CHAPTER 2
Two Years Later
Two years had passed, but for both Rudra and the Raheja family, it felt like a lifetime. When Rudra finally walked out of the juvenile home, escorted by their lawyer, Roy, he was unrecognizable. The 18-year-old boy who emerged wasn’t the Rudra Raheja Savitri remembered. His body had weakened, and the spark that once defined him was gone. Most of all, he had lost his most precious possession—his smile.
Savitri rushed to embrace him outside the gates, but the boy who used to return her warmth with enthusiasm now stood stiff, his arms limp at his sides. He seemed unreachable, locked away in his own world. She hesitated to meet his eyes, afraid of what she would find. When she finally did, it confirmed her worst fear—his gaze was empty, hollow, like a soul wandering through a wasteland. With trembling hands, she cupped his face, kissed his forehead, and held back the tears threatening to spill. Today should have been a day of relief, a celebration of his freedom. But deep down, Savitri knew—Rudra would never be the same again.
She had made up her mind long before his release. Rudra wouldn’t return to Raheja Mansion. The presence of that girl in the house would only reopen his wounds. He needed time, space, and distance to heal, to rebuild whatever remained of his broken spirit. She had already arranged for his admission to Harvard University, thinking that the farther he was from the family—and from Kashish—the sooner he could start healing. Rudra hadn’t protested. In fact, he seemed relieved. The very thought of facing Kashish again shattered him. Though he had served his time, nothing would change her hatred for him. He could never meet her eyes again.
Savitri accompanied Rudra to Harvard, completing the formalities and settling him into the boarding. But what tore at her heart was that even after ten days of freedom, he remained the same—expressionless, lifeless, as if he had left his soul behind in that juvenile home. His face showed no emotion, his eyes held no dreams, and worst of all, his silence was deafening. Watching him like this broke her. If only that girl hadn’t been in the Raheja Mansion, she could have brought him home and tried to heal him with her love. But now, she was torn—leaving him here alone was a risk, even with a guardian to ensure his safety. She just prayed that one day, somehow, he would find his way back to the boy he used to be.
Rudra, on the other hand, was still trapped in the nightmares of the past two years. Every night was a battle with sleeplessness, and every morning he woke with the weight of the same guilt. He would sit by the window, staring into the distance—at the bustling city or the vast, open sky—lost in thoughts no one could reach. It was as if he were searching for something, or someone, in the endless horizon. The once-bright boy who excelled in everything had vanished. Now, he was a hollow shell, consumed by the weight of his actions.
Worried beyond words, Savitri sought the best psychologist she could find, explaining Rudra’s condition in detail. But the first two weeks of therapy were fruitless. He hadn’t spoken a single word during their sessions, his silence like a fortress no one could break. It wasn’t until the third week, during their ninth session, that Rudra finally spoke—and what he said sent a chill down the psychologist’s spine.
“Rudra, this is our ninth session, and you’ve yet to say a word. How can I help heal your heart if you won’t speak?” the psychologist asked softly.
“Killers don’t have hearts,” Rudra said, his eyes still fixed on the floor, his voice cold, detached.
The words hung heavy in the room, and the doctor realized the depth of the trauma he was dealing with. This wasn’t just a case of grief or guilt—this was a soul drowning in its own darkness. The doctor later explained to Savitri that healing Rudra would take much longer than expected—perhaps even years. He wasn’t ready to accept the reality of his situation or take the first step toward recovery. Children who experience such devastating trauma at a young age often find both solace and punishment in their grief, but if Rudra stayed on this path, there was a real danger that he might lose his psychological balance entirely.
That was the moment when Savitri, the strong and determined matriarch of the Raheja family, finally broke down. For the first time, she lost faith in her ability to save her grandson.
Meanwhile, back at Raheja Mansion, life had slowly begun to move forward for Kashish Bedi. Though still burdened by her loss, she had found a semblance of peace in her new life. Shekhar Raheja had been a constant source of comfort, always trying to make her feel at ease in the house that still felt foreign to her. His gentle presence made it easier for her to resume her education, though now she was in a school world apart from her previous one.
While she missed her old friends, she eventually adapted, making new acquaintances, though none touched her heart the way her previous friends had. The girls at her new school were wealthy, privileged, and carried an air of superiority that Kashish found hard to connect with. Even when they tried to include her, she kept her distance. No matter how luxurious her surroundings were, she never forgot where she truly came from. She would never belong to this world of wealth and privilege.
