Upstairs, the long corridor of the Singhaniya mansion echoed with soft footsteps—the calm after the storm of banter. Anaya trailed behind Rudra, her dupatta brushing the side of the wooden railing, her mind swirling with quiet chaos.
Rudra didn't say a word. He didn't need to.
Every step he took, every glance he threw back at her, said more than pages could. His shoulders, broad and sure, bore not just power—but an odd vulnerability. He walked like a man who ruled the world but bowed only to one thing: her silence.
Reaching his room, Rudra opened the door with a slow push. He didn't look back immediately. He simply stood at the entrance, waiting.
Anaya paused. "Sab dekh rahe the," she whispered, half smiling.
Without turning, he replied in that lazy baritone, "Aur unko dekhne ki aadat hai."
She stepped in, the door clicking softly behind her. Silence. Heavy, but comforting.
Rudra finally turned.
His eyes met hers—and in that look, there was a quiet plea.
"You laughed today."
She blinked.
"Haan… toh?" she replied, trying to sound casual.
"You don't laugh like that often," he said, walking toward her slowly, "the kind of laugh that reaches your eyes. Aaj main haar gaya."
She looked down. Her voice was low. "Harne ki aadat nahi tumhe."
He tilted her chin up with two fingers, gently.
"But jeet ke bhi kya karna, jab tumhari khushi kisi aur ke joke pe ho?"
There it was.
Raw. Honest. Undeniable.
Her breath hitched. Their gazes locked—no more teasing, no more games. Just a room, two hearts, and the silence in between that dared them to speak.
As they stood together, her hand resting on his chest as he pulled her slightly closer, she whispered teasingly, "Aap itne serious kyun ho jaate ho kabhi kabhi, Mr. Singhaniya?"
Rudra narrowed his eyes, the corner of his lips lifting slightly. "Aap? Again?"
She blinked innocently. "Aap ho toh aap bolungi."
He leaned closer, his tone dipping to something playfully commanding. "Main itna budha lagta hoon tumhe?"
She chuckled, brushing his chest with her fingers. "Nahi... par aap toh 28 ke hone wale ho, so thoda toh respect banta hai na."
His eyebrow arched, and with mock offense, he whispered near her ear, "So main budha ho gaya?"
Anaya's eyes widened. "Nai nai... aise nahi... aap abhi bhi jawan ho... super jawan ho," she said in a mock-serious tone, her voice dipping as she giggled.
He smirked, placing his hands on either side of the wall, caging her gently. "Tum bologi toh main jawan hoon..."
She looked up into his eyes, her lips parting in surprise. The air between them tightened.
He leaned in further, his lips grazing the shell of her ear. "Tumhare liye toh har saal main aur bhi hot lagta hoon, right?"
She gasped. "Rudra!"
He chuckled. "Say it."
Her heartbeat roared. And then she whispered, "I already do."
In that pause—filled with unspoken truths—Rudra suddenly moved, his hand finding hers as he pulled her gently but firmly inside their bedroom. The door closed behind them with a soft thud.
Inside, the soft ambient light wrapped the room in a honeyed hue. He didn't waste another moment. His arms slipped around her waist, pulling her flush against him. His breath caressed her cheek as he whispered, "Bas ek pal... sirf hamara."
Anaya's fingers gripped his shirt, her laughter now a soft exhale against his throat. He kissed her hairline, then her temple, lingering.
"Tum samajhti kyun nahi," he murmured. "Mujhse door jaati ho toh saans hi ruk jaati hai."
"Rudra..."
"Shhh," he whispered, tracing the curve of her jaw with his thumb. "Aaj sirf tum, sirf main."
Their world shrank to just them. No Singhaniyas, no Rajwats, no past. Only present. Only this room that held the echo of a thousand unsaid feelings.
He kissed her—softly at first, like a question, and then deeper, like the answer to everything they'd both been hiding.
But just as the moment turned intense, the door creaked.
Aarav.
"Bhai, urgent hai," Aarav said, standing at the door, clearly knowing he was intruding.
Rudra groaned, his forehead resting on Anaya's. "Obviously, tum kar rahe ho junior Singhaniya."
Aarav stepped in, a little more serious now. "Bhai, agar important nahi hota, toh main kabhi nahi aata. Hotel mein problem ho gayi hai."
Rudra's demeanor shifted in an instant. The CEO mask returned. "Kaise?"
Anaya moved away slightly, her brows furrowing as she stepped beside Rudra. "Aur aisa kyun?"
Aarav glanced between them. "Bhabhi, woh... Rajwat log problem create kar rahe hain. Hotel ke kuch board members apne shares wapas lena chahte hain."
Rudra's jaw clenched. "Kya Rajwats phir se game khel rahe hain?"
Aarav nodded. "And there's more—Rajwats ke kuch business partners hotel mein invest karna chahte hain. And they are trying to push us out."
