'cause love burns like a Cigarette
Slow and painful
And leaves you in ashes.
Manhattan, New York.
12:00 PM.
Moments have passed since our jet landed here in NYC. And right now, with my brother beside me, we're making our way to the Jindal Mansion. Our home. But my mind? It's still stuck on that airstrip... With him.
How could he let me go like that?
I mean, we've seen our worst times together. I still remember the mess that happened here, at this very place and after that, I asked him to stay away from me, to let me go.
He did stay away, didn't even glance in my direction for days. But never-not once-did he let me leave his side.
Not even when I blamed him for everything, threw every hate-filled word I could at him, and hated him with everything in me. I even blamed him for my miscarriage. He bore it all... still never backed off.
Then suddenly, what happened...
Is he done with me?!
Was I just a physical need? And he's had enough of me after the last night?
The time I spent with him, an entire lifetime for me... Just so that he can get rid of me like that?
Is he having any other woman in his life?
Would he... sleep with someone el-
NO. WHAT THE FUCK!
What is wrong with me? I've spent an entire year with him... He doesn't even let any other woman breathe anywhere near him. Forget touching or being with someone else.
But I can't stop my mind. I just can't.
If Aayansh knew... I don't care how, but if he knew, then why didn't he stop me?
He even called me by my name. "Tara." Not amour. Not Miá. But Tara.
And those words... "This time, make sure he's [Arsh] able to protect you from me."
And then... that smirk. The one he gave me when I looked at him the last time before leaving.
What is going on inside this man's head? What is he going to do? Or... will he even do anything?
DOES HE EVEN LOVE ME?
He does, obviously. But he can never love me the way I love him. NEVER.
"Princess..." Bro's voice pulls me from my thoughts and I look up at him. "We've reached."
I let my gaze wander around, we're already near the entrance. The massive walls of Jindal mansion are adorned with white roses and ornate candelabras, an elegant warmth cascading everywhere I gaze at.
Bright. Beautiful. Alive.
My real world... where nothing is dim. Nothing is dark.
Staff and workers, all dressed alike, stand by the fountains and across the estate, attentive and disciplined. Near the colossal gates, I find Aariv bhai, Braden and uncle Luca standing together, bickering among themselves.
After so long, seeing it all again fills me with a wave of nostalgia. The gardens I'd run through as a little girl, the fountains I'd jump into just to send everyone around me into a panic, the familiar warmth that comes with being back where I grew up.
I stare at all of it.
The three men's gaze lingers on us as we approach, and the moment they see me, pure shock flashes across their faces before melting into warmth almost instantly.
We stop and all three of them speak at once, their soft voices tumbling over each other. "Welcome home, Principessa."
I force my lips into a smile, while Bro pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly exasperated by their behaviour.
"Boss! how is this-" Uncle Luca begins, already doomed. "I mean, Princess is here?! How did he let- I mean..."
Before he can even finish, Aariv bhai jumps in. "Tara, did you have a fight with that husband of yours-"
"Shut. Up. Both of you." Bro cuts in, glaring at them coldly.
The three of them drop their eyes, and guilt immediately tugs at me, but before I can say a word, a voice rings in my ears. "Arsh, where were you?"
Dad.
I glance inside, only to find him walking out, dressed sharply in a gray suit. But he freezes mid-step, his lips parting slightly as his eyes meet mine.
So like everyone, even he had no idea I was coming?
I don't wait another second before moving toward him, folding myself into his arms like I'm still a kid who is not grown enough to let go of her father's embrace.
"How are you?" I murmur, refusing to pull away, cocooning myself in his arms as If I could stay there forever.
His hold tightens around me protectively. "Was just breathing until now," he says, his voice low and heavy. "Thought I'd have to die for my daughter to come back to me just once."
Resting my chin against his chest, I look up at him, tears gathering in my eyes. "Emotional blackmail again?"
His own eyes are moist, something that almost never happens-unless it comes to me. He leans down and kisses my hair, a different kind of sorrow clouding his sage eyes."This place feels nothing but walls and furniture without you..."
My heart sinks, but before I can say a word, Bro's voice rings in. "Well, the one who brought your daughter back to you doesn't deserve to stand here alone."
With one arm still around me, Dad's eyes shift to him for a moment. "I'm having a moment with my daughter. I don't want any disturbances. And... you already live here Arsh. Don't act like a guest."
