Mr. Angel's Mrs.Arrogant

3. Revenge

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Have a great day ahead and Happy reading, Adore.

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As she stood there, wine glass in hand, the glittering amber liquid catching the light, she felt the rage bubbling inside her. How dare he speak to her like that? She had never been one to let anyone challenge her, let alone a man like Shourya.

Her fingers tightened around the glass as she turned her attention to his father, Rajveer, as though seeking validation or perhaps an ally in her corner. But in her mind, her thoughts were fixed on Shourya—on what he had said and how he had dared to challenge her in front of everyone. Her frustration reached its peak, and without thinking, she stormed off through the crowd, trying to escape the burning sensation in her chest.

As she hurried through the swarms of guests, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor, she didn't see the person in front of her. She collided with them hard, the impact causing the wine in her glass to spill across her pristine white dress. The liquid splattered in a wide arc, staining the fabric with the deep red of the wine.

A surge of anger rushed through her veins, her eyes narrowing as she looked up to scold the person who had dared to be in her path. But the words died on her lips as she recognized the woman standing before her. Ritvika Rawal. The same Ritvika who had once been her closest friend, and now, the woman who had turned into a stranger.

For a split second, the anger in Meera's eyes faltered, replaced by a flicker of guilt. Ritvika's serene expression was far from the sharp, volatile woman Meera had anticipated. Despite the obvious anger in her eyes, she had chosen to remain composed, her voice steady as she spoke.

"No, it's okay,"

Ritvika said, her tone sweet yet distant, almost as if she were speaking from a place of internal struggle, masking something deeper.

Meera's pride flared once more, but she knew better than to lash out. Instead, she quickly apologized, her voice strained.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Rawal. I didn't see you—"

The formality of her words was almost an afterthought, a way to cover the unease that she now felt. Ritvika, in her quiet dignity, gave no outward sign of distress, though Meera could sense the conflict within her. Meera had seen Ritvika at her best—happy, carefree, full of life. But now, Ritvika was different. Her eyes were distant, and there was an underlying hardness in her demeanor that Meera couldn't quite place.

Before Meera could say anything else, Ritvika turned toward Aakanksha, her assistant, who had been standing at the edge of the crowd, quietly observing the scene.

"I should clean this. Aakanksha, please,"

Ritvika said, her voice soft but firm, as though it were a command, yet not demanding. Aakanksha, without hesitation, moved to assist Ritvika, guiding her towards the washroom.Meera watched them go, the unease still lingering in her chest. It was as though Ritvika had become a shadow of the woman she once was. The carefree, bubbly woman who had once lit up every room she entered had vanished, replaced by a woman cloaked in sadness, anger, and a quiet strength that seemed foreign to everyone, even to those closest to her.