Abhimanyu's gaze lingered on Misha as she prepared to sleep. Her silence was palpable, each unspoken word amplifying the distance between them. Not again, he thought, letting out a heavy sigh. Finally, he gathered the courage to speak.
"Misha," he called softly.
She turned to him, her brows raised in question, but her face remained unreadable.
"You're not going to talk to me again?" Abhimanyu asked, his tone tinged with confusion and unease.
Misha's brow furrowed. "Why would I do that? What makes you think so?"
He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. "I mean..... like last time. You know, today, I went out even after you asked me not to. I thought maybe you'd..... you know....." His words trailed off, uncertainty clouding his voice.
Misha's expression hardened as she interrupted him.
"I'm not doing that. Look, I'm talking to you now, aren't I? Like every other day." Her voice was calm, but her words carried a sharp edge. "If someone doesn't care about us, why should we waste our energy caring about them? Sometimes, keeping our distance is the best option." She smiled at him.
Her casual tone stung more than any accusation, and Abhimanyu's chest tightened. He understood the meaning behind her words perfectly.
"I've tried, Abhimanyu. I've given this everything I had, every chance I could muster," Misha continued, her eyes boring into his. "But you didn't care, did you? So now I've decided to stop caring too. No care, no pain." Her every word is like a mock at him.
Her words hit him like a punch to the gut, leaving him momentarily speechless. He opened his mouth to respond, but Misha wasn't done.
"You wanted us to be strangers, right?" she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Let's be strangers, then. Why waste energy on something pointless?"
Abhimanyu stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. "Misha, listen. It's not like that," he said, his voice desperate. "I had an important meeting. I had to go-" his words halted off.
She cut him off again, her tone now cold and unyielding. "Why are you explaining, Abhi? There's no need. And if you've forgotten, let me remind you you're in your room. You don't need to act here." Her expression is hard to read, angry, hurt, or something else.
Her words were like shards of ice, sharp and unrelenting. Abhimanyu's guilt was etched across his face, but Misha remained unaffected, her expression calm yet detached.
"Take your medicine and sleep. Save your performance for tomorrow when we're in front of the family," she said with a faint, bitter smile. Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked out of the room.
Abhimanyu stood there, his hands clenched into fists as he stared at the closed door. The weight of her words bore down on him, a suffocating reminder of the rift he'd created.
Arnav sat in his cabin, his eyes fixed on the files scattered across his desk, but his mind was far from the work before him. Two days had passed since his last conversation with Arthi, yet her words still echoed in his thoughts, haunting him relentlessly. He had wanted to address it immediately, to confront her and demand answers, but duty had called.
Ekansh, his reckless younger brother, had left a trail of chaos before jetting off to France, leaving Arnav and the rest of the company to clean up the mess. Everyone had been caught in the storm of work, trying to fix what Ekansh had carelessly destroyed. If Arnav came face to face with his brother now, he wasn't sure what he'd do. Ekansh's reckless behavior had no boundaries, and it had cost them dearly. Arnav clenched his jaw at the thought of Ekansh, frustration boiling beneath his composed exterior. If his brother stood before him now, he wasn't sure he could hold back his anger. Ekansh hadn't always been this way-careless, thoughtless, and utterly indifferent to the consequences of his actions. Something had changed him, but whatever it was, it didn't justify the destruction he left in his wake.
Ekansh hadn't always been this way. Once, he had been the responsible younger brother, someone Arnav had been able to rely on. But something had changed. There were shadows in Ekansh's past that Arnav could never fully understand, and it had turned him into someone Arnav no longer recognized. Despite his frustration, Arnav knew there was nothing he could do for Ekansh-not now, not when he was so deep in his own destruction.
Arnav sighed, dragging a hand down his face. The work was endless-the perfume launch, their next massive project, and, most importantly, the upcoming meeting with his partners. It was time to reveal himself as their leader, to show the mafia under his control the man behind the shadows. It was time for him to step forward, to fully reveal himself as their leader.
Yet, even with the weight of all this pressing on him, Arnav's mind refused to focus.
