I woke up at 5, the world still wrapped in silence. My bacha was asleep on me, her face calm, peaceful, as if nothing could disturb her. I carefully turned her, placed a pillow where I had been, and pressed a soft kiss on her forehead before leaving for the gym.

As I lowered myself into push‑ups, my mind refused to stay focused. Every thought drifted back to her — the way she looked so small in my arms last night, the way her blush painted her cheeks when I kissed her.

I smirked to myself, realizing how much she had changed me. "They call me emotionless," I thought, "but if they saw me now, they'd know the truth. She's the only one who makes me feel alive. Every move, every breath, every heartbeat... it's for her."

I walked back into the room, expecting to see my bacha waiting for me. But she wasn't there. My chest tightened instantly. I rushed downstairs, and before I could even ask, Maa dropped a bomb.

"Reyansh, Aroohi ko uske ghar chhod aana abhi."

Her words hit me like a strike. I froze, then shouted without meaning to:
"No! Kyun?"

Maa's calm reply only made my anger rise.
"Arey... paghphera rasam ke liye."

I clenched my fists, my voice trembling with frustration.
"Is it necessary to drop her home? Shaadi ko ek din bhi nahi hua... aur abhi apni biwi de doon?"

The thought of letting her go, even for a ritual, burned inside me. Just yesterday I had claimed her in front of everyone, held her in my arms, kissed her forehead, promised to protect her from the world. And now Maa wanted me to hand her back, even if only for a day.

Before I could argue further, Chachi joined in, her tone calm but firm:
"Ek din ki baat hai, Reyansh. Aur humne Aroohi se toh pucha bhi nahi hai ki vo ek din rukegi ya zyada. Tumhari hi biwi hai... thode din ki baat hai bas."

Inside, my thoughts burned: "Shaadi ko ek din bhi nahi hua... aur abhi apni biwi de doon? Kaise? She is mine. My world. My peace. How can I let her go, even for one night?"

Everyone gathered in the hall and Karan ask question:
"Kya hua Maa, aap chilla kyun rahi ho?"

Chachi smirked, teasing me in front of all:
"Kya hai na... Reyansh apni rooh ke bina reh nahi sakte. Aur inhe pata chala ki Aroohi abhi apne ghar jaa rahi hai."

The whole family burst into laughter. I clenched my jaw, but stayed silent. They thought it was funny — my desperation, my possessiveness. But they didn't understand. She wasn't just my wife. She was my soul.

We all ate breakfast together, the chatter light, but my mind heavy. As soon as Aroohi went upstairs to her room, I followed.

The moment I entered, I didn't let her move. I pinned her gently against the wall, my arms caging her in. Her eyes widened, surprised, but I leaned closer, my voice low, filled with frustration and longing:

"Sabko lagta hai main apni rooh ke bina reh nahi sakta... aur vo sahi hai. Tum meri ho, jaan. Ek din ke liye bhi tumhe chhodna... mujhe bardasht nahi hota."

Her hands pressed lightly against my chest, her blush rising again. I pulled her closer, my forehead brushing hers, making sure she knew — no laughter, no ritual, no tradition could change the truth.

She looked at me, her back still against the wall, her voice soft but steady:
"Bas thode time ki baat hai, Ansh. Shaam ko vaapis aa jana... ok?"

Her words pierced me. Just thode time — but for me, even a few hours felt like an eternity. My grip on her arms loosened, but I didn't move away. I searched her eyes, desperate to find reassurance.

Inside, my thoughts screamed: "Shaadi ko ek din bhi nahi hua... aur abhi mujhe tumse door rehna padega? Kaise bardasht karu main? Tum meri ho, meri rooh ho. Ek pal ke liye bhi tumhe chhodna... mujhe tod deta hai."

I leaned closer, my forehead brushing hers, my voice low and trembling with both frustration and love:
"Thik hai... jao. Lekin yaad rakhna, tum meri ho. Aur shaam ko... tumhe main khud wapas lekar aaunga."

Her blush deepened, her eyes softening as if she understood the storm inside me. For her, it was just a ritual. For me, it was a test — of patience, of love, of possession.

