2. Thief
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Age :- 27
I’ve officially lost it.
I traveled from Bombay to Rajasthan like some dramatic lover, just to surprise that idiot, my so-called best friend Samarth Rathore, who’s been too busy to breathe my name for years now.
Seriously years
No calls. No texts.
I cursed him under my breath the entire flight.
Watch me show up and ruin his peace now.
Perfect plan.
Coming out of the airport, I found the car my manager had arranged for me.
I threw my bag inside, slid into the seat, and the driver started the car. Towards the home of my traitor best friend.
But of course nothing in my life is that smooth.
The car came to a halt halfway, stuck in ridiculous traffic. I peered outside, annoyed, ready to yell when I saw the reason.
A giant fair.
Some sort of exhibition.
Huge traffic, Crowds everywhere, banners, lights, and paintings hung like jewels on display. I rolled my eyes but… okay… Rajasthan’s first impression? Not bad.
Curiosity won.
I got out of the car, shoving my hands in my pockets, making my way through the buzzing crowd.
People were everywhere pushing, bumping, laughing chaotic energy floating in the air, and my brain already regretted this detour.
But then I saw it.
That painting.
It wasn’t just good it was hypnotic.
A swirl of warm tones, soft shadows, emotions tangled in every brushstroke. A woman’s silhouette drawn in hues of pink and ivory, her eyes holding stories even in paint.
I couldn’t look away.
I stepped closer… and that’s when I saw her.
Back turned to me, giving the painting its final touches.
A pink dress flowing down her knees, shoulder-length hair tied with a delicate little bow, strands flying in the breeze like they had their own mind
Her hands stained with reds, blues, yellowscolors splattered like she poured herself into the canvas
I didn’t blink.
I kept walking toward her, every step locking my gaze onto her, onto the mess of her hair, her steady hands.
And BAM—
Someone from the crowd rammed into my shoulder.
I gritted my teeth, turning to glare at them.
“Sorry, sir!” They squeaked, disappearing before I could kill them with my stare.
Annoyed, I turned back to the girl,Gone.
“What the fuck?” I scanned the area, eyes darting, but she was nowhere. Just another girl standing near the painting now, probably managing the stall.
I walked up, determined.
“How much for this painting?” I asked, still searching the crowd for her.
“It’s already sold,” the girl replied politely, rearranging some display cards.
I frowned. “I want the same one.”
She shook her head, clearly amused. “Sorry, sir. It’s a unique piece. We don’t replicate one-of-a-kind paintings.”
“I don’t care. I want it.”
She smiled like she’d heard this a million times. “It’s sold. No exceptions.”
Fine. Plan B.
“Who made this painting?”
“The artist’s gone,” she answered casually. “She comes and goes. Can’t say when she’ll be back.”
I exhaled through my nose, frustrated. But I wasn’t letting this go.
“How much?” I asked again.
She quoted a price in lakhs. I could buy ten of these stalls if I wanted, but right now I just wanted that one damn painting.
I noted the phone number printed on their board.
The crowd thickened, and the girl managing the stall got pulled into another conversation, some customer demanding prices on another piece.
Perfect.
Without thinking because I clearly lost my last shred of logic I grabbed the painting off the stand and casually slipped away.
Okay… not so casually.
The painting was bigger than I estimated.
I bumped into two people, whispered “Sorry,” almost dropped it on some old man’s foot, then bolted toward the exit, laughing under my breath like some overgrown thief.
“Smooth, Yugant… real mature,” I muttered to myself, gripping the frame, adrenaline buzzing in my veins.
But damn… I got the painting.
But not that girl. I wanted to see her face, just once. But if I got the painting, I’d find the girl too.
Sitting inside my car with the painting beside me, I couldn’t help but smile. Yeah, maybe I technically… stole it. But at least I’m an honest thief.
First thing I did?
Pulled out my phone, opened the payment app, and transferred double the price of the painting to the number I noted from that girl’s stall.
Fair and square… sort of.
