Meant to be yours

The backlash

The living room had that oddly calm, polished silence of a house that had survived chaos and come out stronger.
Ishika was seated on the couch with her laptop again — actually working this time — when the maid announced,
“Ma’am, Rebecca ma’am is here. With… Melanie Rose.”
Ishika’s fingers paused mid-typing.
“…Of course she is.”
She closed the laptop slowly and stood up just as Rebecca walked in first — looking nervous — and behind her, poised and perfectly styled, came Melanie Rose.
Melanie’s heels clicked against the marble like a warning signal.
Rebecca gave Ishika a small, apologetic smile.
“Ishika… I just wanted to check if you’re okay.”
Ishika softened immediately. “I’m fine. You didn’t have to—”
Melanie cut in smoothly.
“So,” she said, eyes scanning Ishika from head to toe, “you are the famous wife of Anamika Modi… who happens to friend-zone my fiancée.”
The air shifted.
Rebecca stiffened. “Melanie—”
But Ishika tilted her head slightly, a sweet smile forming that did not reach her eyes.
“Hmm,” she replied lightly. “So, to what pleasure do I owe the presence of the evil, cold business mogul herself?”
Rebecca inhaled sharply.
Melanie blinked once.
Then smiled — thin and controlled.
“Careful,” Melanie said calmly. “I don’t tolerate disrespect.”
“And I don’t tolerate entitlement,” Ishika replied just as calmly.
Silence.
Rebecca looked like she wanted to evaporate into the floor.
Melanie crossed her arms. “My fiancée seems… confused lately. Your little circle of emotionally unstable women appears to be influencing her.”
Ishika let out a soft laugh.
“Our circle?”
“Yes. Jazz, Anamika, you… and whoever that dramatic one is.”
“Riya,” Ishika supplied helpfully. “She sings during kidnappings.”
Rebecca stared. “That actually happened?”
“Long story.”
Melanie’s gaze sharpened. “The point is — Jazz has no place interfering in my engagement.”
Ishika’s expression cooled.
“Engagement,” she said evenly, “require mutual consent.”
Rebecca looked down.
Melanie’s jaw tightened. “Rebecca and I have an understanding.”
Ishika stepped a little closer — not aggressive, but firm.
“Does she?”
That landed.
Rebecca’s fingers curled into her purse strap.
Melanie’s composure flickered for half a second.
“You should focus on your own marriage,” Melanie said sharply. “Before advising others.”
Ishika smiled faintly. “Oh, trust me. My wife and I are very focused.”
Rebecca’s ears turned pink.
Melanie exhaled slowly, recalibrating.
“I didn’t come here to argue,” she said. “I came to make something clear. If Jazz continues to interfere, I will handle it.”
Ishika’s eyes darkened.
“That sounded like a threat.”
“It was a boundary.”
“Those are different things.”
Rebecca finally stepped forward.
“Please. I just wanted to see if you were okay after… everything. Jazz is being reckless. Melanie is being… intense. She insisted on coming along with me. I feel like I’m stuck in a merger deal instead of a relationship. I am struck. I am sorry.”
Ishika’s tone softened instantly. “You’re not a contract, Rebecca.”
Melanie’s gaze snapped toward her.
“And you’re not her savior,” Melanie countered.
Ishika shrugged lightly. “Never claimed to be.”
At that exact moment, a familiar voice drifted from the door.
“Claiming what?”
All three women turned.
Anamika descended the steps slowly, composed, hands in her pockets — the aura of quiet authority wrapping around her like a tailored suit.
Melanie straightened.
“Ah,” she said coolly. “The legend herself.”
Anamika’s eyes briefly scanned the room — assessing Rebecca’s tension, Melanie’s posture, Ishika’s stance.
She stepped beside Ishika.
“Is there a problem?” Anamika asked mildly.
Melanie met her gaze evenly. “Only if your wife and her friends continue to disrupt my engagement.”
Anamika’s lips curved — not a warm smile.
“Engagement don’t collapse because of outside noise,” she said calmly. “They collapse because something inside is already unstable.”
Rebecca looked like she’d just been handed the truth she was avoiding.
Melanie held Anamika’s gaze.
“You think you’re untouchable.”
Anamika tilted her head slightly. “I think people shouldn’t threaten in my house.”
The temperature in the room dropped.
Ishika lightly touched Anamika’s arm — subtle, grounding.
“We’re all adults,” Ishika said evenly. “If Rebecca doesn’t want this marriage, that’s her decision. Not Jazz’s. Not yours. Not ours.”
