Chapter 2: The Art of Avoiding Abeer Rathore

The Grand Party – A Night of Danger

The Malhotra Mansion was lit up like a dream, chandeliers casting golden hues over silk-draped tables and elegant guests swirling around in designer outfits.

Diya—or Sia, as everyone called her now—stood at the grand staircase, her heart hammering.

She looked breathtaking.

Dressed in an emerald green saree, her wavy chestnut hair cascading down her back, and a hint of gold shimmer on her skin, she looked exactly like the spoiled, lovesick heiress Sia was supposed to be.

But tonight, she wasn't playing that role.

Tonight, she was Diya. And Diya was about to rewrite this story.

She took a deep breath.

Game plan: Be polite. Smile. Stay in the shadows. And most importantly—stay far, far away from Abeer Rathore.

Because if he noticed her change, she was as good as dead.

The Ghosting Mission – Operation Avoid Abeer

The party was buzzing with excitement. Diya maneuvered through the crowd with skill, making quick, calculated moves to avoid crossing paths with the man of the night.

Step 1: Find corners. Stay near potted plants.

She slinked into a quiet corner, sipping her juice. A waiter passed by and she quickly grabbed a wine glass—not to drink, but to pretend to blend in with the socialites.

Step 2: Avoid his inner circle.

She spotted Abeer's men—tall, muscular, dressed in all-black, scanning the crowd. These were the killers, the shadows, the men who answered only to him.

Diya quickly turned the other way.

Step 3: Stick to the older aunties.

"Beta, tum toh bohot sundar lag rahi ho aaj!" One of the elderly ladies pinched her cheek.

Diya internally winced but gave her sweetest smile. "Ji, Aunty."

Perfect. No mafia men would dare approach the 'gossip squad' of Delhi's elite.

Everything was going perfectly.

Until—

A chill ran down her spine.

Like a predator locking onto its prey.

Her stomach dropped.

She didn't need to turn around to know who was watching her.

Abeer Rathore had arrived.

A dead silence fell over the room.

The once loud and lively party turned eerily still.

Even the air felt different.

And then—a deep, commanding voice cut through the crowd.

"Continue."

The guests visibly relaxed, forced laughter returning, but there was an undeniable tension in the air.

Because Abeer Rathore had that effect on people.

Diya squeezed her eyes shut. Don't look. Don't react. Just breathe.

But her body betrayed her.

Curiosity was a deadly thing.

She turned her head—just a little.

And there he was.

Standing at the entrance, dressed in a sharp black sherwani, his presence alone enough to command the entire room.

Abeer Rathore.

The most feared man in India.

His dark, kohl-rimmed eyes scanned the crowd, slow and calculating, his expression cold as death itself.

A faint scar ran along his jawline, a silent reminder of the countless battles he had survived. He looked like a royal warrior of the past, dangerous yet irresistibly magnetic.

Diya swallowed hard.

No wonder Sia had been obsessed with him.

If she wasn't terrified for her life, she'd probably be simping too.

Focus, Diya. He's your killer. NOT your book boyfriend.

But then—his gaze flickered to her.

Her breath hitched.

For a split second, his dark eyes locked onto hers.

And froze.

A frown creased his forehead.

Something about her had caught his attention.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

LOOK AWAY, DIA!

She quickly turned, pretending to be deeply invested in the floral decorations.

Maybe he would ignore her. Maybe he hadn't noticed her change.

But she should have known.

Abeer Rathore never ignored anything.

The Hunter Moves

Diya's heart raced. She needed an exit strategy—fast.

She turned, ready to sneak out—

And slammed into a hard chest.

Her stomach plummeted.

No. No. NO.

Strong fingers gripped her wrist, stopping her escape.

Abeer Rathore stood inches away.

His touch was light, almost gentle, but Diya knew better.

This was the grip of a man who could snap bones in seconds.

His voice was low, dangerously soft.

"Where do you think you're going, Sia?"

Diya forced a smile, her pulse hammering. "Uh... nowhere?"

Abeer's eyes studied her, piercing through her soul.

There was no emotion on his face. No warmth. Just quiet calculation.

Finally, he spoke.

"You're different."

Diya's blood turned to ice.

He noticed.

Her entire body tensed. This was bad. Very bad.

She let out a nervous laugh. "W-what? Don't be silly! I'm the same old Sia!"

His grip tightened.

She sucked in a breath. Shit. Shit. SHIT.

The music and chatter around them felt muffled, distant.

Abeer leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Tell me something, Sia... why do you look like a girl who just saw a ghost?"

Diya's hands turned cold.

Because he was the ghost.

The ghost of a future she was desperately trying to outrun.

Next Chapter Preview:Diya struggles to keep her cover as Abeer watches her every move.She learns just how dangerous he truly is.The first warning: A reminder that no one escapes Abeer Rathore.And yet... why does he seem intrigued by her?