Loving darkness isn't easy, right? Sandhya, a beautiful Kathak dancer with captivating grey eyes, fell for a devil disguised as a man. Karan Singh Rathore, the feared Mafia King, was a demon who thrived on cruelty and terror.
Despite her soft heart...
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Avyan pushed the girl away, his voice cold and sharp: "Stay away from me, Ruksar!"
Ruksar, his fiancée, stood before him in a white off-shoulder gown. At 25, her height of 5'7" and the mole on her lower lip made her striking. She reached out, caressing his cheek with a strange smile, "What's wrong, Avi? Why so angry? It's our engagement day."
Avyan shook Ruksar's hand off his cheek. "It's just a contract! Stop calling it a relationship. Stop this cheap joke of yours." He paused, his voice colder. "I hate it when someone touches me without my permission."
Ruksar's expression turned icy. As Avyan started up the stairs, she called out, "But now you are going to be mine, so I have the right to touch you."
Avyan stopped, turned back, raised his eyebrows, and pointed his finger. "Say it again!"
Ruksar, taken aback, remained silent. Avyan continued, "Stay in your limits, understood? Never have any misconception that you can come close to me or that I will let you. And as for the engagement," he added with a smirk, "that won't be happening now!"
Ruksar clenched her fists and hissed, "This engagement is just a business contract. If I want, I can end it right now, and then watch your father's face crumble, Avyan!"
Avyan, walking down the stairs, retorted, "And you think that matters to me? This is a conspiracy between you and Mr. Khalid Malhotra. I'm just a puppet in your game. This contract means nothing to me, no matter whose deal falls apart."
He added sarcastically, "A girl like you can only be bought, not cherished at home."
Ruksar shouted angrily, "Avyaan!"
Avyan closed his eyes, then opened them, his voice dangerously cold. "Don't shout. I don't like noise. You've shouted today; try it again, and I'll burn you alive!" He gave a dangerous smile. "You know who I am and how I am, Mrs. Ruksar Sinha."
Ruksar, terrified, fell silent.
Avyan paused as he climbed the stairs, noticing an old woman approaching with an aarti plate. He stopped in his tracks, watching her as she neared.
The old woman, likely above 78 but still remarkably fit, wore a pristine white Banarasi saree. Her hair, a mix of grey and white, was tied in a bun adorned with a gajra. A gentle smile graced her face.
As she reached Avyan, he gave her a light smile and said, "Dadi, I didn't come here first; you did, with the aarti plate. How did you know I was coming?"