Rudra turned to Anaya. "I need to go."
Anaya nodded, trying to mask the worry in her eyes.
Rudra looked to Aarav. "Ria ko bhi upar bulao. And bring the hotel files to the top floor office."
Aarav nodded and left swiftly.
Anaya turned toward Rudra again, her voice soft. "Aap... sambhal loge na sab?"
He looked at her, cupping her face gently. "Tum ho na... toh sab sambhal jaata hai."
Her eyes softened.
He leaned in, brushing his lips against her forehead. "I'll fix this. For you."
As he turned to leave, Anaya stood there, watching him walk away—not just as a husband or a CEO—but as a man silently battling shadows no one else dared to face.
.______..______..______.💕.______..______..______.
The heavy echo of Rudra Singhaniya's footsteps trailed through the silent top floor corridor of the mansion. The air had changed—no more playful teasing, no lingering scent of her perfume. This was the Singhaniya heir in his domain, cloaked in responsibility, his stride laced with wariness and weight.
His fingers grazed the familiar brass door handle of the office. It opened with a subtle creak, revealing a room dressed in timeless mahogany and dusk-toned leather. The Singhaniya crest hung proud on the far wall. This space wasn't just an office—it was a battlefield, a throne, and sometimes, a graveyard for dreams that didn't survive the weight of legacy.
Aarav was already inside. The tension was thick.
He stood near the large screen displaying hotel analytics, scrolling through data with practiced precision.
Rudra entered without a word, his jaw taut. He motioned for the files. Aarav handed over the sleek black folder marked "Project Ocean Pearl - Rajwat Conflict."
Rudra flipped it open. His eyes darted over the board's decision notices, emails from investors, and statements from their legal department.
"The Rajwats planned this," Rudra muttered, his voice edged with storm. "Slow poisoning. They invested small at first, then convinced a few of our minor shareholders to lean towards a 'restructuring.'"
Aarav nodded. "And now they want a vote to remove us from primary control. They're citing stagnation in revenue post-pandemic as a reason to bring in 'fresh partners.'"
Rudra's eyes narrowed. He stepped toward the projector, pulled up the digital file from the encrypted drive. The screen blinked to life with maps, names, and financial links.
"They've looped in foreign investors—Kovacevich Group from Europe. Silent partners with dirty money," Rudra revealed. "If they succeed in this, we won't just lose Ocean Pearl. We'll lose our clean name in hospitality."
Just then, Aarav tapped rapidly on his tablet and walked closer. "Bhai, current board support report," he said, handing the device to Rudra.
Rudra scanned it quickly.
"Seventy-eight percent of the board is still with us," Aarav continued. "But the rest are in talks—possibly selling their shares. Rajwat is pitching an international expansion, promising aggressive profits. They're trying to buy loyalty with promises they can't sustain."
Rudra's jaw clenched. "Rajwats may have shine, but not our roots. They forget—this business started with blood, not business school."
Aarav lowered his voice. "Arjun Rajwat is behind it. He's been approaching our people. Some of them are tempted."
Rudra walked to the window, the city lights flickering like stars behind the glass. For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then: "We buy them back. Every shaky share. Tonight."
He turned, fire igniting in his gaze. "No delays. No mercy. And I'll handle tomorrow's boardroom myself."
"But Bhai," Aarav said carefully, "this could make headlines. Media fallout, investor doubt—"
Rudra snapped the folder shut. "Let them talk. Better to face a storm than sink in silence."
He turned his back to the city and faced Aarav directly.
"This isn't just another venture, Aarav. This hotel chain… our second legacy after tech... is Ma's dream. Her beginning. We defend it with everything."
Aarav nodded, more resolute now.
Rudra's voice lowered, lethal and still. "We didn't build this empire on borrowed breath. They forgot—this isn't just business for us. It's bloodline."
Outside, the monsoon wind howled, as if sensing the war that had just been declared within the walls of the Singhaniya mansion.
.______.✾✾✾.______.✾✾✾.______.✾✾✾.______.✾✾✾.______.
The Rajwat Mansion was quiet at midnight — unnervingly so. The kind of quiet that doesn't promise peace but whispers secrets through the marble halls and velvet-draped windows. Somewhere on the east wing, behind thick curtains and locked doors, a man sat drowning in his own obsession.
Kunal Rajwat.
The youngest of the Rajwats, the devil with a smile.
The golden screen of his laptop bathed his face in light — sharp jawline, slightly sunken eyes from lack of sleep, and lips curved into a faint, eerie smile. His shirt was crumpled, top three buttons undone, revealing the sharp dip of his collarbone. His hair was a mess — the kind you don't get from sleep, but from frustration.
A glass of whiskey swirled between his fingers, half-empty, trembling slightly with the pulse that thudded in his wrist.
And on his laptop screen?
A photo.
