“Is jagah aa gyi, chahaten ab meri
Chheen lunga tumhe, saari duniya se hi
Tere ishq pe haan, hak mera hi toh hai
Keh diya hai ye maine mere rab se bhi.”
| Play ‘Pehle Bhi Main’ • Vishal Mishra |
A Week Later| Aayansh’s Villa| INDIA.
Soft rays cascade through the dark curtains of their room, brushing against the walls and settling gently over everything in sight.
Tara lay draped across Aayansh’s chest, holding onto him like he belongs there. Her golden-brown hair fanning over his skin, her breath soft and steady against him and legs loosely entwined with his.
They're both completely naked, a blanket falling carelessly over them.
The peace in this morning feels unreal-almost so-after everything the past few days were.
Aayansh's eyes ease open at a faint tickle on his chest, only to find her trying to bite his collarbone, putting all her strength into it... her face adorably creased with irritation.
“Aah...yahnsh..” She lets out a soft moan, lost in deep slumber. “...it's so hard. I-I can't eat.”
As she stirs in his arms, the soft curves of her breasts flush against the hard, toned planes of his chest. She doesn't hesitate, latching onto the very spot she'd been trying to nip just seconds ago, sucking there.
Aayansh just watches her closely, his hair falling in a messy tousle over his forehead, a slow smirk pulling at his lips as he drags his palm up her spine, finding the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck, his mouth hovering at her ear.
"Liking the taste?" he rasps, the words thick and dark as he bites her earlobe.
A gasp escapes her lips, still caught in the haze of sleep.
Aayansh's other hand goes still at her hip-bone, his fingers rubbing into her skin as she offers a slow, shaky nod.
His smirk deepens, his fingers tangling in her hair to guide her mouth back to his chest. He holds her there, his voice a low, sinful vibration against her skin. "Then have it properly."
With a frustrated hum, her teeth sink into his taut skin once again, biting down with everything she has, her face turning crimson like a furious child.
As Aayansh stares, a dark, quiet amusement flickers in his eyes, his fingers threading through her hair.
Tara's nose pokes stubbornly against his chest, her small, fierce efforts at bruising him only deepening his smirk.
"Um-mhh..." After a moment, her struggle fades into a soft, broken sigh. Caught in a dream she can't quite escape, Tara gives up her assault, settling her cheek against his bare chest.
But this time, he leans closer, his teeth grazing the tip of her nose.
Tara's eyes flutter open with a gasp, still heavy-lidded and sleepy as she rests her chin on his chest. Caressing her nose, she murmurs with irritation. "Kya kar rahe ho tum?"
Aayansh drags his thumb over the spot he'd just bitten, "Exactly what you were doing a moment ago."
"What?" A puzzled frown tugs at her brows, oblivious to her terrible sleeping habits, kicking, mumbling, cursing in her sleep... and now attempting to take a bite out of him like he's breakfast.
"I was just sleeping." She protests, sounding like the most innocent soul alive.
"Sleeping with your mouth on me." He corrects, his hands moving over her back. "So now-i'm giving my wife better access."
Aayansh's gaze slowly drifts to her bosom and her eyes go wide. She quickly pushes herself up, tugging the blanket around her as she sits atop his stomach.
"No way!?" She bellows, staring at his hard muscles and taut skin with a dead serious expression, as if she's assessing him. "Have you seen yourself? My teeth would break. And-"
She trails off, huffing lightly. "I'd look absurd like that."
With his arms caging her in on either side, Aayansh leans back against the headboard, pulling her flush against him as he slowly tugs a stray strand of hair behind her ear and muses. "You'd look gorgeous."
Tara's eyes sharpen, "You're making fun of me?!" she hisses, clutching the blanket like it's the last shred of modesty left on her body.
Aayansh doesn't respond. His gaze takes in the marks blooming across her neck, shoulder, and collarbone... vivid against her velvety skin, quietly enticing. Following his gaze, Tara glances down at her own body.
"I would've given you so many bruises-" She babbles into herself. "if only your skin wasn't so hard."
From her body, Aayansh's gaze returns to her flustered face. Then, without warning, he shifts upright just as Tara loses her balance, his arm slides around her lower back, steadying her and tugging her back against him until she settles astride his lap.
Her legs tighten around his waist as she peers at him in a daze.
Aayansh cups the side of her neck, his voice dropping into something serious. "How are you feeling?"
"Huh?" she mutters, confused about why he's asking this out of nowhere, her palm pressing against his chest.
"I'm asking," Aayansh bends closer to her ear, lacing his fingers with hers, his tone the same. "Kaisa feel ho raha hai tumhe? Any discomfort? Soreness?"