"I can't think about this right now," he muttered to himself, leaning back in his chair. His fingers drummed absently on the desk as his mind drifted back to Arthi.
Instead, it kept circling back to her.
Arthi.
Her words.
"I'll leave when Trisha returns."
The sentence had cut through him like a blade, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make sense of it. Why had she said that? What did she mean?
Arnav leaned back in his chair, his sharp gaze hardening as he muttered to himself, "What's the reason behind her words?" His voice was low, but the frustration was palpable.
His jaw clenched as his thoughts raced. Why would she say she would leave when Trisha returned? She was his wife, for God's sake. They had been married for months now, and yet here she was, speaking as though she were already planning her departure. What had changed? What had he missed?
He knew Arthi was hiding something-something deep within her heart that she hadn't shared with him. Why did she feel the need to leave? Why now, after all these months of marriage? And more importantly, why did she see herself as just a replacement?
"Replacement," he repeated under his breath, his fists clenching at the word. "My foot." He couldn't shake the image of Arthi's face when she said it-her eyes full of doubt, her voice so fragile, as if she truly believed she was nothing more than a placeholder in his life. A cold rage began to simmer in him, as he tried to unravel the reasons behind her words. Why had she said that?
Yes, she had been brought into his life unexpectedly, a last-minute substitute for Trisha. But never-not for a single moment-had Arnav seen her as a replacement. Did she truly believe he thought so little of her? Did she think he'd let her go so easily?
Arnav sat upright, his expression sharp and determined. Something wasn't adding up. Arthi wasn't the kind of woman to say such things without reason. Her distant demeanor, her sudden declaration-it all pointed to something deeper. And he intended to find out what.
"I'll talk to her today," he said firmly, his voice carrying the weight of his resolve. His mind replayed her words again, the pain in her voice, the way she had looked at him as if she were already slipping away.
"I am just a replacement."
The thought made his blood boil. His teeth ground together, and his fists tightened on the edge of the desk. How could she think that? Had he done something to make her doubt her place in his life? Or was there something about him-something she knew-that scared her?
A dark thought crept into his mind, unbidden and unwelcome. Does she want to leave me?
The possibility hit him like a punch to the gut. Their marriage had been born out of necessity, a rushed decision to save his family's reputation. But for him, it had become so much more. She had become so much more.
The idea of her leaving, of walking out of his life, sent a wave of anger crashing over him.The possibility that she might want to break free, to leave him, made his blood boil. His hands clenched into fists as anger coursed through him. The idea of her walking away from him-of her slipping out of his life-was unbearable. Just the thought of it sent a jolt of fury through him, making his teeth grind in frustration. His jaw tightened, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. He slammed his hand down on the desk, the sound echoing through the silent room.
"Over my dead body," Arnav muttered darkly, his voice laced with menace.
His eyes hardened, the cold determination in them unmistakable. The part of him that had once been playful, teasing her for his own amusement, was now overtaken by something far more dangerous. His desire to possess her, to keep her close, had become all-consuming. The more he thought about it, the more his mind hardened. She had entered his life, and now she was a permanent fixture. There was no going back for either of them.
He leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips, but it wasn't a smile of amusement. It was dangerous, predatory. The kind that promised chaos for anyone who dared to defy him.
At first, Arnav had enjoyed teasing her, relishing in the way she blushed and shrank back, her innocence and vulnerability so raw and captivating. But now... now things had changed. He had come to care for her in ways he hadn't anticipated. She had become a part of his world in a way that no one else had, and the idea of her walking away from him was inconceivable.
His mind raced with memories of her-her innocence, her quiet strength, the way her presence calmed the storm inside him. She had no idea how deeply she had rooted herself in his heart. Letting her leave wasn't an option, not now, not ever.
Arnav's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous resolve. "Once something is mine, I don't let it go. Not until my last breath."
He was a man who got what he wanted, no matter the cost. If he liked something-if it became precious to him-he would do whatever it took to keep it. And Arthi? She had become his most precious possession, one that he would never let slip through his fingers.