Rebecca swallowed.
Melanie looked at her.
“Rebecca.”
The single word carried pressure.
Rebecca hesitated — then quietly said,
“I need time.”
The silence that followed was heavy.
Melanie’s expression went still.
“I see,” she said finally.
She adjusted her blazer, regaining composure.
“This isn’t over.”
Anamika’s response was effortless.
“It rarely is.”
Melanie turned and walked out without another word.
Rebecca remained frozen for a second — then exhaled shakily.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Ishika stepped forward and hugged her gently.
“You don’t have to apologize for wanting clarity.”
Rebecca nodded weakly.
Anamika watched quietly — calculating, thoughtful.
As Rebecca left shortly after, the door closed behind her with a soft click.
Ishika turned to Anamika.
“That woman is terrifying.”
Anamika hummed. “She’s used to winning.”
“And?”
Anamika looked down at Ishika, eyes softening just a fraction.
“She’s in the wrong battlefield.”
Ishika smirked. “Meaning?”
Anamika’s thumb brushed lightly over Ishika’s knuckles.
“She walked into my home and tried to intimidate my wife.”
A faint, dangerous smile appeared.
“That was unwise.”
**
The strike began at 6:30 a.m.
By 7:00, every news channel was running visuals of workers outside Modi Textiles’ Navi Mumbai unit — placards raised, slogans echoing, gates locked from the outside.
By 7:15, Anamika’s phone had not stopped vibrating.
And by 7:20, the calm, controlled CEO mask had already slipped into something colder.
In the boardroom of Modi Group Headquarters, the air felt tight.
Executives sat stiffly, files open, tablets glowing with live footage.
“This has never happened before, ma’am,” the HR head said carefully. “Not under your leadership.”
Anamika stood at the head of the table, both palms resting flat on polished wood.
“Demands?” she asked.
“Wage restructuring. Contract regularization. Bonus revisions. They’re saying negotiations were ignored.”
Her eyes flickered.
“We reviewed wage structures last quarter.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Approved increments.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then why,” she said slowly, voice dangerously calm, “are they claiming neglect?”
No one answered.
Payal, who had been silent until now, slid a tablet toward Anamika.
“Ma’am… there’s something else.”
On the screen — leaked internal memos. Edited. Twisted. Emails made to look dismissive.
Anamika’s jaw tightened.
“That didn’t come from inside,” she said immediately.
Payal nodded. “IT is tracing the source. But… there’s a PR firm amplifying it.”
Anamika’s eyes sharpened.
“Which one?”
Payal hesitated.
“Rosewood Strategies.”
The silence in the room shifted.
Rosewood.
Melanie Rose.
Anamika’s fingers curled slightly against the table.
“Coincidence?” one director muttered weakly.
Anamika straightened.
“I don’t believe in coincidences,” she said flatly.
Outside, the workers were louder now.
Cameras zoomed in.
News anchors speculated.
“Is Modi Group losing control?”
“Is this the first crack in Anamika Modi’s iron leadership?”
In her cabin, the door shut firmly behind her.
Anamika removed her blazer and draped it over the chair with deliberate precision.
Her phone buzzed again.
A message.
Unknown number.
“Corporate empires fall faster than relationships. Careful what battles you pick.”
No signature.
No need for one.
Her eyes darkened.
The anger was not explosive.
It was steady.
Hot.
Controlled.
She dialed immediately.
“Legal,” she said the moment they picked up. “Prepare defamation notices. Quietly. I want evidence before I move.”
Another call.
“IT. I want forensic tracking on every leaked document. Trace IP, financial trails, digital payments. I want proof.”
She ended the calls.
For the first time since taking over the Modi empire, something had hit her from the side instead of the front.
Not business competition.
Not market rivalry.
Personal retaliation disguised as labor unrest.
And that infuriated her more than anything.
At home, Ishika noticed it immediately when Anamika returned late.
She wasn’t loud.
She wasn’t yelling.
She was quiet.
Too quiet.
Tie loosened. Eyes distant.
Ishika followed her into the room.
“Strike?” she asked gently.
Anamika nodded once.
“It was orchestrated.”
“By?”
A beat.
“Melanie.”
Ishika froze. “Because of Rebecca?”
“Because I made her feel small,” Anamika corrected calmly. “And she’s not used to that.”
The anger flashed briefly — sharp and controlled.
“She thinks she can pressure me through optics,” Anamika continued. “Make me choose between protecting my company or protecting my people.”
