I was in my cabin, buried in files, when Aakash walked in, his face tense.

"Sir... Aroohi mam is here."

The moment her name left his lips, I stood up instinctively. My heartbeat quickened, but before I could ask, he added:
"There's commotion on the 20th floor."

I frowned, my voice sharp:
"What is happening there?"

I walked out, and as soon as I entered the floor, every employee stood up in respect. But then my eyes found her.

She was still sitting. Calm. Fearless. My jaan.

Shock rippled through me. No one had ever dared to remain seated when I entered — not even my board members. But she... she didn't move. And instead of anger, something strange stirred inside me. A mix of pride and disbelief.

Then the girl rushed to me, whining:
"Reyansh, dekho na... she insulted me!"

Before I could respond, Aroohi's voice cut through the air:
"So you are the most infamous boyfriend of this bitch."

Her words hit me like a storm. Boyfriend? In front of my staff? My empire? I was stunned. No one had ever spoken to me like that. Yet, beneath the shock, I felt something else — a strange happiness. She was taking a stand. She wasn't afraid.

She kept pushing, mocking the girl's makeup, her walk. The office tried to hold back laughter, but Aakash couldn't — he laughed out loud. I should have been angry, but instead, I was captivated.

When she accused me of dating that girl, I finally spoke:
"She is not my girlfriend."

Her clap, her sarcasm, her relentless dominance — it shook me. And then she said it:
"Ohhh, now I get it! She's not your girlfriend... but your wife!"

The word wife echoed in my mind like thunder. My heart skipped. Shock hit me harder than before. Wife? No one had ever dared to say that to me. I didn't know whether to feel insulted or strangely... moved.

I forced myself to reply:
"Neither is she my girlfriend... nor a wife."

But inside, turmoil raged. Why did her words affect me so deeply? Why did the thought of her as my wife make my chest tighten in ways I couldn't explain?

Then the girl tried to slap her. My breath caught. But Aroohi reacted instantly — slapping her back, twisting her wrist, making her cry out. I was shocked, but I couldn't deny the truth: she was fearless, defending herself with a strength I had never seen.

And then she turned her fire on me, calling out my company:
"I didn't know the famous Singhania Group hires people who don't have manners, who claim to be in a relationship with the CEO, and who disrespect the guest."

Her words cut deep. She wasn't wrong. And when she declared she would file complaints — defamation, harassment, attempted assault, character assassination — I knew she wasn't bluffing.

I had no choice but to support her.
"You can complain against her. We will also help you. We are all eyewitnesses here."

The girl begged me for forgiveness, but I pointed at Aroohi.
"Don't say sorry to me. Tell her."

And when Aroohi refused the apology, I realized something: she wasn't here for forgiveness, she was here for respect.

Finally, I called the guards.
"Take her out."

The office fell silent again. Aroohi sighed, calm after the storm, and then — to my shock — she turned to the receptionist and asked politely:
"Now can you tell me if your boss is free or not? Because I don't have the whole day for him."

I was standing right there, but she ignored me deliberately. That move... it shook me more than anything else.

The receptionist stopped at a sleek black door and said softly:
"Ma'am, here is sir's cabin. He will be here in a minute."

I smiled politely, replying:
"Thank you so much."

She left, and I stepped inside. As expected, the cabin was drenched in black — elegant, powerful, intimidating. My eyes roamed everywhere, absorbing the atmosphere. Then suddenly, my gaze froze. On his desk, in a simple frame, was my photo.

A rush of emotions hit me, but before I could process it, the door opened. The sound of footsteps filled the room. Reyansh entered with Aakash Bhai beside him. Aakash Bhai flashed me a thumbs‑up, his grin wide. I couldn't help but smile back.

Turning toward Reyansh, I said with playful sarcasm:
"Oh, Mr. Reyansh Singhania is free now."

Aakash Bhai burst out laughing, the sound echoing in the cabin, while Reyansh's eyes stayed locked on me — shocked, intrigued, and unable to hide the storm inside him.

The cabin door clicked shut behind Aakash Bhai as Reyansh's voice cut through the air:

"Now can you go out?"

Aakash nodded, gave me one last mischievous thumbs‑up, and left. Suddenly, it was just me and him. His eyes locked on mine, intense, unreadable.

Inside, my thoughts raced: "Did I say too much outside? Boyfriend... wife... infamous... maybe I crossed the line." A flicker of doubt crept in, something I rarely allowed myself to feel.

Then he started walking toward me, his tone playful yet commanding:
"Abe... oye... idhar aa... infamous."

My breath caught. He was repeating my own words back to me, closing the distance with every step.

"Aur kya kya bola tha aapne?" he asked, his voice low, teasing, dangerous.

I stuttered, my confidence faltering for the first time:
"Vo... nahi... mera matlab yeh nahi tha... vo toh aap ho... matlab nahi ho..."