She shakes her head, brows knitting slightly as she mutters, "But you didn't do anything last night."
"I didn't do anything-" Without pulling away, Aayansh kisses her shoulder, his beard grazing her skin as she tilts her head. "And yet, you look like you've endured my roughness for hours. You're too delicate."
"And you're too cruel."
"I know." Aayansh suckles at her cleavage, slowly, hungrily.
Tara tugs at his hair, breaths heaving, yet she won't let the blanket go, gripping it as if it could protect her from his intensity.
"Aayansh..." her lips part, her voice caught somewhere between pleading and surrender.
"Hmm-Listening." He responds, his thumb circling her navel beneath the blanket.
Her heart flutters, and the words she meant to say vanish somewhere between her lips.
"I love you!" These words tumble out before she can stop them.
This time, Aayansh lifts his gaze to her face, her eyes are shut as he studies, beholds her with a quiet focus and a strange, desperate intensity in his eyes. "And?"
Tara's eyes blink open, confusion softening as she meets his stare. "And I love you so much," she breathes.
"And?" He leans further, nipping at the corner of her lips, then her jawline.
With a touch of annoyance in her gaze, she murmurs softly, "And I want to stay like this with you-forever. I don't care who you are and who you'll become, I'll always love you. No matter what."
With that, she snuggles closer, burying her face into the warmth of his chest.
And then, she lets her lips linger over the rhythm of his heart, beating steadily as she kisses him there, owning it, softly, yet utterly.
Aayansh pulls her into him until there's no air left between them, until their hearts beat as one, until she gasps and melts entirely into him. His face dipping into her hair... breathing her in deeply.
They stay like that for a long moment, Aayansh's fingers slowly moving through her hair. That's when Tara notices, the blanket has slipped, and now she's completely exposed, sitting naked in his lap.
Aayansh is himself naked too.
But, does he mind? Absolutely not.
Heat floods Tara's cheeks as she pats his back, struggling to wriggle free. "Let me go!"
Strangely, he lets her move, and the first thing she does is wrap herself tightly in the blanket, as if reclaiming the last shred of dignity.
Then, she glances up at him, the smirk on his face is pure sin, a devil wrapped in charm.
Before she can say anything, Aayansh pulls her face closer to him, their noses brushing as he murmurs. "Covering yourself like i can't just rip this blanket away from your beautiful form, pin you beneath me and-" He tastes her lips-"Eat you exactly how we like, Hmm?"
For a moment, Tara freezes, cheeks burning, eyes darting everywhere but at him. "So what?!" she hisses, her voice sharp. "I'm just not in the mood to show you anything right now."
She had no idea what she had just babbled, as if her brain had been kicked out of the conversation.
In the next heartbeat, Aayansh strips the blanket away from her and flings it aside, keeping her pinned to him in the same position as he stands and heads towards the gym.
"Don't tell me we're going to have a workout like this?!" Tara gasps, caught between shock and disbelief as he shamelessly walks past the walls.
Aayansh simply leans in, pecking her lips, and murmurs, "Smart wife."
A little while later, at the gym, Tara steps out of the meditation room after her light yoga session, her body at ease, but her mind is clearly somewhere else.
She's now in one of Aayansh's black T-shirts, the oversized fabric slipping over her figure, grazing her thighs with effortless ease.
Her eyes land on him instantly.
He's doing single-handed push-ups, dressed in black trousers, his back facing her. A bluetooth device rests in his ear as he's discussing some work in his usual tone.
'For god's sake, he's taken a bullet to the knee, so practically he shouldn't stress his body like this'. The thought lingers, edged with quiet concern.
But then, she shrugs it off, licking her lips as she drools over his half-naked form.
Aayansh, knowing she's behind, intones firmly without turning. “If you're done eye-fucking me, come here.”
That pulls Tara back into her senses, a subtle shake of her head clearing her thoughts. Without hesitation, she walks over and lies down beside him on the cushioned floor, her hair falling in soft waves around her.
Aayansh’s fingers close around her arm, pulling her beneath him the next moment, his gaze finally settles on her face. A sheen of sweat glistens over his body, his hair damp and falling messily over his forehead.
Tara lies still beneath him, staring up at him as he lowers himself, pecks her lips, then pushes his body back up again. A smile tugs at her lips as she realizes they're working out together after so long.
Aayansh, however, notices the thought she's holding back. But chooses not to press. For now, he lets her wrestle with it in her own head.
His eyes staying on her face... not her body.
Then, he dips down again, his lips finding her cheek as he prompts- “Now say.”
