Chapter 30Dancing Through the Darkness
Rudra Agnivanshi was stunned.
Not the kind of stunned where you're momentarily caught off-guard. No-this was bone deep, jaw clenched, chest-tightened disbelief. He sat in his room, the rain still thudding softly against the glass, and played Iva's words again in his mind like a broken reel.
"I went to a café for a coffee."
A lie. A clean, surgical, blade-sharp lie. Told with poise. With control. With intent.
He was sure damn sure his men had done the job right.
Kidnap her, scare her, keep her tied up in the warehouse till early morning.
Just enough time for him to arrive like a knight in bloodstained armor, to "rescue" her from the very hell he built.
She'd fall apart in his arms. Vulnerable.
Shattered. Grateful. Her family would soften, perhaps even offer more power, more trust, more doors.
It was supposed to be a calculated stunt. A show of power wrapped in a savior's cloak.
But within two and a half hours she was back.
Maya.
How the hell did Maya find her?
Rudra clenched his fists, pacing. He'd made sure Iva was stripped of all digital devices. Her smartwatch. Her phone. Even her emergency tracker gone. She was untraceable.
No one but he knew where she was.
So how?
More than anger, it was panic crawling under his skin now. This wasn't just a failed plan. It was a humiliation. A security glitch at Agnivanshi scale and a failure in front of the very family he wanted to own.
And more disturbing than anything Iva lied.
To her father. To her brothers. To her family. To everyone.
Why?
Abhay Agnivanshi was spiraling. The empire was already on shaky ground after recent security issues, and now this a missing Ambani daughter, even for a few hours was enough to light a wildfire in global circles.
The Ambanis could go nuclear, and if they did, they'd scorch every inch of Agnivanshi ground.
He dialed one contact after another, controlling the damage, his voice level but mind ticking like a countdown clock.
Viren Ambani, however, wasn't buying the café story. Not with Iva's bruises. Not with the way she walked in, distant, too controlled.
He called Maya aside. "Which café did she go to?"
Maya hesitated. Her mind screamed to speak the truth. But instead, her voice came out smooth, quiet, and prepared. "She ordered vadapav and chai from Cafe Viraha. She might've decided to go there instead of coming straight home."
"Contact the owner."
She dialed. Ring. Ring.
"Hello?" Jatin's voice came on.
"Did a girl named Ivikaa Ambani visit your café?"
"Yes, sir. She loved our vadapav. Even ordered two."
The relief in Viren's body was visible, but his eyes still flickered with doubt. Why did it take three hours? Why the security gap?
Virya and Vayu cross-checked the details. The story lined up. Even Jatin, unknowingly covering for Iva, confirmed it again.
The system sighed in collective relief.
But Maya... Maya knew.
Her mind played it like a chessboard.
Rudra was with Iva when she left.
He sent both their securities away, citing the rain.
He stopped the car for a call just before she vanished.
Then acted shocked.
And now Iva was lying? Why?
Maya's stomach churned with dread and rage.
She quietly opened her secure channel, typed a message, and transferred more funds to RED - the underground network that helped her track Iva the first time. This wasn't over.
Next time, he should probably kidnap someone who doesn't have a Maya.
When Iva entered her room and locked it, she found Adwait sitting on her bed, like he'd been waiting for her since time itself paused. The moment his eyes caught her broken state, he stood up instinctively, but she ran into his arms before he could say a word.
"Adwait..." she whispered, barely audible, as if his name was the last thread holding her together. Her body trembled violently, and all the walls she had built around herself collapsed the second she touched him.
He wrapped her in his arms like he was putting her back together, like one more second without holding her would undo him too.
"Adwait... they did this to me..." she sobbed like a child, her voice cracking with every word. The woman who dominated boardrooms and terrified empires was now just a frightened girl raw, real, and shattered.
He lifted her gently in bridal style, and she clung to his neck, her face buried in him, trying to disappear into his warmth. Every tremble she gave, he absorbed like it was his own pain.