A dangerous smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as his darker side began to awaken. The part of him that didn't care about consequences, that didn't care about the pain or the fallout-he was in control, and he wasn't about to lose what was his. Arthi was his. And no one-least of all her-was going to take her away from him.
He rose from his chair, his tall frame casting a shadow over the room as he straightened his jacket. His mind was set, his heart firm in its decision. Arthi could try to run, but she wouldn't get far.
Not from him.
"I'll get the truth out of her today," he said, his voice low and filled with an unyielding determination. As he strode out of his cabin, his mind repeated the words she had spoken, the pain in them igniting a fire within him.
His eyes glinted with a cold, predatory fire as he stood up from his desk. He would confront her, get the answers he needed. And once he did, she would understand. She would realize that there was no escaping him-not now, not ever.
And with that, the predator in Arnav Rathore awakened, ready to claim what was his.
Arnav walked towards exit of cabin, his coat draped over his arm, his jaw clenched as his mind raced with thoughts of Arthi. The words she had said, the way she had distanced herself, it was all too much. His heart pounded with a possessiveness he couldn't ignore, a desire to claim her completely, to make her understand that she was his and his alone.
As he walked toward the door, he muttered to himself, his voice low and dark, barely a whisper, but filled with intent.
"It's too late, sweetheart," Arnav said, fixing his coat with a smirk that never quite reached his eyes. "You've made this beast obsessed with you. And now... there's no going back."
His steps echoed sharply across the polished floors of the company building, each one measured and purposeful. His mind was set, and nothing would stop him now. As he reached his car, the guard opened the door for him without a word. Arnav slid inside, his expression firm, his eyes cold and unreadable.
Once settled, he stared out the window for a moment, his thoughts turning to Arthi, her face, her voice. What's going on in that pretty little mind of yours? he thought, his lips curling into a sinister smirk.
"If it's about leaving me," Arnav trailed off, his voice low and dangerous, the words hanging in the air like a threat, "then we'll see what happens. We'll see what I can do to stop you from going, sweetheart..... but only in my way."
The car pulled away, and Arnav's gaze darkened as the city passed by in a blur. His mind was consumed with thoughts of her, the one thing that mattered most. He would have her, keep her, no matter what it took.
The last words he spoke were barely a whisper, but they were filled with the promise of something far more sinister.
"In my way," he repeated, his voice dripping with menace, his smirk growing wider.
Arnav reached home late in the evening, the silence of the house greeting him as he stepped inside. The dim lights in the hall suggested that everyone had already finished dinner and retired for the night. Letting out a tired sigh, he made his way up the stairs, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet.
As he reached the landing, his gaze fell on Isha's room, the one where Arthi had been staying these past few days. His steps faltered, his hand instinctively reaching out toward the door. A part of him wanted to open it, to see her, to talk to her. But another part held him back, weighed down by hesitation and exhaustion.
Arnav lingered there for a moment, his thoughts swirling. Perhaps it was better to freshen up first, to clear his mind before facing her. With a deep breath, he pulled his hand back and continued walking, his heart heavy with unspoken words. Reaching his own room, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, determined to gather the courage he needed to talk to her.
Arthi climbed the stairs slowly, heading towards her room for the night. She had stepped out earlier to get some fresh air, but the time outside hadn't helped her mood. Her thoughts drifted back to Arnav, and her face twisted in a mix of anger and annoyance. It had been two days since they had spoken, even after she had poured her heart out to him. Yet, he hadn't made any effort to come to her, to talk to her, or even to reassure her that she was his wife and not some replacement.
"Such an emotionless man," she muttered under her breath, her steps faltering halfway up the staircase.
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she let out a frustrated sigh.
"Doesn't he know I'm angry? Shouldn't he come to talk to me, to console me? What kind of husband have I ended up with, God?" she muttered, her tone dripping with exasperation.
Arthi resumed her climb, shaking her head as her irritation grew.
"This man has so much ego. Fine, if he doesn't want to talk, then I won't either. Even if he comes to me, I won't say a word," she declared with a haughty tilt of her chin, though her heart wasn't entirely in her resolve.
