A Desi romcom Indian story, where the main lead is not any kind of mafia or any emotionless. Rude, Ruthless man.
He is a kind man, who makes a priority of his family and wife first. He is. Standard. Unlike those leads who curses there family uneven...
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I felt utterly numb. His sudden actions had left me breathless, my mind spiraling in ways I hadn’t prepared for. As I stepped away from the setting, my heart pounded in my chest, unsure of what to expect.
At first, fear gripped me. He didn’t say a word. Not even a single one. He just sat there, staring at me with those dar, unreadable eyes—eyes that seemed buttoned shut to the world, yet wide open to me.
The air between us felt infinite, stretching in an unbearable silence. Time was slipping away like water between our fingers, yet we remained frozen, unyielding, like two stones submerged in a river. His gaze carried something heavy, something suffcating. Adoation? Obsession? I couldn’t tell. But his orbs glimmered, catching the light in a way that made my stomach twist.
I couldn’t explain it. Butterflies in my veins? No, that would be too small a word. What I felt was more—like a volcano erupting, flooding through my bloodstream in chaotic waves. My thoughts tangled, colliding into one another.
And then he moved.
The sound of his footsteps on the glossy floor sent shivers down my spine, each step pressing deeper into my neves. My body stiffened as he neared, the air thickening between us. I tried to breathe, but every inhale felt too shallow, too shaky
Then—his fingers brushed against my skin.
A sharp exhale escaped me, my body betraying me with a shudder. His touch was rough, warm, possessive. It weakened me in ways I had never experienced before. This feeling—it was unfamiliar.
New A beginning. A dangerous start.
I should have pulled away I should have stepped back. But I didn’t.
Instead, my phone vibrated in my palm.
A message.
“It’s final. This dress looks good on you. Let’s buy it.”
I swallowed hard, my fingers gripping the screen as his voice echoed in my mind. His compliment still clung to my ears, a low, husky whisper tha made my breath hitch.
"Swarg se utri hui kokil kant apsara lag rahi ho."
A celestial beauty with a voice like a nightingale.
The weight of those words settled in my chest, sinking deep. What was this feeling? Attraction? Infatuation? Or was it something darker, something more dangerous?
We returned to the mansion, but my mind replayed those moments on a loop. I clenched my fists. This shouldn’t matter. I shouldn’t let it sink in. “Khushi, tu jaa. Main nahi aa rahi,” I muttered, turning away.
“Di, papa ne bas gusse mein keh diya tha. Dil pe mat lo. Aap toh unhe jaanti ho na?” she pleaded.