She blinks at him, her fingers moving over his abs as she mutters, “Aayansh! I don't think I’m ready for business... especially not as a partner in Mom’s subsidiary. It was her dream... and I have no experience with any of this. Right now... I just want to focus on my music.”
She pauses, her eyes fixed on him as she waits for his response.
Aayansh eases down toward her again, stopping just inches from her face. “Your name is there just for legalities,” he says, his voice firm. “You don't need to involve yourself in the business. You're young-focus on what you want.”
She nods slowly as Aayansh’s intense gaze pins her, his body still poised above hers. A drop of sweat slips from his hair, landing softly on her forehead.
“I'm not here to cage you, jaan," he says, eyes fixed deep into hers as his fingers entwine through hers. “Unless you make me.”
His last words don't sit right with Tara, something in them quietly unsettling her. Because a part of her knows… he means it.
She feels Aayansh’s dark eyes roaming hungrily over her lips, and without a word, he seizes her mouth. Her lids flutter shut, melting into the heat of him, his other hand slipping beneath her T-shirt, between her thighs, his fingers finding the damp heat over there. Without any rush, his calloused thumb grinds against her clit, pressing just enough to make her hips stutter beneath him.
[ A/N: Dw they’ve brushed ]
Tara’s lips part to kiss him back, while he captures her bottom lip between his teeth, sucking it slowly, wildly. Their tongue warring, teeth scraping as Aayansh tilts her neck, deepening the kiss.
Time drifts slowly, filled solely with the rhythm of her soft cries, warm sweat from his body seeps into hers, leaving them both a tangled mess on the floor.
She bristles like a stubborn kitten beneath a lion.... fierce in spirit, but no match for him.
From her lips, he glides to her jaw, then along the curve of her neck, tasting, nipping, leaving a trail of heated marks.
Moans and soft groans escape her throat, feeding his craving for her, driving him further into frenzy.
“Aahyansh...” A shiver of pleasure winding through her.
Face buried into her neck, voice husky as he murmurs. “When was the last time I was inside you?”
Shaking slightly, she struggles to remember, then whispers, “Umm... last week.”
"Sure?"
She shakes her head, drawing out the motion just enough to tease him. "What happened, husband? you need 'something'?"
Aayansh doesn't pull back. He stays still, taking a deep breath against her skin before pressing a kiss across the corner of her lips.
Tara flinches at his action, her body tensing instinctively as she knows his silence is the scariest part of him.
Tara jindal—
11:56 AM.
Life has slowly begun to settle again-peacefully-after everything the past few days held. A nightmare that still lingers at the edges of my dreams, haunting me when I least expect it. I've always loved Aayansh the way he is... never expected him to change for me. But the version of him I saw in those moments... I can't seem to erase it from my mind.
I can't even begin to understand how someone can be that cruel? Especially to their own people.
And honestly, sometimes... it scares me how easily I still choose him.
But in the end... What truly matters is that Mom got justice. And somehow, that one truth is the only thing that soothes me. I've never met her.....yet something about her feels undeniably pure. I mean, she deserved everything.
I just hope she's at peace....wherever she is.
Her dream of establishing a medicinal subsidiary to serve those who can't afford costly treatments-the one she couldn't achieve, and the one Aayansh, my brother, Aashika, and I are now partners in... will finally be fulfilled at this evening's soiree.
God, I'm so nervous.
I won't just be there as a business ally, but as her daughter-in-law too.
And besides, I have to move forward, towards my life, my career, and my music, most of all.
All these days, Aayansh was there... patient, caring, giving me all the time and attention I needed to breathe again. But now, I'm clear about many things.
I stand outside Aashika's room on her floor, wanting to see what she's chosen to wear this evening. After all... it's a big moment, for her and Aayansh.
I don't know how, but I convinced her to stay here. She wasn't ready at all, but I couldn't leave her alone anymore. She needs love, a chance to heal.
At Oberoi Palace, Chachi and Riva-Rhea needed their own space. They had nothing to do with those sins, yet they were the ones left carrying the damage.
Well, I knock-once-twice, just for formality, before barging inside anyway.
Because she's my sister-in-law, after all.
I glance around, her room is perfectly in order, but she's nowhere in sight.
"Aaashiii-"
A quiet click pulls me around, and there she is-stepping out of the washroom, her eyes already locked on me.
She pauses, a faint frown touching her brows. "Tara?"
"Yes!" I grin, plopping down on her bed. "I came to see what you're wearing tonight."
She just nods, her face fixed in the same bored silence. Not a word. The same cold expression, just like Aayansh, as she settles at her boudoir table.
How do they both manage to stay like this every time?
My gaze drifts over her. Fresh out of the shower, she's wrapped in a soft silk robe, loosely tied at the waist, her damp hair falling over her shoulders with that same quiet, distant composure.