Before I could untangle my words, his arms wrapped around me. The ground seemed to vanish beneath my feet as he spun me in his embrace. My heart raced, my breath stolen.

His voice was warm against my ear, filled with something I had never heard from him before:
"I love this side of you, jaan. But now... where is this wild cat who was outside?"

I froze, torn between shock and the rush of emotions flooding me. Outside, I had been fire — fearless, untouchable. Inside, in his arms, I felt something else entirely. Vulnerable. Alive.

he made me sit on his desk, gently parting my legs and standing between them. His face was so close to mine that I could feel his breath. My heart raced.

He kissed my forehead softly, then my eyes, my cheeks, my nose. Each touch melted away the storm outside. Then his lips brushed the corner of my mouth, lingering just enough to make me shiver.

His voice was low, filled with curiosity:
"Why are you here?"

I smiled faintly, teasing:
"Kyu nahi aa sakti? ab samaj aaya... office isliye aaye the naa apni girlfriend se milne."

He looked at me, and a chuckle escaped his lips. His eyes softened, and his words carried a weight that made my chest tighten:
"There was no one before you. Now you are here, and no one will be after you. For me, there is only you... or no one. You are my first... and my last."

The world seemed to stop. His empire, his power, his arrogance — all of it faded in that moment. What remained was just him, and me, and the truth in his voice.

His words still echoed in my ears: "You are my first and last."
For a moment, my heart melted, but then a playful spark rose inside me.

I leaned closer, my voice soft but steady:
"You are also my first and last in real... but in fiction, you are not my first."

His brows lifted slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes and then he moved even closer, his  breath brushing against my lips, his tone turning possessive, raw:

"No problem, jaan. I will make sure to be your last — in your real and in your fiction also. Because you are only mine. And I don't like to share what's mine... not even with your fictional boyfriend."

The air between us grew heavy, charged with something deeper than words. His chuckle faded, replaced by a look that was both tender and fierce.

He leaned closer, his eyes burning into mine, and asked softly:
"Ab toh batao... tum yaha kyu aayi ho?"

I smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair back, my tone calm but warm:
"For lunch. Tumne breakfast bhi nahi kiya tha... isliye mai tumhare liye aur baki sabke liye lunch layi hoon."

I point out the bag on his desk, my voice steady:
"Tum yeh lunch baki sabko de dena. Ab mai jaa rahi hoon."

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, silence filled the cabin. His expression shifted instantly — shock, disbelief. His eyes widened as if I had just said the unthinkable.

"Kyu? Abhi toh aayi ho tum. Kahin nahi jaa rahi. Yahin rahogi."

His voice was firm, almost commanding, but beneath it I could hear something else — desperation. As if the thought of me leaving was unbearable.

I shook my head, my voice calm but firm:
"Abhi nahi aayi hu... bohot pehle aayi thi. Par vo tumhari girlfriend ne rok liya tha."

The words slipped out sharper than I intended, but they were the truth. His expression hardened instantly, a flicker of anger flashing in his eyes.
"That's not fine." he muttered, his jaw tightening.

I jumped down from the desk where I was still sitting, as my feet touched the ground. Straightening myself, I looked at him with quiet determination:
"Nahi... abhi jaa rahi hu. Mujhe bhai ki company bhi jaana hai. Late ho jaega varna."

The cabin felt heavy, his gaze following me like a shadow, unwilling to let me walk away.

Before I could step away, his hands pressed firmly on either side of me, locking me back onto the desk. His body caged me in, his face close, his voice low and pleading:
"Jaan... isme meri kya galti? Please mat jao na. Kal chali jaana Aarav ki company."

I blinked, stunned. The infamous mafia king, the man everyone feared, was standing in front of me with a pout. A pout.

My lips parted in disbelief, and I couldn't stop the laugh that escaped.
"Omg... the mafia king, the one they call Devil, is making a pout because his wife is going to her brother's company?"

His eyes narrowed, but the pout stayed, stubborn and childlike. For a moment, the terrifying aura of Reyansh Singhania melted away, replaced by a man who simply didn't want his wife to leave.

He sighed, his hands still caging me on the desk, his voice softer now:
"Ok... you can go."

I smiled faintly, tilting my head:
"Thanks. But tum mana bhi karte toh bhi mai jaati."

Leaning forward, I pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, my lips brushing against his skin.
"Ok... I am going now."

I jumped down from the desk, as my feet touched the floor. He looked at me, his eyes following every move, unwilling to let me slip away.

"Do you come with driver?" he asked, his tone protective.

I shook my head, smiling:
"No... I came with my car. Ok now... I am going. Bye, Anshh."

His name lingered on my lips like a secret, soft and personal. The cabin felt heavy with his gaze, but I turned toward the door, my heart racing with the weight of everything unsaid.

