Chapter 17 How to escape a confession
Ivikaa sat in her glass-walled office, the city skyline glinting faintly in the afternoon haze behind her.
Her fingers moved across the keyboard, efficient but restless, the familiar rhythm of work offering little solace today.
The clacking stopped for a second. A strange, familiar hollowness pressed gently against her ribs.
She reached for her purse-an old instinct-and rummaged inside, looking for her lighter.
But instead, her fingers brushed something fragile. Something soft.
A scent-delicate flower even before she pulled it out.
The mogra flower.
Dry now. But still white. Still fragrant. Still holding time in its petals.
Ivikaa stared at it in her palm. How absurd, she thought. That something so small could carry such weight. A flower-offered in silence, without expectation-yet it had lingered longer in her mind than any diamond or promise ever had.
A smile, unbidden and soft, curved her lips.
"Mogra," Maya said, pausing mid-sentence as she glanced up from her iPad and saw the flower in Iva's hand. Her tone was teasing but curious. "Lost in thoughts much?"
(Jasmine flower)
"Yeah," Iva replied, not really present, her eyes still on the fragrance of Gir wrapped in white petals.
Maya squinted, tilted her head. "Okay. One question that's still bothering me..." She paused, letting the tension thicken like incense. "Miss Iva suddenly had a headache and needed rest? Since when?"
Iva snapped out of her reverie. Her gaze flicked to Maya with annoyance.
"Ivikaa Viren Ambani," Maya continued, folding her arms, "doesn't abandon work or family even if she's dying. And now Martin covers for you too? Unless... it's about Adwait?"
That struck. Square in the gut.
Iva's expression stiffened. She rolled her eyes, deflecting, "So what? Can't I meet him?"
Maya's brow arched. "And why so defensive? Unless..." She narrowed her eyes in mock horror.
"Back in Paris, didn't you say I'm Adwait ki Maya?" Iva blinked. Then narrowed her eyes.
"No no no! You got me wrong," Maya exclaimed, laughing nervously.
"I never knew who Adwait even was before that palace night!
I just meant-'Adwait ki Maya'-as in his illusion.
Maya as in the cosmic delusion, hello? I'm very much in love with Alex, thank you very much. Why are you being so possessive?"
Iva scoffed. "Possessive? Someone was hell-bent on me not being with him or staying his friend, remember?"
Maya faltered. Her voice softened. "Thank god. For a second I thought you were doubting me."
"Maybe I should," Iva murmured. "The way you freaked out when I told you Adwait and I.."
That hit home. Maya looked down, her confidence slipping like sand between her fingers.
"I'm still sorry, Iva," she whispered. "It's just... you and him-even as friends-it rattles something in me. He's... different. And you-you swirl the world on your little finger. I guess I just didn't know how to process the combination."
Iva turned away, eyes back on the flower. The softness of her voice surprised them both.
"He is different, Maya. And I don't want people around me who shove, scream, or lose control like the world owes them their temper. Papa never raised his voice. The twins-they protect me, but they respect me first."
She paused. Something flickered in her throat-like pain, like tenderness.
"Adwait..." she whispered, almost to herself, "he looks at me like I'm sacred.
Not a trophy. Not a challenge. Just... something to be understood.
Protected. Like I'm not just worth loving, but worth revering.
" She glanced back at Maya, voice laced with wonder.
"Not many people stir emotions in me, Maya.
But him-he makes me want to return that same respect.
That same depth. And the way he saved Ritika. .."
Maya nodded, softer now. "Yeah. That was unbelievable. That was something... beyond."
For a moment, they both sat in silence.
The scent of mogra still lingered, delicate and unyielding-just like the memory of a man who had dared to see her not as Ivikaa Ambani, heiress or enigma, but simply as a soul worth bowing to.
At night, dinning area -
Ivikaa sat quietly at the long dining table, the warm chandelier lights casting golden halos over polished wood and porcelain. Her fingers idly traced the rim of her plate as her gaze drifted across the table. The seat at the other end of the table was empty.
She sighed, just once.
Then-a tug. Sharp, sudden.
Her hand flew to her hair.
"Seriously?" she muttered under her breath, turning slightly-only to catch a fleeting, amused look in Adwait's eyes. He held her hair clip between two fingers like it was a prized possession, a faint, almost childlike mischief on his face.
"Yeh kya badtameezi hai, Adwait?" Rudra's voice cut through the silence, his irritation sharp and cold. His eyes narrowed, clearly unimpressed.
(What kind of misbehavior is this, Adwait?)
But Adwait, in true Adwait fashion, didn't respond. Not with words anyway. He simply raised an eyebrow, then slid into the chair in his chair as if nothing had happened.
Ivikaa bit back a laugh. She turned to Rudra, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"It's fine, Rudra. He saved Ritika's life-let him be playful if he wants to."
Her tone was light, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed something warmer-softer.
Adwait looked sideways at her, only briefly, handing the hair clip to Martin, who stood behind him. Martin froze for a moment, clearly unsure of what to do, before hesitantly walking over to Ivikaa and placing the clip gently near her plate.
"Your royal weapon, my lady," he said with a mock bow. "Might I suggest keeping it in a vault next time?"