The driver glanced in the rearview mirror, probably judging me for carrying a giant canvas like some love-struck idiot, but I didn’t care.
I leaned back, eyes trailing over the painting again every brushstroke, every detail reminding me of her.
Whoever she was…This wasn’t over.
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I reached Samarth’s house Okay. Not house.
A whole damn palace.
The kind of place that makes you realize your best friend might’ve been way richer than you ever gave him credit for.
We’ve been friends since yearspartying, failing assignments, teasing each other to death but Samarth?He never talked about his family.
Never mentioned his background.
Hell, I didn’t even know how many people lived in his house. But he knew everything about me.
The only reason I had his address now was because of his documents.
As my car rolled to a stop outside the mansion, guards stopped me. One of them stopped me, hand raised. “You can’t enter without permission.”
I sighed dramatically, but before I could argue, the guy made a call.A minute later, he waved me in.
The big iron gates creaked open like some royal movie scene, and my car drove inside.
When I got out, my eyes shot straight to the massive front door. It was already open, like they were waiting for me.
Stepping in, I swear my jaw nearly hit the marble floor.
Chandeliers, velvet furnishings, gold accents— Bastard’s a born billionaire. And all this time?
Never told me a damn thing.
My eyes landed on a man sitting casually on the couch, like he owned the place.
Spoiler: he probably did.
I cleared my throat. “Hello, Uncle… I’m Yug—”
“Yugant Raizaada?” he finished before I could.
I blinked.
“Yeah… How do you know me?” I asked, walking toward him, hand out. Thankfully, he shook it strong grip, formal smile.
“Samarth. He’s told me plenty about you,” the man replied easily.
Oh… great.
They know everything about me.
And I know jackshit about them.
“You’re his… father?” I guessed, trying to make sense of it.
“No.” His voice softened just a little. “I’m his uncle. His parents passed away years ago.”
I froze for a second.
Another piece of Samarth’s life I never knew.
Another reminder of how much he kept buried under that casual smile.
Damn it, Rathore… You better have a good reason for disappearing.
“Oh… okay,” I muttered, stuffing my hands in my pockets. I looked around awkwardly, scanning the luxurious hall like Samarth would magically pop out from behind a curtain.
“Where is he, by the way?” I finally asked, keeping my tone casual.
The man—his uncle leaned back slightly, expression unreadable. “He’s not here.” Then, like it was the most normal thing in the world, he added, “And we don’t know where exactly he is right now.”
I blinked.
What the hell kind of family loses track of a whole human? a whole six-foot-tall Rathore with an attitude problem.
The way he said it, so damn casually, like Samarth was a set of car keys they misplaced. I didn’t know what to ask next. The man sitting across from me? Yeah… he looked scarier than half the villains in my business meetings. Calm. Controlled. Dangerous in that quiet, powerful way.
So, of course, I did what I always do when I’m nervous Blurted out the dumbest thing possible.
“So… nice house… chandeliers must be hell to clean, huh?” His expression didn’t even twitch.
God, Yugant, shut up.
After talking to him for barely two or three minutes, I figured out one thing clearly Samarth’s not here.
And hasn’t been… for a long time. Maybe years.
The way his uncle talked, so damn relaxed, I wasn’t sure if they didn’t care where Samarth was… or if they did know but didn’t want me involved.
Either way, my brain was already cooking with questions.
I walked out of that palace—sorry, mansion feeling more confused than when I landed in Rajasthan.
But the one thing I did manage to dig out?
Samarth has a sister.
Yep.
A sister.
In Rajasthan.
Living under that same palace roof.
And me? Being me?
I asked to meet her, obviously.
His uncle’s face? Priceless.
"The girls in our family don't meet strangers," he said stiffly, as if I’d asked to invade some sacred space. "And Samarth wouldn’t like that either."
So, yeah.
That was a hard no.
Couldn’t meet her.
The mystery?
Only getting bigger.
And now… I wanted answers even more
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Age: 29
I opened the door quietly and stepped inside.