We stepped outside, the family gathered to say their goodbyes. Aroohi smiled, waving softly, her voice sweet as she said, "Bye, everyone."

We sat in the car, the silence wrapping around us. I turned to look at her — my jaan. She was glowing, her face lit with happiness.

I asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer:
"You are happy?"

She nodded, her smile widening.
"Yes, I am. You know... I really miss them."

Her words struck me. Inside, my thoughts burned: "Stop the car. Hold her in my arms. Don't let her go. She is mine."

But then another voice whispered: "If she wants to meet them... if she is happy... then I will do it. Her smile matters more than my possessiveness."

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, my heart heavy yet calm. For her, I would endure even this distance.

We reached her house, the car slowing to a stop. She turned to me, her eyes hopeful.
"Come inside?" she asked softly.

I shook my head, my voice firm but heavy.
"Nahi... tum jao. Main office ja raha hoon."

Her brows furrowed, confusion in her tone.
"Par tumne toh off le rakha hai... toh office kyun ja rahe ho?"

I held her hand tightly, my thumb brushing against her skin.
"Vo tumhare liye liya tha. Par ab tum hogi hi nahi... toh main kya karunga?"

We stepped out of the car. I pulled her into my arms, hugging her close, refusing to let go too quickly. I pressed a kiss to her forehead, my voice low and commanding:
"Shaam ko 7 baje aaunga. Taiyaar rehna."

She nodded, her eyes soft. I lowered myself to her height, looking directly into her eyes. She understood what I was asking without words. Her blush deepened, and she leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss on my cheek.

"Bye..." she whispered.

We reached my house, and my heart was torn in two. On one side, the joy of seeing my family again after so long. On the other, the heaviness of leaving him — even if only for a day.

I turned to him, hopeful.
"Come inside?" I asked softly.

But his answer was firm, almost stubborn.
"Nahi... tum jao. Main office ja raha hoon."

I frowned, confused.
"Par tumne toh off le rakha hai... toh office kyun ja rahe ho?"

He held my hand, his grip strong, his eyes intense.
"Vo tumhare liye liya tha. Par ab tum hogi hi nahi... toh main kya karunga?"

My heart melted. He didn't say it directly, but I knew — he couldn't bear the thought of me not being with him.

We stepped out of the car. He hugged me tightly, kissed my forehead, and whispered with command in his tone:
"Shaam ko 7 baje aaunga. Taiyaar rehna."

I nodded, my heart racing. Then he lowered himself to my height, his eyes locking with mine. I knew what he was asking without words. My cheeks warmed, and I leaned forward, pressing a kiss on his cheek.

"Bye..." I whispered, smiling through my blush.

As soon as I stepped inside, warmth surrounded me. I hugged Chachi tightly, then Chachu, Priya Bhabhi, Aarav Bhai, and Kabir Bhai. Their arms, their laughter, their voices — it felt like I had returned to a part of myself I had missed.

We all sat together, talking, catching up on little things. Their questions, their teasing, their joy — it made me smile. For a moment, I felt like the same Aroohi who had grown up here, surrounded by love and chatter.

Then Chachi placed her hand on my shoulder, her voice gentle:
"Jao, thodi der aaram kar lo kamre mein."

I entered my room, the familiar walls wrapping me in comfort. But as I lay down, my thoughts refused to stay here. They drifted back to him — Reyansh.

I remembered the way he cared for me, the way he respected me. He never forced me to answer quickly when he confessed his love. He waited, patient, steady, as if he knew my heart would find its way to him in time.

Last night, when he held me in his arms, when he kissed my forehead, when he covered me with the blanket like he was shielding me from the world... I felt safe. I felt seen.

And now, as I replay his words, his possessiveness, his tenderness, I realize something I hadn't admitted before: I am falling for him.

The whole day passed in a blur. Even when I was with my family — laughing with Chachi, talking with Aarav Bhai, teasing Kabir Bhai — somewhere inside, my thoughts kept drifting back to him. His words, his touch, his promise.

By evening, we were all gathered in the living room, the atmosphere light and warm. And then, suddenly, the air shifted. We noticed him — Ansh. He had arrived, exact on time, just as he said he would.