And she looks dangerously good. Like a woman who commands empires with a single look.
I might've flirted with her, if only I weren't straight and her brother wasn't far more tempting.
I fold my legs, blinking at her. "Your brother is just like you. He stays silent and the moment I say something, he shuts me up with his disgusting comebacks."
She gives me a fleeting glance before looking in the mirror again. "Then maybe you should get a hold on him."
"I already do." I shrug confidently. "You know, Aayansh stays scared of me most of the time. He just doesn't show it. Masculine ego, we can say!"
Aashika almost laughs. "Yeah, sure."
My eyes narrow at her, clearly offended.
Then I end up laughing with her anyway.
"You know," she says, almost absently. "he was such a brat as a kid that he once punched me in the face, and it stayed swollen for a week."
I quickly shoot her a 'what the fuck' look. "He used to beat you?"
She exhales, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. "I mean, we both used to beat the shit out of each other. But he definitely went after me many times."
I shake my head in disbelief. "Why?"
She pauses, a little hesitant. "Um.... he was really chubby as a kid. So I used to call him things like pumpkin, round ball, and then run behind Mom to save myself."
I giggle, but then a nasty thought crosses my mind. I wonder if that childhood 'roundness' is where he gets that unreal stamina from now, especially when he keeps me pinned beneath him for hours, without getting tired himself.
As our morning lingers in my mind, heat slowly rises to my cheeks.
That's when I catch Aashika watching me through the mirror, a smirk pulling on her lips.
I quickly fix my face.
"He should learn something from my brother," I cut in, my tone suddenly bright. "I was just six when I stubbornly demanded to go swimming in the middle of the night, just because I'd seen it in a movie. Everyone tried to convince me otherwise, but bro gently took me to the pool in his arms and stood there for over an hour, just holding me while I splashed my arms and legs around."
"And-" I look at her, my chin tilted up. "not just that. He always fulfilled all my tantrums. Not like your 'pumpkin' of a brother."
Aashika doesn't argue, a soft, knowing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, a look that said she'd seen my blush and was choosing to be merciful. For now.
Such a girl's girl, isn't she?
I mean... gentlewoman.
"Well," she murmurs, slightly amused. "My brother isn't any less cute."
"What?" My eyes widen as I burst out laughing at her comment. "Aayansh and cute?!?"
"He can be anything-but cute? No way!"
At my reaction, she just shakes her head lightly.
Just then, a notification pings on her phone, and as she checks it, her expression hardens.
She stands, turning toward me. "My designer will show you the outfit, alright?" A small smile touches her lips. “Little sister-in-law.”
I just nod, caught between amusement and awe.
Author—
After a high-stakes meeting in the boardroom of the Oberoi Empire, Aayansh is now seated in his chair, dressed in a precise black suit, a cigar burning between his fingers. His aura is as cold as ever.
Aashika stands before him, her gaze piercing, fists tight with barely contained rage.
Rivaan stands a step behind, tense as stone.
“So you’re trying to control my life... like you control others?” she asks, her voice low, controlled.
Without looking at her, Aayansh exhales the smoke slowly, his voice calm. “Good grasp.”
Aashika’s jaw tightens. “You think you can do that?” she says evenly, “In case you’re forgetting, let me remind you—I’m four years older than you. So the...”
“Besides that—” he finally looks at her, tilting his head slightly. “There’s nothing mature about you.”
Aashika narrows her eyes.
Aayansh’s icy eyes bore into hers as he continues. “Running away from your responsibilities—just because you fixated your entire life on one thing.”
“Revenge.” He stands, moving toward her. “Now that you’ve got it, you were ready to vanish—like a coward.”
“I’m not a coward!” she fires back.
“Yeah, right,” Aayansh says, now standing in front of her, staring down at her. “Planning to leave the country, thinking no one would find out... walking away from what you once wanted for Mom, and your own life. What do you call that?”
Aashika had planned to leave for Sydney without letting anyone know... ready to walk away from everything, even her own identity, unsure of where life would take her. But Aayansh, being himself, the moment he found out, he had her international license blocked.
“Bhai—” Rivaan says, tension threading his voice, “I tried to stop her... but she wouldn’t listen.”
Aayansh keeps his eyes on Aashika, her expression giving nothing away.
“Rivaan?” She murmurs without turning.
“Yeah?” Rivaan answers.
“Shut up! you don’t need to speak against me every time.”
Rivaan shakes his head, as if resisting the urge to bang it against the wall.
“And you—” she glares at Aayansh, who remains unfazed. “You’re right. Just this time. Mujhse bada banne ki koshish mat kro, alright?”
