✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
[ 𝐒𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐋 1 ]
Because this is where love fades and hate resides and intensifies, broken hearts produce the most tragic stories.
Their treachery is told through their bleeding hearts: their unrequited love was never reciprocated. The...
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The air in the private jet was expensive, filtered, and perfectly climate-controlled, yet it felt heavy with unsaid words and mounting dread. Ada had managed a brave face, but her heart was a sinking stone, weighted by the threatening text she had received last night—a direct order from her father.
Now, strapped into the plush leather seat, Ada stared out at the night sky, watching the lights of New York disappear beneath the black expanse. The last twelve hours had stripped away the golden veneer of the vacation, replacing it with stark terror. The memory of the sun-drenched beach and Vidyut's competitive smirk felt like a beautiful, impossible dream.
He sat across the aisle. His attention was surgically focused on his tablet, reviewing reports of the fashion show's success and the subsequent market analysis. His tailored suit was immaculate, his sharp jawline set in an expression of intense, distant concentration. He didn't spare her a glance, acting as if he were the sole occupant of the sleek cabin.
Ada's gaze lingered on him. His indifference cut deeper than any rejection. Just yesterday, he was a formidable opponent on the volleyball court, a protective shadow during the shooting, and a man whose proximity made her heart race. Today, he was a stranger, cold and detached. The sudden shift hurt her in a way she couldn't articulate; it was a deep, unfamiliar ache. She had convinced herself that his actions were genuine, that perhaps the protective barrier she was building around him was unnecessary. But his professional detachment now confirmed his earlier words: this was always just a transaction.
The enemies-to-fake-lovers trope they had played so well in New York had officially expired. They were back to being two isolated people sharing an awkward, tense space, hurtling towards a home that promised only pain.
The silence stretched for another hour before Vidyut finally spoke, his voice crisp and devoid of warmth, breaking the spell of her miserable thoughts.
"Miss Sharma." Ada snapped out of her daze, startled by the sound of his voice addressing her directly.
Vidyut did not look up from the screen. "We need to discuss the unnecessary alliance our parents have fixed."
Ada's chest constricted. She blinked, feeling a rush of confusion and a fresh wave of hurt. "What—what about it?"
