Krisha's Pov
her drive home was a blurred streak of streetlights and silent screams. I didn't even realize I had reached the house until the engine died, leaving me in a deafening silence that was quickly filled by the frantic pounding of my heart.
โI stormed into my room, the sanctuary that suddenly felt like a cage. The moment the door clicked shut, the icy mask I wore for the world shattered.
โ"Mumma..."
โThe word left my lips as a broken sob. I collapsed against the door, my eyes scanning the empty air as if her spirit could manifest and hold me. "Ye galat hai, Mumma... Papa ye sab kyun kar rahe hain? Why does he hate me so much? Bina merse puche woh aisa kaise kar sakte hai?"
(This is wrong, Mom... Why is Dad doing all this? Why does he hate me so much? How could he do this without asking me?)
โThe tears came then, hot, stinging, and uncontrollable. I'm the girl who fights. I'm the girl who stands tall when the world tries to bend her. I don't cry. But tonight, I was just a motherless girl drowning in a sea of betrayal.
โ"Aap kyun chali gayi mujhe yahan akele chhod kar?" I choked out, clutching my chest. "Was I that bad? Why did I never get the love of a mother or a father? Dadi loves me... she loves me more than anyone, but why is this my fate, Mumma?"
(Why did you leave me alone here?)
โThe sound of car tires on the gravel driveway snapped me out of my grief. They were back. The "happy" family was home to celebrate the sale of my life.
โI wiped my tears harshly, the salt stinging my skin. I do what I want, not what they decide. I wasn't going to sit here and mourn. I was going to fight. I stormed down to the hall. They were all there, looking smug and satisfied.
โ"Dad!" I shouted. The word echoed through the high ceilings, sharp as a whip. Everyone froze. "What the hell is this? I am not marrying anyone. Do you hear me?"
โMy father looked at me, his expression chillingly casual. "You have no choice."
โ"Mai yeh shaadi nahi karungi, Mr. Vikrant Mehta," I spat, stepping into his space. The use of his full name was a declaration of war.
โ"Watch your tongue, Krisha!" Urmila, my stepmother, shrieked. I turned my head slowly, giving her a death glare so lethal she actually stepped back.
"Don't you dare shout at me." I saw her mouth zip shut. Good for her.
โ"Tameez se baat karo, Krisha," my father growled, his eyes reddening. Ah, there it was. I had bruised his massive ego.
โ"You don't tell me how to talk," I retorted. But before I could finish, he lunged, grabbing my arms in a grip that would surely leave bruises tomorrow.
โ"Yeh shaadi hogi, aur parson hi hogi!" he hissed. I jerked my hand back, shoving him away with every ounce of strength I had.
"You are no one to decide my future! This wedding is not happening. Why are you even doing this? To satisfy your sick need for control?"
โHe let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "It's best for my business."
โA laugh bubbled up in my throat bitter and dark. "For your business? My foot! You think you can trade me like a commodity?"
โ"I've done what I had to do, ab tumhari marzi h ye shaadi aram se karogi ya zabardasti i don't care, par yeh shaadi toh hokar rahegi." he said, turning away as if I were a closed file.
(Whether you do this willingly or by force, I don't care. But this marriage is going to happen.)
โ"Aapne mandap sajane ki taiyari kar li hai na? Toh lage hath mere kafan ka intezam bhi kar lijiye. Mera janaza niklega, par ye shaadi nahi hogi, Mr. Vikrant Mehta!" I screamed at his back. Because it's a war now.
(You've already started preparing the wedding altar, haven't you? Then you might as well arrange for my shroud while you're at it. Because my funeral procession will leave this house, but this wedding will never happen, Mr. Vikrant Mehta!)
โSLAP.
โThe force of the blow spun my head to the side. The world went silent for a second, the only sound the ringing in my ears. I slowly turned back, my hand trembling as it touched my burning cheek.
โMy heart stopped. It wasn't my father. It wasn't Urmila.
โIt was Dadi.
โ"Chup! Bilkul chup!" Dadi shouted, her voice trembling with a rage I had never seen. "yeh tameez sikhayi hai maine tujhe badon se baat karne ki? Apne baap ka naam lene ki?"
(Shut up! Just Shut up! Is this the etiquette I taught you? To talk to your father like this? To insult his name?)
โ"Dadi..." my voice was a broken whisper. My throat felt like it was filled with glass. She had never laid a finger on me. Not once. She was my only anchor, and she had just cut the rope.
