2
After a high-stakes meeting in the boardroom of the Oberoi Empire, Aayansh is now seated in his chair, dressed in a precise black suit, a cigar burning between his fingers. His aura is as cold as ever.
Aashika stands before him, her gaze piercing, fists tight with barely contained rage.
Rivaan stands a step behind, tense as stone.
"So you're trying to control my life... like you control others?" she asks, her voice low, controlled.
Without looking at her, Aayansh exhales the smoke slowly, his voice calm. “Good grasp.”
Aashika's jaw tightens. "You think you can do that?" she says evenly, "In case you're forgetting, let me remind you-I'm four years older than you. So the..."
"Besides that-" he finally looks at her, tilting his head slightly. "There's nothing mature about you."
Aashika narrows her eyes.
Aayansh's icy eyes bore into hers as he continues. "Running away from your responsibilities-just because you fixated your entire life on one thing."
"Revenge." He stands, moving toward her. "Now that you've got it, you were ready to vanish-like a coward."
"I'm not a coward!" she fires back.
"Yeah, right," Aayansh says, now standing in front of her, staring down at her. "Planning to leave the country, thinking no one would find out... walking away from what you once wanted for Mom, and your own life. What do you call that?"
Aashika had planned to leave for Sydney without letting anyone know... ready to walk away from everything, even her own identity, unsure of where life would take her. But Aayansh, being himself, the moment he found out, he had her international license blocked.
"Bhai-" Rivaan says, tension threading his voice, "I tried to stop her... but she wouldn't listen."
Aayansh keeps his eyes on Aashika, her expression giving nothing away.
"Rivaan?" She murmurs without turning.
"Yeah?" Rivaan answers.
"Shut up! you don't need to speak against me every time."
Rivaan shakes his head, as if resisting the urge to bang it against the wall.
"And you-" she glares at Aayansh, who remains unfazed. "You're right. Just this time. Mujhse bada banne ki koshish mat kro, alright?"
With that, she hugs him tightly, as if holding onto the one person who always has her back.
Aayansh's arm settles around her, secure and protective.
· ───────────────── ·
Here, In the villa's garden, the morning sun warms Tara's skin as she stands barefoot. A few guards lingering at a distance, heads bowed, not even daring to look in her direction, their breaths steady but tense.
Continuous low roars rise, blending with the soft splashes of water in the private fountains.
Those roars belong to none other than Aayansh's twin panthers, currently being bathed by Tara. The moment she found out about them, she had his men bring them here today....No arguments.
Now, she stands there, washing creatures ten times her size... and could easily devour four of her for just breakfast.
One dark as night, the other tiger-striped, both letting out soft, grumpy little growls under her touch... still enough to send a chill down the spine.
She runs her fingers through their soaked, dense fur, whispering softly, as if her words alone are enough to tame them.
"Careful, Tara." A calm, firm voice sounds behind her.
"Bro! they're just babies!"
Yeah, It's Arsh.
Tara wanted to spend some time with her brothers, so she had them come here as well.
"Right, princess," Arsh says sarcastically, stepping closer. "And these babies can finish four like you in a single meal."
She rolls her eyes, gently nudging the black panther.
"Why are you being so mean to these innocent creatures?" she huffs.
Arsh shakes his head, clearly entertained.
Soon enough, they're in the living room.
Arsh sits on the sofa, watching Tara as she reads through the file he'd handed her.
And just like that, a bright smile spreads across her lips.
Her music...now ready for the world stage, with tours and collaborations she'd only ever dreamed of.
With a record label in her name, every detail is crafted so her music could finally breathe freely.
And Arsh has made all of this possible..
.right at the very start of her professional journey.
Without a second thought, she sets the file aside and pulls her brother into a warm hug. "You did all this for me?!"
Arsh, fingers threading gently through her hair, murmurs softly, "Every bit of it is worth it when I see this smile on your face."
"Princess!? Are we just background characters to you?" The voice pulls her attention, and she turns to see Aariv, Luca, and Braden entering.