Ishika stepped closer.
“And?”
Anamika looked at her.
There it was — the storm behind her eyes.
“I don’t lose,” she said quietly.
Ishika reached up and cupped her face.
“This isn’t about winning.”
“It is for her.”
A pause.
Then softer —
“She touched my company.”
That was different.
Anamika could tolerate attacks on herself.
But not on what she built.
Not on the thousands of families dependent on her decisions.
Not on her credibility.
Ishika wrapped her arms around her.
“You’re not alone in this.”
For a second, Anamika let herself lean into it.
Just a second.
Then she pulled back slightly, composure snapping back into place.
“I’ll handle it.”
Ishika gave her a look. “Handle it legally.”
Anamika’s lips twitched faintly.
“Of course.”
Her phone buzzed again.
Jazz’s message:
“We found something. Financial trail connects to shell companies linked to Rosewood. It’s messy — but it’s there.”
Anamika exhaled slowly.
Good.
Now it was no longer personal revenge.
It was corporate warfare.
And this was her battlefield.
She picked up her blazer again.
“Where are you going?” Ishika asked.
“Back to the office.”
“It’s 10 p.m.”
“All the better.”
She paused at the door, eyes colder now — not emotional, but strategic.
“She wanted my attention,” Anamika said quietly.
“She has it.”
And somewhere across the city, in a glass-walled penthouse office, Melanie Rose would soon realize something very important:
She hadn’t destabilized Anamika Modi.
She had activated her.
**
Ishika had never hated silence this much.
The house was too calm.
Too normal.
And that made everything worse.
She sat cross-legged on the couch, phone in hand, staring at the last message from Anamika.
“In a meeting. Don’t wait up.”
Which, in Anamika language, meant: war mode activated.
Ishika sighed.
Riya walked in first, carrying a bowl of popcorn like this was a movie night instead of corporate crisis night.
Payal followed behind her, far too relaxed for someone whose best friend was about to dismantle a rival mogul.
Riya plopped down beside Ishika dramatically.
“Why does your face look like someone cancelled your dessert subscription?”
Ishika frowned. “Anu hasn’t come home. She didn’t even eat properly.”
Payal exchanged a glance with Riya — the kind that said Ah. We’ve entered Worried Wife Territory.
Payal sat opposite Ishika, leaning forward.
“Ishu. You do realize who your wife is, right?”
“Yes,” Ishika muttered. “Which is why I’m worried.”
Riya gasped theatrically. “Blasphemy. You’re doubting Anamika Modi?”
“I’m not doubting her!” Ishika shot back. “I just… she looked angry. Not normal angry. Quiet angry.”
Payal burst out laughing.
“Oh no,” she said. “Melanie has made a catastrophic error.”
Ishika blinked. “What?”
Riya leaned in conspiratorially.
“You’ve never seen Quiet Angry Anamika in business mode, have you?”
Ishika slowly shook her head.
Payal leaned back, folding her arms.
“Second year of college,” she began. “There was this senior who tried to sabotage our inter-college business fest. Leaked fake information. Spread rumors.”
Ishika’s eyes widened. “What did Anu do?”
Riya grinned wickedly. “Nothing.”
“That’s not comforting.”
Payal held up a finger. “Exactly. She did nothing. For three days.”
“Three days?” Ishika asked.
“Silent. Calm. Attended classes. Even shared notes with the same guy.”
Ishika stared.
“And then?” she whispered.
Riya leaned closer, eyes sparkling.
“On presentation day, she exposed his forged documents, traced the fake email IDs, and projected his plagiarism record on the auditorium screen. With proof.”
Ishika’s mouth fell open.
“The principal suspended him,” Payal added casually. “She never raised her voice once.”
Ishika blinked slowly.
“That’s… terrifying.”
Riya nodded proudly. “That’s our Anu.”
Payal continued, clearly enjoying herself.
“And once, during internship season, a rival team tried to steal her market analysis report.”
Ishika covered her mouth. “What happened?”
“She changed one small variable in the financial model,” Payal said calmly. “Just one.”
Riya snorted. “Their entire strategy collapsed during final review.”
Ishika stared between them.
“She did that?”
“She anticipated theft,” Payal corrected. “So she prepared a trap.”
Silence.
Ishika swallowed.
“She’s not reckless when she’s angry,” Payal said more softly now. “She becomes surgical.”
Riya nodded. “You’re imagining fire. But she’s ice. Very pretty ice. Dangerous, but pretty.”