โ"Parson tu yeh shaadi kar rahi hai, Krisha," she said, her eyes hard and cold. "Warna mera mara hua muh dekhegi." The world tilted. She was using the one weapon she knew I couldn't fight: her life.
(Day after tomorrow you are getting married, Or you will see my dead face.)
โ"Nahi, Dadi... dadi yeh aap kya bol rahe ho? yeh nhi ho sakta..." I stumbled over my words, the tears falling freely now. "Did someone say something to you? Tell me! You would never do this to me!"
(what are you saying? This... this can't be happening.)
โ"Apni shaadi ke liye taiyaar hojaa, Krisha," she said, turning her back on me and walking away.
(Get ready for your marriage.)
โI was shattered. Completely, utterly broken. I looked around the room, my vision blurred, and saw Shaurya standing there like a statue.
โ"Bhaiyu... listen, please," I sobbed, stumbling toward him. I grabbed his wrist, my fingers digging into his skin. "Bhaiyu aap bolo na kuch yeh nahi ho skta main aapki krishu hu na aaj akeli khadi hu mat hone do aisa please i request you!"
(Bhaiyu, please say something. This can't happen. I'm your Krishu, right? I'm standing here all alone... please don't let them do this to me. I request you.)
โI threw myself against his chest, waiting for his arms to wrap around me, waiting for him to tell me he'd handle it.
โ"Krisha, I can't help."
โHis voice was flat. Empty. He pulled my arms off him and stepped back, looking at me with eyes that held no warmth.
โ"What? No... aisa mat karo mere sath! You promised Mumma! You promised me, you would protect me now what happened to you? Aap humesha mere sath khade rhete the aab kya hua aaj mujhe aapki, krishu ko aapki zarurat hai aisa mat karo!"
(don't do this to me. You always stood by me, what happened now, I need you today your krishu need you, don't do this!)
โ"Enough drama!" my father shouted.
"Everyone, go and get some rest."
โOne by one, they left. They left me in the middle of the dark hall, surrounded by the ghosts of a family that never existed. I fell to my knees, my palms covering my face as I let out a low, mourning wail.
โ"This can't be happening," I whispered into the cold floor. "I won't do it. I can't."
The cold marble floor had seeped into my bones, but after half an hour of drowning in my own despair, I forced myself to stand. I wiped the traitorous tears with the back of my hand, my skin stinging from the friction. I was shattered broken into a million jagged pieces.
โI walked back to my room, every step feeling like I was dragging lead weights. I collapsed onto the bed, leaning my head against the headboard and staring blankly at the ceiling. The silence of the room was mocking me until the sudden vibration of my phone broke the spell.
โIt was Karan.
โI stared at the screen for a moment. He was the only person who knew the unfiltered truth of my life, the chaos, the scars, and the ghosts I ran from. I picked up, my voice coming out as a hollow rasp.
โ"Hello," I whispered. I wasn't in the condition to talk, but I had to be strong. Main yeh bhi handle kar lungi... I've always fought my battles alone. Why should tonight be any different?
โ"Are you okay?" His tone was soft, laced with a genuine concern that almost made me crumble again.
โ"Haan," I replied shortly. I couldn't let my guard down. Not yet.
โ"I know this is not easy for you, Krisha. And I know you can handle this. Just be strong. I'm with you," he said. A small, invisible weight lifted from my shoulders. He was the anchor in my storm, the only one who didn't want something from me, but wanted something for me.
โ"Yes. I'll handle it," I said, my voice gaining a flicker of its usual steel.
โ"Toh tu yeh shaadi nahi karegi, right?"
โ"Of course," I snapped, the fire returning to my veins. "Main yeh shaadi kaise kar sakti hoon, Karan? If this happens, I'll destroy Advik's life along with mine. I can never give him the love or the place a husband deserves. Even though I know he's different... I just can't." The words tumbled out, a confession of the guilt I was already feeling for a man I didn't even love.
โ"What's the plan?" Karan asked. I almost smiled. He knew me too well. He knew that when I stopped crying, I started calculating.
โ"Main yeh nahi karna chahti... par mujhe karna padega," I said darkly. My mind was already weaving a web, a desperate move to checkmate my father and stop this farce of an alliance. It was risky, maybe even a little cruel, but it was the only way.
(I don't want to do this... but I have to.)
โ"Krisha, whatever you choose, it will happen. Don't feel guilty. I know it's difficult, but stay as strong as you always are. Don't take stress," he reassured me.
