his phone and slipped it into his pocket.

At that moment, Rudraksh looked less like a man-and more like a wounded tiger.

And Radhika?

She was his prey.

Rudraksh watches as she walks away, his jaw working silently. Then-like a man who's lost the battle before it even started-he mutters darkly"God damn it."

(Typical Randhawa behavior-arrogance and aggression wrapped in an obscenely expensive suit.)

Zarrar and the other guards finally returned, escorting an elderly woman and a young boy.

The boy's wide eyes sparkled with innocence - and oddly, his name was Rudraksh too.

"Boss, we didn't find her," Zarrar reported, catching his breath.

Rudraksh turned to him, and Zarrar's gaze instinctively flicked to his cheek.

Was that... a red handprint? He blinked, shook his head. No, no, impossible.

Then he glanced at Sameer - who stood still as stone, still processing whatever chaos had just unfolded.

Sameer met his eyes and silently confirmed the unspoken question: Yes. It happened.

Zarrar schooled his expression quickly.

Before he could speak, Rudraksh's cold voice cut through the air.

"Fine. You can leave."

The woman nodded respectfully and turned to go, but paused suddenly, as if remembering something.

"Beta," she called.

Rudraksh stopped mid-stride, irritation flickering in his voice. "What?"

The woman stepped closer, a hesitant smile tugging at her lips.

"I forgot to tell you... the girl-she wrote my son's name on her hand with mehendi."

The little boy nodded eagerly, proud of this connection.

Rudraksh's chest tightened with a strange, unfamiliar tug - jealousy.

She wrote another man's name on her hand?

Even though the boy was barely seven, the thought irritated him.

"What's your name?" Rudraksh asked gruffly.

"Rudraksh!" the boy said proudly, loud enough to echo.

For a moment, the three men - Rudraksh, Sameer, and Zarrar - stood frozen.

"What?" they said in unison.

She wrote my name on her palm? Rudraksh thought, feeling an unexpected warmth spread through his chest. His lips twitched into something dangerously close to a smile before he caught himself and rebuilt his usual cold, composed mask.

"Rudraksh," he repeated, just to be sure.

The woman nodded. "Yes. I wrote Rudraksh on her palm. Should I write her name on your hand too? Maybe it's God's sign."

He didn't think twice. Slowly, he extended his large, calloused hand.

The woman opened her bag, pulled out a small mehendi cone, and wrote carefully across his palm -

"Rudrika."

Sameer and Zarrar exchanged a stunned look.

They didn't know who this Rudika was, but they both felt the shift in the air -

that one name had just melted the devil's fury.

Rudraksh stared down at his palm longer than necessary, his gaze tracing the delicate curves of the letters.

The woman smiled softly and left with her son.

He finally exhaled, then walked toward the car. The guard held the door open, and Rudraksh slid in silently.

"Something happened behind my back, right?" Zarrar whispered to Sameer as they followed.

"Something? No," Sameer muttered, eyes wide. "A full-blown drama!"

They both climbed in, and the car sped away.

Silence filled the space - thick, awkward, almost suffocating.

Rudraksh sat by the window, eyes fixed on the passing streets, his mind burning with plans for revenge against the girl who had dared to slap him.

Sameer pretended to be busy on his iPad, desperate to avoid eye contact.

Zarrar stared outside, occasionally sneaking glances at Sameer - dying to know what had happened, yet too afraid to ask.

Fifteen minutes later, the car rolled to a stop in front of the Randhawa Mansion, glittering with lights and floral décor.

The grand gates opened to reveal the garden - lush with marigold garlands, crystal chandeliers, and strings of fairy lights. The air smelled of roses and mehendi - the scent of celebration.

Rudraksh didn't wait for anyone to open the door. He stepped out, slamming it shut hard enough to make Sameer flinch.

Sameer and Zarrar exchanged a wary glance before following.

Inside, the mansion shimmered with preparations for Kritika's mehendi and sangeet.

Gold drapes, jasmine strings, and flickering diyas framed the grand staircase like something out of a royal painting.

"Rudra!" a familiar voice called.

He stopped and turned.

It was Mahima, dressed in a stunning ivory-gold saree - the kind that seemed woven from moonlight. The fabric shimmered with intricate hand-embroidered motifs and a border of deep indigo lace. Her poise carried both warmth and quiet command.

Her eyes immediately caught the faint red mark on his cheek.

"What happened to your face?" she asked, stepping closer, concern soft in her tone.

Rudraksh clenched his jaw, then forced his expression into neutrality.

"Nothing, Choti Maa," he replied flatly.

Before Mahima could probe further, another voice chimed in - sharp and commanding.

"Did you bring a gift for Kritika?"

It was Apurva, elegant as ever in a royal red and beige Patan-style saree, its fabric alive with intricate scenes from old myths. Her posture alone could silence a crowd.

Rudraksh didn't answer. He didn't need to - the hesitation on his face said enough.

From behind her, Vaidehi appeared, twirling her dupatta - a lively contrast to the oter two. She wore a light olive-green lehenga with playful hand-painted motifs, golden lace along the edges, and her long earrings dancing with each step. Her energy filled the room instantly.

Her eyes landed on Sameer's hand holding a small designer bag.

"Badi Maa, miracle happened!" she announced dramatically, snatching the bag from him.

"Ma'am-" Sameer began, but she shushed him quickly.

"Let's see what you got, Bhai!" she teased, about to open the bag - but Rudraksh's hand shot out, snatching

t back as if it contained his heart.

"Don't," he warned, voice low and serious.

Vaidehi pouted, while Apurva arched a suspicious brow.

"What's inside the bag?" she asked coolly.

"Badi Maa, it's just a hairclip," Vaidehi chirped, pointing at the brand's logo on the bag.

Rudraksh glared at her, but she only smiled sweetly - she knew he wouldn't dare snap in front of Apurva.

Apurva gave a small nod. "Fine," she said.

But Vaidehi wasn't done. Her eyes narrowed, and she stepped closer, gaze fixed on his cheek.

Rudraksh instantly raised his palm to cover the slap mark.

"Bhai, move your hand," Vaidehi demanded.

