✧･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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"Leaving without meeting me, Vid?"
The sound was deliberately casual, overly familiar, yet possessing a lethal edge. It stopped us both instantly. The buzz of the crowd didn't just fade; it died. I could feel the hundred pairs of eyes that had just watched us dance now swiveling to the source of the interruption.
I didn't need to turn around. The voice, smooth and venomous, had haunted my nightmares for weeks.
Shanaya Malhotra.
Vidyut's body reacted before his mind did. His hand, which was loosely resting on the small of my back, instantly tightened. It wasn't the proprietorial public touch anymore; it was an iron gripof pure possessiveness, pulling me flush against his side. The movement was so abrupt that the sapphire silk of my gown rubbed sharply against the expensive black wool of his suit. I felt the instantaneous coil of tension in his back, a dangerous, hostile energy radiating off him like heat from a forge.
I stiffened, not just from the unexpected grip, but from the raw fear that Shanaya's presence always evoked. The memories of the padded walls, the fear for the little soul—it all rushed back, cold and sharp.
I forced myself to breathe and turn with Vidyut.
Shanaya stood there, a vision of calculated perfection in a crimson dress that screamed 'look at me.' Her smile was wide, predatory, and clearly designed for the cameras—but her eyes, dark and sharp, were fixed exclusively on Vidyut. She looked at me for a split second, a look of utter, dismissive contempt, as if I were a particularly annoying insect she couldn't be bothered to swat.
"Shanaya," Vidyut's voice was arctic. There was no greeting, no warmth, not even a trace of the grudging professional respect he usually showed his rivals. Just pure, unadulterated loathing.
"Don't be like that, darling," Shanaya purred, closing the distance between us with a practiced, feline grace. She ignored my existence completely. She reached out, her heavily jeweled hand floating up, clearly intending to brush the lapel of Vidyut's suit. "It's been ages. I thought you'd be happy to see an old friend."