โ"Hmm," I hummed. The tightness in my chest loosened, just a fraction.
โ"Khayal rakhna, Aur haan, khana kha liyo. I know you don't eat when you're stressed. If you don't eat, I'll come over there and force-feed you myself." he added, his voice stern now. A tear escaped, but this time, a small chuckle followed it. He wasn't just my PA or a friend, he was the family I had chosen. With him, I felt a fleeting sense of security.
โ"Ha ha, pata hai mujhe. Mere baap mat bano ab," I teased, trying to regain my cold, boss-lady demeanor, even as I wiped my eyes.
โ"Tera baap banna bhi nahi hai, usse pehle hi main mar jaaun!" he joked, laughing. He was trying so hard to lighten the heavy atmosphere, to pull me out of the dark hole my family had thrown me into.
โ"Zyada free nahi ho rahe? Is this how you talk to your boss, Karan?" I said, my voice regaining its icy edge, though we both knew I was joking.
โ"Bas, saara mood kharab kar diya," he groaned in fake disappointment.
โ"Chalo, bas. Bohot mazak ho gaya. I have so much work to do," I said, and I meant it. If I was going to stop this wedding, I had to move fast.
โ"Okay. Take care. Bye." The call disconnected, leaving me in the silence of my room once more.
I reached for the silver photo frame on my nightstand, the metal cold against my skin. My mother's face smiled back at me, a smile from a lifetime ago, from a world that didn't feel like a battlefield. My mind was a chaotic storm of memories and jagged emotions, a relentless cycle I had been fighting every minute, every second of my existence.
"Mumma, I won't do this wedding. Not at any cost," I whispered, my voice thick but steady. "I promised you I wouldn't let my life or anyone else's, be destroyed. I'm not that Krisha anymore, Mumma. Not the one who listened to everyone. Now, people bow before me, I don't bow to them. I made myself strong because they forced me to be."
I pulled the frame to my chest, hugging it as if I could feel her heartbeat through the glass. I had learned the hard way that no one was coming to save me. Not Shaurya. Not Dadi. Certainly not my father. And then there was Dhairya, the man who was my biggest headache, the shadow I couldn't shake.
It was 2:00 AM. The rest of Delhi was sleeping peacefully, but here I was, perched on the edge of the terrace, watching the city breathe. Below, stray car lights flickered like dying stars on the empty streets. The cold breeze bit into my skin, sending chills through my body, but the numbness inside me was deeper.
I wasn't always this cold. I had dreams once. I wanted to be a Kathak dancer. My mother used to watch me practice for hours she wanted that for me more than anything. In school, I wasn't the "Arrogant Krisha Mehta." I was the girl known for her grace, the girl who excelled in sports and dance while the world of textbooks remained a distant blur.
I was an introvert then, a quiet soul who preferred the rhythm of her own feet to the noise of a crowd. When my father moved me to a new school, I felt like my world was ending. But that's where I found Kashvi, my sun, my energy, the only person who saw the real me.
Everything changed after my father's second marriage. Urmila and Priya didn't just enter our house they snatched my mother's place, my place, and even the hearts of the men in my family. Even Shaurya... my own brother became a stranger. When Mumma was alive, life was easy. It was comfortable. It was home.
When i was 19. Then came that day. The day before my birthday. I was in college, performing for the state-level competition. I won. I remember the rush, the pride, the way my heart soared when I called her to say, "Mumma, I did it!" She was so happy. I could hear the smile in her voice. But when I got home, I didn't find her waiting with open arms. I found her dead body.
Time froze. The world shattered into a million pieces I couldn't put back together. I stood there, paralyzed, watching my soul leave with hers. For days, I locked myself away, refusing food, refusing life. I reached a point where I didn't want to breathe anymore. I was ready to end it all, ready to commit suicide just to be with her again.
FLASHBACK:
The world around me had turned into a grayscale blur of agony. I stood in the center of my room, the air feeling too thick to breathe. Tears had long since stained my cheeks, leaving salty trails that felt like acid against my skin.
โEver since Mumma left this world, the light had been sucked out of my life. My family? They weren't a family they were monsters in human skin, their behavior stripping away my dignity piece by piece until there was nothing left but a hollow shell. I felt defeated. I was done.