My heart skipped. He stood there, tall, steady, his eyes searching only for me. I felt my cheeks warm, my breath catch. "He came... just like he promised. He couldn't stay away."

In that moment, surrounded by my family, I realized something deeper: no matter where I was, my thoughts, my heart, my soul... they belonged to him.

He came exactly on time, just as he promised. He sat beside me, his presence filling the room, and then said firmly:
"Ok, now we are going."

Chachi tried to stop him, smiling:
"Beta, go after dinner."

But he shook his head, his tone unyielding:
"Nahi... late ho jaega baad mein."

I hugged everyone tightly, my heart heavy. Tears welled up in my eyes as I said goodbye, but I quickly wiped them away, not wanting him to see. We sat in the car, and I turned my face toward the window, watching the world blur past. Yet my tears refused to stop.

Suddenly, the car slowed, then stopped. He stepped out without a word. My heart raced — what was he doing? Moments later, he returned, holding an ice cream.

He sat down, looked at me, and gently cupped my face. His touch was warm, steady, and his voice soft but commanding:
"bacha... don't cry. Eat this, ok?"

I looked at him, my tears still glistening, but my lips curved into a faint smile. In that moment, I realized — he didn't just want to take me back. He wanted to take away my pain too.

I held the ice cream in my hand, still wiping away the last of my tears. I looked at him, my heart heavy yet comforted by his presence.

Softly, I asked:
"Do you want to taste this?"

He shook his head, his eyes locked on me. Then, without a word, he moved his thumb across my lips, wiping away the cream that had lingered there. My breath caught — his touch was gentle, yet it carried the weight of his claim.

But instead of reaching for a tissue, he lifted his thumb to his own lips and sucked it, his eyes never leaving mine. A faint smirk curved his mouth as he whispered:
"Now it's better."

My cheeks burned, my heart raced. The ice cream melted slowly in my hand, but the warmth in my chest was stronger. In that moment, I realized — he didn't just want to stop my tears. He wanted to remind me that I belonged to him, in every small, tender way.

I turned my face to the other side, hiding the blush that still lingered from his touch. The car moved forward, carrying us back to where I now belonged.

When we reached home, he didn't let go. His hand was wrapped around mine, firm yet gentle, guiding me as we walked in together. That simple gesture — his fingers interlocked with mine — said more than words ever could.

As soon as I hugged everyone, Ram came rushing toward me. He wrapped his arms around me tightly, almost crushing me in his embrace. I pulled back a little, surprised, and asked softly:
"Kya hua?"

His voice was filled with frustration and relief at the same time:
"Tum ek din gayi... inhone toh pareshan kar diya mujhe poora. Acha hua tum wapas aa gayi, warna mai tumhare paas aa jaata."

I couldn't help but smile through the warmth of his words. My heart softened — even in my absence, he had felt restless, missing me. His hug wasn't just a welcome; it was his way of saying he couldn't bear the distance.

Just as I was still smiling from Ram's tight hug, Ansh came and pulled us apart, his voice sharp but playful:
"Kya hai? Jab dekho meri biwi se chipakta hai!"

Ram crossed his arms, smirking back:
"Meri Marvel alliance ki member hai. Aur Bhabhi aapko kya?"

Before I could even react, Karan and Riya jumped in too, adding their own claims, and suddenly the four of them were bickering, half‑serious, half‑teasing — all over me.

I rolled my eyes dramatically, escaping their circle, and went straight to Dadu. Hugging him, I whispered with mock complaint:
"Hey handsome, dekho... ye sab milke mujhe pareshan kar rahe hain. Please save me from them!"

Dadu chuckled, patting my head, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
"Yes darling, I will save you from these chamgadars."

Everyone was laughing at my silly banter with Dadu, the room filled with joy and teasing. But then Dadi's voice cut through the laughter, firm yet caring:

"Kya hai tum sab? Kuch aur nahi kar sakte? Jab dekho Aroohi ko pareshan karte ho. Bichari abhi aayi hai... ye nahi ki aaram se baithe. Par nahi, in sab ko toh ladna hai."

