Krisha's Pov
"Arre Laddo, uth jaa jaldi. Kab tak soyegi? Tujhe office nahi jaana?"
(wake up quickly! How long are you going to sleep? Don't you have to go to the office?)
The warmth of my blanket was ripped away as Dadi’s voice pulled me from the clutches of sleep. I groaned, squinting against the morning light.
Dadi. She was my sanctuary. The only woman who stood by me through every storm, loved me without a single condition, and held the broken pieces of my world together after my mother passed away. Losing Mom at nineteen had shattered me, and if it weren't for Dadi’s heartbeat keeping me grounded, I would have vanished into the shadows long ago. In this cold, transactional house, her love was the only thing that didn't come with a price tag.
"Ughhh... darling, thoda aur sone do na," I mumbled, blindly reaching for the blanket to shield myself from reality for just five more minutes.
(Let me sleep a little.)
"Please Laddo, wake up. Today is your important meeting. Did you forget?"
I froze. A cold jolt of adrenaline shot through my veins. "Wait... what date is today?"
"Today is the 9th," she replied calmly.
I shot up as if the bed were on fire. "What the f—!"
I didn't finish the curse, Dadi would have swiped at me, but I was already a blur of motion. Within minutes, I had scrubbed the sleep from my face and after shower, i stepped into a crisp, ice-white co-ord set. Minimal jewelry, sharp lines, and a silhouette that screamed authority. I didn't just want to be the CEO, I wanted to look like the woman who owned the room before she even spoke.
"Come on, have your breakfast now," Dadi insisted as I scrambled to organize my files.
"No, no, I’m getting late," I replied, my voice tight.
"Arre, at least take this sandwich and have it in the car," she said, practically shoving it into my hand.
"Thank you. Muah!" I planted a quick kiss on her cheek and bolted.
"Arre arre, aahista se jaa!" she called out, her voice trailing off into a fond mutter. "Hey Bhagwan, yeh ladki bhi na..."
Soon, I was behind the wheel of my BMW, my true happy place. I dialed a number as I wove through the chaotic Delhi traffic.
"Hello, Karan. When will the meeting start?"
"10:00 AM sharp," he replied. Karan. My PA. The only man in the city who could actually keep up with my whirlwind pace without crashing.
"Okay. I'll be right there."
The moment I stepped into the office, the atmosphere shifted. My heels clicked against the marble floor like a countdown.
"Ma'am... ma'am... Krisha ma'am!" An employee was practically sprinting behind me. I didn't slow down. I didn't turn. My focus was a straight line.
"Ma'am, please—listen!"
I stopped abruptly, and the poor guy nearly collided with my back. I turned slowly, my gaze cold and unyielding. He was panting, sweat beads forming on his forehead.
"What is it?"
"Ma... mam, y-your file," he stammered, trembling as he held it out.
I didn't even graze it with my eyes. "Give it to him," I said, gesturing toward Karan, who was standing nearby with an amused smirk. Without a second glance, I walked into my cabin.
I sank into my chair, crossing my legs over the desk. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a sprawling view of the city, but all I felt was the weight of the war I was fighting. I joined my father's company and became the CEO because of my capability, because I brought profit and growth. But my position was never permanent. The day this profit ends, my journey as a CEO ends with it. My brother Shaurya was hurt-not because I succeeded, but because our father chose me over him. He went on to build his own company, and that was never the real problem.
The real problem was my stepmother, Urmila, and her daughter, Priya.
Two years after my mother's death, my father married another woman. Shaurya accepted them maybe because he was older, maybe because he was stronger. He accepted Priya as his sister, gave her the love that once should have been mine. He loved her deeply. But my relationship with them was never the same. It was broken, cold, and beyond repair.
They took my mother's place.
They took my place.
They hate me just as much as I hate them-but they hide it well. In front of my father, Mr. Vikrant Mehta, they play the perfect family, while I remain the outsider.
I hate him too.
Because he never takes my side. Never once. He always stands with them.
"When will they arrive?" I asked Karan, not looking up from my phone.
"They're already in the meeting room, ma'am."
I paused. "Oh. I'm late."
"Like always," he muttered.
I lifted my head slowly, giving him the look, the one that usually preceded a termination letter. He cleared his throat instantly. "Shall I call them again?"
"No," I said, standing up and smoothing my outfit. "Let them wait."
The meeting room went silent the moment I crossed the threshold. Six men, all decades older than me, suddenly stood straight. I took my seat at the head of the table.
"So, which deal is worth my time?"