Her steps quickened as she neared her room, still muttering to herself. "Egoist," she hissed under her breath. "He should know better! Even if I said too much the other day, he should have come to apologize, to pamper me. But no, his pride won't let him-"
Her grumbling came to an abrupt halt when her hand reached for the door knob, only for someone to grab her wrist firmly. Startled, she turned her head sharply, her eyes widening when they landed on Arnav.
There he was, standing close with his usual cold, intense gaze. Her breath caught, and her heart skipped a beat. She gulped, suddenly feeling her earlier boldness drain away under the weight of his piercing eyes.
Arnav had left his room with the intention of speaking to Arthi. He had spotted her walking toward her room, muttering to herself, her face full of irritation. He had paused for a moment, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he watched her expressive face. But he quickly schooled his features back into their usual stoic mask and strode toward her just as she reached her door.
Grabbing her wrist to stop her, he noticed her wide-eyed surprise and suppressed the urge to smirk. "Why is she so shocked?" he thought.
Arthi blinked, her mind racing. "Did he hear me scolding him"? Her throat felt dry as she struggled to think of what to say, but before she could muster a word, Arnav spoke, his tone cold and firm.
"I need to talk to you," he said curtly, his voice leaving no room for argument. Without waiting for her response, he started pulling her along with him.
"W-what-wait!" Arthi stammered, frowning in confusion as she stumbled after him. Her protests went unheard as he led her into their shared room and out onto the balcony.
Once there, Arnav stopped and turned to face her, his icy gaze locking onto hers. He pulled her closer, positioning her directly in front of him. Arthi staggered slightly but steadied herself, her eyes darting between his as she tried to gauge his emotions.
"What? Why are you silent now? Speak, you will have so much to say when you are angry, what happened now? Speck," Arnav demanded, his tone cold and unyielding. His words made her flinch, but she quickly masked her discomfort with irritation.
"It's you who wanted to talk, not me," Arthi muttered under her breath, crossing her arms over her chest. "So I don't have anything to say."
Her tone was defiant, her annoyance evident. Arnav's brows arched slightly in surprise. This was new-boldness from his otherwise timid wife.
"My sweetheart can talk back," he said, his voice tinged with mock surprise. "I didn't know you had it in you." He looked at her with suprised but fake one.
Arthi's irritation deepened at his words, though her heart fluttered at the endearment.
"I thought my sweetheart only knew how to get scared and shy," Arnav continued, his tone teasing now, though his expression remained serious.
Arthi snapped her head up, glaring at him with all the annoyance she could muster.
*And she can glare too," Arnav remarked, feigning amazement. His lips twitched, threatening to curve into a smirk, but he maintained his serious demeanor.
Arthi's glare intensified, though she quickly looked away, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
"What now?" Arnav drawled, his voice dropping into a deeper, more teasing tone. "Should I be scared of this adorable little glare of yours, Mrs. Arnav Rathore?" Aranv lips had smug smile as he love to tease her.
Arthi's cheeks flushed at his words, though she kept her gaze averted. Her resolve to stay silent wavered, but she clenched her fists, determined not to let him win so easily.
Arnav's expression shifted slightly, his teasing replaced by something softer, though his tone remained firm. "You've been angry with me for two days. Fine. But I won't let this go on any longer, Arthi. We need to talk." His tone got serious when reached the point of their conversation.
Arthi bit her lip, her heart warring between her lingering anger and the undeniable pull she felt toward him. But for now, she held her ground, determined to make him work for her forgiveness.
"You said you wanted to talk to me, but I don't think you actually do," Arthi said in a grumpy tone, crossing her arms as her brows knitted in frustration. Her words carried a hint of defiance, something rare for her. Arnav raised his eyebrows, surprised by her demeanor. He could tell she was annoyed.
"I'll go," she added with a huff, turning to leave. But before she could take another step, Arnav grabbed her wrist firmly, pulling her back toward him. The sudden movement made her crash into his chest, her palms instinctively resting against it for balance. Her wide eyes shot up to meet his, which were filled with irritation.