"Step back," he barked, but she reached forward, trying to pull his hand away. Of course, she couldn't - his strength was no match for hers.

Mahima sighed deeply, grabbed Vaidehi's wrist, and said firmly, "That's enough. Let's go."

She dragged the younger girl away, still protesting and trying to peek at his face.

Apurva lingered a moment longer, her sharp eyes studying him.

"Go to your room and get ready. Quickly," she ordered, then turned and walked off with quiet authority.

Rudraksh exhaled heavily, lowering his hand and glaring at Sameer - who was pretending to vanish into the furniture.

"Sameer," Rudraksh growled.

Sameer winced. God save me.

"Yes, boss?" he replied meekly, like a kitten facing a tiger.

"Buy something for Kritika. And make sure That was a hairclip," Rudraksh ordered.

Sameer nodded quickly. "Okay, boss."

Rudraksh leaned closer. "And I want every detail about that girl."

Sameer swallowed hard and nodded again.

Rudraksh turned sharply and walked away, leaving a heavy silence behind.

Zarrar immediately grabbed Sameer's arm.

"Which girl?" he hissed, eyes wide with curiosity.

Sameer sighed, glancing at Rudraksh's retreating figure.

"Bhai," he whispered, "you have no idea what kind of storm is coming."

Sameer dragged Zarrar toward a quiet corner of the mansion where no one was paying attention.

"Now spill it!" Zarrar demanded, his impatience growing with every passing second.

Sameer glanced around, making sure no one was watching. Then he unlocked his phone, opened a video, and handed it to Zarrar.

Zarrar's eyes widened as he watched the clip in disbelief.

Behind them, Vaidehi - who had been suspicious of Sameer - quietly crept closer, peeking over Zarrar's shoulder. The moment her eyes landed on the screen and she saw the girl slapping Rudraksh, she let out a scream.

"WHAT?!" she shouted so loudly that both men jumped and bolted forward without a backward glance.

"Hey! Don't you dare run! Come here or I'll tell Bhai (Brother) everything!" Vaidehi yelled, chasing after them.

Sameer stopped, sighed heavily, and handed her the phone. "Fine! Watch it yourself," he muttered.

Just then, Nayantara entered the hallway, adjusting her dark green lehenga with intricate hand embroidery. Her light green dupatta shimmered softly under the chandelier, and the deep neckline of her blouse caught the light as she turned toward the commotion.

"What's going on here?" she asked, stepping closer. Vaidehi silently handed her the phone.

Nayantara watched the clip - and her eyes went wide. "A random girl... slapped Rudra?!" she exclaimed, completely stunned.

Before Sameer could respond, Aditya walked in, fixing his floral-printed dark green kurta sleeves. He caught a glimpse of the video over Nayantara's shoulder.

"What the-!" Aditya swore, his jaw tightening. "What the hell is this?!"

Moments later, Apurva and Mahima entered, deep in conversation. Seeing the crowd gathered, Apurva strode over, snatched the phone from Aditya's hand, and played the video again.

Now, almost the entire Randhawa family stood there - all the women, and Aditya - watching in stunned silence.

And then, the echoes of the girl's furious voice filled the air.

"Kutta! Kamina! Maghiya! Haramzada!"

(Dog! Scoundrel! Bastard! Low-life!) Vaidehi repeated, mimicking the girl's tone in disbelief.

"Suar ki aulaad! Bhasha ki taati ki aankh! Kutte ka pilla!"

(Son of a pig! Filth of language! Son of a dog!) Nayantara chimed in, unable to believe her ears.

"Sadha hua angoor ka daana!"

(Rotten grape seed!) Mahima added, eyes wide in shock.

"Choosa hua aam ka thukuaa! Naali ka keeda!!"

(Sucked-out mango pit! Gutter worm!!) Aditya exclaimed, almost laughing in disbelief.

"Toh tu hai kaun?! Pradhanmantri nahi, President bhi nahi! Toh kaunsa jhanda gaad diya tune ke main tujhe jaanu?!"

(Who the hell are you?! You're not the Prime Minister, not even the President! So what flag have you planted that I should even know your name?!) Apurva translated with raised brows, her face a mix of shock and amusement.

Everyone stared at the screen, speechless.

"Badi Maa," Aditya said finally, turning to Apurva, "someone disrespected Bhai - and even slapped him! Can you believe that?!"

"Did any of you notice," Nayantara interrupted dramatically, "that she said 'Tu' to him? Tu! No one dares say Tu to Rudra, and this girl- this girl just did!" She clutched her chest and dramatically collapsed onto the nearest couch.

Aditya shook his head in disbelief. "Sameer, this girl's dead, right? Bhai must've made her pay for it."

But Sameer's expression said otherwise.

"No," he said quietly. "Boss didn't do anything. She's... still alive."

Every single person - even Zarrar - turned to stare at him like he had just said the sun rises in the west.

"Unbelievable!" they all exclaimed together.

Sameer only nodded, his tone grim. "But it happened."

A silent tension filled the room.

"What's the girl's name? Do you have any detail about her?" Aditya asked, his tone curious yet edged with disbelief. He wanted to know who dared to slap death itself-and still breathe.

Sameer nodded. "Yeah, actually boss gave me orders to give him her details, so I already did it when we were in the car," he said, opening his iPad with practiced calm.

"Her name is Radhika Swain," Sameer announced, the name hanging heavy in the air. Everyone exchanged glances, a silent recognition flickering between them.

"She's a criminal investigation journalist," Sameer continued.

"Wait... wait..." Vaidehi stopped him before he could go on.

"Now what's your problem?" Aditya snapped, irritated that she interrupted Sameer mid-sentence.

"Arya, eya naam kahi sunha, sunha sa nehi lag raha hai?" Veidehi asked, eyes wide as she looked around.

(Arya, doesn't this name sound familiar? Haven't we heard it before?)

Everyone gave her confused looks and shrugged.

"Yes, I remember... Radhika Swain, the journalist. Guys, isn't she the same girl who wrote that article against Mahadev Group of Pharmaceuticals and took the front column of the newspaper?" Vaidehi reminded them, her voice rising with realization. Everyone nodded slowly.