The room fell quiet for a moment, her words carrying the weight of love and authority. I looked at her, my heart softening. She wasn't scolding out of anger — it was her way of protecting me, of reminding everyone that I had just come back and needed peace.

After dinner, we all moved to the dining table, laughing and chatting as the elders slowly excused themselves. Just then, Karan leaned forward with a grin:
"Chalo, aaj movie dekhte hai!"

Riya's eyes lit up, and Ram nodded eagerly. Then Riya turned to me with a mischievous smile:
"Aru, tum bhai ko bolo na... vo tumhari baat manenge."

I looked at Ansh, my heart fluttering, and asked softly:
"Ansh... tum dekhoge?"

He nodded without hesitation. My excitement burst out instantly — I jumped with joy, and the others joined me. Together, we all rushed toward the theatre room, our laughter echoing through the house.

We all rushed into the theatre room, laughter echoing as we settled down. Karan, as usual, started the debate:
"Konsi movie dekhe?"

Riya immediately jumped in:
"Hum Saath Saath Hai!"

Ram and Karan groaned together.
"Riya, hum hamesha yahi dekhte hai... kuch naya ab!"

Karan suggested comedy, Ram argued for Marvel, and soon they were bickering again. I rolled my eyes, walked straight to the system, and pressed play.

Turning dramatically, I announced:
"Ye dekho... ye sabse best movie hai!"

They all leaned forward, curious. Ansh sat beside me, calm but watching me closely.

Karan asked impatiently:
"Movie konsi hai?"

I grinned, raised my voice theatrically, and declared:
"Koi... Mil Gaya!"

The moment I announced "Koi Mil Gaya!" the room filled with groans.

Karan threw his head back:
"Kya yaar, ye achhi nahi hai!"

Ram and Riya joined in, protesting, but I crossed my arms dramatically and said:
"Nahi... yahi dekhenge!"

Then I turned to Ansh, my eyes narrowing playfully:
"Ansh, this movie is good na?"

He looked at me calmly, almost amused, and replied:
"I never watched this movie."

I blinked at him in disbelief, staring weirdly as if he had just confessed a crime. Then, with full drama, I declared:
"Ab toh yahi dekhenge hum! Ansh, tumhe yeh movie dekhni padegi."

The others laughed at my stubbornness, but I felt a secret thrill. He hadn't seen it before — and now, because of me, he would.

As the movie reached its end, my eyes filled with tears. Watching Jaadu leave felt like a piece of my heart was being pulled away. I couldn't stop myself — the emotions just overflowed.

Karan looked at me in disbelief:
"Yaar, tum isme kaise ro sakti ho?"

I wiped my tears quickly, but my voice trembled as I replied:
"Bro, tumhe yeh scene emotional nahi lag raha? He is leaving... it's heartbreaking!"

But their faces stayed blank, no emotion at all, while mine was drenched in feelings. I laughed softly through my tears and said:
"You know, I think I'm the only person who laughs at serious moments in real life... like if someone is crying, I don't know why, but I end up laughing. Aur dekho, abhi main delulu world ke liye ro rahi hoon."

The irony hit me — in reality, I laugh at pain, but in this fictional world, I cry for a character who doesn't even exist.

Inside, my thoughts whispered: "Maybe that's the magic of stories... they make us feel things we don't even allow ourselves to feel in real life."

The movie ended, and I turned to look at her. Aroohi's eyes were glistening, tears slipping down as Jaadu left. My chest tightened — not because of the film, but because of her.

Karan teased, laughing at her reaction, but I didn't join in. I just kept watching her face, the way she tried to defend her emotions, saying the scene was heartbreaking. They didn't understand, but I did.

Inside, my thoughts whispered: "She cries for a world that doesn't exist, for characters that aren't real... and yet, she feels them so deeply. That's her heart — pure, sensitive, alive. She laughs when others cry in reality, but here, in this delulu world, she lets herself feel. And I... I love that about her."

I leaned a little closer, my voice low, meant only for her:
"Let them laugh, bacha. Your tears... they make you different. They make you mine."