With that, she hugs him tightly, as if holding onto the one person who always has her back.
Aayansh’s arm settles around her, secure and protective.
Here, In the villa's garden, the morning sun warms Tara's skin as she stands barefoot. A few guards lingering at a distance, heads bowed, not even daring to look in her direction, their breaths steady but tense.
Continuous low roars rise, blending with the soft splashes of water in the private fountains.
Those roars belong to none other than Aayansh's twin panthers, currently being bathed by Tara. The moment she found out about them, she had his men bring them here today....No arguments.
Now, she stands there, washing creatures ten times her size... and could easily devour four of her for just breakfast.
One dark as night, the other tiger-striped, both letting out soft, grumpy little growls under her touch... still enough to send a chill down the spine.
She runs her fingers through their soaked, dense fur, whispering softly, as if her words alone are enough to tame them.
“Careful, Tara.” A calm, firm voice sounds behind her.
“Bro! they're just babies!”
Yeah, It's Arsh.
Tara wanted to spend some time with her brothers, so she had them come here as well.
“Right, princess,” Arsh says sarcastically, stepping closer. “And these babies can finish four like you in a single meal.”
She rolls her eyes, gently nudging the black panther.
“Why are you being so mean to these innocent creatures?” she huffs.
Arsh shakes his head, clearly entertained.
Soon enough, they’re in the living room.
Arsh sits on the sofa, watching Tara as she reads through the file he’d handed her.
And just like that, a bright smile spreads across her lips. Her music...now ready for the world stage, with tours and collaborations she’d only ever dreamed of. With a record label in her name, every detail is crafted so her music could finally breathe freely. And Arsh has made all of this possible...right at the very start of her professional journey.
Without a second thought, she sets the file aside and pulls her brother into a warm hug. “You did all this for me?!”
Arsh, fingers threading gently through her hair, murmurs softly, “Every bit of it is worth it when I see this smile on your face.”
“Princess!? Are we just background characters to you?” The voice pulls her attention, and she turns to see Aariv, Luca, and Braden entering.
“Boss, Aap already background noise ho! Don’t drag us in your ‘We’.” Luca interrupts—grinning.
“You motherfu—” Aariv shoots him a murderous look, but one glance at Tara and he swallows the rest.
“Wait—did you just speak Hindi?” Tara blinks at Luca, stunned.
“Yeah, after all,” Braden says as they sink onto the sofas, “his Indian girlfriend is giving him ‘private’ Hindi lessons.”
“Indian girlfriend?!?”
Then, a thought strikes Tara, and she turns to Arsh. “See? Even Luca uncle has a girlfriend at this age.”
Braden and Aariv exchange a smirk, while luca gapes at Tara like she’s declared a whole war on his love life.
And catching it, Tara adds, “I mean—I’m a strong believer of age is just a number.... But I’m almost 22, Aayansh is 29, And Bro is 32!” She glances at Arsh. “Don’t you think it’s high time for you to wife someone up?”
“Someone like, umm...” She fumbles, then adds, “Aashika.”
Arsh’s brow quirks up at her.
“I mean she’s so beautiful, isn’t she?” She quickly recovers.
“Of course....she’s your sister-in-law after all.” Arsh says, deadpan, unreadable as ever.
“Yeah, right!” She mutters, her grin a little too proud.
“By the way, Boss?” Aariv chips in, grinning, “Princess isn’t wrong—you really should think about a wife. Age is catching up, you know.”
Before Arsh can reply, Tara jumps in, dead serious. “Exactly! Like Imagine him getting married at 50, having kids at 55… and—I can’t even picture beyond that.”
Arsh shakes his head, his expression unreadable. “I see what you’re trying to do, princess.”
“But that won’t happen. I respect your sister-in-law,” he pauses, letting the weight of his words settle. “And that’s where it ends—nothing beyond that.”
For a moment, the room falls into a heavy silence.
Then, nonchalantly, Luca adds, “And also, Boss’s heart is already taken....Uh...what was that girl’s name, In—chan...Mun?”
“Inayat, you absolute Duffer!” Aariv says, smirking.
As soon as Arsh hears the name, his eyes harden.
Silence crashes over the room. Luca, Aariv, and Braden hold their breath, frozen.
But Tara’s curious eyes flare. “Who. Is. Inayat?”
Those three shuffle slightly, clearly unsure how much to reveal.
Arsh exhales quietly, his jaw tight, hiding the storm brewing behind his calm eyes.
Then, at last, Aariv gathers himself and says carefully, “Well, princess, Inayat was a survivor of human trafficking.”
He looks at Arsh briefly, “Boss rescued her from a horrific situation, and guided her through months of recovery.”
