Chapter 13 404 Soul Not Found
The early morning chill of Paris wrapped around Iva like a silk scarf-brisk, bracing, familiar.
Her feet hit the cobblestone path of Parc Monceau in rhythmic taps, air misting from her breath as she ran under a canopy of turning leaves.
The gym session had left a mild burn in her calves, but she welcomed it. Pain, at least, was real.
It had been weeks since she'd returned.
Work had smothered her like a landslide-the price of disappearing to India.
And then... her brother.
Virya had proposed to Ritika. In front of the Eiffel Tower.
"Only he could turn a moment private into a public declaration," she'd muttered when he FaceTimed her right after.
Papa Ambani and Vayu had flown in yesterday. The engagement was tomorrow. Private, elegant, just family-because that's how Ritika wanted it. Iva had smiled. Balance. Good for you, bhabhi-to-be.
As she slowed her pace, the wind picked up. Dried leaves swirled around her sneakers like tiny dancers. One particularly curled one landed at her feet. She bent down to pick it, smiling faintly as her fingers brushed it.
Adwait.
The thought came uninvited, unannounced-like always.
She stared at the leaf for a moment, as if it held answers. Her brows furrowed.
Where are you, caveman?
She glanced at her watch, then unlocked her phone and dialed Raha.
"IVAAAAA! Paris queen!" Raha squealed the second she picked up.
Iva rolled her eyes but chuckled. "Paris is being nice. It missed me."
"Not as much as I did!" Raha sighed dramatically.
"How's Mumbai?"
"Rainy. Chaotic. Fun. Secret rides-zero." Raha pouted. "Bhaiya's disappeared again."
Iva stopped in her tracks, her heart skipping a beat. "What do you mean, disappeared?"
"He's not at home. Been gone for days. I asked Martin-he's clueless."
"Send me Martin's number."
Raha hesitated. "Why?"
"I forgot something in the West Wing. Important."
"Hmph. Okay!"
A minute later, Iva's screen lit up with Martin's contact.
She dialed.
Three rings.
A flat voice answered, "Yes?"
"Hello, Guardian of West wing, where is Caveman?"
A pause. Then, dry as desert wind-
"Adwait sir really should update his privacy policy."
Iva's eyes narrowed. "No he really should update employee termination policy."
Martin chuckled-just a breath. "Sir is not home."
"I know. Where is he?"
"The only information available to me is that he is out of the country."
"Why? When is he returning?"
"Miss Ambani, I've already shared all I have."
She sighed and hung up.
You're really testing my patience now, caveman.
By late morning, she was back at Iva Fashion House, wearing sleek black trousers, a beige silk blouse, and her signature no-nonsense attitude. She called Maya into her office.
"Finally!" Maya groaned, flopping into the chair. "I was beginning to think I'm canceled."
"You were," Iva replied coolly. "Still are."
Maya sat up straighter. "Iva-come on. I overstepped, yes. But I was just being protective."
"You'll be forgiven on one condition." Iva folded her arms.
Maya raised an eyebrow. "Do I need to sign an NDA?"
"Just answer this-honestly. You still think there was something between me and Rudra?"
Maya stared for a second, then shook her head. "No. I saw him kissing a girl before the dinner party. Not just a kiss-full-on lip lock."
Iva didn't flinch. "I saw him making out with an actress after the dinner party. The same actress who told me I should 'share him nicely.'"
Maya's jaw dropped. "You-why didn't you say anything?"
"Because it didn't matter. Even if he wasn't kissing anyone else, it wouldn't have mattered."
"You never loved him?"
"I never felt anything. He's... easy to read. Easy to dismiss."
"But his family-"
"Wants me to be their puppet. But Iva does what she wants," she smirked, opening her laptop.
The next day, Virya and Ritika were engaged under soft lights, Champagne bubbles, and the warmth of two families merging. A private chateau outside Paris was reserved just for them.
Iva descended the grand staircase in a royal blue gown that shimmered with every step. Her hair was twisted into elegant curls, pinned with sapphire studs. Her lips were bold, red like rebellion. A rare blue diamond hugged her neck-a gift from Papa.
Virya looked up and whistled. "Wow. Paris turned you into royalty."
"You say that like I wasn't already royalty," she smirked, ruffling his hair. He swatted her hand, scowling.
"Seriously, Iva-my hair!"
Then suddenly, he bent down and touched her feet.
Iva gasped. "VIRYA!"
"I wish mom were here," he whispered, voice cracking slightly. "But you're here. That's enough."
Her throat tightened, but she wouldn't cry. Not in front of him. Not when he needed her strength.
Later, as dinner was served under a canopy of fairy lights and soft classical music drifted through the air, Iva sat beside her father, watching the two families laugh and bond over shared memories and French cuisine.
Silver cutlery clinked gently against porcelain, the scent of truffle risotto mingling with laughter.