We walked back to the room, the laughter of the family fading behind us. My mind wasn't on the movie anymore — it was on her. I sat on the bed, waiting, watching the door, knowing she would come.

The moment she stepped in, I didn't waste a second. I pulled her into my arms, wrapping the blanket around us like a shield against the world. She fit perfectly against me, her warmth calming the storm inside my chest.

I pressed a kiss on her forehead, lingering just long enough to let her feel what words couldn't say. My voice was low, steady, filled with everything I carried for her:
"Goodnight, jaan."

She closed her eyes, her breath softening as sleep began to take her. I held her tighter, promising silently that no matter what tomorrow brought, tonight she was safe — in my arms, in my world, in my love.

And then, together, we drifted into sleep.

I watched her getting ready, her presence filling the room with warmth. When she turned to me and asked softly where I was going, I sighed.
"Jaan, mujhe office jaana hoga... ek important meeting hai."

I pulled her into my arms, holding her close for a moment longer than necessary. Pressing a kiss on her forehead, I whispered:
"Goodbye, jaan. Kiss me back."

I expected her lips on my cheek, the way she always does. But instead, she leaned in and kissed my forehead.

For a moment, I froze. It wasn't her usual gesture — it was something deeper. A forehead kiss means protection, blessing, best of luck. It was her silent way of saying: "Go, handle your world... I'm with you."

I left the house, the weight of responsibility pulling me forward. No breakfast, no pause — I couldn't afford to be late. Yet as I drove toward the office, my mind lingered on her kiss, her eyes, her presence.

I came downstairs, adjusting my dupatta, and noticed Vikram Papa and Chachu had already left for office. Maa looked at me with a soft smile and said:
"Baki sabne breakfast kiya... par Reyansh bina kiye hi chala gaya."

Before I could reply, Chachi added warmly:
"Koi baat nahi, Aru. Tum thodi der baad lunch leke chale jaana. Aur isi bahane tum office bhi dekh logi."

I paused, her words sinking in. My heart fluttered at the thought — taking lunch for him, stepping into his world, seeing his office for the first time. I nodded quickly, a small smile tugging at my lips:
"Ok.

After some time, I went back to my room to change. I slipped into baggy jeans, a simple top, and a black jacket — all black from head to toe.

There was a reason behind it. First, because we don't want to disclose our marriage yet. I couldn't walk into his office with full "newly married vibes" — sindoor, mangalsutra, or anything that would raise questions. For now, I had to keep things subtle.

The second reason was clear in my mind: after giving Reyansh his lunch, I was going to Aarav Bhai's company. So this outfit was practical, comfortable, and perfect for moving around without drawing unnecessary attention.

I sat in my car, the lunch carefully packed beside me, and drove through the busy streets. My heart was racing with anticipation. When I stopped in front of the towering building — The Singhania Groups — I couldn't help but stare. It was massive, intimidating, a symbol of his world.

As I stepped inside, my thoughts began to swirl. "What if the receptionist says I can't meet him? Just like in my book... what if they disrespect me?" For a moment, fear tugged at me. But then another voice inside me rose stronger:
"No one can disrespect you, babe. Just go."

I walked to the reception desk, my steps steady despite the storm in my chest. Smiling politely, I said:
"I want to meet Mr. Reyansh Singhania."

The receptionist looked up, her tone professional yet kind:
"Yes, ma'am. You can go to the 20th floor and ask the receptionist there if sir is free or not."

Relief washed over me. I nodded quickly, replying:
"Thank you."

I reached the 20th floor, clutching the lunch box tightly. As I stepped out, I noticed employees glancing at me curiously. Ignoring their stares, I walked straight to the receptionist and asked politely:
"Is Mr. Reyansh Singhania free?"

She smiled and said:
"Wait a minute, ma'am."

I nodded, trying to stay calm. But then, out of nowhere, a girl appeared — walking awkwardly, almost like a penguin, with makeup so heavy I couldn't help but think, "Itna kon lagata hai?"

She came to the desk and asked sharply:
"Any problem?"

The receptionist replied,
"No ma'am, this lady here wants to meet sir."