"Yes, yes, so this girl's the same," Mahima added.

"Wow," Aditya smirked, leaning back with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

Suddenly, a small figure appeared from behind them-Mihika, dressed in a stunning emerald green lehenga with delicate golden embroidery, a light dupatta flowing behind her, and a maang tikka sparkling on her forehead. Her tiny hands rested on her hips as she frowned.

"What are you guys doing here?" she asked, voice raised and hands resting on her hips.

"Someone slapped your chota daddy," Aditya said before anyone could stop his mouth.

Mahima immediately smacked Aditya's arm. "Oye!"

"What? She deserves to know," he protested, still smirking.

"What!?" Mihika snapped, her possessiveness flashing through. Her chote daddy and daddy were her world, and both spoiled her beyond limits.

"Someone slapped my chote daddy? How dare the person!" she roared before snatching Sameer's iPad and watching the video herself.

Nayantara rolled her eyes. "It's nothing-"

"Don't you dare say that, Mummy! How could a girl slap my chote daddy? I hate that girl!" she screamed, her face red with anger.

The evening had fallen softly over the Randhawa mansion, the air carrying the fragrance of jasmine, rosewater, and freshly ground mehndi. Golden fairy lights shimmered over the garden, their glow dancing on the marigold strings and glass bangles clinking in rhythm. Laughter spilled everywhere - sweet, chaotic, full of life.

Mehandi, mehandi song, movie chori chori chupke chupke song by Jaspinder Narula.

Aa Aa, Bandh Mutthi Mein Dil Ko Chhupaye Baithe Hain...

The music floated gently through the speakers, merging with the sound of dhol and giggles.

Upstairs, Rudraksh stood before his mirror - still, silent, and impossibly composed. He wore a black kurta paired with loose black pants, and over it, a dark green A-line jacket embroidered with gold threads that shimmered faintly in the warm light. Every line, every fold, was precise - just like him.

His gaze lowered to his palm. There it was - the deep red-brown mehndi. Her name.

The color had darkened beautifully, as if her memory itself had stained his skin.

He exhaled slowly, the air heavy in his chest. Reaching for an expensive bottle of perfume, he sprayed it once over his chest, the faint musky scent wrapping around him. Then, wordlessly, he walked downstairs - toward the noise, the music, and the ghosts he couldn't escape.

Hey Bahana Ke Mehndi Lagaye Baithe Hain...

The garden looked like a dream - alive with color and sparkle. Women in bright lehengas sang, their palms covered in fresh henna, laughter echoing under the fairy lights.

Rudraksh walked straight past them, silent, unreadable. He reached the bar, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and headed to the indoor pool. Sitting by the edge, he dipped his feet in the cold blue water. The glass ceiling above reflected a perfect night - the moon casting silver light across his face, turning his silence into poetry.

Meanwhile, Kritika sat in the center of the garden, glowing in her dark green lehenga heavy with handmade embroidery, a sleeveless blouse tied gracefully around her neck. The mehndi artists worked swiftly, their cones gliding over her skin as designs bloomed like vines.

All around her, women clapped and sang -

Mehndi Ha Ha Mehndi...

Kritika looked at her hands, smiling faintly at the delicate designs, the faint scent of henna soothing her. Somewhere in the distance, she could almost feel eyes watching her - unseen, but intense.

Upstairs again, Rudraksh stared at his own palm - her name written like a mark of destiny. His ring caught the moonlight as he lifted his glass, voice a whisper.

"Tumne to mujhe sach mein chakor hi bana diya," he muttered under his breath., taking a slow sip of whiskey. The burn did nothing to dull the ache.

(You really did turn me into a chukar partridge)

He turned the ring around his finger, a faint smile ghosting on his lips.

"Aaj ring mila hai, kal shayad tum bhi mil jaoge..."His voice was rough - alcohol, pain, and hope tangled together.

(I found the ring today. Maybe tomorrow, I'll find you too.)

Mehndi Ha Ha Mehndi...

»»---->♡<----««

Far Away - Radhika Came Out Of The Shower, Fresh And Irritated From The Early Incident, She Wore A Simple Yellow Long-sleeved Kurti And White Palazzo Pants. Her Damp Hair Stuck To Her Neck As She Towel-dried It Lazily. She Never Liked Blow Dryers - Too Noisy For Her Peace.

Her gaze drifted down - and froze.

Her palm. A name.

"Wait... that arrogant man's name was Rudraksh, right?" she murmured, frowning hard.

Her eyes widened. "That means his name is on my hand?! Oh, crap."

The letters glowed dark red-brown under the light - a mark too deep to wash away.

Mehndi Ha Ha Mehndi...

»»---->♡<----««

Miles Away, In South America, The Night Stretched Long And Dark Over A Towering Black Skyscraper - The Devil's Tower. The Building Reflected No Light; Its Glass Swallowed It Whole. No One Dared To Look Too Long, Let Alone Walk Close.

On the 78th floor, behind silent steel doors, was his private chamber.

No servant entered here. Only one person ever did - Kitty.

Toot Ke Daali Se Haathon Pe Bikhar Jaati Hai...

Inside, the vast room gleamed in shades of black and gray. Leather couches, floor-to-ceiling windows, city lights blinking faintly below. Every wall was filled with photographs - a girl's photographs. Her life, from childhood to womanhood, frozen in frames. Her eyes, sharp and untamed; her lips, stubborn; her spirit, unforgettable.

The bathroom door opened. A tall man stepped out, water dripping from his hair, towel wrapped loosely around his waist. His sculpted chest glistened under the soft light. A faint scar ran from his lip to his jaw - a mark that only made him more dangerously perfect. His lip ring caught the light like a secret.

He ran a hand through his wet hair, walked to the closet, and came out in gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt. The aura didn't change - still lethal. Still him.

Kitty sat cross-legged on his bed, hiding something behind her back, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Bro, I've got something for you," she said, sing-song.

"I'm not interested," he replied flatly, lying back against the headboard.

"Oh, come on! You miss your baby ji, don't you?" she teased with a wicked grin.