He sat her on the bathroom slab and examined every bruise not just with his eyes, but with the silent fury burning inside him.
"Ivikaa..." he whispered.
"Adwait," she whispered again, as if his name could rewind time and unwrite the pain.
"I could have died," she choked, and his heart cracked.
"Na meri jaan," he said, kissing her forehead as he pulled her closer, as if trying to fuse her soul back together.
"Shower?" Adwait asked gently, his voice barely a whisper against the silence thickening around them. She didn't answer but her face still buried in the crook of his neck, unmoving, breathing slow and broken.
Without another word, he carried her in his arms, like something too sacred to be touched by the world. He stepped into the bathroom, placed her gently on the marble floor under the rainfall shower, and turned on the tap.
The water started falling warm and soft, like a lullaby in droplets but she remained still, fragile like glass, eyes shut, her arms still loosely wrapped around his neck.
He turned, about to give her space she needed privacy, autonomy, control but her fingers curled into his shirt with a silent urgency. Her grip tightened.
She didn't need words.
She needed presence.
So, he stepped back under the cascade with her, letting the water soak them both. His clothes clung to his body, his jaw clenched, but his eyes were only on her - like he could hold her broken pieces together just by watching over her.
"Ivikaa..." he called softly, almost like a prayer.
Her only response was to nestle her head into the space between his shoulder and chest. Her silence screamed, and he listened.
With quiet reverence, he began to caress her forearms slow, rhythmic strokes like he was wiping away the trauma inch by inch.
From her bruised hands to her palms, up to her shoulders, where tension and terror still lingered like ghosts.
He brushed damp strands away from her face, and her eyes finally met his.
Red. Raw. Wordless.
When he saw the faint cut on the corner of her lips, his thumb traced over it - gentle, trembling. Then he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in like he could absorb every fragment of her pain.
"He... he injected the syringe here," she whispered, guiding his hand to her right thigh. Her voice quivered like it was made of glass.
He crouched slightly and rested his palm over the spot, then stroked it gently, reverently. "Main saare dard dur kar dunga," he murmured not as a line, but a promise etched into the air around them.
"Promise?" she asked, her voice broken, like a child who desperately wanted to believe.
"Haan, meri jaan," he said, with so much conviction that even the water around them seemed to pause for a heartbeat. His words seeped into her like warmth into cold skin, and this time, his touch was not just comforting but it was also healing.
[yes, my life]
"Meri baat sunegi?" he asked, his tone laced with patience. She nodded without lifting her head. "Change kar legi?" he whispered, and again, a soft nod.
["Will you listen to me?" he asked, his tone laced with patience. She nodded without lifting her head. "Will you change?" he whispered. Again, a soft nod.]
He gently handed her the bathrobe, eyes lingering on her face to make sure she was steady. Before leaving, he turned to her once more, pausing at the door.
"I'm just outside, Ivikaa. Always."
Once the door shut with a click, he exhaled - finally. His face, soaked not just from water but emotion, tilted up as he leaned against the wall for a moment to gather himself.
He called Martin.
"Bring me a fresh pair," he said, voice low.
Martin arrived swiftly, understanding the gravity without needing a single detail. He handed Adwait the clothes. Adwait murmured something inaudible, and Martin nodded, disappearing like a shadow.
When Iva stepped out in the bathrobe, still damp, her hair trailing rivulets down her back, Adwait moved toward her instantly. Her eyes were red, heavy, pleading needed no translation.
He scooped her into his arms, and she leaned in instinctively, finding refuge there.
She thought he'd place her back on the bed. Instead, he walked toward the west wing, through the hallway, into the private lift, and arrived at his own room. A different space. A safer one.
Martin had already set the essentials. Maria appeared briefly, handed over a small bag, and vanished without a word like the entire house had aligned itself to Adwait's silent command.
He set her gently on his bed, walked to the wardrobe, pulled out his softest tee and shorts for her, and passed her the bag. Then, he disappeared into the washroom and washed his face. Again. And again.