Despite herself, Ishika smiled faintly.
“She looked… tired,” Ishika admitted quietly.
That softened both of them.
Payal’s teasing expression faded.
“She carries everything alone,” she said. “That’s her flaw.”
Riya nodded. “But she doesn’t break.”
Ishika hugged her knees.
“I don’t want her to fight alone.”
Payal leaned forward again, voice gentle but firm.
“She isn’t alone. She has us. She has legal, finance, PR, a whole empire.”
Riya poked Ishika’s arm.
“And she has you. Which, by the way, is her biggest weakness.”
Ishika frowned. “Weakness?”
“Of course,” Riya said dramatically. “If anyone threatens you, she forgets corporate ethics and chooses violence.”
Payal laughed. “True.”
Ishika tried not to smile — and failed.
“She’s going to be fine,” Payal said confidently. “Melanie thinks she’s playing chess.”
Riya raised a brow. “But Anamika plays long-term strategy.”
“Like what?” Ishika asked cautiously.
Payal’s lips curved slowly.
“Like letting the strike escalate just enough for public sympathy… and then releasing proof that it was manufactured.”
Riya’s eyes widened. “Ooooh. That would be brutal.”
Ishika stared at them.
“You think she’ll do that?”
Payal shrugged. “I would.”
Riya leaned back smugly. “And if she hasn’t already planned it, she will in the next five minutes.”
Just then—
Ishika’s phone buzzed.
All three of them froze.
She looked down.
Mika❤️
Her hands trembled slightly as she answered.
“Mika?”
On the other end, Anamika’s voice was steady.
“Have you eaten?”
Ishika blinked.
“…Yes.”
“Good.”
A pause.
“The strike will end tomorrow.”
Payal and Riya locked eyes, suppressing grins.
“How?” Ishika asked softly.
“Because,” Anamika said calmly, “the union leader just resigned.”
All three women stared at the phone.
“What?” Ishika whispered.
“I had a conversation,” Anamika replied smoothly. “And presented evidence. Turns out he doesn’t enjoy prison.”
Riya clapped silently.
Payal mouthed: Ice queen.
Ishika exhaled shakily.
“You sound very confident.”
“I am.”
A softer pause.
“I’ll be late.”
“That’s okay,” Ishika said quickly. “Just… come home.”
A brief silence on the line.
Then, gentler—
“Always.”
The call ended.
Ishika looked up at Payal and Riya.
They were both grinning like proud shareholders.
Riya nudged her.
“See?”
Payal smirked.
“Never underestimate the woman who married you.”
Ishika rolled her eyes — but her shoulders finally relaxed.
Somewhere in the city, Melanie Rose was probably realizing something.
You don’t start a war with Anamika Modi.
Especially not when she has something to protect.
And tonight, Ishika finally understood—
Anamika didn’t just build companies.
She built strategies.
And she never played short games.
**
Jazz had not slept.
It showed.
Her hair was slightly messy, her confidence dialed down from its usual reckless hundred to a shaky sixty. She stood outside Anamika’s living room like a student called to the principal’s office.
Beside her stood Rebecca Wilson — poised, elegant, but visibly tense.
Inside the house?
Chaos.
Because apparently, this was no longer a relationship issue.
It was a committee hearing.
The Gathering
Ishika opened the door first.
She blinked at the duo.
“Oh. The accused and the victim. Please come in.”
Jazz groaned. “Ishu…”
Riya popped up from behind Ishika dramatically. “Ooooh. Drama arrived.”
Payal walked in calmly, coffee mug in hand.
And then—
Anamika entered the room.
Silence fell.
Jazz swallowed.
Rebecca straightened.
Anamika’s gaze first landed on Jazz.
Then shifted to Rebecca.
Calm.
Too calm.
“Sit,” she said simply.
Jazz immediately obeyed.
Rebecca followed.
Riya whispered loudly to Ishika, “Why does this feel like a mafia interrogation?”
“Because it is,” Ishika whispered back.
Payal crossed her arms.
“So,” she began smoothly. “You’re Rebecca.”
Rebecca nodded. “Yes.”
Anamika leaned back in her chair.
“You understand,” she said evenly, “that if you hurt Jazz—”
Rebecca raised a brow.
Payal finished the sentence. “—there will be consequences.”
Jazz’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?!”
Riya gasped dramatically. “Ohhh, protective wives activated.”
Rebecca tilted her head slightly. “And if Jazz hurts me?”
Ishika immediately pointed at Jazz. “Exactly.”