"Yes. Always," he murmured. "So what?"

She giggled. "Then close your eyes."

He gave her a hard look - but did it anyway. "What are you doing, Kitty?" he warned.

"Patience," she said, grabbing his wrist. Something cool touched his palm.

"Kitty..."

"Done!" she said proudly. "Okay, open."

He looked down - and froze.

On his palm, written in mehndi, were two words: Baby Ji.

He blinked. "Where did you-"

She only grinned, holding up the small henna cone. "Magic, bro."

Toot Ke Daali Se Haathon Pe Bikhar Jaati Hai...

»»---->♡<----««

Back in India, Rudraksh leaned back, cigarette between his fingers, smoke curling into the air.

"Are you missing me too?" he whispered softly. "Or am I just lying to myself again?"

The night stayed silent.

Toot Ke Daali Se Haathon Pe Bikhar Jaati Hai...

In the garden, Kritika looked at the diya flickering before her.Kritika's mehndi artist asked sweetly,

"Ma'am, what name should I write?"

Kritika blinked, distracted. "Mr. Forest," she murmured.

The artist smiled and wrote it gently on her palm.

"Ma'am, your mehndi is complete."

Kritika didn't respond. Her gaze was distant - until the girl called again.

"Ma'am?"

breaking from her trance."What?" Kritika snapped, startled.

"Your mehndi is done."

Kritika looked down. The design was flawless - but the name...

Her eyes widened.

"What the fuck!" she hissed, voice trembling. She rubbed it hard, trying to erase it, but the stain had already turned darker - permanent.

Yeh Toh Mehndi Hai... Mehndi Toh Rang Laati Hai...

The artist stepped back, frightened. "Ma'am, you told me the name yourself..."

"Shut. Up." Kritika barked, storming off.

Inside the washroom, she scrubbed her hand furiously under the running tap. Nothing worked. The name stared back - bold and mocking.

Just then, Kalpana entered, draped in a dark green gown, her eyes heavy with alcohol, lips painted red.

"Kitu, what are you doing?" she asked, frowning.

Then she saw it - the name.

"Mr. Forest," she read aloud, her expression twisting with disgust. She grabbed Kritika's wrist.

"Tune us najayas ka naam apne haath pe likha hai? Disgusting!"

(You wrote that illegitimate man's name on your hand? Disgusting!)

"Mom, I didn't- it just appeared!" Kritika's voice cracked.

Kalpana's voice turned cold. "Disgusting."

Yeh toh mehndi hai... mehndi toh rang laati hai...

»»---->♡<----««

Radhika stared at her palm again.

"Us khatiya aadmi ka naam mere haath mein... aur ab toh aur gehra ho gaya."she whispered.

(That arrogant man's name on my hand... and now it's even darker.)

The mehndi gleamed - the color of fate, pain, and something that refused to fade.

Log Baagon Se Ise Tod Ke Le Aate Hai,

Kritika looked down at her palm. The name refused to fade; a strange, unfamiliar ache tightened her chest. She glanced at Kalpana, voice low. "Eya to mithi nehi rahi hai."

(This hasn't gone)

Kalpana didn't hesitate. She seized Kritika's hand, squirted a handful of hand wash over the mehndi and began rubbing harshly. Her face set in cold determination. "Es bhikhari ka naam main tera haath par rehne nehi dungi."

(I won't allow this beggar's name to remain on your hand.)

She rubbed as if she could scrub the very memory away.

Aur Patthar Pe Ise Shauk Se Piswaate Hai.

Kritika pulled her hand back, a faint redness rising under the rubbed skin, but the name remained stubborn and dark. She tried to calm her voice: "Mom, jaane dijiye. Kuch dino main apne aap mit jaega."

(Mom, let it be. In a few days it will fade by itself.)

Kalpana glared at the hand as if it were a betrayal. "Rudraksh ka naam kaha lekhogi?" she snapped.

(Where will you write Rudraksh's name then?)

Kritika pointed to her other hand and turned away to walk back to her seat. "Dusre haath mein."

(On the other hand.)

The mehndi artist hovered by, ready. Kritika offered the other palm. "Write Rudraksh name," she said plainly. The woman nodded and the cone traced a neat line across the new hand.

Phir Bhi Hothon Se,

Phir Bhi Hothon Se Iski Uff Talak Na Aati Hai,

Rudraksh sat by the indoor pool, water cold around his calves. Two cigarette butts rested in the ashtray. The whiskey glass lay empty beside them. He held an Hermes wallet in one hand; inside, a single small photograph peered out - a little girl, seven, sleeping with the untroubled peace of childhood.

He watched the tiny face - the only face he allowed on his phone lock screen, the only face he kept in his wallet. If he could, he thought, he would paint her name across the sky, write her portrait on every wall. The thought both terrified and delighted him.

Phir bhi hothon se iski uff talak na aati hai,

Lord Devil stiffened at the name.

"Kaash, jaise tumne uska naam mera haath mein likha diya hai, meri phuti kismat par bhi likh paati," he said, voice on the edge of vulnerability and melancholy.

(I wish... just like you wrote her name on my hand, you could write it on my cursed destiny too.)

"Agar main aisa kar paati to. of course, I'll do it. Bro," Kitty said, tilting her head and looking at him with a sadness she rarely showed.

(If I could do that, of course I would. Bro.)

He sighed heavily, shutting his eyes, trying to compose himself before opening them again.

"Bro, don't be sad. You know I don't like it when you're getting sad," she whispered softly, not wanting to see him like this.

"Bro, don't be sad... I can't bear it when you're sad."

"What is my fault?"

The question escaped him before his mind could stop it.

"That you love her," she retorts, as if the answer is obvious-because isn't it?

Phir bhi hothon se iski uff talak na aati hai,

".. You love her but she never loves you," she added, voice even lower, almost a whisper-sharp enough to tear his heart.

Yes.

I always loved her, but she never loved me.

I loved her-and that is my crime.

He thinks silently.

Ke mujhe maaloom hai, apne saare gunaah,

Ek toh mohabbat kar li,

Doosri tumse kar li,

Aur teesri... bepanah kar li.