Bro shakes his head slightly. "Fair enough."
But I narrow my eyes at Dad, giving him an indignant look. "You mean I am a guest?!"
His face softens, not in its usual way, but with something warmer, gentler, more homely. "You're the heart of this place. Of me."
I don't know when my lips curve into a smile, and somehow, all the insecurities, the heaviness, everything weighing on me fades away as I stay folded safely in my father's arms.
"I missed you... so much, Dad," I whisper, his hand rises to caress my cheek softly, as though I'm something infinitely precious.
Then, his other hand lifts, beckoning my brother closer. "Come, Arsh."
I inch my head towards him. My brother's eyes are already fixed on me, a faint, warmth-laced smile resting on his lips. Then his gaze shifts to Dad, and he reaches towards us, unhurried, composed.
And in the next moment, Dad's free arm settles around bro's broad shoulders, drawing him into the embrace until the three of us are held together, until our little circle is complete. "My children," he whispers.
A breath later, Bro pulls away, and I move abruptly when a sudden jolt shoots from my legs up my spine. I wince, stumbling on unsteady feet, but Bro catches my arm before I can lose my balance.
Fuck. I'd managed to walk all this way slowly and carefully, despite the stinging pain through my body. Why the hell did this have to happen now?
All because of him. Couldn't he have been a little gentler last night? Why is it always me who have to face the aftermath of his animalistic side?
"What is it, princess?" Dad asks, his expression tightening with concern. "Did you hurt yourself anywhere?" His gaze travels over me, thorough and almost instinctively protective.
Bro looks me over too, searching for any sign that I'm hurt.
Someone bury me right here.
"No, of course not," I say quickly, forcing a casual shrug. "Actually, I worked out a little too hard this morning, that's why... Just my legs are aching."
"Work out?" One of bro's eyebrows quirks upward.
Yeah, but a different one.
"Since when did the lazy panda start working out, hmm?" he adds, earning himself my most offended glare.
Don't worry, you'll be doing this workout after you get someone, too. I bite back the thought.
But Dad's stern voice cuts in. "Arsh. Don't."
He only chuckles at us before saying, "You're tired. Carla and Rose will get you to your floor." His hand comes up to rest gently on my head. "Just rest for now."
I nod, giving Dad one last glance before turning to the two women, who lead me toward the elevator.
His thoughts creep back into my mind.
My heels click against the glossy marble beneath my feet as I finally enter my room. Rose and Carla aunty have left, giving me my space.
I let my gaze roam around, only to find the room shrouded in dimness, and my brows furrow instantly. Why are the lights so dim?
"Turn up the lights!" I say, and the room's automated controls instantly flood the space with light. I shut my eyes, letting myself breathe once more. But this time, the moment my lids part, the floor beneath my feet seems to vanish.
What the-?
My head jerks from one wall to another.
This can't be real.
On every wall, there's the same reflection. The picture. Our picture. Too clear. Too real.
The one he took last night... with our lips locked, my wide eyes staring into the camera, while his intense gaze is on my flustered face.
Moving closer, I stare at his eyes carefully... those dark, bluish orbs that never seem to rest. There's something in them I can't quite name. Desperation. Obsession. A rawness that unsettles me... And things far beyond my understanding.
It feels like I'm still under his gaze, like his eyes can reach through these reflections alone and stare straight into my soul.
As though he's everywhere around me.
And I can't even escape.
Panic surges through me, and I scream, "ROSEEE??!"
My chest heaves as my pulse races, my eyes darting across every reflection before I clamp them shut.
He's not here.
He can't be here.
I won't let him get to me.
Within seconds, Rose rushes into my room, panic lacing her voice. "WHAT HAPPENED, Princess?! Are you alright?!"
I open my eyes and look directly at her. "Why are these reflections-"
Her brows knit together. "Reflections? What are you talking about?!"
Frustrated, I point towards the walls, but-
this time, there's nothing.
Everything is perfectly normal.
My lips part in pure shock.
It was there. I swear it was there. I saw those reflections.
They were so clear, so real... To my eyes.
Or... was I hallucinating?
But how could I? I'm not crazy. I know what I saw.
"Princess, please tell me you're alright?" Rose asks again, her voice thick with concern. "Should I call sir?"
