'Ishan Oberoi' - The name that echoes success, power, and resilience. A rising billionaire who carved his empire with his own hands, refusing to ride on his father's wealth. Yet, he never turned his back on his responsibilities as a son. Balancing h...
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AUTHOR'S POV :
Ishan sat motionless on the hard metal chair in the dimly lit hospital corridor, its sterile white walls closing in like a silent witness to everything that had unravelled in the last twenty-four hours. His body remained still, but his mind was a storm , an unrelenting whirlwind of emotions, crashing over him with no sign of respite.
Yesterday was supposed to mark a new beginning his engagement, a step into a life atleast he thought he was ready for. Instead, it had detonated like a carefully timed bomb. Nothing could have prepared him for Rohit's betrayal, the twisted game disguised beneath the smooth edges of a business deal. A deal that had bled into something far more personal, far more devastating. He had known that in business, there were profits and losses, that risk was often the only reliable companion but this? This wasn't just a risk. It was sabotage. It was cruelty.
He inhaled sharply, trying to anchor himself in the present, but his mind, his cruel, unrelenting betrayer kept dragging him backward, into the chaos of yesterday.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands pressing tightly against either side of his head as if he could physically shut out the images. His eyes clenched shut. Just one moment. Just one breath. That’s all he wanted, a moment of peace. Of stillness. But none came.
Instead, what came was the memory vivid, brutal, and unshakable.
The cold metal of the gun, gleaming under the dim lights, pressed mercilessly against her temple. The sound of her sharp breath. The way her eyes, those eyes had widened in sheer terror. He could still feel the tremble in her body, so close to him, within reach. And yet, in that moment, she had never felt farther away. He had held her in his arms, but couldn’t protect her. Couldn’t stop it.
That helplessness, that raw, aching helplessness burned more than any wound ever could.
“No. Not a step forward, or your fiancée pays for it.”
Ishan jolted upright, breath ragged, his heart pounding in his chest as if the words had been whispered into his ear all over again. His eyes darted around. Hospital. He was in the hospital. And she was safe now, away from danger. Alive.
He exhaled shakily, running a trembling hand over his face. A bead of sweat traced a slow path from his temple down his neck. One look at him, and anyone could tell, he wasn’t okay.
“Ishan.” He turned toward the voice.
Agastya stood there, worry etched into every line of his face.
“You haven’t rested. Not even for a moment since yesterday,” Agastya said softly, walking closer. “You should go home. Try to sleep for a few hours.”