โThe depression was a heavy, suffocating blanket that I couldn't kick off. I climbed onto my bed, my legs trembling. I placed a small stool on the mattress, my hands shaking as I gripped my mother's favorite silk dupatta. It still smelled faintly of her, sandalwood and grace, but even that couldn't save me now. I wasn't in my senses anymore I was just a girl who wanted the noise to stop. I stepped onto the stool, looking up at the ceiling fan.
โ"Mumma... ab main aur sehen nahi kar pa rahi hoon. Mujhe aur nahi jeena." I whispered to the empty air, my voice cracking.
(Mumma... I can't bear it anymore. I don't want to live.)
โI began to loop the dupatta around the fan, my movements robotic. But just as I was about to tighten the knot, the door to my room was jerked open with a violent thud. โMy eyes widened. In my haze, I had forgotten to lock the door.
โKashvi, my best friend, stood there. Her breath hitched, her eyes widening in pure, unadulterated horror as she took in the scene. Tears instantly flooded her eyes, and she pressed her palms against her mouth to stifle a scream. She froze for a heartbeat, her entire body trembling.
โ"KRISHA! Tu... tu yeh... kya? Neeche utar!" she screamed, her voice a mix of terror and desperation as she began taking small, frantic steps toward the bed.
(Krisha! You... this... what? Get down!)
โ"Kashvi, wahi ruk jaa! Paas mat aa mere! thak gayi hoon iss zindagi se," I sobbed, the tears blurring my vision until she was just a silhouette of grief.
(Kashvi, stay there! Don't come near me I'm tired of this life.)
โIn a moment of manic resolve, I reached for the knot, but she was faster. She lunged forward, grabbing my wrist with a strength I didn't know she possessed. She yanked me downward, and the stool toppled over. We both crashed onto the floor in a heap of limbs and silk.
โThe moment we hit the ground, she crawled over and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me so tightly I could feel her heartbeat racing against my chest. She started crying like hell, loud, soul shattering sobs that broke my heart into a million more pieces. Seeing her like this because of me... it was a different kind of pain.
โI hugged her back, burying my face in her shoulder as I shook with uncontrollable sobs. I couldn't even catch my breath the air felt trapped in my lungs.
โ"Merko nahi jeena yaar... mar jaana chahati hoon! Mujhse aur sehen nahi ho raha, haar gayi hoon main!" I wailed into her neck, my fingers digging into her shirt.
(I don't want to live... I want to die! I can't bear it anymore, I've lost!)
โ"Tu... tu yeh nahi kar sakti! Main jeete jee mar jaungi, Krisha. Merse meri himmat mat cheen," She was begging me not to do these things again. and gasped out between her own heavy sobs, her grip tightening as if she were afraid I'd vanish if she let go.
(You... you can't do this! I'll die while I'm still alive, Krisha. Don't take my courage away from me.)
FLASHBACK ENDS.
โIn that dark room, amidst the ruins of my spirit, Kashvi held the pieces of me together, refusing to let me scatter.
And my mother's voice echoed in my ears, a soft, ghostly whisper: "Don't, Krisha. Don't do this to yourself."
So, I lived. But the girl who loved to dance died that day. I buried my happiness, my smile, and my dreams with her. I became this, cold, arrogant, untouchable. People treat me like I don't have a heart because it's easier than admitting they broke it.
And today, Dadi did the unthinkable. The slap still burned on my cheek, but the betrayal burned deeper in my soul. I was shattered, yes. But I would handle it. I always do.
Tears welled up again, blurring the city lights. I wiped them away harshly with the back of my hand, my jaw tightening.
"I'll handle everything in my way," I vowed to the night sky. "They think they can sell me? They have no idea who they're dealing with."
_______________
The golden rays of the morning sun filtered through my sheer curtains, but they didn't bring the usual warmth. As my eyes fluttered open, the crushing weight of last night's memories crashed over me like a tidal wave. The sting, the silence, the shattered expectations, it was all stuck in my head on a loop.
I knew exactly what I had to do now.
I stood up, the floor feeling colder than usual beneath my feet. After downing a glass of water and freshening up, I looked in the mirror. Everything felt... empty. Usually, my mornings begin with Dadi entering my room, her radiant smile acting as my daily fuel. But today, the silence was deafening. She wasn't here.
I pulled on a fitted crop top and a skirt that hugged my curves perfectly, but I felt like a ghost inhabiting a beautiful shell. I walked downstairs, my heart feeling like lead in my chest. As I reached the dining area, I saw the entire family gathered, except for the one person who mattered.