"NO!" I don't even look at her, my breathing is still uneven. "You may go."
She doesn't argue. She simply nods and leaves, leaving me rooted to the exact spot.
What. Was. That?
As Tara is gone, all the warmth and softness vanishes from the environment. Dhairya turns to Arsh, his expression turning severe. "What is happening here?"
"What?" Arsh responds calmly, relaxing himself on the sofa. "My sister-your daughter-is finally home. Aren't you happy about that?"
Dhairya's brow furrows, questions flashing through his eyes, while Arsh exhales through his nose, his patience wearing dangerously thin.
"Until now," he begins, "I was helpless because of Tara's choices. Nothing mattered more than what she wanted. But this time, she chose us herself... over that man."
Dhairya takes a moment, seeming conflicted more than pleased. "And... How are you so convinced that man wouldn't do anything?"
"I do not give a fuck about him," Arsh cuts in, each word determined as he looks straight into his father's eyes. "Tara is here. Safe. That's the only thing that matters. And I just want to see her smiling and happy, so I hope you won't bring this out again. Especially in front of her."
Dhairya says nothing, momentarily bewildered, while Arsh turns his gaze toward the three men-Aariv, Luca, and Braden-standing in a straight, rigid posture.
"Increase security around Tara," he orders. "There should be no cameras on her floor, but every single thing around the space will be monitored and recorded. She mustn't know about any of this, and," his expression hardens. "NO ONE GETS NEAR HER WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. The mistake we made last time will not be repeated. Clear?"
"Yes, boss," the three acknowledge in unison.
Pausing for a moment, Arsh adds, "And keep an eye on him too."
Luca mutters in confusion, "Boss... him? Princess's husband?"
Arsh's jaw tightens as he fixes his gaze on Luca. "Aayansh Oberoi. Nothing more."
A deadly silence settles over the room.
But breaking it, Arsh dismisses them at once. "You all may leave."
As they leave, Arsh turns to his father, who is still rooted to the spot, his eyes fixed on him. "Sit, Dad," Arsh says.
"First, answer me," Dhairya demands, his tone leaving no room for argument. "What exactly have you done?"
For a moment, Arsh holds his father's gaze, the weight of what he has done catching up with him, guilt shadowing his expression, his eyes drop a fraction. "Tara thinks I brought her here just for her birthday... because having her here for the occasion is important for our reputation."
Dhairya's expression hardens. "So... you lied to her?"
"And here, you're planning something else behind her back? Why, Arsh?"
"I don't have the heart to do that, Dad," Arsh shuts his eyes, a strange kind of exhaustion in his voice.
"She's suffered enough these past few months, and now I want to keep her away from all the mess. At such a young age, she's already endured betrayals, even..." His voice drops further. "Even lost her children. All because of one man."
His jaw locks for a moment before loosening as he finally looks up. "After her birthday, I'll confront her myself about all of it. But you won't say a word to her."
He rises to his feet. "Act normal. Prepare for the days ahead. This birthday of hers will be unforgettable."
With that, a memory from the previous day resurfaces in his mind.
F L A S H B A C K
[Continuation of Arsh Aayansh's conversation from chapter-70]
Arsh settles onto the Chesterfield sofa, a carefully guarded mask of warmth fixed upon his face as he watches Aayansh who stands near the glass wall, a cigar resting between his thumb and forefinger. His gaze is fixed on the city below, where everything appears far too small from this height.
For a few moments, silence stretches in the air.
Aayansh seems in no mood to speak to Arsh, while something else is clearly brewing in Arsh's mind.
"Well, I think you should learn to keep things private, no?" he says, picking up the conversation right where they left off in the event hall.
"I'm not dragging you to my bedroom, Arsh Jindal." Settling the cigar between his lips, Aayansh answers, hating how Arsh is constantly trying to soften his tone and twist his words when all that's in that head of his is venom for him.
Not bothering to turn around and look at Arsh's reaction, he exhales a wisp of smoke into the air and continues to stare at the dark sky outside.
And then, Arsh's voice follows. "One night-that's all it takes to bring that confidence crashing down."
The frustration and arrogance in Arsh's voice settles something inside Aayansh, like watching him lose his shit is a different kind of entertainment altogether.
