Nandini Verma was 18 when she penned her first story, a tale of passion, betrayal, and revenge. It was a masterpiece, poised for publication. But on the night she was to share her brilliance with the world, tragedy struck. Her abusive father, a figu...
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The air was thick with the tension that still lingered from the ball. My mind raced with thoughts of the evening's events, of the way they had unfolded so perfectly, and yet, left me feeling out of control. I didn't want to be there anymore-I needed space to think, to breathe.
I sneaked out of the ball, my movements quick and calculated. I didn't tell Yash, but I informed Rio, Jasper, and Rakshit. They understood my need for a break and didn't ask questions. As I made my way to the valet, Rakshit casually handed me the keys to Yash's car with a knowing smile.
"Thanks, Rakshit," I muttered, grateful for his silent support.
He nodded, understanding the unspoken words between us. I headed straight to the underground garage, my heart pounding in sync with my hurried footsteps. The car was a sleek, powerful machine, perfect for what I had in mind. I slipped into the driver's seat, my hands gripping the steering wheel as I started the engine. The low growl of the car came to life beneath me, filling the silence with a thrilling hum.
But before I could make my escape, I saw him-Yashwardhan Singhania . He appeared from nowhere, standing directly in front of the car, his expression hard as steel. For a moment, our eyes locked, and a smirk tugged at my lips. He thought he could stop me.
Well, let's see about that.
Without hesitation, I floored the accelerator, the car roaring as it surged forward. I saw his eyes widen, but I knew him too well. He wouldn't flinch. He stood his ground as the car barreled towards him, but at the last second, I swerved, turning the wheel sharply to avoid him. The tires screeched against the pavement, and the adrenaline surged through my veins as I sped away, the night sky above me, the city streets a blur beneath the wheels.
The cool night air whipped through the open window, mingling with the scent of leather and gasoline. My heart pounded with the thrill of it all-escaping the ball, escaping him, if only for a moment. But as I glanced in the rearview mirror, I saw a car following closely behind.
Of course, he wouldn't let me go that easily.
I pressed harder on the gas, weaving through the traffic as I maneuvered the car with skills I hadn't shown in years. The city was alive with lights, the buildings towering above as I pushed the car to its limits. My fingers gripped the wheel, knuckles white, as I zigzagged through the streets, trying to lose him.
But he was relentless. Every turn I took, he was right there, matching my speed, my intensity. The chase wasn't just a pursuit-it was a dance, a battle of wills. The car roared as I sped through intersections, narrowly avoiding other vehicles, the screech of tires echoing in the night. The city around me became a blur of lights and sounds, but all I could focus on was the road ahead and the man chasing me.
I knew these streets like the back of my hand, every curve, every hidden alley. I took a sharp turn onto a less traveled road, the car skidding slightly as I regained control. My heart raced, not from fear, but from the pure exhilaration of the chase. He was close, too close, but I couldn't afford to slow down, not even for a second.