Ignoring their lingering gazes, I stood in front of the home temple, bowing my head for God's blessings. I needed that strength. Then, I turned and walked toward Dadi's room.
She was lying there, looking so fragile it made my breath hitch. I sat on the edge of her bed, my fingers gently caressing her forehead.
"Krisha..." she whispered, her eyes still closed. A single, stray tear escaped from the corner of her eye, and my heart sank.
"Darling, I'm here," I said, my voice thick with the emotions I was trying to bury. I helped her sit up, supporting her back as she got comfortable. She reached out, taking my hand between her wrinkled palms, stroking the back of my hand with a rhythm that felt like a goodbye.
"Mujhe maaf karde," she sobbed, her voice breaking as she pleaded. The sight of her pleading, pleading for that slap was worse than the slap itself. It felt like someone had reached into my chest and squeezed my heart until it bled. My soul felt like it was being scorched.
"Are kyu darling? Aapne kya galat kra hai jo mujhse maafi maang rahe ho? Agar galat karoge toh bhi aap mujhse maafi nahi maang sakte... aap badi ho mujhse," I said, forced a smile, my voice steady despite the chaos inside and the respect I held for her.
(Why darling? What wrong have you done that you are apologizing to me? Even if you do something wrong, you can't apologize to me. You are elder to me.)
I bit my lip, fighting back my own tears. I knew the ache in her heart she had raised a hand to me for the first time, and it was killing her more than it had hurt me. Suddenly, she pulled me into a desperate hug, her tears soaking into my shoulder.
"Darling, what happened? Kyu ro rahe ho haan? Kisine kuch bola hai? Koi pareshani hai? Dekho mujhe aise darao mat, theek hai? Aapko pta hai main aapki aakhon mein ek bhi aansu nahi dekh sakti," I whispered, acting as if last night never happened. I knew if I broke, she would shatter. I had to be her anchor.
(Why are you crying? Did someone say something? Any trouble? Look, don't scare me like that, okay? You know I can't see a single tear in your eyes.)
I rubbed her back soothingly, the way my mother used to do for me. "Shh... rona baand kro aab. Dadi, aapko pata hai na mujhe hurt hota hai aapko aise dekhke." As I wiped the tears from her cheeks.
"Merko maaf karde Krisha, par mere pass koi aur raasta nahi hai, Mujhe nahi pta mere pass ab kitna waqt hai... Advik acha ladka hai. Mai chahati hu mere jaane ke baad tujhe yaha iss ghar mein na rhena pade." she choked out, her grip tightening on my hands. I looked at her, really looked at her. I saw the fear in her eyes, not for herself, but for me. She knew this house was a hellscape of cold shoulders and hidden daggers.
(Forgive me Krisha, but I have no other option, I don't know how much time I have left. Advik is a nice boy. I want you not to have to stay here in this house after I leave.)
My heart froze. "Aise kyu bol rahe ho aap? Aap kahi nahi jaogi mujhe chord kar, samjhi? Dubara aisi baat mat karna," I said, folding my arms across my chest to hide how much I was trembling.
(Why are you talking like that? You won't go anywhere by leaving me, understand? Don't say things like that again.)
The silence grew heavy. I looked at her, searching her tired eyes. "Aap chahati ho main yeh shaadi karu?"
(You want me to do this marriage?)
"Haan," she whispered, unable to meet my gaze. She wasn't asking for herself she was asking because she knew this house was a living hell for me.
I forced a smile, the most painful one I've ever worn. "Done. Fir jo meri darling bolengi, wahi hoga."
(Done. Then whatever my darling says will happen.)
Relief washed over her face, followed by more tears. "Aree... ab kyu ro rahi ho?" I asked, gently brushing them away.
"Mujhe pta tha tu meri yeh baat zarur maanegi," she said, her chest heaving with a sigh of relief.
"Aap bole aur main kaise na maanu? Chalo aab achii si pyari sii smile karo. Aise rote hue budhi lagti ho," I teased, letting out a small, hollow chuckle.
"Hatt! Budhe honge tere dushman! Mai toh abhi sweet sixteen ki hoon." She huffed, flipping her hair with a spark of her old self.
I laughed with her, but as I looked at her smiling face, a cold realization settled in my gut. I know what to do next. On Dadi's request, I said yes to my dadi for this marriage but this marriage is not going to happen.
I gripped Dadi's hand firmly, our fingers interlaced as we walked toward the hall. The sound of our footsteps echoed against the marble floor. As we entered, I saw them the vultures, already seated and waiting.