The wine in Papa's glass shimmered ruby red as he raised it mid-conversation. "I must say," he began, his tone warm but formal, "we are not only welcoming a daughter-in-law into the Ambani family, but also a fine example of intellect and compassion."
Ritika blushed modestly, setting down her fork. "Uncle-"
He lifted a hand gently. "No modesty here, Ritika. Your academic record speaks volumes-double majors from Oxford and Ashoka, research in behavioral psychology, and on top of that, the foundation you started for adult literacy? That's not just impressive, that's purposeful."
"Thank you so much, Uncle," Ritika said, eyes glimmering. "I just... always believed that education is the first door to dignity."
Iva leaned in, whispering near her father's shoulder with a smirk, "You're giving a full TED Talk, Papa."
He chuckled. "Well, I'm just proud. Not everyone with privilege chooses to use it wisely. She did."
Virya, sitting beside Ritika, couldn't stop smiling. "Now do you all see why I proposed in front of the Eiffel Tower? What else does a man do when he knows he's found gold?"
Ritika rolled her eyes. "Virya, stop."
Everyone laughed.
Iva laughed too. On the surface. But deep within, her thoughts drifted somewhere else.
Adwait.
A man who never completed school. Who had casually told her once-"10th fail."
He'd smiled as if it was enough. And back then, something in her had agreed.
But now, hearing her father-India's Minister of Education-praise Ritika's degrees and social initiatives with such pride, something sharp twisted inside her.
Would Papa ever accept someone like Adwait? A man with no paper trail, no formal education, no ambition to fit their world?
She stared down at her wineglass. Her reflection trembled slightly in the red swirl.
Adwait's words echoed again-rough, unpolished, unapologetic.
"Woh aapki duniya hai. Aur uss duniya ka hissa main nahi hoon."
(That is your world. And I am not a part of that world.)
But was that ever going to be enough? For her? For her world?
She clenched her jaw and looked up again, smiling faintly at something Vayu said. Her father was still speaking about Ritika's work. Her brothers looked proud. Ritika glowed.
And yet, a small, tired thought settled in her chest like dust.
Later, Maya posted Iva's photo to Instagram-the kind of image that didn't just speak, it declared.
"Our Lady in Royal Blue ?? - @IvaFashionHouse"
#RoyalEnergy #ParisElegance #IvaInBlue #FashionRoyale #PowerAndPoise #AgnivanshiGlow #ChateauNights #AmbaniAura #SapphireStatementThe comments poured in. Compliments. Fire emojis. Gushing fans. Even Raha posted heart-eyes.
Even Rudra.
But Iva was waiting for one name.
Silence.
She refreshed. Still nothing.
"The person you're waiting for isn't on Instagram," Maya said gently. "Or anywhere else."
Iva's face hardened. She grabbed her phone and began typing.
Adwait Agnivanshi - No results.
Adwait Rajput - Nothing.
Adwait V.
Adwait.
Advait.
Krishna.
Rajveer. Still nothing.
She opened a secure chat and messaged Red:
"Sending you a name and all its variations. I want everything-location, history, connections. Cost doesn't matter."
------------------------
The Paris sky outside was a bruised lavender, the kind that sits quietly before rain. Iva stared at her phone screen like it owed her answers. Her perfectly manicured thumb hovered-then tapped. The line rang.
Red picked up with a sigh that reeked of exhaustion and caffeine. "I hacked three private intel databases. Even skimmed the dark web. There's nothing. No such person exists."
Her world stilled for a moment. "What?" The word came out sharper than she intended.
"Iva... I've done this long enough to know when someone's hiding. This is beyond that. Every time I type his name and hit enter-it disappears. The screen blinks, and poof. Gone. Like an algorithm eats it before the system even processes the search."
A sick chill crawled up her spine.
"I even tried alternate spellings. Sanskrit roots. Agnivanshi bloodline tags. The moment I submit the query, it self-destructs. You don't just hide a man like that. You erase him."
She felt her voice thin. "So what does that mean?"
"It means someone built a wall not just to keep people out-but to make you believe there was never even a door."
Iva turned, resting her forehead against the glass window. Her breath fogged the pane.
"Try the underworld," she said after a pause.
"I already did. Nothing. No whispers. No off-the-record IDs. No Adwait. No Rajveer. No aliases. Not even spiritual ones. Krishna. Vasudev. Vani. It's scorched earth."
"Photo recognition?"
"You got a picture?"
She closed her eyes. "No."
A silence stretched. Then Red's voice softened, tinged with reluctant admiration. "I've found warlords in South Sudan. Oil mafia bosses who faked their own deaths. But this guy? He's air. No fingerprints. No footprints. No shadow. It's like God pressed delete."
Her hands were ice. Her chest felt like it was wrapped in thorns.
"Try again," she said. "I'll double the payment."
"I don't want your money anymore," Red muttered. "I want to find this guy because... he's a damn legend now. He's the ghost in the firewall."
She ended the call quietly. "Let me know when you do."
