Unfinished Us.✔️

Chapter 29.

Song:- Aaoge Jab Tum.

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Sunlight filtered through the blinds, stretching golden fingers across the room, landing on the tousled figure tangled in a duvet. Arjun stirred, a low groan escaping his lips as he reached out instinctively.

His hand met coldness.

His eyes snapped open.

The space beside him was untouched—smooth, vacant, lifeless. Cold. As if no one had ever been there at all.

His chest constricted. No...

Last night had been real.

He shot upright, the sheet slipping from his waist. The silence in the room clawed at his ears. His pulse quickened as he glanced at the bathroom door.

She must be inside.
His hands raked through his hair.

Everything about last night was still burned into his skin—her touch, her taste, her warmth pressed against him like a promise. Her soft moans, her trembling breath, the way she whispered his name like it still belonged to her. Like he still belonged to her.

It was real.

Every second of it.

And he wouldn't trade it for the world.

But the stillness around him... it felt wrong.

He waited. Seconds ticked by.

Then his heart sank.

"She's not here..." he muttered under his breath, voice cold, quiet, dangerous.

He stormed into the bathroom. Empty. Spotless.

The panic hit him like a slap.

He turned to the mirror—and his breath caught. A purple mark bloomed over his collarbone, a vivid memory of her lips. He stared at it like a man possessed.

Then, with a guttural snarl, he punched the mirror.

Glass shattered.

Blood dripped from his knuckles, but he felt nothing.

Nothing—except the ache in his chest.

Is she okay?
Where did she go?
Why didn't she wait?

She was drunk. He should've known better. He should've waited. Held back. Been stronger.

But he hadn't.

Because for the first time in four years, she had looked at him with something close to love. And he—weak, desperate, obsessed—had drowned in it.

He took a cold shower, bandaged his hand with shaking fingers, and drove straight to the Rajvansh penthouse. The silence there was suffocating.

Her room—empty.
The kids' room—empty.
Her number—switched off.

Panic turned into rage. Rage into helplessness.

He drove to the hospital next, ignoring the stares, the whispers. He stormed through the corridors like a man on fire. Her department—vacant. Her cabin—locked. Her assistant—clueless.

Where the fuck was she?

Where was his Anaya?

For the next sixteen hours, there was nothing. Not a message. Not a whisper. Just silence.

Arjun's fists trembled around the glass of scotch he downed in one go. The burn was nothing compared to the inferno in his chest.

"I don't want to hear excuses," he snapped into the phone. "Find her. Comb the city if you have to. And if there's even a scratch on her—everyone will pay."