His gaze drops from the dark sky to the burning cigar between his fingers, the smoke mingling with the air as the corner of his lips twists.
"What happened?" Arsh speaks again, standing and shoving his hands into his pockets, his lips curling into a mocking grin. "You have nothing to say this time? Come on, say something provocative. I'm waiting for your disgusting answer."
Aayansh still doesn't turn around. No words. No reaction. Another drag from the cigar.
"This is the difference between me and you," Arsh continues. "You're disgusting-inside and out. You manipulated Tara into that marriage. Used violence to get her back. Never cared about what she wanted. Never had a single good intention-"
"Correct," This time, Aayansh cuts in, walking over to the single-seater sofa and sinking into it. He settles his arms along the edges, leaning back as his gaze finally lands on Arsh, his demeanor completely relaxed.
“I’ve never had any good intentions towards her,” He says. “And my intentions—are worse now.”
He tilts his head slightly. "Brother-in-law."
Arsh's remaining patience snaps. "Shut the fuck up. I've never accepted that marriage. Never considered Tara your wife."
Aayansh's thumb taps against the edge of the sofa where his arm rests. Once. Twice. Staring at Arsh the same way... already bored. But still patient.
"So... for your information, I'm taking her back to New York tomorrow morning."
Silence returns between them once more.
Arsh's sharp, unapologetic gaze remains fixed on Aayansh's unbothered one.
Then, Aayansh exhales, as though Arsh has finally said something worth answering.
Breaking the silence in that calm, eerie tone of his, he says. "If my woman herself agrees to return with you, take her back."
That has even Arsh's eyes narrow in disbelief.
He's not stupid. He knows someone like Aayansh would never make anything that easy. Or that clean.
Still, he leans back against the wall beside him, a bitter edge creeping into his voice. "So, you've finally grown the balls to make the right decision?"
"Don't go on my balls, brother-in-law," Aayansh smirks. "You'll curse your own the moment you realise how 'right' my decisions are."
P R E S E N T
The memory makes Arsh's jaw clench, but for Tara's sake, he lets it go-for now.
INDIA.
Dressed in a black leather jacket and jeans, her shoulder-length hair cascading freely around her face, with nothing but a touch of kohl accentuating her eyes, Aashika enters the main building of Aaina's medical subsidiary.
She stops at the reception desk. "Mr. Deewan?"
"Uh, which Deewan, ma'am? I mean-"
"The elder one. Mr. Moksh," she cuts in, her finger tapping steadily against the counter.
"I'm really sorry, ma'am," the receptionist apologises. "Mr. Moksh isn't available at the moment. But Dr. Malang-"
"Alright." With that, Aashika starts walking ahead.
Getting her phone out, she dials Moksh's number. The call is answered on the first ring, but before he can say a word, she speaks. "You seem quite busy nowadays?"
On the other side, Moksh stays silent for a moment, as though the mere sound of her voice has left him mesmerised. Then, finally, he answers. "I'm sorry. If I'd known you'd be this desperate to see me, I wouldn't have left the country."
"So full of yourself," Aashika comments, completely unbothered as she walks ahead. "Just like your brother. Are all Deewans like that?"
"I think you-"
"Well, come back as soon as possible," she cuts him off. "There's a legal matter I need you to handle."
"Too straightforward," Moksh says softly. "That's not how we ask for a favour."
Aashika says nothing to that.
But Moksh, clearly, is in no mood to end the conversation anytime soon.
"Hearing your voice," he murmurs, almost too gently. "No one would ever guess you talk like a villain... unless you let someone play one in-"
"I don't like anyone trying to play villain in my life," she cuts him off again. "I'm enough for that."
Using the private lift, she reaches the third floor, still on the call. At the same time, down the corridor, Malang is heading toward the elevator, lightly whistling to himself.
But the moment he spots Aashika approaching along the same corridor, he stiffens, runs a hand through his hair, then quickly scans the surroundings for anything reflective, checking whether he looks hot enough.
That's when his eyes land on a girl carrying a small red velvet cake. "Lisaaa?!" he calls out.
Lisa's gaze immediately shifts toward him, her brows furrowing as he gestures for her to come closer.
She approaches anyway.
"Dr. Deewan, you-" Malang pulls her closer, wrapping a finger around a strand of her hair as he gazes into her eyes with exaggerated romance. All while shooting Aashika a quick, smug side-eye, making sure she sees them.