"I do want to talk to you," Arnav said in a firm, no-nonsense tone, his gaze boring into hers. "And I'm not done with you yet, so don't even think about walking away." His gaze still boring into her.
Arthi's breath hitched as she stared at him, his proximity making her heart race. Her annoyance faltered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of something she couldn't quite place. His sharp features softened ever so slightly as he took in her face, and she wondered if he could see the faint blush creeping up her cheeks.
Arnav sighed, stepping back just enough to put a little distance between them. But his hand remained around her wrist, the warmth of his touch grounding her in place.
"When I say I want to talk, I mean it. No one walks away from me when I'm speaking. I hate that," he said, his voice carrying a weight that sent a shiver down her spine. "Do you know what happens to people who dare to do that?" If some else walked off like this when Arnav talking, than they would have seen worlds above their head by now
Arthi's lips parted, but no words came out. She wasn't sure if he was being serious or dramatic. His tone left no room for argument, though.
"Alright," he continued with a sigh, releasing her hand. "Stand here. Don't even move a step until I'm finished." His commanding tone left her no choice but to nod.
"Now, tell me." His voice softened slightly, but his expression remained serious. "Who told you that you're just a replacement in my life? Did someone say that to you?" He looked at her frowned and his eyes intense expecting answer from her.
Arthi hesitated, her gaze darting to the floor. She couldn't tell him the truth-it was her aunt's cruel words that had planted the seed of doubt in her mind. She swallowed hard, gathering her courage.
"No one told me," she finally said, her voice steady but low. "I told myself. And it's true, isn't it?" She sighed.
Arnav's eyes narrowed, disbelief flickering across his face. "You told yourself that?" His eyes trying to read hers.
She nodded, her resolve firm despite the vulnerability in her voice. "Yes. You're the one who made me feel this way. Do you remember how scared I was when you shouted at me that day? You didn't even try to fix it. So yes, you're the reason I think that." Her eyes cold yet hesitated.
Her boldness took him by surprise. This wasn't the shy, timid Arthi he was used to. Her eyes, usually so soft and gentle, now burned with anger. But instead of arguing, he found himself captivated by this fiery side of her.
Arnav sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alright than, listen to me." His tone was gentler now, though it still held a firm edge. "I shouted at you because I was stressed that day. I've already apologized for it, haven't I?" His eyes looking at her with softness in them.
"You didn't even approach me afterward," Arthi muttered under her breath, but it was loud enough for him to hear.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Clearing his throat, he stepped closer to her, the air between them growing heavy. "I had important work to take care of," he explained.
"And I thought you were upset with me. I figured giving you space would help."
Arthi looked away, but he wasn't done. "Sweetheart," he began, his voice soft yet steady, "you're my wife. No matter what you think or how we got married, that fact won't change. You'll always be my wife. So stop overthinking and putting silly ideas into your head."
He tapped her forehead lightly, a teasing gesture that made her glare at him. "And for the record," he added, his tone darkening slightly, "how we got married doesn't matter to me. Not even a little. What matters is that we are married. And you're not leaving my side-at least not in this lifetime."
Arthi's breath caught as his words sank in. Her lips parted, but before she could respond, he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You heard me talking to your uncle that day, didn't you?"
Her eyes widened in shock. How did he know? She'd been so careful to stay hidden.
Arnav smirked, clearly enjoying her reaction. "I know everything, Sweetheart," he said, tugging a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The intimate gesture made her heart skip a beat.
"So, if you're thinking of leaving," he continued, his tone light but laced with warning, "don't. Don't even think about it. If any way you thought to, than just remember that day what i said to your uncle" his tone one of darkest and cold.
For a moment, they simply stared at each other, his intense gaze holding hers captive. Then, as if to seal his words, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
"Now, stop overthinking and let's sleep," he said with a small smile, stepping back.
But Arthi wasn't done. Crossing her arms, she fixed him with an unimpressed glare. "I'm still angry at you, Arnav ji."