The girl turned to me, looked me up and down, and laughed loudly. Everyone's eyes shifted toward us. Then she sneered:
"I know girls like you... trying to trap rich men in your plan. You can do anything for money."

Her words burned, but I didn't flinch. I shot back instantly:
"Bitch, why are you introducing yourself in front of everyone?"

Gasps filled the room, and laughter broke out. Her face turned red with anger.
"How can you say this to me?" she shouted, but the employees were already laughing at her.

Then she tried to regain control, her voice dripping with arrogance:
"You know, Reyansh is my boyfriend. He will show you your level."

I didn't even blink. Calmly, I walked to one of the employees and asked,

"Can I take your chair for some time?"

He nodded nervously. I sat down, crossing my legs, and looked straight at her. My voice was sharp, steady, and loud enough for everyone to hear:
"Go and bring out your so‑called boyfriend. I want to meet the person who can show me my level."

She stormed off, and for a moment the office was buzzing with whispers. Then a commanding voice cut through the air:
"What is happening here?"

Everyone froze. There he was — Reyansh Singhania. The moment he entered, the entire floor stood up in respect. But me? I didn't move. I stayed seated, calm, my eyes locked on him.

His PA, Aakash Bhai, walked in behind him. He knew about me, and his eyes flickered with recognition, but he stayed silent.

The penguin girl rushed forward, her voice dripping with fake sweetness:
"Reyansh, dekho na... ye meri insult kar rahi hai!"

I leaned back in the chair, my tone sharp, cutting through the silence:
"Ahh, So you are the most infamous boyfriend of this bitch."

Gasps filled the room. The employees looked at me as if they had seen a ghost. Of course they would — in their boss's company, I was insulting him openly.

Reyansh's eyes widened, shock written all over his face. He wasn't used to anyone speaking to him like that, especially not in front of his staff. But I didn't flinch. My voice, my presence, my defiance — it was all deliberate.

I leaned back in the chair, my eyes fixed on her.
"Tell your boyfriend to show me my level."

Ansh — Reyansh — looked at her, shocked. The entire office was holding its breath. I tilted my head, my voice dripping with sarcasm:
"Bro, I'm feeling so sad for you... like you're dating a bitch like her."

The employees burst into laughter, the sound echoing across the floor. Her face turned red, and she shouted loudly:
"Dekho Reyansh! Ise... ye mujhse kaise baat kar rahi hai! Aur tumhe bhi insult kar rahi hai!"

I didn't flinch. My eyes locked on him, my tone sharp and commanding:
"Ae... idhar aa."

He looked at me, stunned, and pointed his finger toward himself.
"Me?" he asked, almost disbelieving.

I smirked, my words cutting through the silence like a blade:
"Toh tera bhoot abe tujhe hi bula rahi hai... idhar aa ab."

The office went dead silent. Employees stared at me as if they were witnessing something unreal — a woman openly challenging their boss, insulting the girl who claimed him, and commanding him to come closer

He walked toward me, his presence commanding the entire floor. I tilted my head, my eyes still sharp.
"Look at her."

But his gaze stayed fixed on me, unwavering. My patience snapped, and this time I said louder:
"Look at her!"

Immediately, he turned his eyes toward her. The room held its breath. I leaned forward, my voice dripping with sarcasm:
"So now tell me... what did you like in her that made you feel, yes, she will become my girlfriend?"

The employees stared, wide‑eyed, as if they couldn't believe what they were hearing. I didn't stop. My tone cut through the silence, mocking:
"Her 10 kg makeup on her face? Or her penguin walk?"

The office erupted in suppressed laughter, everyone holding it back, their shoulders shaking. And then — Aakash Bhai couldn't control himself. He laughed out loud, the sound echoing across the floor, breaking the tension completely.

The girl's face burned with humiliation, while Reyansh stood there, shocked, caught between disbelief and the storm I had unleashed.

He finally spoke, his voice steady but firm:
"She is not my girlfriend."

The moment those words left his mouth, I shot up from the chair, clapping my hands dramatically.
"Ohhh, now I get it! She's not your girlfriend... but your wife!"