*******************
9 Years Later
Kashish built her career under the careful guidance of Shekhar Raheja, now the Director of Raheja Designs in India. Across the world, in Paris, the other half of the empire was thriving under the leadership of his brother Rudra Raheja. His name was everywhere—the brand in Paris was ‘RR Designs’, named after him, a decision made by Savitri and Shekhar together to expand a new division of their business which Rudra could handle separately and based on his terms. But for Kashish, that name felt like a thorn lodged in her heart. The very thought of Rudra sent ripples of hatred through her, even after all these years. She had made it clear from the start—she would never work under that name. While she contributed to Raheja Designs only, when necessary, it was never out of loyalty to the company. It was out of obligation. No matter how intertwined her life had become with the Rahejas, she had no intention of becoming a regular part of their legacy, even if it meant risking her own career growth.
Yet despite her emotional distance, Kashish had made a name for herself as a brilliant fashion designer. She was the creative force behind some of Raheja Designs’ most successful launches, particularly their traditional line, where her designs shone like jewels. But no matter her success, the shadows of her past never quite let her go.
Now, she stood a few meters away from the house where she had spent her childhood in Uttam Nagar. This was the place that held the happiest memories of her life—the only place that had ever felt like home. She often visited, but she never dared to step inside. She knew that crossing that threshold would mean opening old wounds, and she had spent too many years trying to heal. Forgiving the rest of the Raheja family had taken every ounce of strength she had. After all, they were innocent. But the one person she could never forgive—the one name she would never allow herself to utter—was their youngest son, Rudra. Even after 11 long years, the thought of him still filled her with rage.
Tears stung her eyes as she stared at the narrow lane that led to her old house. The memories came flooding back, bittersweet and vivid. How peaceful life had been back then—how simple, how full of love. It wasn’t that she wasn’t grateful for the Rahejas. They had provided for her, given her a life far beyond what she could have imagined. But that house... that family... would never truly belong to her. And every time they mentioned his name, it felt like a fresh dagger to her soul. She avoided conversations that involved Rudra, but she knew it was only a matter of time before she would have to face him again.
What if one day he comes back? The thought chilled her to the bone.
Suddenly, the sound of her name broke through her reverie.
“Ma’am, Shekhar Sir is calling,” Mohan, the family’s driver, said as he approached.
Kashish quickly wiped away the tears threatening to spill and made her way back to the car, where she had left her phone. She answered, and the concern in Shekhar’s voice hit her immediately.
“Kashish, what’s taking you so long to get home?” he asked, the worry unmistakable.
Kashish let out a soft sigh, directing Mohan to take her back to Raheja Mansion.
“You know where I am, Shekhar. Why ask?” she replied, her voice heavy with emotion.
Shekhar chuckled softly, but his concern lingered.
“I know exactly where you are, and that’s why I’m asking,” he teased gently. “You know, Kashish... I think it’s time. You should step inside that house. Face it.”
The words hit Kashish like a punch to the gut.
“I can’t!” she cut him off, her voice breaking. “I’m not ready, Shekhar... I’ll never be ready.”
Shekhar sighed. He had known better than to push her on this. Instead, he decided to change the subject, hoping to lift her mood.
“Well, here’s some news that might cheer you up. Anjali’s coming back from her mother’s house tomorrow,” he said with a grin.
A small smile crept onto Kashish’s lips, and the heaviness in her heart lifted, if only for a moment.
Anjali—Shekhar’s wife—was the latest and sweetest addition to the Raheja family. Shekhar had been missing her desperately. Their marriage, a year ago, had been a union of love and friendship. Anjali was everything Shekhar deserved, and Kashish couldn’t have been happier for him.
“That’s great news!” Kashish said, genuinely pleased. “Finally, you’ll get some relief, huh?”
Shekhar blushed, laughing softly as he leaned back in his chair.
“Yeah, I hope so. You have no idea how much I’ve missed her.”
Kashish could hear the love in his voice, and it warmed her. She was about to tease him again when she felt a shift in his tone—something unsaid, something heavy still hanging between them.
There was more Shekhar wanted to tell her. He hesitated, unsure of how to break the news that after 11 long years... Rudra was coming back.
