It was past 11 p.m. when Gauri left the office building, the wind sharp and dry against her skin. The usual noise of Mumbai seemed muffled—an eerie quiet blanketing the financial district, where only a few towers still flickered with lights.

Khurana Towers stood like a fortress behind her, but even now, she could still feel Viransh’s presence. As if the man had stitched himself into her skin, one warning glance at a time.

“You think people will love you more if you stay invisible.”

She hated that he’d read her so well. That he could cut through her silence like it was paper. But tonight—tonight, she had taken her power back. She had told him no. She had made it clear that she wasn’t his to control.

And yet, she didn’t feel victorious. Just... seen. Exposed.

She reached the sidewalk when a car pulled up beside her.

A matte black Mercedes.

Her breath caught.

The window rolled down.

Viransh.

No tie. Collar loosened. Sleeves rolled. His blue eyes glowed beneath the car’s soft interior lights.

“Get in.”

She didn’t move. “No.”

“Gauri.”

His voice was soft. Almost gentle. And that scared her more than his anger.

“You don’t get to follow me—”

“I wasn’t following. I was waiting.”

She stared at him. “Why?”

He looked at her like it was obvious. “Because I didn’t like how we left things.”

“That’s not your concern.”

"It is. When it keeps me awake.”

She hesitated. The wind picked up, sharp against her cheeks. He opened the door from inside.

“Please.”

A single word.

Not an order. Not a demand. A request.

She got in.

---

The car smelled like cedarwood and control. The silence between them was electric.

“I never say please,” he muttered.

“I noticed.”

They didn’t look at each other. Only the city lights moved across their faces as the car drove.

After a moment, she said, “Why do you care?”

He turned to her slowly. “You mean, why you? Why now?”

She nodded.

“Because,” he said, his voice low, “I thought I’d stopped feeling anything years ago. But when you walked into my office… I felt. Everything. Anger. Curiosity. Lust. Possession. And fear.”

“Fear?”

“You made me fear I’d lose control.”

She looked away. Her heart was thudding again, uneven.

“I don’t need saving, Viransh.”

“I’m not trying to save you.” He leaned in. “I’m trying to own you.”Her breath hitched.

“That’s not love.”

He smiled. “Who said anything about love?”

She wanted to slap him. She wanted to kiss him. She hated that the lines were beginning to blur.

The car stopped.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“My place.”

“No.”

“I won’t touch you. Not unless you beg me to.”

She stared at him, furious. “You’re so sure of yourself.”

“I’m sure of you.”

The door opened. She could leave. Or she could follow him into the lion’s den willingly.

She followed.

---

His penthouse overlooked the sea. Glass walls. Black marble. A grand piano in the corner, untouched but perfectly in tune. The entire place screamed control.

Except for the painting.

One large canvas on the wall—a woman. Her face blurred, her eyes dark and haunting.

She stared at it.

“You painted this?”

“I tried to forget her. I couldn’t. So I turned her into something I could hang and never talk to.”

“Is that what you’ll do to me?”

He stepped behind her. “No. I’ll never hang you on a wall. I’ll keep you in a cage if I have to.”

She turned, suddenly angry. “You think saying things like that is romantic?”

“I think it’s honest.”

Her fists clenched. “I’m not someone you can own, Viransh. I’m not one of your companies. I won’t bend just because you look at me like I’m the only thing you see.”

“Then why are you here?”

That shut her up.

He stepped closer.

“You want to stand on your own, fine. But you’ll do it with me watching. You’ll do it in my world. Because I’m not letting you vanish.”

“I never asked you to follow me—”

“I will follow you into your past, your pain, your silence—because I’ve decided I want all of it. All of you.”

Her throat burned. “You don’t even know what you’re asking.”

“Then tell me.”

She stepped back. “No.”

He didn’t chase her. He didn’t speak.

She left the penthouse without another word.

And as she waited for the elevator, she finally let herself breathe.

She had come dangerously close to breaking.

---

But the next morning, something broke anyway.

When she arrived at the office, a bouquet of blood-red roses waited at her desk. No note. Just a silver locket tucked into the petals.

Her hand shook as she opened it.

Inside—

A photo.

Her.

As a teenager. Standing in front of her old house in Bhopal. Wearing a school uniform.

There was no mistaking the message:

We still remember. And we’re coming.

Gauri dropped the locket.

Tears rushed to her eyes.

She wasn’t safe.

And now, neither was he.

At least this is what she thought

---

Chapter 6: Beneath the Surface

The locket still trembled in her palm long after the blood-red roses had been cleared from her desk. Gauri stared at the photo inside—the younger version of herself frozen in time, hair in braids, school uniform pressed neatly, smiling in front of a broken house that no longer existed.

They had found her.

The people she ran from. The people who tore apart everything she had once loved. The ones who made her bury a past too painful to name.

And now they were here, in Mumbai, whispering threats through silver lockets and flower petals.

She closed the clasp with a snap, her hands suddenly steady.

She couldn’t panic. Not now. Not in front of him.

Because she knew—he would burn the world if he found out.