Ab maafi bhi chaahun toh kaise maangu,

Gunah bhi khoobsurat lagne lage jab tumse kar li.

Ab saza chahe jo mile, manzoor hai mujhe,

Kasoor toh maine dil se kiya, bewajah nahi.

(For I know all my sins very well...

First, I fell in love...

Second, I fell in love with you...

And third... I loved you beyond all limits.

Now even if I want forgiveness, how can I ask for it...

When even my sins look beautiful-because I committed them to loving you.

Whatever punishment comes, I accept it...

For my crime was done with heart, not without reason.)

»»---->♡<----««

Phir Bhi Hothon Se Iski Uff Talak Na Aati Hai,

Radhika, meanwhile, sat on her bed and glared at her palm. She had scrubbed at it until the skin reddened, but the name would not go. Frustration rolled through her like a fever. She stood abruptly, pulled open her cupboard, and dragged out a canvas, paints, and brushes. She dropped them on the floor and sat down, breathing hard.

She squeezed black and white onto the canvas, smeared them with her fingers, and let instinct take over. She did not know what she meant to paint; only that something in her chest demanded it. Her hands moved with a strange, quiet authority, strokes guided by an unnameable ache.

When she stopped, the room smelled of paint and jasmine. Her hair and neck bore the smudges of her labor, but she barely noticed. On the canvas were heavy contrasts - black and white, a single eye painted larger than life. It was not the childish eye she had drawn for years; this one was an adult's eye - dangerous, intimate, strangely familiar. For the first time in years she had painted an adult's gaze, and it unsettled her in the best way.

Apne ras rang se is duniya ko sajana hai,

Kaam mehndi ka to gairo ke kaam aana hai.

She stepped back, breathless. The eye watched her from the canvas as if it might blink.

Hum yuhi kisi pr aese fhida hua nhi karte,

Suna hai aap bhi kisi ko kisi se juda nehi karta,

Uper vaala usse har din tujhese maangta hu main

Tang aakar usse mujhpe fhida kyu nhi karte.

(We don't fall for someone so easily,

I've heard you too do not separate one from another,

I ask the one above for her every day-

Why doesn't He, in frustration, cast her upon me?)

Yeh To Mehndi Hai, Mehndi To Rang Laati Hai,

Kritika's mehndi dried under the ministrations of a servant who dabbed lemon-sugar solution on her palms. Vaidehi hovered nearby and gently warmed the henna to deepen the shade.

"Yaar, tumhari mehndi to abhu sa hi khil rahi hai." Vaidehi said, pleased.

(Girl, your mehndi is blooming beautifully already.)

Aditya rolled his eyes from the side. "Ooo please, now don't said some fairy tail story that. Mehndi ka rang jitna dark hoga pati utna hi payar karega." he teased, half-joking.

(Oh please, don't start with that fairy tale-'The darker the mehndi, the more the husband will love.)

The comment stung. For Kritika it was not a joke but a small, bitter truth - Rudraksh might agree to wed her, but perhaps never love her. Her fingers clenched around the palm where Gyan's name had been written and then scrubbed away, while Rudraksh's name on the other hand remained faint and pale.

Aditya smirked, "See, it's proved that bhai didn't going to love her."

(See, it proves brother won't love her.) He said lightly, but the barb lodged in Kritika. She stood to call after him - "Aditya!" - but he was already halfway away, grinning and retreating.

Kritika exhaled sharply. Her hand burned where the mehndi lay; she had wiped at it until damp, yet the name Mr. Forest had taken a dark place in her palm. Rudraksh's name - Rudraksh's name remained pale.

Mehndi ha ha mehndi,

She crossed the garden and found Rudraksh at the pool, Empty glass, faraway eyes. the moon above them like a silent witness. He did not notice her approach at first; She poured him another whiskey, stepped closer, she sat a small distance away and caught sight of the open wallet. A photograph showed, and she read the name, a whisper: "Rudrika."

𝘛𝘶𝘫𝘩𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘲 𝘬𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘬𝘩 𝘭𝘪𝘺𝘢..

𝘈𝘣 𝘬𝘢𝘢𝘮! 𝘒𝘰𝘪 𝘢𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘪..

𝘛𝘶𝘫𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘢𝘺𝘦 𝘬𝘩𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘺𝘢..

𝘈𝘣 𝘬𝘢𝘢𝘮! 𝘒𝘰𝘪 𝘢𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘪..

𝘈𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘮! 𝘊𝘩𝘶𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘩𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦..

𝘈𝘱𝘯𝘢 𝘯𝘢𝘢𝘮! 𝘜𝘴𝘬𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘩𝘯𝘥𝘪 𝘮𝘦𝘪𝘯 𝘬𝘢𝘣𝘩𝘪..

𝘏𝘶𝘮 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘩𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘯𝘢 𝘯𝘢𝘢𝘮 𝘶𝘴𝘬𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘩𝘯𝘥𝘪 𝘮𝘦𝘪𝘯 𝘬𝘢𝘣𝘩𝘪.

𝘈𝘢𝘫 𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘪𝘯..

𝘋𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘩𝘵𝘢 𝘢𝘱𝘯𝘢 𝘯𝘢𝘢𝘮..

𝘒𝘰𝘪 𝘢𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘪!!

Rudraksh snapped to attention at the sound, closing the wallet with a rough hand. He did not look ashamed - just tired - and the silence between them spoke long and true.

He asked, voice low and rough, "What are you doing here?"

"You're still have her picture in your wallet?" Kritika's question was not a question - a hard, flat fact.

She watched him for a reaction; his silence answered.

She looked away, pain flaring in her face, but he was not unobservant. He reached out and took the whiskey glass from her hand - the very glass she had poured, naturally, for him. He took a large gulp and slammed it down.

Mehndi Ha Ha Mehndi,

Her eyes found the ring on his finger. Without thinking she grabbed his wrist and felt a stab of something like betrayal. "Where our engagement ring?" she demanded.

"It was slightly loose, so I give it to sameer for fixed," he lied through tight teeth. Kritika recognized the lie without needing to be told. "Then why you wear this ring?" she asked, pointing at the ring he wore instead - Rudika's ring.

