6. Chasing
I
was in my office, leaning back in my chair, my eyes scanning the sketches laid out before me. Lines, shapes, curves-meant to be elegant, but they looked lifeless. Ishaan stood beside me, straight-backed, as if afraid to breathe too loudly.
I picked up one of the sheets, my fingers tightening around it. "Are these the designs?" I asked, my voice sharp. He nodded hesitantly.
With a sudden wave of irritation, I slammed the drawings down on the table. "Is this how we're going to work? Is this your idea of creativity?" My tone cut through the silence.
Ishaan shifted uncomfortably. "Sir, the base designs follow the latest trend. We thought-"
"Trends are for followers," I interrupted, my eyes narrowing. "We don't follow; we set them. I want jewellery people talk about for decades, not pieces that get lost in shop windows."
He swallowed. "We can rework them, sir. Add more intricate detailing, maybe use a heavier gold base-"
My gaze drifted, on my laptop screen split into different camera feeds. Live footage of the mansion. My eyes scanned every frame out of habit. The entrance hall. The gardens. The west corridor.
No sign of her.
I forced myself back into the conversation. "Fine. Get the senior designers to meet me tomorrow. I want to see something worth selling."
"Yes, sir," Ishaan replied, gathering the sketches quickly.
As he spoke, my eyes slid again to the laptop. Still no sight of her. Morning had passed, and I hadn't seen Dhwani once. Usually, even if she tried to avoid me, she'd be caught in one frame or another-walking to the library, sitting in the garden, pacing in the gallery. Today, nothing.
A faint unease stirred in my chest, growing heavier with each second. I leaned back in my chair, staring at the cameras.
"You won't find her if you keep staring at the screen, sir." Ishaan's voice broke through my thoughts-calm, steady, but with that sharp edge he used when he thought I was wasting my time.
My gaze flicked to him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," he said, standing straight with his arms folded, "if you want to see her, go and check at home. These designs were approved by you days ago, and now you're rejecting them. I suggest you go, meet that girl, and come back. I'm sure you'll pass the designs then."
A smirk tugged at my lips. "Aren't you a little too sure about that?"
"I'm sure," he replied, not blinking. "And I don't waste time being sure without reason."
I sat forward, narrowing my eyes. "You sound more confident than me in my own matters."
"That's because I deal with facts, sir," he said flatly, pushing the designs towards me again. "Right now, the fact is-these designs are fine. What's not fine is your head being somewhere else."
I let out a short, sharp laugh. "You've grown too bold, haven't you?"
"Someone has to say it," he replied, unfazed.
"You know one day I'll beat the living hell out of you, right?" I muttered, cursing under my breath.
"You can curse me later," Ishaan said, straight-faced.
"Or hit me later. Whichever suits you. But right now, you either drive home or keep wasting time here throwing designs around.
Because you think too much for someone who claims he doesn't care," he countered smoothly.
"Tell me, is she there just for revenge, or. .. is there something else?"
I shot him a glare sharp enough to slice paper. "Watch your mouth."
"I'm watching. Just not my mouth." I wanted to punch him... or smash his head against the table, but the bastard was right. He knows me better than I know myself. Fine. Enough of this.
I snatched my overcoat off the back of my chair, grabbed my keys, and walked out. This girl... she was tearing my mind apart. I didn't know what the hell I was doing, but one thing was sure, she was driving me straight into madness.
The drive back to the mansion was a blur. My first step inside, I went straight to her room.
Empty.
I scanned every corner, bed, balcony, bathroom, as if she could somehow be hiding in there. Nothing. My chest tightened. I stormed out, checking the library, garden, every damn hallway. No sign. The air felt colder, heavier.
"Where the hell is she?" I muttered, already pulling my phone out. Within seconds, I had the guards assembled in the main hall.
I opened the CCTV footage of some previous hours. Last, I saw her striding up the staircase, after breakfast, heading toward the corridor that led to her room. And then... nothing. The camera coverage ended there. No camera in the corridor or her room. Now I'm regretting that.