The room was still… dark… only the softest sound of breathing filling the air.
My eyes landed on her, Curled up on the bed, small knees tucked into her chest, her hands tightly holding onto a photo frame.
For a moment, My chest… felt heavier than I expected.
She looked so… breakable.
And all this because of whom? Samarth.
I walked closer, slow… careful. My eyes lowered to the frame in her grip.
Slowly. I took the frame from her hand. The second I saw the photo inside.My jaw locked, and my fists curled at my sides on instinct.
Before I even thought, I did the one thing I don't want to do I threw it across the room.
The glass shattered against the floor, sharp, sudden. It echoed in the silence like a warning.
She flinched awake immediately eyes wide, confusion written all over her face. Her gaze darted across the room, landing on me first… then trailing to the broken frame lying in pieces near the door.
Her entire body stiffened.
Before I could even speak, she rushed off the bed, her bare feet hitting the cold floor But she didn’t see the glass shards.
A faint gasp left her lips as the glass sliced into her foot.
“Damn it…” I muttered under my breath, already regretting the stupid outburst.
She stumbled, falling to the floor, but her hands?
Straight to the photo frame.
Ignoring the blood, ignoring the sharp edges, she carefully brushed the broken glass away, grabbing the picture, holding it to her chest like it was her whole world.
It was Samarth picture.
His face staring up from the cracked photograph.
My throat tightened.
I watched as blood stained the floor near her ankle, but her eyes…Her eyes only saw that photo.
She didn’t even flinch at the pain.
Didn’t even care.
All her focus… all her fear…Wrapped up in that damn picture of him.
I exhaled harshly, running a hand through my hair, emotions twisting in a mess I didn’t want to name.
Why is this girl so damn stubborn?
I stride toward her, jaw tight. "Get up. Your foot's bleeding," I said firmly, but she didn’t even react. Like I wasn’t standing right in front of her.
My patience snapped. "I said GET UP!"
She flinched instantly, curling into herself, eyes wide like a scared kitten
Shit.
Regret settled heavy in my chest.
This… this wasn’t how my mother raised me to talk to women. To anyone.
But what the hell am I supposed to do? What’s my fault in any of this? What was my family's fault? My parents… gone. My sister shattered. My grandfather lying in that damn bed like life had already given up on him. My brother lost his damn mind.
All because of Samarth. And he knew he fucking knew I couldn’t touch a woman. I couldn’t break that line. So, what does he do? He sends her. Here. To me.
What a foolish, twisted game.
My teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached. But I bent down anyway, cradling her carefully in my arms. She didn’t fight. Didn’t speak.Not that she’s said a single word in the past one week.
God knows what kind of poison Samarth's fed her.
To keep her this silent. To send her like some… some pawn in this mess between us.
I carried her to the bed, settling her down gently. She stayed quiet, those honey-brown eyes blinking up at me soft, wide, painfully innocent.
"Don’t… just, don’t look at me like that." I muttered under my breath, opening the side drawer and grabbing the first aid kit.
Her gaze stayed fixed on me, making every damn thought in my head tangle and twist.
I reminded myself— She’s here until Samarth shows his face. The day he walks through that door, she’s free. Gone.
She’s his love. His weakness.
Not mine.
But try telling my eyes that. They refused to listen. They traced every little detail of her facethe curve of her lips, the soft flush on her cheeks, the way her tiny mole sat right below the corner of her mouth, like it belonged there just to mess with my sanity.
I exhaled, frustrated at myself.
"Don’t look at me like that," I repeated, pouring antiseptic onto the cotton.
My hands worked mechanically, but my brain? It wasn’t shutting up.
Mocking me.
Reminding me how stupid this is.
Look at you, Yugant.
Big, bad billionaire reduced to babysitting a woman you’re supposed to use as bait. And here you are… scared to even meet her eyes.
All because of that bastard, Samarth. I gritted my teeth, muttering under my breath, “Curse you, you son of a sending her here… knowing I wouldn’t lay a finger on her the wrong way… knowing I’d be stuck in this hell.”