Lisa's lips part at the sensation. "Ah don't... you're turning me on," she breathes.
"Sweetheart, you've no idea what else I could do with a gorgeous woman like you," he says, throwing another side-eye in Aashika's direction as she draws closer.
Lisa, completely swept up in the moment, breathes again, "Fuck. Dr. Deewan."
"YEAH, FUCK!" Malang leans closer, his pulse spiking as he realizes Aashika is almost there.
One step.
Another.
Lisa also brings her lips closer to his.
The distance between them almost closes. Malang gives one last side-eye toward Aashika-
But she walks past them as though they don't even exist, utterly unfazed.
He watches her go, his brows drawn together in amazement. But then Lisa's breathless moan catches his attention, and he looks down at her. Her eyes are shut, her breathing uneven like she's already taking the feel, "Please... I can't wait!"
He mutters a curse under his breath, but just as he's about to take a step back, Lisa looks at him with need. "What are you waiting for? Please-"
His face falls. Then he quickly raises his small finger. "I'll have to go!"
"What? WHERE?!"
"Somewhere."
"Huh?"
"WASHROOM!"
"You can't leave me dry after turning me on."
Malang glances around frantically, spots a worker passing by, and calls out, "Hey, you! Come here! Madam needs help."
Lisa's eyes widen in horror, but Malang is quicker. He snatches the red velvet cake from her hands and takes several hurried steps ahead. She stares at him in frustration. "Fuck you, man."
Without bothering to look back, he smirks. "You wish."
Moments later, Aashika reaches her floor, still on another call, unaware that she isn't alone in the cabin. Someone has already slipped inside before her.
"No, there's a reason for that!" she says into the call, her face cold as usual.
Standing just behind her with the cake is Malang, holding his breath so she won't sense his presence, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips as he mimics the movements of her hands.
'How gorgeous this woman is,' he thinks, still staring at her. Until she opens those lips to speak. Correction-threaten. But who cares? I've never looked for easy things.'
Lost in his own world, he lifts his eyes, and they widen a fraction...
Lisa is storming toward them, looking absolutely furious.
Malang's mind races. His gaze darts to Aashika, still busy on the call. He knows she wouldn't hesitate to stab him the moment she realises he's been following her.
Then Lisa.
She's almost there.
Then to the cake in his hand.
A complete do-or-die moment!
But then, an idea clicks.
And the second Lisa opens her mouth to call his name, "Dr. Deew-"
He hurls the cake toward her.
Except, at that exact second, Aashika turns around.
And-Splat!
The cake is smashed directly into Aashika's face.
Realising what he's done, Malang's soul nearly leaves his body.
Aashika's phone slips from her hand, while the cake blocks her vision for a moment. Malang immediately crouches sideways behind the table, trying to disappear from sight.
Lisa, who has witnessed the entire disaster, stops dead in her tracks.
Aashika's jaw clenches. Wiping the frosting from her eyes, she looks ahead... only to find no one there.
By now, Lisa has already bolted.
[Play Lut Gaye- Jubin nautiyal]
Knowing someone is clearly there, Aashika doesn't say a word for a moment. Her hand searches across the table for tissues... anything to clean her face before she gets her hands on whoever did this.
Malang slowly peeks his head out. One look at her frosting-covered face, and a wicked smirk creeps across his lips.
"Gorgeous," he murmurs to himself.
For a long moment, all he does is stare at her.
Then, he rises from behind the table and steps out carefully, pulling his handkerchief from his pocket.
He stops right in front of her. Aashika's vision is still slightly blurred, her eyes meet his... and her already-cold expression hardens into a deadly glare.
Malang, however, doesn't utter a single word, he just holds her gaze deeply, intensely, as he slowly brings the handkerchief closer to her face.
"Let me clean that."
For that one minute, even Aashika stills, though her expression stays hard, expecting him to apologize and clean her face.
She looks into his eyes too, and there's a softness in them now, beneath all that mischief.
And for the first time in a long while, her heart flutters at the sight of him... so patient, so unexpectedly gentle.
The world around them stills. Completely.
Slowly, never breaking her gaze, Malang lifts his other hand. His eyes drop to the smear of cake on her lips, and he carefully picks up a tiny crumb with his thumb, making sure not to touch her lips.