It was the only thing keeping his rage from bleeding out. But her pain was more important than his storm.
When he emerged, she was seated quietly on his bed, in his clothes. Her arms tucked around her knees, eyes still lost somewhere distant.
He didn't say anything. Just walked over, picked up the food plate, and sat beside her.
He offered her a spoonful of warm khichdi.
"Mujhe nahi khana," she said, turning her face.
["I don't want to eat," she said, turning her face away.]
"Thoda sa bas," he coaxed, but she didn't budge. "Meri jaan... bas thoda sa."
["Just a little," he coaxed gently, but she didn't budge. "My life... just a little," he whispered.]
That broke her resistance.
She opened her mouth, chewed slowly, the taste unfamiliar, like everything around her. She scrunched her face.
"I know," he smiled faintly. "Martin sucks at cooking."
No laugh. Not yet.
She ate a few more bites and then shook her head.
He didn't insist. He placed the plate aside and brought water to her lips. She drank, like a chore.
Then he adjusted the thermostat, dimmed the lights, and crawled into bed behind her. He pulled her into his lap and wrapped both of them in the blanket.
His fingers threaded into her hair, massaging her scalp softly. She leaned into his chest, letting her face find shelter in him.
"Adwait ko nahi batayegi?" he teased gently, trying to lighten her mood.
["You won't tell Adwait?" he teased gently, trying to lighten her mood.]
Her tears answered for her.
"Adwait..." she whispered.
"Haan meri jaan," he said and kissed her forehead - a kiss that told her she was safe to fall apart.
[Yes, My life]
"I was working late... till the very end of the night," she began, voice trembling, tears threatening to spill. Then the words caught in her throat. With a soft sob, she gathered herself and pressed on. "Then Rudra came with an urgent problem..."
Adwait's thumb gently brushed away the fresh tears sliding down her cheek. She barely noticed the tender gesture, lost in the memory.
"It was raining hard. He told the security to leave, water was flooding everywhere." He kissed the top of her head, grounding her.
"We were coming home when he suddenly took a call and stepped out of the car. That's when someone grabbed me." Her voice cracked. "I fought - Adwait, I fought back. You know I'm trained in Karate. But they came in numbers... more than I could handle. They hit me until I lost consciousness."
Her nose rubbed softly against his t-shirt, seeking warmth.
"They took everything my phone, my watch and all my devices. So no one could track me. I was invisible to the world." She shivered against him.
"When I woke up, I was tied to a chair. They didn't hurt me beyond that, nor did they make any demands. They just said they were waiting for a call... and then left the room." She lifted her hands slowly, showing the faint red marks on her wrists.
Adwait's fingers traced the bruises, his lips pressed gentle kisses along the scars as if healing with touch alone.
"They were trained... but not professionals," she whispered. "Then Maya came, with my personal security team. They... killed kidnapers. Maya saved my life, Adwait."
Her body trembled with fresh sobs, and he wiped her tears again - his palms steady, patient, refusing to let her fall apart alone.
"What if Maya hadn't come?" she asked, voice barely audible, laden with fear. "What if I had died? What if I never saw Virya, or Vayu, or Papa again? Or you, Adwait?"
The terror in her eyes wasn't about death. It was about losing her world - the people who gave her life meaning.
"Nothing will happen to you, Ivikaa," he vowed, voice low and fierce.
"I was so scared," she confessed, her breath catching. "It was hard to breathe. I've been kidnapped before and I still carry that nightmare inside me. It never really leaves."
Adwait cupped her face, pressing gentle kisses over her closed eyelids. First the left, then the right as if imprinting his presence deep inside her.
"I'm here, always," he whispered, his voice a balm, a shield. "You are stronger than you think, Ivikaa. They used your greatest fear against you but this is your weakest point only because you let it be. You rule the world now it's time to rule your fear too."
"But I can't, Adwait," she admitted, the vulnerability raw. "It's buried deep... someone shattered my biggest weakness."