But hell looked way too soft when her eyes found mine again.
And I hated that it made me hesitate.
For a second, all that anger the years of grief, loss, betrayal blurred.
But I reminded myself who she is. What she represents. I pressed the cotton to her wound, harder than I should have.
She hissed, flinching under my grip.
I looked at her face the tear-brimmed honey eyes, the trembling lips—and my gut twisted.
“Shit… sorry…” The words slipped out, low, frustrated.
I clenched my jaw. What the hell are you doing, Yugant? She’s not some innocent here. She’s the reason everything fell apart.
But when I looked up again…She was smiling.
A small, ridiculous, sweet curve of her lips.
Not scared.
Not broken.
Just… smiling.
I leaned in, my eyes narrowing. “Stop smiling,” I snapped, voice dropping dangerously low. “This isn’t a game. You think you can sit there, playing mute, batting those lashes, and I’ll go easy on you?”
She tilted her head, still quiet, still watching me like I was some puzzle she couldn’t figure out.
“You know what I can do?” I added, inching closer. “You’ve heard the stories, haven’t you? How ruthless Yugant Raizaada is? I can lock you in this house for months? No phone, no sunlight, no escape? You’ll forget what the outside world looks like.”
Her smile faded slightly, but her eyes still defiant.
“You’re not scared of me?” I asked, voice laced with disbelief, expecting her to shake her head again.
She didn’t disappoint.
There it was the soft, stubborn shake of her head. God, I wanted to grab those shoulders and What? Hurt her? Terrify her?
No.
Because even now… she looked too damn fragile. And too damn familiar with pain.
I exhaled, breaking eye contact. My hands moved on their own as I grabbed the antiseptic, unscrewing the cap, dabbing more cotton. “You’re lucky,” I muttered, cleaning the cut on her foot more gently this time. “Anyone else in your place… I would’ve broken by now.”
Her foot twitched as I wrapped the bandage around the wound, her soft skin brushing against my fingers. I tried not to look at her, but I could feel her eyes on me the same way you feel heat before fire touches skin.
When I finally spoke again, my voice was rough, heavier than I wanted it to be. “You're bearing all this for Samarth… right?”
Her lashes fluttered. That faint smile returned, like I’d caught onto a secret only she understood. And she nodded.
Suddenly, my hand shot up I grabbed her jaw.
Not tight enough to bruise… but enough to remind her I could.
It’s a different thing altogether… That I can’t actually hurt her.
Even now, as her skin quivered beneath my fingers, my grip faltered softening when it shouldn’t.
“Where is Samarth?” I asked, voice sharp, laced with venom.
She didn’t speak. Of course she didn’t. That infuriating silence of hers like some twisted weapon.
I squeezed her jaw just a little tighter not enough to leave marks… but enough to show her I wasn’t bluffing.
“You know where he is, don’t you?” I repeated, my eyes narrowing, my face inches from hers.
Don’t make me regret this, I warned myself silently. Don’t break your rules for her.
Her eyes shimmered. A tear slipped down her cheek, trailing over my fingers. But then, She nodded.
My jaw clenched. The dangerous smile that stretched across my face… it wasn’t kind. It wasn’t soft.
“Good,” I whispered darkly, releasing her with a small shove that sent her slightly back onto the bed.
“Because now,” I added, straightening my spine, towering over her trembling frame, “nobody… and I mean nobody… can stop me from dragging him here.”
I leaned in, voice dropping to a razor’s edge, “And when I do… I’ll make him pay for every drop of blood, every funeral, every sleepless fucking night.”
She exhaled shakily, her shoulders curling in, but the defiance in her eyes never disappeared.
Her tears kept falling—slow, silent… As if remembering something… something worse than even me.
But I didn’t care.
For the first time in years, I had a way to reach him. And I’d use her, her stubborn silence, her haunted eyes— All of it.
Until Samarth Rathore comes crawling back to face me.
°°°
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