He looks into her eyes again with the same intensity, and just when she thinks he's finally going to clean her face, he brings his thumb to his mouth, licks off the frosting, and murmurs, "Sweet..."
Aashika's eyes widen.
But the moment her hands shoot up to grab his collar and yank him down, Malang winks at her and moves away so quickly that she's left standing there, completely flabbergasted.
Dusk has already settled, casting a serene glow over the massive cliff as the breathtaking view stretches toward the horizon beneath the setting sun.
That's when a car pulls to a stop nearby, and a moment later, someone steps out-Aashika.
She opens the trunk, retrieves a bottle of beer, then moves around to the front and climbs onto the bonnet.
Prying the cap off with her teeth, she takes a sip of beer, its bitterness settling on her tongue and burning the back of her throat as she quietly stares at the setting sun ahead.
[Song- 'aisa kyun maa' by sunidhi chauhan]
For a few moments, everything stays still. Normal.
Then, she lets her eyes fall shut as the soft breeze whispers across her face, and Aaina's face surfaces in her mind.
"Sometimes, your absence hurts so much," she murmurs, barely more than a breath. "Mom."
Then, she lets out a breath. "I can't pretend to be a strong woman every time. Sometimes, I just want to be your daughter. Nothing else. Just your Aashi."
Another slow breeze passes by, caressing her face, her hair fluttering across her cheeks with its gentle movement.
She takes another gulp of the beer.
Then, opens her eyes, gazing up at the sky above. "No one loves me like you," her voice almost too low. "I'm alone."
The faint sheen of tears gathers in her eyes.
"No one asks if I've eaten."
"If I'm sick."
"Or... what am I feeling?"
She finally lets her voice crack. "No one."
Then, the tiniest smile touches her lips, carrying a tenderness that feels almost childlike. "One day, I'm going to meet you again. And complain about everything. Not as a grown woman-but that same-eleven-year-old Aashi."
"Promise, mumma."
Just when a sound comes from behind her, but she ignores it.
Drawing in a deep breath, she brings the bottle to her lips again, only for someone to intercept it mid-air.
Her head instantly turns, and there he is-Aayansh.
Aashika's expression hardens instantly, every trace of vulnerability disappearing behind her usual mask.
With a sharp glare, she asks, "What are you doing here? Tum mera peechha kar rahe the?"
Aayansh plucks the bottle from her hand, tosses it aside, then casually leans against the bonnet beside her. "So this is how you miss her."
Aashika turns her gaze back toward the cliff. "I can't erase her from my life... like you."
He says nothing, simply pulling a cigar from his pocket and pressing it between his lips. His unbothered reaction only fuels Aashika's irritation.
"What?!" she snaps, scowling at him.
Aayansh lights his cigar with a lighter, then looks at her as though nothing happened. "What?"
"Why did you throw my bottle?"
He takes a slow drag, his gaze shifting to the tranquil sunset.
"Aayansh?!"
"I'm talking to you. You have no right to interfere in my life."
"Correct," he says. "But I'm going to do that anyway."
Aashika sucks in a sharp breath, fighting to rein in the dangerous instincts clawing at her.
She, too, looks toward the dipping sun, its peaceful, warm glow easing the tension in her muscles just a little.
Then, almost hesitating, she gives him a sidelong glance. "Did you hear everything?"
"I'm just drunk, alright? I'M NOT LIKE THAT!" she adds, clearly not willing to sound any low.
Aayansh glances at her. "So... what are you?"
"I'm strong."
"Strongest," he corrects.
She pauses, staring at him in disbelief.
"You heard everything." She sighs dryly.
But this time, Aayansh doesn't look away. His gaze stays on her as she stares out at the cliff, silent and exhausted.
Then, without a second thought, she leans over, resting her head against his shoulder.
The alcohol is beginning to fog her senses. "You're a good... pumpkin." A tiny, almost-giggle escapes her.
Aayansh just shifts slightly, making sure she's secure against the bonnet before leaning back himself, letting her weight settle on him.
And as Aashika continues to ramble, her eyes slowly close, a fragment of memory surfacing in her mind.
-P A S T-
Kneeling before her, Aaina is fixing eleven-year-old Aashika's school skirt. Aashika, meanwhile, is in a full-blown sulk, her lips pursed in annoyance, her arms folded tightly across her chest.