โI Hated every single person in that room. My gaze swept over them, landing momentarily on Shaurya, but I felt nothing but cold indifference. My mood, however, was strangely light. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I held the deck of cards.
โ"I'm ready for this marriage," I announced, my voice slicing through the air like a blade. I kept my chin high, my tone dripping with a chilling coldness that made a few of them shift in their seats. Urmila was the first to break the silence, a sickening smirk spreading across her face.
"Shukar hai Bhagwan ka, akal toh aayi. Ab humare kandho se kuch bojh utrega."
(Thank God, you finally got some sense. Now some burden will be lifted from our shoulders.)
โShe looked so smug, so thrilled at the prospect of me finally exiting this house so she and her precious daughter could rule undisputed. Awwww, don't worry, I thought darkly, nothing is going to happen like that.
โI tilted my head, giving her a sugary, fake smile that didn't reach my eyes. "Aap bol rahi hain ya generator chal raha hai? Dono ki awaaz mujhe ek jaisi hi irritate karti hai. Please, mute par rahiye."
(Are you speaking or is a generator running? Both sounds irritate me the same way. Please, stay on mute.)
โ"Bohot zuban chalne lag gayi hai tumhari." The atmosphere turned icy. Priya snapped, folding her arms and rolling her eyes with a dramatic huff.
(Your tongue has started running too much.)
โ
โ"Enough!" Vikrant's voice boomed as he stood up, his patience clearly wearing thin.
โI didn't flinch.
"But I have a condition," I stated, standing my ground with a poise that rattled them.
โVikrant exhaled sharply.
"What is it?"
โ"I don't want any of this Haldi, Mehendi drama," I said firmly. In my head, it was simple this marriage was a transaction, a farce. Why waste my precious time on rituals that meant nothing?
โ"Okay," Vikrant agreed quickly, wanting the ordeal over with.
โ"Are, aisa thodi hota hai! Log kya sochenge?" Urmila interrupted, her voice shrill with fake concern for 'society.'
(Hey, it doesn't work like that! What will people think?)
โI leveled her with a deadpan stare. "Logon ki shaadi hai ya meri, haan?"
(Is it the people's wedding or mine?)
โ"Tumhari hai par aisa nahi hota..." Urmila stammered.
โI cut her off with a smirk. "Yahan aisa hi hoga."
(In my world, this is exactly how it works.)
โI heard a soft muffled sound beside me and realized Dadi was actually chuckling. Her smile was the only genuine thing in this cursed room.
โ"I don't have too much time to waste here. I'm going," I said, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on Dadi's cheek.
โWithout spare a single glance at the others, I turned on my heel and walked out, my head held high as I headed for the office.
________________
The air conditioning of the office hit my skin, but it did nothing to cool the fire simmering beneath my surface. I walked through the glass doors with a purpose, the sharp click-clack of my heels on the polished floor announcing my arrival like a war drum.
โSome employees paused, murmuring a quick "Good morning, Ma'am" as I passed. I gave them a curt nod, my mind already pivoting to the mountain of work I needed to bury myself in to forget the suffocating walls of that house.
โI reached my cabin and pushed the heavy door open, expecting the familiar scent of espresso and the sight of my organized desk. Instead, I froze. The air in the room felt different, charged, heavy, and dangerous.
โMy heart hammered against my ribs. Someone was sitting in my chair. The high back leather seat was turned away from me, facing the floor to ceiling window that overlooked the city skyline. I could only see the crown of a head and a pair of broad shoulders clad in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit.
โWho the hell is this? Thoughts raced through my mind at a frantic pace. Security? An intruder?
โ"So... finally you came," a deep, velvety voice drawled. It was a voice that held the authority of a king and the coldness of a winter night.
โThe chair slowly began to swivel. My breath hitched in my throat, my fingers tightening around the strap of my laptop bag. As the face came into view, my blood turned to ice. My feet felt like they had been glued to the floor. He leaned forward, his piercing eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made the room feel ten degrees hotter. A smirk, dark and knowing, played on his lips.
โHe was none other than,
Dhairya Singh Shekhawat.
โThe man who was a living nightmare for his rivals and a mystery to the world. The one person I never expected to see sitting in my sanctuary.
โ"Miss Krisha," he said, his voice dropping an octave as he scanned me from head to toe. "You're late for our meeting."
_____________****_____________
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