The silence of her office swallowed her. The desk lamp flickered faintly in the corner. She leaned back into her leather chair, her head tipping toward the ceiling, eyes tracing invisible patterns in the plaster.
You vanished like I was just a comma in your sentence.
And yet here I am... waiting at the edge of a story I don't understand.
But Iva Ambani doesn't chase illusions.
She forgets. She rebuilds. She moves on.
At least... that's what she keeps telling herself.
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She picked it up before the second buzz. Red's voice was a chaotic mix of triumph and fury.
"I found something. A fragment. Deep buried. A glitch page with some old clan code from the Agnivanshi family. That led me to this damn riddle."
"A riddle?" she asked, cautious.
"That's all I found. No name. No face. Just... this."
He recited:
I walk with shadows, but cast none.
Feared by kings, yet served by monks.
I knock on doors, but enter only when forgotten.
Yet some have faced me, smiled-and moved beyond.
You run from me, cry at my name,
But the wise embrace me, without shame.
What am I? - ???
Who am I? - And I conquered it.
"I texted it to you," Red added, breathing hard. "That's the only trace. It's not even attached to a name. Just that. Like a final clue dropped on purpose."
She swallowed. "Thanks, Red."
Then she cut the call.
she walked silently into her father's study. The Education Minister sat by the fireplace, reading a book on Indian philosophy, a warm halo of lamplight behind him.
He looked up, surprised. "Beta? Need help for Iva Fashion House? Or did you break another espresso machine?"
"I need your help with a riddle."
His eyes twinkled. "A riddle? Now that's new."
She recited it slowly, word for word. He leaned forward, thoughtful.
A minute passed.
Then he smiled faintly. "The answer to What am I?... is Death."
Her fingers twitched.
"'I walk with shadows but cast none... Feared by kings, served by monks'-it's Death, no doubt. Feared by most. Embraced only by the wise."
A silence.
"And Who am I?," she asked, voice barely audible.
He closed his book. "The one who conquered Death is called Lord Shiv."
Her heart stumbled.
"Shiv has many names, right?"
He walked to the shelf, pulled out a worn volume of Vedic Names. "Yes. Many. Mahadev. Nilkanth. Mahakaal. Bhairav. And... Rudra."
Time stilled around her. A cold understanding blossomed in her chest like a slow explosion.
Rudra.
Of course.
Of fucking course.
The one who watched everything. The one who controlled every thread. The one who moved like smoke and knew every corner of the palace-every device, every door, every secret.
Adwait didn't erase himself.
Rudra made sure he never existed in the first place.
She blinked, lips parting, a whisper echoing in the caverns of her mind.
So that's why I couldn't find you.
Because the one standing beside me... was the one hiding you.
Just to be sure-just to silence the faintest doubt-she sent him a text:
"One of my old clients is giving me hell. Really wants to erase me from everywhere. ??"
The reply came not as text but a call.
Rudra's smooth, amused voice greeted her. "Who dared to mess with the Ambani princess?"
She smiled, just enough. "Old client. Some vendetta, I think."
There was a beat of silence. Then he chuckled darkly. "Let me help, then. Let's erase her from existence. Clean and poetic, no?"
Click. She ended the call.
Iva stared at the night sky, the city of Paris flickering beneath her terrace like a thousand unsaid thoughts. The truth clawed at her chest like a secret too sharp to keep.
She picked up her phone and dialed Maya.
The moment Maya answered, Iva said it without preamble. "It was Rudra."
"What was?"
"Rudra deleted Adwait. Wiped his existence. I knew something was off, but I couldn't prove it. Until now."
Maya was quiet for a moment, absorbing it all. Then softly, "But why are you looking for Adwait?"
Iva froze.
The question landed like a slap made of truth.
Her grip on the phone tightened. She opened her mouth, but no words came. Because she didn't have a reason she wanted to say out loud. Not even to Maya.
She stared at her own reflection in the glass door, eyes stormy, lips parted, caught between vulnerability and fury.
"Iva?" Maya prompted again.
Click. Iva ended the call.
She stared at the phone in her hand for a long moment, heart beating louder than the silence around her.
Why was I looking for him?
He didn't even try to find me. Not a call. Not a message. Not even a whisper in the dark.
So why the hell was I chasing a ghost who clearly wanted to vanish from my world?
She set the phone down and walked to the edge of the terrace, arms crossed tight around herself
No.
No more chasing.
No more waiting. No more hoping.
Iva Ambani doesn't force her way into people's lives. She never has. And she won't start now.
If he wanted to disappear-fine. He could disappear.
So could she. Right out of his story.
The wind whipped her hair across her face, but she didn't brush it away. She welcomed the sting
He was just a chapter. Not the book.
A shadow. Not the sun.
A liar in a beautiful mask.
She turned, walked back inside, and slammed the glass door behind her.
Goodbye, Adwait.
I'm done.
Some people leave footprints on your heart. He left a clean slate and a debugging error.
? ? ?