Her.
Anaya.
Delicate smile. Soft eyes. Saree swaying as she laughed with someone — someone he had cropped out. He didn't care about the world around her. He only wanted her.
"Anaya," he whispered, almost lovingly. But his love wasn't the kind found in roses and letters. It came wrapped in chains and obsession.
"Tumne call ka reply nahi kiya…" he murmured to the screen, voice slightly slurred from alcohol but his tone too smooth to be completely drunk. "Ye tumne theek nahi kiya, sweetheart. Tum jaanti ho na, mujhe tumse ek zaroori baat karni thi…"
His fingers hovered over the keyboard as if he'd type something — a message, a demand, a warning. But instead, he just leaned back in his leather chair and sighed.
"You left. Without meeting me. Without a word."
He tilted his head and drank the rest of the whiskey in one harsh gulp, the amber liquid catching in his throat as his eyes closed in a haze of frustration and desire.
"Agli baar… tum khud aaogi mujhe milne," he said, setting the glass down on the side table with a sharp clink. "Mujhe chodne ka koi haq nahi hai tumhara. Samjhi tum?"
But the room didn't answer.
Only the silent hum of the air conditioning and the tension in his own chest.
His hand hovered near the screen again — this time tracing the outline of her smile with his finger.
"You're not mine… not yet," he muttered darkly. "But you will be."
He was so lost in his own storm that he didn't notice the door open until the cold voice of his elder brother cut through the stillness.
"Drunk again, Kunal?"
Kunal didn't turn.
He didn't need to.
Arjun Rajwat's voice had the same effect as a switchblade. Calm. Sharp. Deadly.
Arjun stepped in, his black shirt buttoned to perfection, sleeves folded just enough to reveal the watch wrapped around his wrist — the same brand he'd endorsed publicly last month. To the media, he was a businessman, a kingmaker, a polished gentleman with a reputation cleaner than rain.
But inside these walls?
He was the snake who taught Kunal how to bite.
"Kya kar raha hai tu?" Arjun asked, walking in casually and pouring himself a drink. His voice was lazy, but his eyes — they missed nothing. They flicked to the screen.
And paused.
A second.
Two seconds.
Then a smirk tugged at his lips.
"So… you're in love?"
Kunal finally looked up, his face blank. "It's not love."
Arjun chuckled and sipped his drink. "Right. You don't do love. Forgot."
"I want her."
The words came like a gunshot.
Direct. Cold. Clear.
Arjun raised an eyebrow, now mildly intrigued. "You want her?"
"She's not like others."
"Others as in…" Arjun dragged his words. "The girls who end up crying over your name? The ones you 'forgot' after a week?"
Kunal's jaw tightened.
"Don't compare her to them," he said, rising from his chair slowly, his frame casting a tall, shadowed figure against the curtains. "She's different. She's… mine."
Arjun set his glass down and leaned against the wall, arms folded.
"And yet, she doesn't even pick your calls."
Kunal laughed — a bitter sound. "That's the game."
"Oh?" Arjun tilted his head. "Or maybe she just doesn't care."
Kunal's eyes narrowed. "I'll make her care."
That was the problem with Kunal Rajwat. He didn't know how to accept a 'no'. And obsession, once rooted in his soul, never stayed silent.
Arjun pushed off the wall, now moving closer. "You even know her name properly?"
"I know enough."
"Family?"
"I don't care."
"Background?"
Kunal stayed silent.
Arjun's eyes gleamed.
"That means you don't know who she is… or what she's hiding."
Kunal shot him a look. "She's not hiding anything."
Arjun smirked. "You sure? Women like her — with eyes that soft — are usually the ones who carry the biggest secrets."
For a moment, Kunal's smirk faltered. But then his arrogance returned.
"She's mine. She just doesn't know it yet."
"And what if she already belongs to someone else?" Arjun pushed, voice low now, almost dangerous.
Kunal's eyes darkened. "Then I'll break that someone."
Arjun observed his younger brother for a long, heavy moment. The wine-red curtains behind him swayed slightly, the moonlight cutting sharp lines across Kunal's face. He didn't look like a man in love.
He looked like a man preparing for war.
"You're dangerous when you feel," Arjun said, picking up his glass. "And that makes you… useful."
Kunal raised an eyebrow. "Useful?"
"For the empire, Kunal. Every weakness can become a weapon."
Kunal chuckled, walking over to the window now. He stared at the night sky, glittering with a thousand indifferent stars.
"I don't want to weaponize her. I want to own her."
Arjun stepped beside him, sipping his whiskey. "Just don't forget, brother… ownership comes with consequences."
Kunal didn't respond.
His eyes were still glued to her photo on his laptop screen. That laugh. That innocence. That gentle curve of her lips.
She wasn't his.
Yet.
But she would be.
And when she became his…
Even fate wouldn't have the guts to interfere.