One man pushed a file forward. "Ma’am, there’s a very strong proposal with Shekhawat Industries."
My fingers froze. Shekhawat. The name felt like a physical blow to my chest.
"No," I said, my voice turning to ice. "Next option."
"Ma’am," he tried again, his voice shaking. "This deal is highly profitable. They sent it themselves. They’re rivals, yes, but this is a goldmine."
Even Naman Singh, the only man in the company I actually respected, nodded. "He's right, Krisha. This is a strong move."
I hesitated. "Who hosted the project?"
"Mr. Dhairya Singh Shekhawat himself."
The name hit me like a silent storm. Dhairya. For a split second, the armor around my heart cracked. Anger, pain, and memories I had buried under layers of corporate ice came rushing back. I stood up so fast my chair screeched against the floor.
"Accept the deal," I said flatly.
"But ma—"
"I said, accept it." I walked out before they could see the flicker of emotion in my eyes. Karan followed me, his footsteps quick and concerned.
"Are you sure about this?"
I didn't answer. Some decisions aren't about money. They’re about unfinished wars. And mine with Dhairya? It had just been declared.
The evening sun was bleeding across the Delhi skyline, painting the city in shades of bruised orange and gold. From the height of my cabin, the world looked like a silent movie, thousands of people running, laughing, and living their lives while I remained frozen in time.
I stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass window, the cold surface reflecting a woman I barely recognized. I picked up my mother’s photograph from the mahogany desk and clutched it to my heart, my fingers trembling. Slowly, I looked up at the vast sky. My eyes were burning, swimming with tears that I refused to let fall.
Because tears make you weak. And in this world, being weak is a death sentence.
"Mumma..." I whispered, my voice thick and jagged. "I've become so lonely since you left."
I pressed the frame closer, as if I could pull her warmth through the glass. "I have Dadi. She’s the only one who stayed. But Mumma, do you know what happened when you left? I locked myself away. I cried until my lungs burned. Morning to night... just crying. I didn’t just break, I was shattered into a million pieces."
My chest felt like it was being crushed by an invisible hand. I swallowed the lump in my throat and continued, "The day Dadi held my hand... the day she put her hand on my head and let me cry in her lap... I broke even more. Seeing me like that, even her eyes were full of pain. Everything was over for me."
I wiped my eyes angrily with the back of my hand, the grief turning into a sharp, familiar bitterness.
"And then, two years later... that bullshit man you called a husband married her. Urmila." My jaw tightened until it ached. "That woman is a snake. She tortured me in ways nobody saw. She built a wall between me and Papa. Your Krisha was so soft back then... so sensitive. I stayed quiet even when my heart was hemorrhaging."
I let out a harsh, hollow laugh. "She broke again. And then... that day."
My hands started to shake at the memory.
"The day Papa slapped me. For the first time. In front of everyone, at a wedding... just because a drink accidentally spilled on Priya’s dress. She screamed at me like I was a servant, and that man... he didn't even ask. He just slapped me."
I closed my eyes, the sting of that phantom slap still burning on my cheek. "That was the day I decided."
I looked at my reflection in the glass. The girl with the soft eyes was gone. In her place was a woman with a gaze as sharp as a blade and a heart encased in ice.
"I decided to become cold. So cold that even I’m afraid of myself sometimes," I whispered, my voice dropping to a lethal low. "Look at me now, Mumma. That broken, sensitive girl is dead. Now... I’m the woman nobody dares to raise their voice at. Nobody can ever hurt me again."
A faint, ghostly smile touched my lips. "I became a fashion designer. I know you’re watching, and I know you’re proud. I’m going to start my own empire soon. I won’t stay in this company, his company, for long. I promise."
My smile flickered and died. "And Bhaiyu..."
I whispered, my heart giving a painful tug.
"I know he loves me, but he loves Priya too. He takes her side. Slowly, he’s drifting away from me, into their 'perfect' world."
I straightened my blazer and took a deep, steadying breath. The vulnerability was retreating, replaced by the familiar, numbing darkness.
"But it’s okay. I’m strong now. I can handle it all. Just give me your blessings, Mumma. Wherever you are, stay happy. And stay with me."
I stood there for a moment longer, my eyes clear and my face a mask of unreadable stone. The softness was buried.
A knock at the door shattered my vulnerability. I wiped my face, the mask sliding back into place instantly. "Come in."
Karan entered, holding a stack of files that looked like they belonged in a war room. We took our seats, and for a few minutes, the only sound was the flipping of pages and the hum of professional strategy.
"So, what about that order?" I asked, my voice steady and sharp.