Arnav chuckled, his amusement evident. "You're adorable when you're angry. Do you know that?" He reached out to pinch her cheek, but she swatted his hand away, pouting.
"I'm serious," she insisted, turning away from him.
He sighed, his smile softening. "Alright, Sweetheart. What will it take for you to forgive me?" he looked at her for fruthure tantrums.
"You'll do whatever I ask for?" Arthi said, her voice firm as she turned to face Arnav. Her eyes bore into his, challenging him.
Arnav didn't hesitate for even a second. "I'll do anything you tell me to," he replied, his voice carrying a tone of surrender, his gaze unwavering.
Arthi sighed, her expression softening for a brief moment before she composed herself again. "Fine. You'll take me out tomorrow," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Arnav frowned, surprised by her demand. "That's all? Taking you out? Alright, sweetheart, consider it done," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips as he slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers.
Inside, Arthi felt a surge of happiness at his agreement, but she maintained her stern demeanor. She nodded curtly. "Good. I'll leave now," she said, turning on her heel and heading toward the door.
But before she could leave the room, Arnav reached out and gently caught her wrist, his touch firm yet hesitant. "Where are you going, sweetheart?" he asked, a faint frown creasing his brow.
"To sleep," Arthi replied with a casual shrug, as if his question didn't faze her.
"You're not sleeping here?" Arnav asked, trying to keep his tone steady, but the slight edge of desperation betrayed him. His dark eyes searched hers, seeking an answer he already dreaded.
Arthi studied him for a moment, her lips curling into a small, almost defiant smile. "I'm not," she said firmly.
Arnav's jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together. He had never asked anyone for forgiveness before. The fact that he had asked her and was still being refused stirred a storm of frustration inside him. His voice turned cold, his eyes hard as he stepped closer.
"Even after I asked for forgiveness? Do you know what that means coming from me? I never ask for forgiveness, Arthi. Ever. If I've asked you, understand this-it's not a game. Don't play with me like this. You won't like it when I stop asking." Aranv gone firm and desperate.
Arthi sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she met his intense gaze. "Arnav ji, don't forget-I haven't forgiven you yet. So no, I won't sleep here tonight," she said casually, brushing past his intimidating presence.
Arnav's fingers flexed as he fought to keep his temper in check. If anyone else had dared to speak to him like this, they would have faced a very different side of him. But this was Arthi.
"Fine," she continued, her tone softening. "Take me out tomorrow, and I'll see how you act. Maybe then I'll think about forgiving you. But for now, I'm exhausted." With that, she gently freed her hand from his hold and walked out of the room, leaving Arnav standing there, stunned.
He stared after her, his expression a mix of disbelief and reluctant admiration. From where did she get this boldness? He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "We'll see, sweetheart," he murmured to himself. "We'll see how long you can keep up this boldness." His smirked at her way.
With a faint smile tugging at his lips, he turned off the lights and settled into bed. The night passed in silence, but Arnav's thoughts were anything but quiet.
Ekansh stood before the towering building, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of the place where everything would change tonight. Inside, he would meet his long-lost enemy-a betrayer whose actions had carved scars into his soul. A slow, deliberate sigh escaped his lips. Tonight, he would ruin not just a life but an entire legacy, ensuring even the afterlife offered no escape.
"Sir, should I accompany you?" Demetrio's voice was low, almost hesitant, as if sensing the storm brewing within Ekansh.
Ekansh halted mid-step, his shoulders tense. After a moment, he gave a curt nod, and the two men entered the dimly lit restaurant.
As they stepped inside, the golden glow of the chandeliers cast shadows over Ekansh's tall, imposing frame. His piercing eyes darkened further, smoldering with barely restrained fury. Across the room, a figure emerged from another door, deep in conversation with someone.
Ekansh's body stiffened, his fists clenching as recognition struck like a thunderbolt. His rage surged, visible in the way his jaw tightened and his fiery gaze bore into the man before him. The figure paused, sensing the weight of Ekansh's stare. His steps faltered briefly, a flicker of shock flashing across his face before he masked it with a sly smirk.