She accepted it silently, her expression composed but clearly amused, and twisted her hair back into place with practiced ease.
Across the table, Divya clicked her tongue in disapproval.
"He's really being nonsense these days," she muttered, shooting a look of distaste at Adwait.
"It's alright, Bhabhi," Devaki interjected diplomatically, her voice calm but firm. "Let's just enjoy dinner peacefully."
Conversation flowed again. Platters passed from hand to hand. The air filled with quiet clinks and hushed murmurs. Slowly, one by one, family members began excusing themselves-tired from the long day and the forest's residual spell.
Soon, only Maya and Ivikaa remained at the table, finishing their meals in quiet companionship.
Adwait folded his napkin, placed it beside his plate, and rose. As he walked past Ivikaa's chair, he didn't even look at her.
Just as he passed by Ivikaa-another tug.
Her clip was gone again.
"Adwait!" she gasped, half-scolding, half-laughing in disbelief.
But he kept walking, hands in his pockets, silent as ever-like a ghost who didn't believe in consequences.
Martin passed by again with an empty tray, raising an eyebrow at her.
"I'm starting a lost-and-found logbook.", he whispered.
Ivikaa shook her head, trying to hide her grin.
Maya leaned in with a smirk.
"You do realise you're losing clips to him... "
Ivikaa rolled her eyes, cheeks warming. But deep down, a truth stirred. The silence in the room didn't feel empty anymore-it felt like a ripple in still water.
The glass doors slid open with a soft whisper.
Ivikaa stepped onto the terrace, halting in surprise.
Twinkling fairy lights danced overhead, casting a soft golden glow over a space filled with all her favourites-white lilies in glass bowls, a table set with vintage wine, her preferred sushi rolls, and even a cozy throw blanket she once mentioned offhand during a flight.
At the centre stood a grand piano.
And Rudra, playing it-fluid, calm, too practiced.
She didn't speak. She watched him, waiting.
He looked up and smiled with a flourish, then walked towards her, his tux jacket hanging loose, the top buttons of his shirt undone.
"For once, I wanted to give you something you didn't expect," he said, gently taking her hand.
"Iva... I've wanted to tell you this for a long time. I like you-deeply. You already live in my world. We could rule it together."
Iva blinked, her expression unreadable. Then she calmly pulled her hand back.
"And what if I don't feel the same way, Rudra?"
His smile faltered. That wasn't the answer he'd rehearsed for.
"You don't have to decide right now,"he said, voice softening, "Just... think about us."
She raised a brow.
"I hope your feelings won't interfere with the joint venture. I'd hate to see emotions cloud professionalism."
He gave a small, almost embarrassed chuckle, brushing the back of his neck.
"Of course not. Two completely different things. Totally."
But the air shifted. Before she could turn to leave, Rudra suddenly grabbed her wrist, pulling her forcefully toward the edge of the terrace, near the stone wall. Her back hit the cool surface-he caged her in with his arms.
"You just don't see it yet," he said, eyes burning. "We're perfect together. I will make you fall for me."
Ivikaa froze. That familiar cold steel rose in her.
"Really? Perfect?" she scoffed, eyes narrowing. "Is that what you were proving when I saw you kissing your perfectly drunk industry friend that night?"
His face changed-shame flickered through the bravado.
"That was... a stupid mistake. It meant nothing. I was drunk. But you-I feel something real for you."
She pushed his chest slightly, creating space. Her voice dropped-controlled, sharp.
"If that was real, then maybe you wouldn't have kissed or slept with your friend the night of the party."
She looked him straight in the eye.
"Don't confuse your impulses with love."
His jaw clenched.
"I thought... who doesn't like it rough sometimes?" he muttered. "Come on, you're Iva. Famous for being rude, fiery. I thought you'd understand-"
She cut him off coldly.
"Yes, I'm fiery. I'm blunt. But I don't tolerate being manhandled. You should know better."
She stepped out of his cage.
"You had a chance to be respected, Rudra. You ruined it."
He tried to smooth it over, hands up in mock surrender.
"I'll keep trying. You and I-we're from the same world, Iva. No one else will handle you like I can. You're not easy. And neither am I."
She paused, her voice like silk with a blade underneath.
"I'm not a trophy, Rudra. Not a challenge to be won or something to tame. Your behaviour tonight didn't make you desirable-it made you distant. Very distant."
Rudra chuckled lightly, though his eyes darkened with a hint of desperation.
"You're not going to get rid of me that easily.
You'll come around." He stepped forward again, though slower this time.
"I know Virya and Vayu are looking for property here, Iva.
You're not leaving anytime soon." He tilted his head, voice dipping low.
"And before you go, I'll make you realise why we're meant to be together. "
Ivikaa stared at him-disgust, disbelief, and pity flashing in her eyes. She didn't flinch. She didn't entertain it.
"You can't 'make' someone feel love, Rudra. That's not how it works. Maybe that's what you do in your world, but not in mine." Still for a moment
"Goodnight."
Then, without another word, she turned her back to him and walked away-heels clicking like defiance against the marble, echoing into the night.