In that same corridor... was my room. I checked there too. Empty.
I ordered the guards to find her. Half an hour later, all the guards were back. Standing in front of me. Empty-handed.
"Where. Is. She?" My voice was low, but every word was edged with steel. No one answered. My patience snapped. "I asked a question!" I roared, the sound bouncing off the marble walls.
One guard, shifting on his feet, spoke up. "Sir... maybe she ran away."
For a second, my vision went red. My eyes burned. "Ran away?" The words hissed out. She can't even walk straight without stumbling. How the hell would she run away?
The thought dug deep into me. But what if she actually ran away? She is connected to Samarth, and she can do that. Maybe, since starting she was just playing innocent, to find this opportunity to run away and today she might use the backup door to flee from here.
I took a step forward, my voice turning into a lethal command. "Shut down every exit. I want every station, every bus stand, every road leading out of the city under watch. Seal the borders if you have to. And find her. I don't care what it takes."
The guards scrambled out, the echo of my orders still ringing in the hall. She can't run away, even if she wants to. Yugant Raizaada isn't that easy to cross.
As commanded, my guards went to seize everything-especially the routes leading to Rajasthan. That's the only place she could possibly think of going. And if she ever tried to run... it would be there.
I don't want that.
If this happens... what the hell would I say to him?
No. No. No!
.
.
.
Hours passed. My guards were everywhere, tearing the city apart. I'd called every damn contact, burned every source, even dragged the cops into this. I went myself too-checking streets, alleys, corners.
I hate to admit it, but I was looking for her like a stray dog desperate for food. Pathetic.
And still-nothing.
By the time I came back to the mansion, I felt... hollow. Dropped onto the couch, head in my hands, temples throbbing. Ishaan was still out there trying to find her.
I pushed myself upstairs, each step heavier than the last. Overcoat on the bed. Shirt somewhere. Watch-off. I didn't care where it landed.
My head was about to explode. This was a straight loss. She'd won without even playing-running away, slapping me without touching me.
I walked into the closet, just to grab my night clothes-And froze.
What the-?
No, wait. No, no, no, no. I rubbed my eyes.
Is she there? Curled up behind my clothes.
Sleeping?
Is that-? Is that Dhwani? Is that actually her? Am I imagining her? Am I so desperate I'm now hallucinating her in my own damn closet? I pinched my arm hard. "Ow-shit!" Okay, nope, not a dream. She's here. She's really here.
She didn't run away.
Wait, why is she sleeping like this? Is she unconscious? Oh god, kahin marr toh nahi gayi?
I crouched, staring at her. She looked like a kid hiding from the world eyes closed, lips parted, breathing-wait, is she breathing? Is she? I can't tell from here.
I didn't even realize I'd already picked her up. She was too light. Way too light. My hands felt clammy. I laid her on the bed, my chest tight.
"Dhwani... hey... Dhwani, open your eyes..." My voice wasn't calm-it cracked halfway through.
I touched her cheeks, and God she was burning. Burning like someone had lit a fire under her skin.
Panic surged through me. My fingers itched, my mind scrambled, and before I knew it, I had my phone in my hand, dialing the doctor's number like my life depended on it.
I don't want to admit it, but my heart was thudding-hard, like it wanted to jump out of my chest and run away. If something happened to her, Samarth wouldn't just strip me alive-he'd bury me in pieces.
By the time the doctor came, I'd paced the length of my room at least fifty times. He checked her properly, his face serious, then pulled out a syringe and injected her.
Ohh NO! I closed my eyes.
"She's got a high fever-103 degrees," Doctor said, jotting something down in his pad.
"Looks like something triggered her or she's been dehydrated, exhausted-her body's run down.
Keep her warm, give her the prescribed medicine on time, and make sure she drinks plenty of fluids.
She'll be fine if you take proper care for the next 48 hours. "
48 hours.
Two days.
Two days of keeping her alive and breathing. Two days of making sure she didn't slip away while I watched. I wasn't ready for this kind of responsibility but hell, I didn't have a choice.