"Boss, Aap already background noise ho! Don't drag us in your 'We'." Luca interrupts-grinning.
"You motherfu-" Aariv shoots him a murderous look, but one glance at Tara and he swallows the rest.
"Wait-did you just speak Hindi?" Tara blinks at Luca, stunned.
“Yeah, after all," Braden says as they sink onto the sofas, "his Indian girlfriend is giving him 'private' Hindi lessons.”
“Indian girlfriend?!?”
Then, a thought strikes Tara, and she turns to Arsh. "See? Even Luca uncle has a girlfriend at this age."
Braden and Aariv exchange a smirk, while luca gapes at Tara like she's declared a whole war on his love life.
And catching it, Tara adds, "I mean-I'm a strong believer of age is just a number.... But I'm almost 22, Aayansh is 29, And Bro is 32!" She glances at Arsh. "Don't you think it's high time for you to wife someone up?"
"Someone like, umm..." She fumbles, then adds, "Aashika."
Arsh's brow quirks up at her.
"I mean she's so beautiful, isn't she?" She quickly recovers.
"Of course....she's your sister-in-law after all." Arsh says, deadpan, unreadable as ever.
"Yeah, right!" She mutters, her grin a little too proud.
"By the way, Boss?" Aariv chips in, grinning, "Princess isn't wrong-you really should think about a wife. Age is catching up, you know."
Before Arsh can reply, Tara jumps in, dead serious. "Exactly! Like Imagine him getting married at 50, having kids at 55... and-I can't even picture beyond that."
Arsh shakes his head, his expression unreadable. "I see what you're trying to do, princess."
"But that won't happen. I respect your sister-in-law," he pauses, letting the weight of his words settle. "And that's where it ends-nothing beyond that."
For a moment, the room falls into a heavy silence.
Then, nonchalantly, Luca adds, "And also, Boss's heart is already taken....Uh...what was that girl's name, In-chan...Mun?"
"Inayat, you absolute Duffer!" Aariv says, smirking.
As soon as Arsh hears the name, his eyes harden.
Silence crashes over the room. Luca, Aariv, and Braden hold their breath, frozen.
But Tara's curious eyes flare. "Who. Is. Inayat?"
Those three shuffle slightly, clearly unsure how much to reveal.
Arsh exhales quietly, his jaw tight, hiding the storm brewing behind his calm eyes.
Then, at last, Aariv gathers himself and says carefully, "Well, princess, Inayat was a survivor of human trafficking."
He looks at Arsh briefly, "Boss rescued her from a horrific situation, and guided her through months of recovery."
"... And to ensure she could have a safe and dignified future, he sent her to Paris. Now she's with Diya there."
"Oh... well," Tara murmurs softly, "I hope she's found the life she truly deserves."
As their chatter carries on, Arsh's eyes soften, recalling glimpses of her innocence, her trusting ways, the purity that defined her.
It's only been two days since Arsh pulled her out of that underground hell, and he doesn't even know her name yet. To his surprise, even she doesn't know anything about herself, always trembling, always quiet, letting no one near her...except him.
Please, Hurting, Water-
These are the only words she's spoken since being brought here.
Arsh stays busy, though mostly to keep an eye on Tara who had foolishly tied herself to his enemy.
The doctor has stated that Inayat-this girl-is profoundly abnormal, both physically and mentally.
Since she was very young, barely two or three, she had been given experimental chemicals and biochemical suppressants designed to stop her body from growing like a normal girl and to control her mind.
Because of them, she hasn't even started menstruating yet.
Right now, the doctor is taking her blood for further tests, and the only reason she's calm and still is that Arsh is there. Clinging to the corner of the bed, her innocent eyes are fixed on him, as if his presence alone can shield her from the world.
"Give me your hand," the doctor says gently, holding out a hand toward her.
Inayat just stares, confusion clouding her eyes.
When the doctor herself reaches out to take her hand, she panics. Her small frame trembles as she recoils, scrambling back toward Arsh, seeking safety in the only person she trusts.