"Then show them you won't break," he said, voice steady and fierce. "I'm with you, Ivikaa. You're not alone anymore. Sab theek ho jaayega, bas thoda sa waqt aur chahiye. Aap bas thak gaye ho thoda sa sukoon le lete hai."
["Then show them you won't break," he said, voice steady and fierce."I'm with you, Ivikaa. You're not alone anymore. Everything will be okay - just a little more time. You're just tired... let's find a little peace."]
She lay in his arms, drained but slightly more at peace. And then he pulled away gently, got up from the bed.
Iva frowned. "What are you doing?"
He didn't answer. He just picked up the remote and played a song on the speaker.
The room filled with the classic melody of "Abhi Na Jao Chhod Kar". She blinked.
He turned, offered her his hand with a small smile. "Dance?"
She didn't move.
He didn't stop. Walked to her slowly and softly pulled her into his arms. One hand on her waist, one in hers.
"Raat ke sukoon mein sirf khamoshi nahi hoti," he murmured in her ear, "kabhi kabhi dard bhi chupke se saath so jaata hai... Aaj aap Adwait ke sath soyegi, dard ke sath nahi."
["In the calm of the night, there isn't just silence," he murmured in her ear."Sometimes... pain quietly slips in and falls asleep beside you. But tonight, you'll sleep with Adwait by your side - not your pain."]
And then he started swaying.
The music wrapped around them like a lullaby:
He dipped her lightly, their eyes locking, the world shrinking to just them.
Iva closed her eyes, letting the melody and Adwait's presence wash over her.
Their fingers interlaced as he pulled her hand up, slid his palm behind her back and dipped her softly like she might fly away.
She looked up at him, dazed.
He smiled. "You're not broken, Ivikaa. Just a little bruised. And bruises... fade."
Her tears paused.
He pressed her palm against his heart. "Yeh jagah sirf aapki hai. Yahaan tak kisi ka dard nahi aata."
The song neared its end.
Adwait slowed their steps, held her tightly.
And for the first time since she was pulled into that nightmare, Iva smiled - faint, flickering, but real.
With that dance, Adwait pulled her into his world - a world where her pain faded and only the music and his arms existed. For those few minutes, everything else was forgotten.
When the last note faded, he leaned close and whispered with a playful smile, "Don't tell Devaki chachi I danced with you on this song."
Iva raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching with curiosity. "Why?"
Adwait grinned. "It's mine and her ritual."
The memory flashed in Iva's mind, Devaki chachi telling her how this song was Adwait's favorite, how he always danced with her whenever they were alone. And now, Adwait had made her forget her pain and, in a quiet way, shared a part of his world with her.
"But now you shared this dance with me," she smirked, the faintest spark of mischief returning to her eyes.
For a moment, Adwait felt a deep relief seeing her back to herself, even if just a little. He pulled her closer, his hands steady around her waist.
Iva's gaze locked with his, her heart pounding in sync with his. Slowly, she leaned in, her lips brushing near his.
"Ivikaa," he breathed.
"I want to, Adwait..." she whispered back, her voice trembling with a mix of longing and hesitation.
He gently stepped back, a shadow of concern in his eyes.
"You just want to forget an incident, Ivikaa. This should be special for you. You don't deserve this when you're in pain. You won't feel the kiss the way you should."
She paused, understanding his words, and quietly pulled away. Turning to leave, her heart heavy, she felt his arms wrap around her from behind, pulling her close.
His forehead rested gently on her shoulder. Slowly, he lifted her hand, pressing her palm to his lips, then placed it softly on his cheek. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart against her skin.
A small, warm smile curved her lips. She turned to face him, kissed his cheek tenderly, and then wrapped her arms around him.
"You're right," she murmured.
Adwait guided her gently to the bed, settling her in his arms like a precious treasure. Her breathing slowed, her body relaxing into his steady warmth as sleep claimed her, safe and protected.
Because nothing says 'I've got your back' like making you dance when you want to crawl into a corner.
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