I nodded, and as the doctor went out, I grabbed a fever patch and pressed it gently against her forehead. My gaze stayed glued to her face whole red, cheeks puffed up like she'd stolen the color of a ripe tomato, lips slightly parted as she breathed in small, uneven gasps. So... innocent.
My chain of thought shattered when my phone rang again. Ishaan.
Fuck. I hadn't told him I'd found her. I swiped the screen and put it to my ear.
"Yes, Ishaan. Come back to the mansion, I found her already." I ended the call before he could speak another word. I wasn't in the mood for his questions or lectures. My focus was here, on her.
I settled in beside her, sitting comfortably, one leg folded under me.
What is she?
There was nothing grand about her, no diamonds, no flashy beauty but still, I couldn't tear my eyes away.
She had that raw, untouched kind of charm.
.. the kind that doesn't ask to be noticed, yet owns the space it exists in.
Even in this state, with messy hair and a burning fever, she looked.
.. delicate. Like she didn't belong to this ugly, ruthless world.
Her lashes were long, trembling slightly with every breath, her skin pale under the flush of fever, and for a moment just one stupid moment-I wondered what she would look like smiling, without all that guardedness in her eyes.
And that thought alone was dangerous.
Because Yugant Raizaada doesn't sit and admire anyone. Yet here I am.
I wanted to stay away from her... but all I did was take another step closer. Like a fool..Whatever happened earlier kept replaying in my head. How the hell did she even end up in my closet?
My eyes drifted to her wrist. Red imprints.
A sharp pang went through me. Morning. It must've been from this morning... when I shouted at her.
I'd gone too far. Way too far.
She's so sweet... and she was just innocently painting.
Yes, my mind sneered, innocently painting your face.
I almost snorted, but it didn't change the truth. It was still my fault. I'd overreacted.
I kept looking at her-her face, her features. I hadn't noticed it before, but... she's beautiful. Not the kind of beauty that shouts for attention... the quiet kind that sneaks up on you when you're not looking. Somewhere between staring and thinking, I drifted off to sleep.
.
.
.
Something soft nudged against me, pushing me back. Half-asleep, I grabbed it and pulled it closer, burying my face into it. Must be a pillow. Warm, oddly comforting... and My eyes shot open when I felt a heartbeat.
That's when I realized, I wasn't lying on a pillow. I was lying on her.
Not exactly on top of her, but close enough that my face was pressed against... well... her small breast.
What the hell was I even doing?
I looked at her face-full angry, brows furrowed so tight I was half convinced she could kill me with that look alone.
"Good morning..." I tried, my hand instinctively reaching for her forehead to check her fever. It hadn't gone completely, but it was lighter now.
She slapped my hand away with full force and then, with surprising strength for someone recovering from a fever, tried pushing me back too.
Ohh... so now I get to witness the angry bird version of My Cute Mute Ghost? My lips curved into a slow, amused smile.
"Dhwani...relax, I'm not-" Another shove. She didn't even look at me.
"Okay... ignoring me now? That's mature," I muttered, leaning slightly closer.
Push.
"Dhwani, I'm talking to you-"
Push.
I almost laughed. She was like a stubborn little cat who'd decided I was the enemy, batting me away every time I came near. And yet... the more she pushed, the more I wanted to stay right there.
"How did you even reach my closet?" I asked, watching her carefully.
Her eyes flicked to mine for a split second... then darted away, scanning the room like she'd rather stare at the walls than answer me.
I didn't like that. Not the silence, not the way she was shutting me out. It's not like I'm used to hearing her voice-hell, I've never heard it-but the little things she does to keep me engaged... those, I've gotten used to. And right now? She was doing none of them.
"Are you angry because of what I did yesterday?" I tried again. Still nothing.
My jaw clenched. I reached forward, fingers gripping her chin, forcing her to face me. "I'm asking you something," I pressed, my voice a notch lower.
Her eyes flashed, and in the next second, she shoved me back-hard. The moment I gave her the smallest gap, she was on her feet, darting away before I could even react.