As she wobbles, about to topple but Arsh holds her instantly, steadying her with a firm yet gentle grip. "Relax, just calm down! Alright?" he murmurs, his voice soft.
At her behaviour, the doctor lets out a frustrated sigh, but Arsh stays patient.
"I'm here, angel, right here with you!" He assures, his tone calm, trying to distract her.
Her hands press against his tricep, trembling slightly, and she murmurs, barely audible. "Angel..."
As if she's chosen this name for him.
Taking the opportunity, the doctor presses the needle into her neck. Inayat's lips part in a muffled cry, her eyes shut tight, fingers clutching Arsh's arm with desperate strength. "Hurting... angel."
A moment passes, her teary gaze finds his.
Arsh wraps a secure arm around her.
"This next one has to go into her spine," The doctor explains carefully. "We'll need to expose her back for a precise injection."
Arsh nods, letting her know she's safe as he tries to move away.
"Lift your dress, sweetheart," The doctor guides.
And with Arsh right beside her, Inayat innocently starts to remove her dress, unaware of every other thing.
But she freezes mid-motion, eyes wide at Arsh's calm but commanding words. "Stop it."
She just stares at him in confusion. Even the doctor hesitates. Meanwhile, Arsh steps closer, his presence grounding.
By now, one thing is clear to him: Inayat doesn't even grasp basic human conduct. She can understand simple conversations around her, yet can barely speak herself, managing only a few scattered words.
And if she acts like this here, it's no wonder she would do the same anywhere else-if left unguided.
Arsh, not touching her this time, says firmly. "Never remove your clothes in front of anyone. Not me. Not anyone."
Inayat's brow furrows slightly, a silent question in her eyes.
Arsh exhales, then kneels slightly to meet her gaze. “People around aren't always pure like you, angel. Your body is your personal space," he explains gently. “No one has the right to see you like this unless you allow them, unless you feel comfortable. Understand?”
For a moment, she only stares at him. Then, slowly, she nods, her voice a faint whisper- “Yes...angel.”
Remembering those moments, the faintest smile touches Arsh's lips. His gaze shifts to Tara, who's giggling with Aariv, Braden, and Luca.
His chest tightens at the thought. After tonight, he'll be back in New York....without his sister.
His fingers curl slightly against his arm, as if holding himself back.
He's deliberately avoided telling Tara about it.
· ───────────────── ·
The soirée is held in a secluded rooftop garden of a historic tower, its floor-to-ceiling windows spilling the city lights across polished marble floors.
Crystal chandeliers scatter sharp reflections across the surfaces, and the air hangs heavy with quiet power, whispered deals, and carefully measured laughter.
.... a gathering where wealth and influence are on full display.
Waiters and attendants move gracefully among the guests, attending to every need.
The media, elite press, and select industry journalists are respectfully seated, waiting for their turn to conduct interviews.
And since this is set to become Asia's largest pharmaceutical conglomerate, every detail here radiates perfection and meticulous attention.
In the center, a massive screen stands veiled, its surface hinting at what's beneath. Across it, a name gleams in encrusted black diamonds-"Dedicated to the Vision of the Late Dr. Aaina Oberoi."
The Visionaries Behind the Legacy:
"If it were just another day, i'd be sitting and missing you, Mom." She whispers into herself. "But today's the day to honor you."
And then, she just smiles.
Moments later, cameras click and flashes as Aashika steps forward. Reporters lean in, pens ready, microphones extended. Every question comes respectfully.... some probing, some curious, all waiting for her words.
"Ms. Oberoi, fulfilling your mother's vision....how does it feel to lead it into reality?"
"How do you plan to honor her vision through this project?"
"With such a legacy from your grandfather, how will you ensure this subsidiary-"
"My grandfather is gone," Calm and unflinching, her cold eyes meet every lens as she cuts in. "He's history. I am the present. And the future. So-ask only if it's about me."
The room falls silent for a heartbeat, quiet murmurs filling the air.