“... And to ensure she could have a safe and dignified future, he sent her to Paris. Now she’s with Diya there.”
“Oh... well,” Tara murmurs softly, “I hope she’s found the life she truly deserves.”
As their chatter carries on, Arsh’s eyes soften, recalling glimpses of her innocence, her trusting ways, the purity that defined her.
F L A S H B A C K
It’s only been two days since Arsh pulled her out of that underground hell, and he doesn’t even know her name yet. To his surprise, even she doesn’t know anything about herself, always trembling, always quiet, letting no one near her...except him.
Please, Hurting, Water—
These are the only words she’s spoken since being brought here.
Arsh stays busy, though mostly to keep an eye on Tara who had foolishly tied herself to his enemy.
The doctor has stated that Inayat—this girl—is profoundly abnormal, both physically and mentally. Since she was very young, barely two or three, she had been given experimental chemicals and biochemical suppressants designed to stop her body from growing like a normal girl and to control her mind. Because of them, she hasn’t even started menstruating yet.
Right now, the doctor is taking her blood for further tests, and the only reason she’s calm and still is that Arsh is there. Clinging to the corner of the bed, her innocent eyes are fixed on him, as if his presence alone can shield her from the world.
“Give me your hand,” the doctor says gently, holding out a hand toward her.
Inayat just stares, confusion clouding her eyes.
When the doctor herself reaches out to take her hand, she panics. Her small frame trembles as she recoils, scrambling back toward Arsh, seeking safety in the only person she trusts.
As she wobbles, about to topple but Arsh holds her instantly, steadying her with a firm yet gentle grip. “Relax, just calm down! Alright?” he murmurs, his voice soft.
At her behaviour, the doctor lets out a frustrated sigh, but Arsh stays patient.
“I’m here, angel, right here with you!” He assures, his tone calm, trying to distract her.
Her hands press against his tricep, trembling slightly, and she murmurs, barely audible. “Angel...”
As if she’s chosen this name for him.
Taking the opportunity, the doctor presses the needle into her neck. Inayat’s lips part in a muffled cry, her eyes shut tight, fingers clutching Arsh’s arm with desperate strength. “Hurting... angel.”
A moment passes, her teary gaze finds his.
Arsh wraps a secure arm around her.
“This next one has to go into her spine,” The doctor explains carefully. “We’ll need to expose her back for a precise injection.”
Arsh nods, letting her know she’s safe as he tries to move away.
“Lift your dress, sweetheart,” The doctor guides.
And with Arsh right beside her, Inayat innocently starts to remove her dress, unaware of every other thing.
But she freezes mid-motion, eyes wide at Arsh’s calm but commanding words. “Stop it.”
She just stares at him in confusion. Even the doctor hesitates. Meanwhile, Arsh steps closer, his presence grounding.
By now, one thing is clear to him: Inayat doesn’t even grasp basic human conduct. She can understand simple conversations around her, yet can barely speak herself, managing only a few scattered words.
And if she acts like this here, it’s no wonder she would do the same anywhere else—if left unguided.
Arsh, not touching her this time, says firmly. “Never remove your clothes in front of anyone. Not me. Not anyone.”
Inayat’s brow furrows slightly, a silent question in her eyes.
Arsh exhales, then kneels slightly to meet her gaze. “People around aren’t always pure like you, angel. Your body is your personal space,” he explains gently. “No one has the right to see you like this unless you allow them, unless you feel comfortable. Understand?”
For a moment, she only stares at him. Then, slowly, she nods, her voice a faint whisper—“Yes...angel.”
P R E S E N T—
Remembering those moments, the faintest smile touches Arsh’s lips. His gaze shifts to Tara, who’s giggling with Aariv, Braden, and Luca.
His chest tightens at the thought. After tonight, he’ll be back in New York....without his sister.
His fingers curl slightly against his arm, as if holding himself back.
He’s deliberately avoided telling Tara about it.
Evening 07:51 PM.
The soirée is held in a secluded rooftop garden of a historic tower, its floor-to-ceiling windows spilling the city lights across polished marble floors. Crystal chandeliers scatter sharp reflections across the surfaces, and the air hangs heavy with quiet power, whispered deals, and carefully measured laughter..... a gathering where wealth and influence are on full display.
Waiters and attendants move gracefully among the guests, attending to every need.
The media, elite press, and select industry journalists are respectfully seated, waiting for their turn to conduct interviews.
And since this is set to become Asia's largest pharmaceutical conglomerate, every detail here radiates perfection and meticulous attention.
In the center, a massive screen stands veiled, its surface hinting at what's beneath. Across it, a name gleams in encrusted black diamonds-"Dedicated to the Vision of the Late Dr. Aaina Oberoi."
