5.First step

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Vaani Rathore   

I walked into my house, shutting the door behind me, and leaned against it.

My mind was filled with thoughts of Akaay Kapoor. I couldn’t get him out of my head.

The way he looked at me, the power he carried—it was something I wasn’t used to. Dangerous. He was dangerous. But maybe that’s why I was drawn to him.

Meeting Akaay wasn’t easy, but I had done it.

I had walked into his world, into his empire, and asked him for help. It felt like stepping into fire, but I didn’t feel fear.

I felt something else. Something I didn’t expect. Maybe it was excitement. Maybe it was because I had finally taken the first step toward getting my revenge on Abhay.

Abhay. His name alone brought back a flood of anger.

I clenched my fists as I thought about him. The betrayal, the lies. He didn’t know that I had seen him with another woman, caught him in the act.

He thought he could fool me. He thought I was blind.

My phone buzzed, breaking my thoughts. I glanced at the screen, and my heart sank. It was Abhay.

His name flashing on the screen made me sick, but I answered it.

"Vaani," he said, his voice soft, like he was trying to play the victim. "I need to see you. Please."

I didn’t want to see him. The last thing I wanted was to let him back into my life.

But I had a plan, and that plan required patience. I needed to keep playing my part. I had to meet him as I want to gather more information of him and Avinash Oberoi.

"Fine," I said, my voice flat. "Come over."

I hung up and pushed off the door, walking into the living room.

My stomach churned at the thought of seeing him again, but I kept reminding myself that this was part of the plan. I was in control.

He just didn’t know it yet.

I went straight to my room, freshened up and wore sometimes more comfortable.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. I frowned, taking a deep breath to steady myself, and then I went and opened the door.

There he was.

Abhay stood on the other side, looking disheveled, like he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes held a mix of desperation and guilt, but I wasn’t falling for it.

"Vaani"  he said, stepping toward me.

I held up a hand, stopping him. "What do you want, Abhay?"

"I’m sorry," he said, his voice shaky. "I’ve been thinking about what I did. I messed up. I know I hurt you, but you have to forgive me."

His words were empty, rehearsed.

He didn’t care about me. He cared about himself, about not losing his grip on me.

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