Then, another question. "Your brother, Mr. Aayansh Oberoi, and Mr. Arsh Jindal-two of the most formidable business minds across nations. Do you feel ready to stand toe-to-toe with them?"
"How about getting your answer while I stand with them?" she says coolly, gesturing to her manager with a single nod.
Excusing them, as she moves toward the edge of the tower, overlooking the city lights beneath, a presence falls into view. Her head turns slightly-Moksh Deewan.
His hands in his pockets, calm and composed, he nods in greeting.
"I hope you've forgiven me for everything that happened that day," he says quietly. "I got to know Malang misbehaved-"
"It's fine, Mr. Deewan," She cuts in softly. "But your brother is indeed an asshole."
Moksh flinches briefly, then lets a crooked smirk play on his lips. "Well, you're so straightforward, and I like it."
Before Aashika can respond, another voice cuts in. "Hey, Ms. Oberoi?"
Aashika closes her eyes, letting out an irritated exhale, while Moksh's gaze flicks toward Malang approaching them.
Aashika, ignoring his existence, walks past them.
"This woman is really something!" Malang mutters in his breath, watching her in awe.
"What?" Moksh raises a brow at him.
Malang, too busy staring at her, murmurs again-"Something something."
"Malang?!" Moksh snaps.
Malang finally spins around, composed. "Yes, brother?"
"Why the hell are you staring at her like that?"
"Uh-just admiring..."
Just then, Moksh's phone buzzes, drawing his attention. Seizing the moment, Malang makes his way out of here.
And within minutes, he's trailing behind Aashika.
"Ms. Oberoi?" he calls. She ignores him like a Wi-Fi signal she doesn't want to connect to.
"I need to talk."
"Should I bring something for you? Wine, whisky, champagne... what do you prefer?"
Aashika still doesn't turn, her voice flat and deadpan. "Blood. That's my preference."
"Well, you can drink mine. I won't mind."
"Do I look like a vampire to you?"
Malang pauses, then smirks. "The finest one."
She exhales, taking another step. "Has anyone ever told you how asshole you are?"
"If you're saying! then maybe I am." He literally says it out like a confession, still following her.
A beat, and his breath hitches the moment Aashika's hand snaps onto his wrist, slamming him against the wall sideways and leaving him momentarily stunned.
Their breathing clashes, bodies almost pressing against each other.
He may be taller, but she meets his eyes head-on, gripping his collar, her frustration smoldering as she watches him, expecting him to be afraid or even hesitate.
But his grin just deepens, looking down at her. "I thought you'd be at least a little apologetic... after assaulting my mouth with your gun."
She leans closer, letting her scent invade his senses, a sly smirk pulling at her mouth. "Trust me... one day, I'll crush that damned mánhood of yours beneath my heel-" Her pause lets their noses brush. "-and still be as unapologetic as I am right now."
Malang, utterly doomed, gulps.
His gaze zeroes to her lips-Kiss. Kisss. Kissssss!
His pulse quickens, craving just one taste.
Even Aashika's eyes linger on his throat, tracing the subtle rise of his Adam's apple, a flicker of hesitation crosses her face as she realises there are people around, the guests, business allies and international clients.
And without a word, she shoves him aside and leaves.
Malang stands frozen, staring after her. "Goddamnit.... she just blushed!" He whispers, touching his neck and feeding his own delusions.
Here, crossing the threshold, Aashika steps onto the private viewing deck, her breath gradually steadying.
She finds Arsh already there, standing by the railing, both hands resting against it as he gazes silently at the dark sky.
His broad frame is draped in a grey tailored suit, his back turned to her.
She comes to a stop at his side, her voice calm but edged. "What are you doing here instead of being at the event?"
Arsh stays quiet, his features set in an unreadable calm.
Aashika doesn't press him. Instead, she looks up at the sky, a void settling between them.
Then-
"Well, AJ," she exhales softly. "I won't force you... but you can share what's bothering you."
Arsh holds onto the silence, as if weighing his words. Then, slowly, he expresses. "Just thinking how unsafe your brother is for Tara."