Again he was silent. His silence said it all.

Mehndi Ha Ha Mehndi,

"Rudraksh, humari shadi hai kal or tumne usa abhi tak... Tumne uski photo abhi tak apne pass rakha ho? Why?" Kritika's voice was tight, breaking with the weight of the question.

(Rudraksh, our wedding is tomorrow and you still... you're still keeping her photo with you? Why?)

"Uski photo main humesha apne pass rakhun ga." He said coldly, distant.

(I will always keep her picture with me.)

"Even after our marriage?" she pressed, jaw tight, eyes narrowed in a hurt that had nowhere to go.

He laughed bitterly, a short, humorless sound. "You know... Jab pyaar hota hai, vo kuch bhi nehi dakhta baas ho jaate hai. Pyaar bas suruvaat hoti hai. Use nibha na bahat muskil hota hai, bo kahta haina... Pyaar karna aasan hai paar usa nibha na utna hi muskil Or esi pyaar to aur bhi mushkil hota hai jahapar umid hi nehi ho."

(You know... when there is love, you stop seeing anything else. Love is only a beginning. To sustain it is very hard... they say love is easy but keeping it is difficult, and this kind of love is even harder where there is no hope.)

Mehndi ha ha mehndi,

"Hum kis ko mohabbat karta hai bo humare haath mein nehi hai par usse bhula dena humare haath pay hai." she tried to reason, voice soft but pleading.

(Whom we love is not in our hands, but forgetting them is in our hands.)

He looked at her then, eyes burning with something she could not name. "No, I can't forget her. Haar ek sanse Mai bo hai, i can't forget her that easily. I can stop breathing but forget her that's impossible." His voice was raw.

(No, I can't forget her. She is in every breath; I can stop breathing, but forgetting her is impossible.)

"Usa bhul na matlab aapne jaan dena and I'll stop remember her the moment I'll die until that she's the owner of my heart."

(Forgetting her would mean giving up my life, and I will stop remembering her only the day I die; until then she remains the owner of my heart.)

Mehndi ha ha mehndi,

Raah dekhega teri,

Chahe zamaane lag jaayein.

Haan, raah dekhega teri,

Chahe zamaane lag jaayein.

Ya to tu aa jaaye,

Ya hum... thikaane lag jaayein.

(I will wait for you,

Even if the world takes ages.

Yes, I will wait for you,

Even if it takes the world.

Either you will come,

Or we... will be finished.)

Kritika sagged, the energy draining from her. "Well." She nodded slowly, not because she accepted it, but because she could not fight the ache. She stood, hands clenched. Her eyes slid to the ring and then to his palm again - both held the same stubborn truth.

"You wrote her name." she stated, flat. He simply followed her gaze and nodded.

She could not stand there any longer. Fists tightening, breath short, she said, "Goodnight." Her voice was cold, trimmed of tears.

Without turning, Rudraksh watched her leave. He had no words, only an exhausted sigh that seemed to swallow the room. She walked away toward her room, footsteps small on the marble.

Tera hasta hua chehra, udaas kyun hai?

Woh muskurahat bhi aaj be-aas kyun hai?

Teri aankhon mein yeh itni pyaas kyun hai?

Jo tera hona hi nahi chahta,

Tujhe ussi ka intezaar kyun hai?

(Your smiling face - why is it sad?

That smile seems hopeless today - why?

Why is there such thirst in your eyes?

He who does not want to be yours - why do you wait for him?)

Rudraksh closed his hand around the name on his palm and shut his eyes tight, finally acknowledging the truth he had been avoiding: he loved her, wholly and without forgiveness.

The night had grown quiet-too quiet. The only sound in the room was the faint clink of ice melting in a forgotten glass of whiskey.

Rudraksh leaned back the pool, the blue water reflecting in his cold eyes. He didn't move when Sameer stepped closer, only spoke in that deep, cutting tone that could freeze air itself.

"What? " He asked.

"Boss." Sameer's voice pulled him back to the room; Rudraksh opened his eyes and glared.

"Is everything ready for tomorrow?" Rudraksh asked, voice hard as stone.

"Yes, everything is ready but are you sure... I mean... Kidnaap and... Vo bhi kritika ma'am ko?" Sameer faltered, trying to be careful.

(Yes, everything is ready but are you sure... I mean kidnapping - and Kritika ma'am?)

Rudraksh's glare sharpened. "If you have another better option give it to me." His tone left no room for argument.

Sameer scrambled for an answer.

"I have a better option... If you don't want to kidnap kritika then sit on the bloody damm mandap and marry her." Rudraksh said. Irritated.

(I have a better option... If you don't want to kidnap Kritika then just sit on the damn mandap and marry her.)

"What? Boss, I'm already married and you know my wife is pregnant... Kaha main kuch mahine Mai baap banuga aur apw meri dusri shadi ki baat kar rahe ho. Main apne wife sa bahat pyaar karti hu." Sameer protested, stumbling over his words, earning a deadly glare.

(What? Boss, I'm already married and my wife is pregnant... Where in a few months I'll become a father and now you talk about my second marriage. I love my wife very much.)

"Okay, okay, I'll do it and the men's will kidnap kritika ma'am before the wedding." Sameer Said, nodding.

"Now did you find the details of that girl, I told you?" Rudraksh asked, remembering the slap-the audacity that had burned into his memory, turning his gaze darker than sin itself.

"Yes, boss. The girl's name is Radhika Swain," Sameer said quickly.

Rudraksh's jaw tightened. "Radhika," he repeated, her name rolling off his tongue like a promise and a threat at once.

"She's a criminal investigation journalist. In her family, her mother, elder sister who's married, and a younger sister-but..." Sameer's voice faltered, hesitation creeping in.

Rudraksh's eyes lifted sharply, glare slicing through the dim light. "But what?" he growled.

Sameer swallowed. "Boss, I tried to find Radhika's father's details, but surprisingly there's nothing about him. No data, nothing."

He frowned, still puzzled. "I mean, I checked every possible source, but it's like he doesn't exist."