The Visionaries Behind the Legacy:
Mr. Aayansh Oberoi || Mrs. Tara Jindal Oberoi.
Ms. Aashika Oberoi || Mr. Arsh Jindal.
A pair of eyes linger softly on Aaina's name, carrying a weight of memory and longing. And she's no one but Aashika. Cloaked in a grey tailored suit, shoulder-length hair left free, kajal lining her eyes just right.... But there are some different emotions in them.
"If it were just another day, i'd be sitting and missing you, Mom." She whispers into herself. "But today's the day to honor you."
And then, she just smiles.
Moments later, cameras click and flashes as Aashika steps forward. Reporters lean in, pens ready, microphones extended. Every question comes respectfully.... some probing, some curious, all waiting for her words.
"Ms. Oberoi, fulfilling your mother's vision....how does it feel to lead it into reality?"
"How do you plan to honor her vision through this project?"
"With such a legacy from your grandfather, how will you ensure this subsidiary-"
"My grandfather is gone," Calm and unflinching, her cold eyes meet every lens as she cuts in. "He's history. I am the present. And the future. So-ask only if it's about me."
The room falls silent for a heartbeat, quiet murmurs filling the air.
Then, another question. "Your brother, Mr. Aayansh Oberoi, and Mr. Arsh Jindal-two of the most formidable business minds across nations. Do you feel ready to stand toe-to-toe with them?"
"How about getting your answer while I stand with them?" she says coolly, gesturing to her manager with a single nod.
Excusing them, as she moves toward the edge of the tower, overlooking the city lights beneath, a presence falls into view. Her head turns slightly-Moksh Deewan.
His hands in his pockets, calm and composed, he nods in greeting.
"I hope you've forgiven me for everything that happened that day," he says quietly. "I got to know Malang misbehaved-"
"It's fine, Mr. Deewan," She cuts in softly. "But your brother is indeed an asshole."
Moksh flinches briefly, then lets a crooked smirk play on his lips. "Well, you're so straightforward, and I like it."
Before Aashika can respond, another voice cuts in. "Hey, Ms. Oberoi?"
Aashika closes her eyes, letting out an irritated exhale, while Moksh's gaze flicks toward Malang approaching them.
Aashika, ignoring his existence, walks past them.
"This woman is really something!" Malang mutters in his breath, watching her in awe.
"What?" Moksh raises a brow at him.
Malang, too busy staring at her, murmurs again-"Something something."
"Malang?!" Moksh snaps.
Malang finally spins around, composed. "Yes, brother?"
"Why the hell are you staring at her like that?"
"Uh-just admiring..."
Just then, Moksh's phone buzzes, drawing his attention. Seizing the moment, Malang makes his way out of here.
And within minutes, he's trailing behind Aashika.
"Ms. Oberoi?" he calls. She ignores him like a Wi-Fi signal she doesn't want to connect to.
"I need to talk."
"Should I bring something for you? Wine, whisky, champagne... what do you prefer?"
Aashika still doesn't turn, her voice flat and deadpan. "Blood. That's my preference."
"Well, you can drink mine. I won't mind."
"Do I look like a vampire to you?"
Malang pauses, then smirks. "The finest one."
She exhales, taking another step. "Has anyone ever told you how asshole you are?"
"If you're saying! then maybe I am." He literally says it out like a confession, still following her.
A beat, and his breath hitches the moment Aashika's hand snaps onto his wrist, slamming him against the wall sideways and leaving him momentarily stunned.
Their breathing clashes, bodies almost pressing against each other.
He may be taller, but she meets his eyes head-on, gripping his collar, her frustration smoldering as she watches him, expecting him to be afraid or even hesitate.
But his grin just deepens, looking down at her. "I thought you'd be at least a little apologetic... after assaulting my mouth with your gun."
She leans closer, letting her scent invade his senses, a sly smirk pulling at her mouth. "Trust me... one day, I'll crush that damned mánhood of yours beneath my heel-" Her pause lets their noses brush. "-and still be as unapologetic as I am right now."
Malang, utterly doomed, gulps.
His gaze zeroes to her lips-Kiss. Kisss. Kissssss!
His pulse quickens, craving just one taste.
Even Aashika's eyes linger on his throat, tracing the subtle rise of his Adam's apple, a flicker of hesitation crosses her face as she realises there are people around, the guests, business allies and international clients.
And without a word, she shoves him aside and leaves.
Malang stands frozen, staring after her. "Goddamnit.... she just blushed!" He whispers, touching his neck and feeding his own delusions.