The stars were veiled behind clouds, the air outside dense with silence. But inside Ivikaa's mind, there was no such quiet. After that suffocating encounter with Rudra, her only refuge was the one thing that never failed her-work.
She locked herself in the study, opened her laptop, and began clicking away furiously.
Sketches, strategy charts, color palettes, and vendor emails-she didn't care.
If it meant avoiding her own thoughts, she would design an entire couture line overnight.
Maya tried distracting her, half-heartedly scrolling through files while peeking at her.
"Iva, are you sure you don't want to just breathe for a bit?" Maya had asked.
"I'm already breathing, Maya. Breathing and working. That's called multitasking," Ivikaa snapped without looking up.
Maya raised her eyebrows, gave up, and joined her in silent work. But it was clear to both of them-Iva wasn't working. She was waging a war with herself.
Later, when her fingers began to ache and her jaw clenched from unspoken words, she impulsively texted Adwait:
"Hope you're enjoying your mysterious vanishing act."
No reply.
Of course not.
In frustration, she slammed her laptop shut and stalked into the kitchen. Maybe coffee would help. Or chocolate. Or a full meal. But when she opened the fridge-it was practically barren.
"Of course. Empty fridge, just like my expectations," she muttered sarcastically and slammed the door shut and her phone buzzed.
A single message.
Adwait: In basement.
Her heart skipped a beat-not because she wasn't expecting it, but because she always felt something as for the first time his name lit up her screen.
Without a word, she grabbed her jacket and made her way swiftly through the silent corridors. Her flip-flops clicked against marble until she reached the elevator, then descended into the dim-lit basement.
There he was.
Leaning casually against his vintage black bike, arms folded, helmet hanging from one hand. His hair was tousled, eyes calm-too calm-and the kind of quiet that didn't demand attention, but always held it.
He looked up. A small smile and dimples.
"I need to get out of here," she said bluntly, voice edged with irritation. "Take me somewhere. I'm too annoyed to stay sane."
Without replying, Adwait handed her a helmet.
She took it and swung onto the bike behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist like it was the most natural thing to do-even though nothing about him ever felt safe.
The engine purred to life, echoing in the basement's stone walls, and then-
They were gone.
Location: Nariman Point - Late Night
The city lights of Mumbai stretched endlessly across the dark sea as waves crashed softly below. Adwait parked the bike just near the edge where the land met the ocean. The sky was a tapestry of indigo and silver, stars scattered like secrets no one had the courage to speak aloud.
Ivikaa hopped off the bike and walked toward the railing, wind blowing her hair wildly. She inhaled the salty air, letting it ground her.
Adwait didn't say anything. He just stood beside her, close enough to feel her anger, but far enough to respect her space.
She finally spoke. "Do you think some people believe they're entitled to your heart just because they share your world?"
He glanced at her. "No. I think some people believe they can buy what they can't earn."
She turned to face him. Her eyes burned, not with tears, but with everything she wouldn't say.
The sea breeze grew stronger at Nariman Point, tousling her hair across her face.
And then-again.
A playful tug.
Ivikaa gasped, turning sharply. "Adwait!"
He stood there with that infuriatingly calm look, her black hairband twirled around his finger before he casually slipped it into the pocket of his hoodie.
Her hair now free, whipped around her cheeks. She sighed and brushed it behind her ear, muttering under her breath, "You're impossible."
Adwait said nothing. Just stared out at the horizon like he hadn't just stolen her hairband-for the second time that day.
Then her voice softened. She wasn't talking to him anymore, not entirely.
"This is only the second time I've stepped out without bodyguards or a caravan of security."
She closed her eyes and leaned gently onto his shoulder. "It feels... fresh."
Her voice barely rose above the ocean's hush.
It had become a quiet ritual now-her head resting on his shoulder, as if that was the only place in the world where the noise stopped.
Moments later, a delivery boy rode up on a scooter and handed a warm container to Adwait.
Iva's eyes flew open. "Wait, what?"
Adwait took it with a small nod and thanked the boy, who zipped away into the city night.
"You always knew," she whispered, smiling now, the kind of smile she never offered the world. Just him.
Adwait didn't say anything. He simply unwrapped the Frankie roll, the scent of spices rising in the wind.
"What is your love language, Adwait?" she asked, watching him curiously, searching his unreadable face.
Still silent, he tore off a bit of the roll.
She raised an eyebrow, teasing him. "Is it... food?"
Adwait looked at her for a second, then extended the Frankie toward her. But instead of taking it in her hand, Iva leaned forward, locking eyes with him, and took a bite straight from where he held it.
The wind tangled her hair again, but her eyes were laughing now.
"Thought so," she whispered, chewing.
After a few more bites, Adwait looked at her with the same calm he always did when the world around her felt like it was burning.
"Ab bataiye aapko kya hua?" he asked gently, his tone shifting-no more sarcasm, just genuine concern buried beneath the surface.
(Now tell me what happened to you?)
She exhaled sharply. "Rudra happened."
She told him everything while resting her head on his shoulder again. Adwait didn't interrupt. Not once. Just listened.
Apparently, being Ivikaa Ambani means I attract emotionally unstable men with god complexes. Cute.
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