"Well, well. Mr. Ekansh Rathore," the man drawled, dragging out the name like it was a taunt. He stopped a few steps away, his eyes glinting with fake delight.
Ekansh's silence was deafening, his fists trembling at his sides.
"I must say, it's quite a surprise seeing you here after so long," the man continued, his tone laced with feigned excitement. Demetrio, standing a few feet behind Ekansh, glared at the man with barely concealed contempt.
"Take a seat," the man said, gesturing toward a plush sofa with a mocking smile. "Let's talk... about your life."
Ekansh strode forward without a word, his movements measured and deliberate. He sat down, his rigid posture exuding authority and menace. Across from him, the man settled into his seat, his smirk growing wider.
"So, how's life?" the man sneered. "Still picking up the pieces I shattered? Or did you somehow manage to rebuild what I ruined?" His tone mock and provoking.
Ekansh's eyes remained fixed on him, cold and calculating. Finally, he spoke, his tone cutting through the air like a blade. "Mr. Vamsh Rajan."
The smirk vanished from Vamsh's face, replaced by a flicker of anger.
"It would take me a single moment to destroy that name of yours," Ekansh said, leaning forward slightly, his voice calm yet dripping with venom. "But I won't. Because if I did, what difference would there be between you and me?" His lips curled into a smirk, mocking and dangerous.
Vamsh's fists clenched on the armrest of the sofa, his knuckles whitening as his anger simmered.
"And as for my life....." Ekansh continued, his tone turning darker. "I own it. I rebuilt it with my own hands. But you-" He leaned back, his eyes narrowing to slits. "You don't even own your name, let alone your life." Those words hit Vamsh like wave.
The mocking tone in Ekansh's voice hit its mark. Vamsh's jaw tightened, his teeth grinding audibly as Demetrio watched the exchange from a distance, his expression unreadable.
"Don't forget, Ekansh," Vamsh spat, his voice rising with anger. "I ruined your entire life, your name, your legacy. And I can do it again-" Ekansh cutt his sentence off.
Before he could finish, Ekansh slammed his fist onto the table between them. The glass top shattered with a deafening crash, shards scattering across the floor. The sound echoed in the tense silence, and Demetrio instinctively took a step forward, his body taut with concern but he stood back knowing this situation is serious as well as Ekansh also, it's better not to involve.
Ekansh rose slowly, his towering frame casting a long shadow over Vamsh, who now sat frozen, fear flickering in his eyes. The fiery rage in Ekansh's bloodshot eyes was impossible to ignore.
"That's exactly why I'm here, Vamsh Rajan," Ekansh said, his voice low and menacing, each word carrying a promise of destruction. "To return the favor you so kindly did for me." His words were promising.
He took a step closer, the tension in the room palpable. "But don't think I'll stop at ruining you. No, I'll make your life a living hell-worse than any hell you can imagine. And when I'm done, you'll wish for death, but even that will be beyond your reach."
Vamsh slowly stood, his bravado crumbling under Ekansh's glare. Fear crept into his expression, his smirk now a distant memory.
"It's your turn now," Ekansh continued, his tone steady but brimming with malice. "To get exactly what you deserve. And I-" He paused, his lips curling into a wicked smirk that sent chills down Vamsh's spine. "I always give more than anyone deserves."
With that, Ekansh turned on his heel, his movements deliberate and unhurried. Demetrio fell into step behind him, casting one last glance at Vamsh, who stood rooted to the spot, torn between fear and disbelief.
As Ekansh disappeared through the doorway, Vamsh's knees felt weak, and a cold sweat broke out on his brow. For the first time in his life, he felt truly cornered, his once unshakable confidence shattered.
All of you
Giving another update as apology from last time.
Hehehe
Shree1011r I will try to give three more update as apology, My dear reader.
Hehehe
What you all think about this chapter.
Why is Ekansh so cold and careless, seeing women only as an outlet for his frustration, not for love? The upcoming chapters will reveal the truth behind his nature.
Have a great day