A Love So True

Season 2 : Chapter 14

Hello dear readers , sorry for the late update . I have an important exam at the end of the next month , so updates will be late.

I haven't been in a good mood for the last 2 days . I'm feeling so bad for Ishan , I can't express it in words. More than sadness , there is a resentment towards those culprits who have dragged Ishan into this situation. 

Hope Karma will do its work.

Anyways , as we're not getting any kind of hints of Ishman's interactions , so I decided to only upload Ishman part of the story in this chapter.

I don't know why I ended up writing a detailed smut despite of being sad.

I think I'm going crazy.

Anyways.... My apology to readers who were waiting for Nehash moments . Sorry , I haven't finished writing their part yet  😔 but the next's next chapter will have only their romance and I hope to give few crumbs of them in the very next chapter.

Happy reading ( only the smut part ) ♥️

Warning : Violence , abusive language , torture , crime , adult content . People who won't feel comfortable after reading , advising them to stop immediately and skip the first part . I'll put a mark between two parts.

18+ 🔞 content , children should skip this whole chapter.

The oppressive Mumbai humidity usually clung to the skin like a second shadow, but tonight, a rare gust of damp wind sliced through the narrow lanes of the old chawl.

The man stepped out of his gleaming, air-conditioned car, its sudden silence amplifying the distant rumble of the city and the closer, more immediate creaks and groans of the aging building before him.

He found the familiar smell as wind carried the scent of stale cooking oil, damp concrete, and something else – a faint, almost metallic tang that hinted at neglect and decay.

He looked around. The chawl was a skeletal silhouette against the bruised purple of the night sky, its windows, like vacant eyes, staring out into the gloom .

Each floor was a honeycomb of tiny rooms, their open doorways spilling slivers of yellow light onto the communal walkways. Bare wires snaked across walls, resembling desiccated veins, and clotheslines, heavy with the day's wash, hung like mournful banners.

A single, flickering fluorescent tube at the far end of the corridor hummed, its weak glow doing little to dispel the shadows that clung to every corner, every peeling patch of paint.

He walked lazily towards the yard , suddenly noticed a child's worn slipper, discarded near a rusting water tap, its sole worn smooth from countless journeys over rough terrain.

The man stood there for a long minute , staring at the lonely child's slipper . His jaw muscle made small movements . Then he turned his head and walked towards the wooden staircase.

The crispness of his shirt, the gleam of his Italian leather shoes, all felt like a blatant challenge to the grimy reality around him. And indeed, they were noticed.

A few men, drawn out by the slightly cooler air, leaned against railing guarding the corridor , their curious gaze settling on him.

One, a thin man came forward .

"Lost, sahib?" the thin man rasped, his voice rough with years of shouting over the din of the city.

The man turned slowly , face held no expression  , "No," he replied, his voice a smooth counterpoint to the chawl's rough edges. "To meet someone."