"Huh? Which order?" he asked, looking genuinely confused for a second.
"Arre... that ramp walk order," I prompted, tapping my pen against the glass desk.
"Ohh, yes!" He beamed. "Everything is going perfectly. Mr. Malhotra saw the sketches, he absolutely loved them. He said your designs are unlike anything in the market right now."
I leaned back, a small, satisfied smirk playing on my lips. "Of course he did." I wasn't being arrogant, I was being realistic. I knew my work was exceptional. I poured my soul into every stitch because, in this world, my talent was the only thing that belonged solely to me. No one could take that away.
But as my confidence surged, something flickered in the back of my mind. A name. A ghost.
"What happened?" Karan asked, picking up on my sudden shift in energy.
"I'm thinking about the Shekhawat proposal," I said, my voice dropping an octave.
Karan’s expression turned into one of deep concern. "Are you sure, Krisha? I mean... they’re our biggest rivals. Working with him is like playing with fire."
I looked out at the city, my eyes turning cold. "I know. But kuch paane ke liye... kuch khona padta hai."
(To gain something... you have to lose something.)
"What do you mean?" he asked, leaning in.
"Nothing." I brushed it off with a smirk that didn't reach my eyes. "Their business is centered in Udaipur, right?"
He nodded slowly. "Yeah, that's their stronghold."
"So... he’ll have to come to Delhi for the final signing?"
"Yes. In three days."
"Okay," I said, opening another file as if the news didn't make my blood run hot. "That’s all for now."
Suddenly, my cabin door didn't just open, it swung back with a vengeance.
And there she was. Kashvi.
Arms crossed, eyes blazing, she marched toward me like a soldier on a mission.
"Huh?" I asked, looking up in mock innocence.
"Krisha!!!" she snapped. Karan and I both froze. He took one look at her face, saw the 'storm' warning in her eyes, and bolted from the room without a word. He knew better than to get caught in the crossfire of our friendship.
"I never thought you'd turn out to be this cruel," she said, her voice trembling with the kind of rage only a best friend can manage. She moved her neck from side to side, a silent, lethal warning.
"Kya bol rahi hai tu? I’ve been in the office since morning... what did I even do?" I pouted, trying to look confused.
"That's exactly the problem! You've been in this office since morning!" she yelled, her frustration boiling over. "Subah se shaam office, office, office! Don't you think about anything else? Do you even have a life outside these glass walls?"
Suddenly, a cold realization hit me like a bucket of ice water.
Richa Didi’s Roka. My best friend’s sister's engagement.
"Oh god... shit. How could I forget?" I whispered, my hand flying to my mouth.
"Wahhh, Now you remember?" she mocked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Haan... I remember now," I said softly, my heart sinking.
"Shut up. Just shut up. How kind of you to finally remember!" she snapped.
"I'm so sorry, Kashvi. Today was just... it was an insane day, yaar," I pleaded. I truly felt terrible. Richa Di was like my own sister; she was one of the few people who actually understood the mess inside my head.
"You're always busy," Kashvi muttered, though her eyes were softening.
"I know... please forgive me. You know the reason why I keep myself buried in this work." I reached out, holding her hands with pleading eyes.
She rolled her eyes, letting out a long, dramatic sigh. "Budhe baap ke chakkar mein phasi rehti hai. Chal, haath chhod mera." She shook her head. "Don't apologize to me. Go and apologize to Richa Di. She’s the one who’s actually furious."
(Always stuck because of your old father. Come on, let go of my hand.)
"I promise, I'll make it up to her. Just tell me you're not mad," I whispered.
She looked at me helplessly, the anger fading into affection. "I can never stay mad at you, you stone-hearted woman."
I jumped up, the stress of the day momentarily forgotten. "I LOVE YOU KASHVIIII!"
I threw my arms around her in a tight hug. She laughed, hugging me back. But the moment of joy was short lived. My phone buzzed on the desk, a sharp, intrusive sound. I pulled back and looked at the screen.
The blood drained from my face instantly. I froze, my breath catching in my throat.
"What happened? Did you see a ghost?" Kashvi asked, leaning in. I didn't say a word, I just turned the phone toward her. She froze too, her jaw dropping.
"BHENCH*D!" she breathed, her eyes nearly popping out of her head.
The message on the screen was a cold, direct hit:
"I’m coming to Delhi, darling. Be ready, to meet me."
For a second, the room felt like it was spinning. But then, slowly, a lethal smirk began to spread across my lips. He was coming to my city. My territory.
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To be continued...
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