Rudraksh's expression didn't change. "I don't need her father's detail. Give me her detail."His voice was low, commanding - he had no patience for distractions.

"Boss, she's working at HotTake Daily News Channel," Sameer continued.

"Wait... which channel?" Rudraksh asked, the faintest twitch of curiosity flickering in his voice - just enough to show he'd caught the name.

"HotTake Daily News Channel," Sameer repeated.

Rudraksh nodded slowly, absorbing the information like a predator tracing the scent of prey. "Keep an eye on her. Put some of our men outside her building," he ordered. His tone was calm - too calm - the kind of calm that came before a storm.

Sameer nodded. "Anything else, boss?"

Rudraksh's gaze shifted to the night beyond the pool's glass wall. "She's going by bus. Right?"

Sameer nodded again. "Yes."

"Tomorrow morning, the bus she travels in won't reach her. In fact, no taxi, no auto, no vehicle will go to that area." His words were precise - not angry, but deadly in their intent.

Sameer blinked, confused. "But why, boss?"

Rudraksh's lips curled faintly - almost a smile, but colder. "She said she's poor. So tomorrow, she'll go to her office by walking." He said it like a man stating destiny itself - no emotion, just control.

Sameer stared at him, utterly baffled. "This man is crazy... really? This silly action?" he thought to himself, unable to believe Rudraksh would do such a thing. He'd seen his boss ruthless, dangerous - but this was something else.

Rudraksh finally turned his face slightly toward him, the signal clear. "Now, get lost."Rudraksh's voice was a dismissive slice.

Sameer nodded instantly. "Yes, boss," he muttered, quickly turning away.

His footsteps echoed as he strode out of the pool area, leaving Rudraksh alone again - the air heavy, the night silent.

Rudraksh picked up his glass, the faint scent of whiskey still clinging to it, and whispered under his breath - not for anyone to hear, but for himself.

"Radhika Swain..."

The name lingered in the air long after Sameer was gone.

A name that had dared to challenge him.

And a name that would soon learn what that truly meant.

Radhika was still sitting on the floor, her back pressed against the wall, staring at the pair of eyes drawn on the canvas - as if trying to read something from them, trying to understand them.

She didn't know whose eyes they were, but she knew there was something familiar in them - something that could burn her or heal her at the same time.

Her fingers reached out, trembling slightly, and she picked up the old frame of the eyes she had drawn years ago - her "big sun," as she called it - and placed it beside the new canvas.

Something clicked. The eyes were different, yes - but the soul behind them felt the same. The framed eyes were a child's... and the painted ones, an adult's.

"Whose eyes are these?" she whispered, frowning, searching for an answer in the silence.

"Maybe these are the eyes you saw in your dreams?" a voice inside her replied - Chiku, her inner mind, always there, never quiet.

"Chiku, shut up!" she snapped, irritation cracking through her voice. She was already confused by the eyes, and now he had come to bother her again.

"Rudu, you told me God's plans are the best. Maybe God's planning something for you too," Chiku said. For once, there was no mockery in his tone.

"Chiku, I think you're in a good mood," Radhika taunted.

"Maybe," Chiku replied lightly.

"Acha, then tell me - when are you going to leave me?" she asked, half expecting another sarcastic jab.

Radhika stood up, walking toward her bag - the one that held her medicine, her only escape from him.

"Leaving you? One day I will, Rudu," Chiku said, his tone strangely calm. Radhika froze mid-step.

"Which day?" she asked softly.

Chiku's voice grew deeper, echoing through her mind -

"Tu humsa kahti hai na, tujhe maut se dar nahi lagta. Tujhe gurur hai na ke tu kabhi kisi se pyaar nahi karegi. Tu kehti hai ke tu apni kismat ko accept kar liya hai."

(You always say you're not afraid of death. You're proud that you'll never love anyone. You say you've accepted your fate.)

Then his voice turned sharper, almost prophetic:

"Main us din chala jaunga jis din tu maut se daregi, aur jeene ke liye bhikh maangegi. Jis din tujhe pyaar hoga... nahi, ishq hoga. Tu apni kismat se ladegi apni zindagi ke liye. Uss din main chala jaunga."

(I'll leave the day you fear death... the day you beg to live. The day you fall in love - no, the day you fall in ishq. The day you fight your fate for your own life - that day, I'll go.)

Radhika's head began to throb. Chiku's voice grew heavier, pressing down on her chest like invisible weight.

"Chiku, shut up!" she shouted, slamming her palms over her ears. But how could she block him? Chiku lived inside her - her shadow, her curse.

She staggered toward her bag.

"One day you'll fall in love, Rudu," Chiku whispered, his voice now echoing everywhere. "Someone will love you so much that you'll start loving yourself."

"Chiku!! Stop it!" Radhika cried, clutching her head tightly.

"Someone is waiting for you, praying for you, and he'll-"

"Stop it!!" Radhika screamed, louder this time, before lunging forward and grabbing her bag. It fell open, spilling everything onto the floor - including her medicine.

"Rudu..." Chiku's voice softened now, almost tender. But Radhika had already opened the bottle, swallowing the pills and chasing them down with water.

Silence.

Chiku was gone.

Radhika set the bottle down, breathing hard, sweat rolling down her temples. Her body trembled, her face flushed, her eyes empty.

The silence after Chiku's voice was the loudest thing in the room.

Radhika took a few deep breaths to calm herself before bending down to pick up the things scattered on the floor. As she gathered them, something caught her eye - a small pendrive.

"Shit! I forgot to watch it," she murmured under her breath and quickly collected everything.

She stood up, grabbed her laptop - the one her team leader had given her - and attached the pendrive. Inside it, there was only one folder. She clicked it open. One single video file appeared on the screen. Her cursor hovered over it, her heartbeat quickening with curiosity and an odd sense of dread. The thumbnail was pitch black - grainy, shadowed, and sinister.

She double-clicked. The laptop flickered to life, casting a cold white light across her face.

The video began.

The footage was grainy, but clear enough to reveal a brutal scene. A man sat bound to a chair - beaten, bleeding, trembling. Around him stood three men. One of them was wearing an expensive suit - power radiating from his posture - and the second, a politician in a spotless white kurta and grey coat.