Here, crossing the threshold, Aashika steps onto the private viewing deck, her breath gradually steadying. She finds Arsh already there, standing by the railing, both hands resting against it as he gazes silently at the dark sky. His broad frame is draped in a grey tailored suit, his back turned to her.
She comes to a stop at his side, her voice calm but edged. "What are you doing here instead of being at the event?"
Arsh stays quiet, his features set in an unreadable calm.
Aashika doesn't press him. Instead, she looks up at the sky, a void settling between them.
Then-
"Well, AJ," she exhales softly. "I won't force you... but you can share what's bothering you."
Arsh holds onto the silence, as if weighing his words. Then, slowly, he expresses. "Just thinking how unsafe your brother is for Tara."
Her brows furrow as she studies him. "And what made you think that way?"
Arsh finally turns to her, his expression tight. "You tell me-" he says quietly. "If you were in my place-would you have left your sister with a man who thrives on other people's pain? Who's nothing but a sadist and drags her in his mess every time?"
Words fall short this time. Aashika knows he isn't wrong. He's being rational.
Yet, she gives a faint smile. "I'm not saying this to defend my brother. But he does love her in his own way. And not every canvas of love is meant to be flawless."
Her gaze drifts to the stars, scattered and shimmering above. "Some are messy, untamed....and still, beautiful in their own way. So, maybe we should let them live Their Version Of Love?"
To her words, Arsh offers no reply, but the unease inside him doesn't fade.... As if sensing something deeper.
Aashika glances at her phone, her eyes narrowing when she realizes Aayansh and Tara still haven't arrived.
Aayansh’s villa| 09: 17 PM.
Night is already settled by the time Aayansh returns. The air is cool....softened by the quiet warmth of the fireplace in the room.
His gaze drifts across the room, cold and unreadable as usual.
Steeped in darkness, the intimidating walls of the room are marked by the coral pink shade of her lipstick.... words like ‘AayRa’- ‘love you so much, Aayansh Oberoi’-'He's mine till eternity' scribbled alive on them. Not neat or careful, but messy and alive. His name, written over and over-it looks owned. As if someone is imprinting herself onto a man who was never meant to belong to anyone.
Because unlike Aayansh, Tara's love for him isn't reserved....it's loud, messy, and everywhere she breathes.
The quiet glow of candles binding the room in an intimate heat.
That's when he senses a presence behind him, innocently certain he wouldn't sense her just by her breathing.
He doesn't turn. Shrugging off his jacket, his eyes perfectly still on her seductive reflection in the fireplace glass, patiently letting her come near.
She moves closer, quiet as a breath, as if the world itself has hushed for her.
In the glass, her curves unfold under his gaze as he tosses his jacket aside.
She hovers behind him, lifting her hands to cover his eyes-
But without turning, Aayansh catches her wrist mid-motion and tugs her forward. In the next instant, her back is slammed against his chest, not harsh, just unanticipated enough to make her breath hitch as he buries his face into her neck.
"Aayan?" she breathes, her head tilting slightly. "I was going to surprise you."
Silent and still, not a muscle shift....except his calloused palm, which wraps around her bare belly at the saree's edge.
His breath stays warm and steady against her skin, and she murmurs, "Your beard is-"
"Shh, amour," he cuts in, voice low and husky. "Just stay like this."
Tara stiffens slightly, her fingers tangling with his thick, strong ones absentmindedly, while she feels his other hand tracing slow, deliberate paths over her bare stomach.
Her eyes flutter shut, a delicate smile gracing her lips. Every sound around them dissolves, leaving only their breathing, their hearts and souls entwining in silence.
Then, with a quiet, almost breathless tone, she says, "It's-okay. I've forgiven you."
Now only she knows why she said that.
He nips lightly at her neck. "I never asked for your forgiveness."
She exhales softly, eyes half-lidded. "Because that's not your cup of tea... and I'm kind enough to forgive you without you asking."
"Forgiving me for giving you a toe-curling orgasm on the gym's floor, Hmm?"
Her cheeks tint pink. "Yes."
Slowly, he spins her toward him. She lifts her head, her honey brown orbs framed with darkness that makes them look deeper, finding his, trying to pull him in the depths of them.
His gaze sweeps over her. She's draped in a net burgundy saree, the thin straps of her blouse accentuating her frame, her hair cascading straight down her back. Smoky eyes, light diamond jewelry.
He takes a step back, his gaze sweeps over her entirely, from head to toe.... And a sudden wave of butterflies breaks free inside her.
Cheeks heating despite her effort to stay composed, she interjects. "We need to be there on time, remember?!? Go get ready."
He tilts his head, eyes lingering, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. "Get me." he says.
To be continued~
Write a comment ...