The entire office gasped, eyes darting between us. Reyansh looked at me, shock written all over his face. His reply came quickly, almost defensive:
"Neither is she my girlfriend... nor a wife."

I turned my gaze toward her, smirking.
"Oh, sorry. Your boyfriend couldn't show me my level... and even refused to accept you as his girlfriend."

Her face twisted with rage. She stormed toward me, hand raised high to slap. But before she could, I reacted instantly — my palm met hers in a sharp slap, stopping her mid‑air. Gasps echoed across the office. Without hesitation, I twisted her wrist and forced her hand behind her back. She cried out in pain, her arrogance breaking in front of everyone.

My voice was cold, steady, merciless:
"I didn't say anything to you. You started this. Now face the consequences."

The employees stood frozen, watching the scene unfold like a drama they never imagined. Reyansh's shock deepened, his eyes locked on me, while Aakash Bhai laughed out loud, unable to hold back. The girl's humiliation was complete — her lies shattered, her pride crushed, her so‑called claim destroyed in front of the entire office.

I tightened my grip on her wrist, her cries echoing across the office. My eyes shifted to Reyansh, my voice sharp and clear, cutting through the silence:

"I didn't know that the famous Singhania Group hires these types of people... people who don't have manners, who claim to be in a relationship with the CEO, and who disrespect the guest."

The words hung heavy in the air. The employees looked at me wide‑eyed, as if they couldn't believe someone had dared to say this in front of their boss. Reyansh's shock deepened, his gaze locked on me, trying to process the storm I had unleashed.

The girl's face twisted with humiliation, her arrogance shattered. Aakash Bhai's smirk widened — he knew exactly what was happening, and he wasn't surprised by my strength.

I released her wrist, but my eyes stayed locked on her, sharp and unyielding. My voice carried across the office, every word deliberate:

"I am filing a complaint of defamation, harassment, attempted assault, and character assassination against you. Then you can explain your so‑called relationship to the police."

The entire floor went silent. Employees stared at me like "what the fuck" — shocked that anyone could speak like this in the Singhania Group office. But I didn't care. I wasn't a person who forgives easily.

I stepped closer, my tone cold and merciless:
"If you disrespect me, I will show you hell."

Her face drained of color, her arrogance shattered completely. Reyansh stood frozen, caught between disbelief and the storm I had unleashed. Aakash Bhai's knowing smile lingered, as if he had been waiting for this moment.

Reyansh's voice cut through the silence, steady and commanding:
"You can complain against her. We will also help you in this. We all are eyewitnesses here. And she used my name, calling herself my girlfriend."

The girl's face turned pale. She looked at him desperately and stammered:
"Sorry, sir... please forgive me. I will never do this again."

But he didn't soften. His eyes narrowed, and he pointed toward me:
"Don't say sorry to me. Tell her."

She turned toward me hesitantly, but I had already stepped back, my voice cold and sharp:
"I don't want your sorry."

The office was dead silent, every employee stunned by the scene. They had just witnessed their boss deny her claim, support me openly, and watch me refuse forgiveness.

Reyansh's voice was firm, leaving no room for argument:
"Guards, take her out from here."

The security moved quickly, escorting her away as the office watched in stunned silence. I released a long sigh, the tension easing from my shoulders.

Then, with deliberate calmness, I turned back to the receptionist. My tone was polite, almost casual, but carried the weight of everything that had just happened:
"Now, can you tell me if your boss is free or not? Because I don't have the whole day for him."

The employees looked at me in disbelief — their boss was standing right there in front of me, yet I was still asking the receptionist as if he were invisible. The contrast was sharp, deliberate, and it made the moment even more powerful.

The receptionist, still a little shaken but professional, looked at him and then back at me.
"Yes, ma'am. He is free. Please come with me, I will take you to his cabin."

I nodded calmly, as if nothing dramatic had just happened, and started walking beside her. The employees' eyes followed me, their expressions a mix of disbelief and awe. After everything that had unfolded — the confrontation, the humiliation of that girl, Reyansh's support — I was now walking with quiet dignity, heading straight into his world.

stay tuned for next chapter

bye 

lots of love from your 

author ikku