→ She is full of supense
will he accept her!!?
→He is filled with anger
will she solve him!!?
Two strangers bound by family ties..willl they able fall in love with each other or it will change their whole life..
He is king of mafia and ruthless to h...
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“No,” Anish snapped, turning to Aayansh with fire in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere until he explains what the hell he’s done to her!”
The words struck the room like a whip.
I flinched, shrinking into myself as their voices filled the space around me, clashing with the chaos in my mind. My arms wrapped tighter around my knees, a feeble attempt to protect myself from the tension suffocating me.
The cold floor beneath me felt grounding, but it wasn’t enough to stop the shaking.
“Anish, calm down,” Akshara’s voice cut in, her tone both pleading and nervous.
“Calm down?” Anish said “Do you see her? Look at what he’s done to her!”
I wanted to tell him to stop, to tell everyone to stop. The weight of their concern, their anger, their voices—it was too much. It pressed down on me like a wave, threatening to drown me.
“You’re as much at fault as she is,” Aayansh spat. “You knew she was meeting Deshmukh. You knew she was involved in the mafia, and you said nothing. Why?”
Anish’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching as he took another step forward.
“Because it wasn’t your business!” bhai shot back. “Not everything revolves around you, Aayansh! Saanvi and I had this under control. She was trying to protect you—trying to handle things without dragging you into it. But you—” He pointed at the shattered glass on the floor. “You’ve turned into the kind of man she was trying to avoid!”
His words hit harder him than I wanted to admit.
“You think this is about your precious power?” Anish countered, his voice dripping with contempt. “This isn’t about you, Aayansh. This is about her. Your anger—your inability to control yourself—that’s what’s breaking her, not her secrets!”
The walls of my bedroom felt suffocating, every corner echoing with the anger in Aayansh’s voice. His words weren’t just loud—they had pierced something inside me, something fragile I had worked for years to shield.
I pulled my knees to my chest, trying to steady my breathing. My heartbeat was erratic, each thud reminding me of nights from long ago. Nights when the shouting downstairs rattled the windows and left me trembling under the covers.
Back then, I had been too young to understand what my parents were fighting about. But as I grew older, the truth unfolded in fragments: accusations of infidelity, financial arguments, my mother’s tears, and my father’s venomous words. I had seen too much, heard too much, for a child my age.
When they divorced, I thought the storm had passed. But then came Ajay Malhotra, the man my mother married because society demanded it. He didn’t shout like my father—no, his cruelty was quieter, calculated. He would smile for the world but behind closed doors, he was controlling, manipulative. I grew up walking on eggshells, learning to mask my emotions and hide my pain.