Her brows furrow as she studies him. "And what made you think that way?"
Arsh finally turns to her, his expression tight. "You tell me-" he says quietly. "If you were in my place-would you have left your sister with a man who thrives on other people's pain? Who's nothing but a sadist and drags her in his mess every time?"
Words fall short this time. Aashika knows he isn't wrong. He's being rational.
Yet, she gives a faint smile. "I'm not saying this to defend my brother. But he does love her in his own way. And not every canvas of love is meant to be flawless."
Her gaze drifts to the stars, scattered and shimmering above. "Some are messy, untamed....and still, beautiful in their own way. So, maybe we should let them live Their Version Of Love?"
To her words, Arsh offers no reply, but the unease inside him doesn't fade.... As if sensing something deeper.
Aashika glances at her phone, her eyes narrowing when she realizes Aayansh and Tara still haven't arrived.
· ───────────────── ·
Night is already settled by the time Aayansh returns. The air is cool....softened by the quiet warmth of the fireplace in the room.
His gaze drifts across the room, cold and unreadable as usual.
Steeped in darkness, the intimidating walls of the room are marked by the coral pink shade of her lipstick.
... words like 'AayRa'- 'love you so much, Aayansh Oberoi'-'He's mine till eternity' scribbled alive on them.
Not neat or careful, but messy and alive.
His name, written over and over-it looks owned.
As if someone is imprinting herself onto a man who was never meant to belong to anyone.
Because unlike Aayansh, Tara's love for him isn't reserved....it's loud, messy, and everywhere she breathes.
The quiet glow of candles binding the room in an intimate heat.
That's when he senses a presence behind him, innocently certain he wouldn't sense her just by her breathing.
He doesn't turn. Shrugging off his jacket, his eyes perfectly still on her seductive reflection in the fireplace glass, patiently letting her come near.
She moves closer, quiet as a breath, as if the world itself has hushed for her.
In the glass, her curves unfold under his gaze as he tosses his jacket aside.
She hovers behind him, lifting her hands to cover his eyes-
But without turning, Aayansh catches her wrist mid-motion and tugs her forward. In the next instant, her back is slammed against his chest, not harsh, just unanticipated enough to make her breath hitch as he buries his face into her neck.
"Aayan?" she breathes, her head tilting slightly. "I was going to surprise you."
Silent and still, not a muscle shift....except his calloused palm, which wraps around her bare belly at the saree's edge.
His breath stays warm and steady against her skin, and she murmurs, "Your beard is-"
"Shh, amour," he cuts in, voice low and husky. "Just stay like this."
Tara stiffens slightly, her fingers tangling with his thick, strong ones absentmindedly, while she feels his other hand tracing slow, deliberate paths over her bare stomach.
Her eyes flutter shut, a delicate smile gracing her lips. Every sound around them dissolves, leaving only their breathing, their hearts and souls entwining in silence.
Then, with a quiet, almost breathless tone, she says, "It's-okay. I've forgiven you."
Now only she knows why she said that.
He nips lightly at her neck. "I never asked for your forgiveness."
She exhales softly, eyes half-lidded. "Because that's not your cup of tea... and I'm kind enough to forgive you without you asking."
"Forgiving me for giving you a toe-curling orgasm on the gym's floor, Hmm?"
Her cheeks tint pink. "Yes."
Slowly, he spins her toward him. She lifts her head, her honey brown orbs framed with darkness that makes them look deeper, finding his, trying to pull him in the depths of them.
His gaze sweeps over her. She's draped in a net burgundy saree, the thin straps of her blouse accentuating her frame, her hair cascading straight down her back. Smoky eyes, light diamond jewelry.
He takes a step back, his gaze sweeps over her entirely, from head to toe.... And a sudden wave of butterflies breaks free inside her.
Cheeks heating despite her effort to stay composed, she interjects. "We need to be there on time, remember?!? Go get ready."
He tilts his head, eyes lingering, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. "Get me." he says.