And noticing her expression, Aaina mutters softly, "What's with that grumpy little face, hmm?"
Aashika quickly turns her face away. "I know you love that pumpkin more. Hmph!"
That makes Aaina's eyes snap to her face in disbelief. For a moment, she just watches her, then asks quietly. "When did I make you feel that way?"
Aashika slowly looks back at her mother, searching for an answer... at least one instance so she can use it to argue. But she finds none, and instead, realises she has unintentionally hurt her mother.
She quickly reaches up, wrapping her little arms around Aaina's neck. "Sorry, Mumma! A serious sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry!"
With a tiny smile, Aaina pulls her into a warm embrace. "You're also becoming like your brother. Kuch bhi bolti ho!"
"For me, both my babies are my world."
Aashika's nose scrunches at the first sentence. "I'm The Aashi Oberoi!" she scowls. "I don't need to become like that round ball. You should say he copies me!"
Aaina laughs. "Right. But guess who's getting late for school?"
"The Aashi Oberoi?" she adds, making Aashika sigh dramatically.
From inside the closet, Aayansh's voice calls out, "Mom, where are my pants?!"
This time, Aaina sighs. "Come here. I'll get you ready."
Aashika sniffs. "Such a pumpkin."
Aaina pinches the tip of Aashika's nose. "Hey, he's your little brother!" Aashika rolls her eyes. "If someday I won't be there with you, he'll be there-for you."
"As if I need him?" Aashika huffs, flipping her hair with an exaggerated attitude.
"You both may not need anyone else, but you'll always need each other."
-P R E S E N T-
As the memories resurface in Aashika's mind, a small, genuine smile touches her lips. Intoxication blurring the world around her as her head rests on Aayansh's shoulder.
"Do you... miss her?" she breathes through the haze.
Aayansh takes another drag from his cigar, his gaze on the sinking sun. His expression is neither stern nor soft, just... thoughtful.
"Yaad unhe kiya jata hai jinhe ek din bhulana ho." He crushes the spent cigar aside. "And she was never one for me."
His eyes settle on Aashika. By now, she has already surrendered to sleep, her breathing slow and steady.
Something in his expression softens as he gazes at the girl beneath all that hardness...
The girl who never grew up, never truly made it out of that basement. She is still standing there, a gun in her trembling little hands, having pulled the trigger on her own mother just to free her from the pain. But somewhere, she herself is still trapped... beside her mother's body.
She never got to say goodbye.
And maybe, just maybe, that little girl is waiting for someone to hold her hand, and lead her out of the dark.
A part of her that's still untouched by the monsters that made her this way. Innocent. Pure.
A version of her that solely belongs to Aaina.
He reaches for her without a word, one arm sliding beneath her knees, the other supporting her back, and lifts her with effortless ease. Then, he carries her to the car, carefully settles her into the passenger seat, and fastens the seat belt across her before walking around to the driver's side.
New York| Evening| 07:14 PM.
Taking the elevator downstairs, I head toward the main hall as the gentle warmth of the evening settles over me. Staring around my room while thinking about him, about us, I didn't even realize when slumber took over. Now, after sleeping for hours, I need some fresh air.
I'm trying my best to get him out of my head, to focus on being here... with my family, with myself, with my life. But it's just so damn difficult.
Does being in love make you this helpless?
Earlier, I thought I'd stay here for my birthday and then, once I returned, I'd make things clear with him. But no... not anymore. I want to see what he does. More accurately, I want to know if he actually wants me... and if he does, just how much.
As I walk absentmindedly, Bro's voice comes from somewhere ahead. "Tara..." I look up to find him standing there, his expression composed like always. Beside him stands a man I don't recognize, an uncle with blond hair and grey eyes, dressed sharply in a brown suit.
I walk closer, and the first thing that happens is the uncle greeting me with a respectful bow. "Buona sera, Principessa."
Wait-what?
Before I can react, bro clarifies, "He's wishing you a good evening."
"Oh," I mutter, quickly returning his greeting with a polite nod.
Then, my brother introduces him to me. "He's Mr. Cedric Beaumont. For the next four days, he'll be handling everything for your birthday... the biggest celebration of the year. Last year, it was his brother who made the occasion memorable."