I sat there, stunned. Did I... scare her again?
The moment she bolted, I shot up after her. "Hey-wait!"
Apparently, she had no intention of waiting. By the time I reached her door, it slammed right in my face.
The sound echoed in the corridor. I just stood there, staring at the polished wood like it had personally insulted me. Great. Now I looked like a lost puppy whose owner had just abandoned him at the park.
A very tall, very good-looking, definitely masculine puppy mind you but still.
I knocked once. Twice. No answer.
Fine.
I turned back to get ready myself. After some time, I was already at the dining table, waiting for her. But she didn't come.
"Where is Dhwani? Call her for breakfast," I told one of the maids.
"Sir... actually, she's in the kitchen-"
My ears went numb. Kitchen? No. Not again. I can't survive another blast scene in my own house.
I shot up from my chair and ran towards the kitchen, my heart drumming against my ribs. And there she was... standing with a knife in her hand, staring at it like she was about to murder someone. Possibly with me as the main victim.
I can't risk my kitchen again, and stepped inside quickly. "Leave that knife," I said, pulling her back by the arm.
But she jerked away and grabbed an onion instead.
She positioned the knife like she'd been cooking her whole life, and before I could stop her-
The blade slipped. A sharp gasp.
Blood welled instantly from her finger.
"Shh..." she hissed in pain.
"Dhwanii..." My voice came out tight as I took her hand in mine. The cut was deep, blood dripping down her skin.
"I told you not to do that! Why didn't you listen? Why are you so stubborn?" It wasn't until the words echoed off the walls that I realized how harsh I'd sounded.
I grabbed the first-aid box, pulled out the Dettol, and started cleaning her wound. She flinched and hissed, her small winces stabbing right through me.
When I finished the bandage, my eyes drifted to her face- And my chest clenched. Pearl-like tears streamed freely down her cheeks.
"Dhwani..." I reached to hold her face, but she shoved my hand away and wiped her tears, sobbing quietly.
Shit. I shouted at her again.
She turned to walk away again, but I caught her, pulling her into my arms. The moment my hand touched her forehead, I froze, she was burning up.
Fever. Again.
She squirmed, even punched my chest in a weak attempt to break free, but I didn't loosen my hold. Without another word, I carried her straight to the dining table.
I set her down on the chair, but she shot right back up as if the seat was on fire.
"Dhwani, sit down and have your breakfast. You have to take the medicine." My voice was soft this time, careful because the last thing I wanted was to scare her again. But she just stood there, stubborn as ever.
I sighed, caught her wrist, and tugged her back onto my lap. My arm wrapped around her waist, holding her firmly in place as she wriggled.
"Enough now," I murmured, tightening my grip. "You're having breakfast, that's it."
I scooped up a spoonful of poha and held it out to her. She didn't even look at it, just kept crying, fat drops rolling down her cheeks, breaking me a little more each second.
"I'm sorry... for shouting at you," I said quietly. "I didn't mean it. If you want, you can... paint my face again, the way you did last time. I'll even sit still for you. Just... Please, stop crying."
I don't know where those words came from. Apologizing wasn't something I'd planned, but lately, she's been turning my mind into a damn storm.
She blinked at me through her tears, like she couldn't quite believe I was saying this.
"I'm sorry," I repeated, softer this time. "Please eat this. You've got a high fever, and you need to take your medicine. I'm not... I'm not good at taking care of people, Dhwani. But I'm trying. Please eat... for me."
Her lips trembled, but still, she didn't move. I took a deep breath and played my last card. "Do it for Samarth."
Her lips parted almost instantly, and she accepted the bite. I was shocked at first when I realized she only ate because I took his name.
Does she love Samarth so much that his name alone has the power to make her do what she's been refusing for so long? What is it about him that she thinks of him this much? She's even willing to stay here, caged, just for him.
Who is he to her? Why is he so important?
The questions kept looping in my head. But the answers? Nowhere.
°°°
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