***************
Paris - Fashion Shoot
“After 11 long years, you’re finally going home to your family. Aren’t you happy?” Lavina Kundra asked, applying a final layer of gloss to her lips.
She didn’t expect a response—she had known Rudra long enough to understand his silence. The 27-year-old hunk before her was as cold and detached as ever, but today, something about him felt different. There was an unsettling stillness in his eyes, as if he were trapped in some distant memory, staring intently at the scar on his forehead in the mirror before him. Lavina had never seen him like this—so absorbed in a past he never spoke about. She rose from the dressing table and approached him cautiously.
“What’s the story behind this scar?” she asked curiously. But the moment her fingers reached for it, Rudra flinched and took a step back.
No one could know the truth behind that scar. No one could understand how it was the physical manifestation of the hell he’d lived through. This scar was a reminder of everything he wanted to forget—the two agonizing years in the juvenile home, the five years of isolation while he studied at Harvard, and the four years building his empire in Paris. None of it had freed him from the memory of her —the girl who had marked him as her enemy for life. The girl who had thrown the stone that gave him this scar. The one person he feared facing again.
Lavina saw the flicker of pain in his eyes and quickly pulled back.
“Okay... you don’t have to tell me,” she said gently, adjusting the tie around his neck. “I remember what you told me when we first met— ’You can have my friendship, but never my secrets.’”
That was the truth about Rudra Raheja. He was an enigma, his past sealed behind an unbreakable wall. Even at university, he had kept people at a distance, afraid his history would repel them. Now, after all these years, it felt like it was too late to explain the shadows that haunted him. He hated when people tried to dig into his life, which was why he never allowed anyone to get too close. But Lavina had been different. She had barged into his world, relentless in her curiosity. He had resisted her questions, but she had persisted, until one day, he gave in and accepted her as a friend. But that was as far as it would ever go. Rudra had buried too much pain in his heart, and no one— no one —was allowed to touch it.
“By the way,” Lavina smiled, trying to lighten the mood, “I’m really curious—who will be the lucky girl you’ll give the right to ask questions? She’s going to be special, I’m sure.”
She tried to brighten his spirits, but Rudra’s expression remained blank. He moved her arms away from his neck with a distant look in his eyes.
“Are you ready?” he asked flatly.
“Almost,” she replied, grabbing her purse and walking out with him from the backstage room.
Tonight was a major event for RR Designs in Paris, and after it wrapped up, they would be heading to India. Lavina was the Head of Marketing for the brand, a position she had earned through her hard work and natural talent. She was bold, confident, and had the perfect face to represent the company on a global stage.
After the event, she and Rudra had some last-minute shopping to do before catching their flight.
As they browsed through the stores, Lavina watched as Rudra selected gifts for his family.
“A watch for Shekhar, a dress for Anjali, spiritual books for Daadi…” she murmured, checking off the list. Then her eyes landed on something else—Rudra, standing still, gazing intently at a simple diamond bracelet. It was delicate yet striking, a piece of jewelry that seemed to stir something deep inside him.
“Wow... and who’s this for?” Lavina asked, intrigued by his sudden attention.
Rudra couldn’t answer—not because he didn’t want to, but because even he didn’t know if he would ever have the courage to give it to her. Kashish. The name echoed in his mind, a name he hadn’t allowed himself to speak for over a decade. Would she even accept it if he tried to offer her this token of... what? Apology? Guilt? He wasn’t sure. They had only crossed paths once since the accident, and both had kept their distance, doing everything they could to avoid each other. But now, with him returning to Delhi for four months to oversee the next major event for Raheja Designs, he couldn’t avoid her anymore. Could they bridge the chasm that had grown between them, or would that distance remain forever?
His hand closed around the bracelet, a surge of doubt crashing over him. This is madness. He placed the bracelet back on the counter.
“What happened? You’re not buying it?” Lavina asked, watching him closely.
Rudra didn’t respond. Without a word, he walked straight to the billing counter to pay for the other gifts. Lavina sighed, frustrated by his silence. She was certain there was someone in his life—someone connected to the dark storm brewing in his heart. But who? And was this mystery woman the reason for his coldness, his distance?
Maybe, just maybe, their time in India would reveal the answers she had been waiting for.