Nope! It was my Aayansh who made my last birthday memorable.
"It was a masquerade, just as you wanted. So, tell him whatever you wish for this time."
I stare at them blankly. Honestly, I have no interest in any of it right now. The girl who used to be overexcited about everything, especially her own birthday, is just... I don't know anymore.
"Uh... whatever you think is good," I force a smile, unsure if it looks convincing enough.
Mr. Beaumont looks visibly awkward, but Bro's eyes stay fixed on my face.
Ugh, why do I have to ruin everything today?
"Mr. Beaumont, we'll discuss this later," he tells the older man, dismissing him with a nod. "You may leave."
As the uncle leaves, I look up at bro, about to apologise for embarrassing him, but before I can, his hand settles gently against my cheek. "What's wrong?" he asks, studying my expression. "Since the moment we landed here, not once have you smiled genuinely."
My lips part, ready to spill another lie. "No, I'm f-"
But he cuts me off softly. "Princess."
I blink at him. "Hmm?"
"You're still not grown enough to lie to your brother, are you?"
I shake my head. Then, before I can stop myself, I reach for him and fold myself against his chest, letting all the ache I've been carrying bleed out.
"You were right. He doesn't care about anyone." I hate how weak I sound saying it. "... Not even me."
His hold tightens around me, not harshly, but enough for me to feel the coldness settling into his blood.
Silence settles between us for a moment.
A lone tear slip down my cheek as he continues to soothe my back. Then, he eases me back just enough for our eyes to meet.
"Do you remember when we lost Mom in that accident?" he murmurs. I nod, of course I do.
"Dad was left with the responsibility of two of us-Alone-But not once did he break down or let us see him weaken. I was old enough to understand everything. You weren't."
I listen quietly as he continues, "There were nights when I'd wake up and find him staring at Mom's photograph for hours." He leans in, brushing that tear away with his thumb. "Do you know why?"
"Because he loved her too much, obviously," I answer without any hesitation.
The corner of his lips lifts faintly. "Right. That was love. The feeling that makes you feel complete, even in their absence, rather than hollowing you from within."
I know exactly what he means. He's talking about me and Aayansh.
But I don't entirely agree with that. Love doesn't have one definition, or one face. It's enigmatic... Different for every heart that feels it.
So, trying to shrug it off and lighten the moment, I mutter in the same heavy voice, "That's a lot of talking for someone who's still single at thirty-two!"
He lets out a sigh, shaking his head. "So now you're judging me by my age?"
"No-never. Just saying! You talk like you've spent an entire lifetime loving someone."
Something in his expression stills. Nothing dramatic or obvious, just a momentary quietness.
While Tara stares at Arsh, his phone rings. He gives her a brief glance before pulling it out and checking the notification. It's a message from one of his men
'Boss, nothing unusual on his end. His routine is completely normal. Also, the Camorra's former consigliere met with him a few hours ago.'
Arsh's brow creases slightly as he reads that Aayansh is living his life as usual, doing nothing 'suspicious' on his end.
Aayansh's Villa, Later at night.
The bathroom door opens, and he steps out, a towel wrapped around his waist, his wet, tousled hair falling across his forehead, droplets of water glistening over his chest and defined abs.
But his face isn't as relaxed as usual. There's a strange kind of restlessness in his features, almost imperceptible, but still there.
Running a hand through his wet hair, he lets his gaze wander around the room.
The bed's black headboard, decorated with the little pink stickers Tara loves. Her pictures covering the dark-gray walls of his room, capturing her smiling and laughing. Her guitar at the centre, surrounded by her music diaries, and little lipstick marks scattered here and there.
And at the centre of her pictures are two adorable tiny dots, with 'My angels' written beneath them in delicate cursive.
All of it-done by her.
Because she's made a home within his darkness. Her home.
Aayansh's gaze finally settles on the mattress, where one of her dresses is lying.
He walks over and picks up the dress, bringing it to his face as he inhales deeply, taking in the faint scent of her lingering on the fabric. His eyes close.
For a moment, he just stays like that.
Then, in that deep, obsessive voice of his, he murmurs, "Tadap main raha hun, toh tadapna tumhe bhi padega." With that, he opens his eyes, his gaze falling on the dress. "Jaan."
To be continued~
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