Radhika's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Rudraksh Singh Randhawa..." she whispered, her throat tightening.

Her gaze instinctively dropped to her palm - to the mehndi where his name was written - before lifting again to the screen.

Rudraksh stood calm, too calm. A cigar burned between his fingers. His expression was emotionless - like death in a tailored suit. The other man, the politician, watched quietly, hands in his pockets. Behind them, the guards stood like shadows - motionless, expressionless.

The bound man was screaming - raw, ragged, animalistic. His face was swollen, his lips split. Blood dripped from his nose to his shirt.

Rudraksh exhaled smoke slowly, letting it swirl into the air like a ghost.

"Talk," he said, voice deep and cold. "Where is the money?"

The man gasped, choking on his own blood. "I... I don't know what you're talking about..."

Rudraksh didn't react. He looked toward the politician, who gave a small nod.

Then - a guard stepped forward, carrying something metallic. The light caught it - sharp, curved, and deadly. Radhika's pulse stuttered.

The guard grabbed the man's hand and without a word, SNAPPED his little finger backward.

The crack echoed through the speakers.

Radhika flinched violently, hand flying to her mouth. Her entire body trembled. But the video didn't stop. The man's screams tore through the air, muffled but unbearable. Another finger - SNAP. Another scream. Blood sprayed across the wall.

Rudraksh didn't blink. He tapped his cigar, ashes falling near the man's blood.

"Talk," he repeated.

The man only sobbed harder, shaking his head. The guard grinned - a cruel, twisted smile - and then picked up a plier.

Radhika's heart pounded in her chest so hard she could hear it.

"Please... please stop..." the man begged.

But there was no mercy. The guard pressed the plier against the man's thumb and ripped the nail clean off.

The man's scream was no longer human. Radhika's tears streamed down, her hand trembling on her laptop. But she couldn't look away - horror pinned her there.

The blood flowed - thick, dark, endless. Rudraksh took a slow drag of his cigar, exhaled smoke, and looked down at the man like one would look at a broken toy.

The politician finally spoke, voice calm. "He's wasting our time."

Rudraksh nodded slightly. He gestured - the guards understood. They picked up a rod, red-hot at the tip, glowing from fire. The man screamed before it even touched him. When it pressed against his skin, his entire body convulsed. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air.

Radhika gagged, pushing a hand over her mouth. But her eyes - her eyes refused to close.

And then, silence.

The man was half-dead now, gasping for air. Rudraksh looked down at him, eyes void of emotion.

"Where's the money?" he asked again.

"I... don't... have... it," the man croaked, barely audible.

Rudraksh sighed. "Then you're useless."

Before Radhika could even process it - BANG!

The gunshot echoed through the room.

Blood splattered across the wall - red, violent, final.

Radhika screamed, clutching her chest, tears streaming down her face. The laptop screen reflected the horror in her wide eyes.

Her whole body was shaking. "How could he...? How can someone be so heartless?" she whispered, voice breaking.

On-screen, a trembling man appeared, face pale, eyes darting.

"My name is Muna," he said shakily. "The man they just killed... was Mr. Vivek Malek. Director of Financial Operations and Laundering... and I worked under him."

He swallowed, fear evident.

"I know I'll die too. Maybe worse. Because we betrayed the devil himself..." He looked around nervously before whispering, "Before I die, I'll tell you where the money is hidden... and the password everyone's dying for..."

Then -

Click

The video abruptly cut to black.

Silent.

Radhika sat frozen - the only sound in the room was her own ragged breathing. The white light from the laptop fell on her pale, tear-streaked face. Her lips trembled. Her eyes were wide, unblinking.

She backed away slowly from the laptop as if it would come alive. Her whole body shook - shoulders hunched, one hand gripping the bed, knuckles white. Her breaths came fast and shallow, her chest rising rapidly.

She couldn't scream. Couldn't speak. Only the echo of the gunshot and the man's screams filled her mind.

Her thoughts spiraled - Why did they kill him? What was his fault? How could Rudraksh... the man I slapped... be this cruel?

The room felt smaller, darker. The silence deafening.

Minutes passed. Hours. She didn't know. Her heart still pounded like it wanted to escape her chest.

Finally, her trembling hand closed the laptop. She placed it aside, staring blankly ahead.

The screams of Mr. Vivek Malek still echoed in her ears. Her vision blurred. Her body gave in.

The room spun.

Then - everything went black.

Radhika collapsed onto the floor - unconscious, broken, and haunted.

The tattoo on the back of Radhika's neck - the red Naruto symbol - began to twist and shift, as if alive, pulling itself toward the moon inked beside it.

The moon started to glow red - faint at first, then brighter, pulsing like a heartbeat.

A warning.

A symbol of danger.

Again.

Outside Radhika's apartment building, a black SUV rolled to a silent stop under the dim streetlight. The same two men - the ones who had once planned to kidnap Radhika from the jewelry shop but had fled after seeing Rudraksh - stepped out again.

Both were dressed head to toe in black, masks covering their faces. They moved quietly, like shadows.

Suddenly, one of them froze.

"Kya hua?" the other asked in a low voice.

The first man scanned the street - eyes narrowing. Hidden cars, men in plain clothes, stationed everywhere.

"Lord Death's men..." he whispered.

The other man followed his gaze and immediately stiffened. His pulse quickened. Without another word, both turned back, slipping quickly into their SUV.

They knew what it meant.

No one crossed paths with him and lived.

Rudraksh Singh Randhawa - the name itself was enough to silence grown men. People whispered that he wasn't just ruthless - he was a walking curse.

No one knew from which dark scripture or hellish dictionary he learned his methods of torture... only that once you fell into his hands, you didn't die easily. You wished for death.

The SUV drove off fast, disappearing into the night.

Inside the apartment, Radhika still lay unconscious on the cold floor. The tattoo on her neck - the red Naruto symbol - had stopped moving, frozen in eerie stillness.

But the moon beside it still glowed blood-red, casting a faint shimmer across her skin.

The danger hadn't left.

It was still there - waiting, breathing, watching.

To be continued............

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