Jazz turned to her in betrayal. “Ishu?!”
Riya nodded firmly. “Let’s not rewrite history. Jazz, you complicated everything from day one.”
“Thank you!” Rebecca muttered under her breath.
Anamika’s eyes flickered.
Payal narrowed hers.
Jazz looked like she wanted to evaporate.
Ishika stood up, hands on hips.
“Let’s review,” she said like a lawyer presenting evidence. “Who hid their feelings?”
Jazz slowly raised her hand.
“Who pushed Rebecca away because she didn’t understand her own emotions?”
Jazz raised her other hand.
Riya clapped. “Full accountability. We love to see it.”
Rebecca tried not to smile.
Anamika exhaled slowly. “Jazz.”
Jazz straightened instantly.
“Do you love her?”
Silence.
Jazz looked at Rebecca.
Rebecca looked away.
Jazz’s voice softened.
“I don’t know what name it has. But I know I can’t stand the idea of her being hurt.”
Payal raised a brow. “That’s a start.”
Riya leaned toward Rebecca.
“And you? Do you enjoy this emotional roller coaster?”
Rebecca sighed.
“No. But I stayed.”
Everyone went quiet.
Even Jazz.
Anamika and Payal exchanged a look.
Protective mode still active.
Ishika and Riya exchanged another look.
Romantic optimism mode active.
Payal leaned forward.
“Rebecca. If you break her heart—”
Ishika interrupted immediately.
“Jazz already cracked hers first.”
Riya nodded firmly. “Multiple times.”
Jazz threw her hands up. “Why am I being bullied in my own intervention?”
“Because you deserve it,” Ishika said sweetly.
Rebecca actually laughed.
And that… softened the room.
The Turning Point
Anamika studied Rebecca carefully.
“You came here willingly,” she observed.
“Yes.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Rebecca’s voice didn’t waver.
“Because if I’m going to be in her life, I don’t want to enter it as the villain.”
Jazz looked at her like she’d just been handed the moon.
Riya clutched Ishika’s arm. “Oh my God. I like her.”
Payal sighed dramatically. “Fine. She has composure.”
Anamika’s gaze shifted to Jazz again.
“And you?”
Jazz inhaled.
“I messed up. I panicked. I didn’t understand what I felt. But I don’t want to lose her because of my confusion.”
Rebecca’s fingers tightened slightly on her own lap.
Ishika softened immediately.
Riya nodded approvingly.
Anamika stood.
Everyone straightened instinctively.
She walked toward Rebecca slowly.
Jazz held her breath.
“If you hurt her,” Anamika said calmly, “I will not forgive you.”
Rebecca met her gaze without flinching.
“If she hurts me again,” Rebecca replied evenly, “I expect equal treatment.”
Riya choked on air. “Ohhhh she’s bold.”
Payal smirked.
Anamika’s lips twitched — barely.
“Fair.”
Jazz blinked.
“Wait. That’s it? No dramatic warnings? No background checks?”
Payal smiled slowly. “Already done.”
Rebecca stiffened. “Excuse me?”
Riya whispered loudly, “You passed.”
Jazz buried her face in her hands.
“This is humiliating.”
Ishika leaned over and patted her shoulder.
“This is love.”
The Fun Chaos
Riya suddenly stood.
“Alright! Since both parties admit emotional stupidity, we demand couple therapy.”
Jazz groaned. “Riya—”
“Date night assignments!” Riya continued enthusiastically.
Payal looked amused. “Homework?”
“Yes,” Riya said firmly. “Jazz will plan one date. Rebecca will plan one. No running away. No ego.”
Ishika clapped excitedly. “And no overthinking.”
Anamika crossed her arms. “And honesty.”
Rebecca looked at Jazz.
Jazz looked back.
For the first time that day, neither looked defensive.
“Okay,” Jazz said quietly.
“Okay,” Rebecca echoed.
Closing Moment
As they stood to leave, Rebecca paused near Ishika.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“For what?” Ishika asked.
“For not seeing me as the enemy.”
Ishika smiled gently. “You weren’t the one who ran.”
Rebecca’s eyes flickered toward Jazz.
Jazz scratched her neck awkwardly.
“I’m working on it.”
Riya shouted from behind, “And if you mess up again, we’re hosting another intervention!”
Payal added calmly, “With PowerPoint.”
Jazz groaned loudly.
Rebecca laughed.
And for the first time since everything began—
It felt less like a battlefield.
And more like the beginning of something real.