I stepped out of his cabin, the door closing behind me. The air outside felt heavier, charged with the echoes of what had just happened. As I walked down the corridor, I could feel every pair of eyes on me — employees whispering, curious, stunned.

But I didn't stop. I didn't look back. I ignored them all, my chin held high, my steps steady.

The building's glass doors opened, and the outside air hit me like freedom. I walked straight to my car, slid into the driver's seat, and started the engine.

I pressed the accelerator, the city rushing past me as I drove toward Aarav Bhai's company. My heart was still racing, not from the drive, but from the way he had held me, locked me, pouted like a child, and confessed that I was his first and last.

I parked my car outside Aarav Bhai's building and stepped out. The moment I entered, the atmosphere shifted — people looked up, and instantly, they greeted me with respect. They knew exactly who I was, and their voices echoed softly in the lobby:
"Good afternoon, ma'am."

I didn't stop, just nodded politely, ignoring the stares as I walked with confidence. My heels clicked against the marble floor until I reached the reception desk.

"Hi Preeti, how are you?" I asked warmly.

She smiled, a little nervous but genuine:
"I am fine, ma'am."

I leaned forward slightly, my tone casual yet direct:
"Bhai free hai?"

Preeti glanced at her screen, then looked back at me:
"He is in a meeting... but you can go."

I nodded, my lips curving into a faint smile. Without another word, I turned and started walking down the corridor. The familiar path led me straight to his cabin. My hand brushed the polished door handle, and I pushed it open, stepping inside.

I was scrolling through my phone, lost in thought, when the cabin door opened. Aarav Bhai walked in, his presence instantly filling the room. But before I could greet him, another familiar figure followed behind.

"Kabir Bhai!" I exclaimed, my eyes widening in surprise.

I rushed forward and hugged them both, warmth flooding me at the sight of my brothers together. Pulling back slightly, I looked at Kabir Bhai with a smile:
"Bhai, you here?"

He nodded, his tone calm but proud:
"Vo meeting thi... we are now business partners."

My lips parted in awe, my smile growing wider:
"Ohh wow... this is good!"

Aarav Bhai settled into his chair, his gaze sharp but affectionate.
"Ab bata... hua kya hai? Aur tu late kaise ho gayi?"

I hesitated for a moment, then told them everything — the incident on the 20th floor, the insults, the slap, the way I stood up for myself. Everything... except the private cabin talk with Ansh.

Both of them listened carefully, their expressions shifting between shock and pride. Kabir Bhai nodded approvingly:
"You did a great thing."

Aarav Bhai chuckled, shaking his head:
"But bichara Reyansh... pehli baar kisi ne usse is tarah baat kari."

His laughter filled the cabin, Kabir Bhai joining in. I couldn't help but smile too

We kept talking for a while, laughter and warmth filling Bhai's cabin. But soon Aarav Bhai's phone buzzed, and he stood up with that familiar serious look.
"I have to go for my meeting," he said, giving me a quick pat on the shoulder before leaving.

I turned to Kabir Bhai, leaning against the desk with a playful smile:
"Bhai yaar... kitne din se hum dono long drive pe nahi gaye hai. Chalo na, aaj chalte hai."

He thought for a moment, his brows furrowing as if weighing his schedule. Then his lips curved into a smile:
"Ha... chalte hai."

My eyes lit up instantly. We stepped out of Aarav Bhai's cabin together, and I quickly messaged him about our plan for the drive so he wouldn't worry.

The building's staff greeted us respectfully as we walked through the corridor. Kabir Bhai's presence beside me felt strong, protective, yet relaxed. We exited the building, the afternoon sun spilling across the pavement.

I slid into the passenger seat of Kabir Bhai's car, the leather cool beneath me. He started the engine, and the familiar hum filled the air.

The music still lingered in my ears as Kabir Bhai's car rolled to a stop. We had been laughing, munching on snacks, enjoying the drive like old times. When I looked up, I realized where we were — the hill.

This was our place. The spot where we three always came together, where memories lived in the breeze.

We both stepped out, the cool air brushing against my face. The view stretched endlessly, and for a moment, it felt like time had paused. We sat down side by side, the silence comfortable, filled with unspoken warmth.

Kabir Bhai turned to me, his voice gentle but serious:
"Aru... tum vaha khush to ho na?"

I smiled faintly, nodding:
"Yes, Bhai."

But then the words spilled out of me, unfiltered. I told him everything — how Ansh treated me, the chaos with siblings, the affection from elders, the way every moment felt alive yet overwhelming. My voice softened as I added:
"But... I also miss you all."

The hill carried my confession into the wind, and sitting there beside Kabir Bhai, I felt both safe and vulnerable.

The drive back home was peaceful at first — songs playing, snacks scattered between us, laughter filling the car. But suddenly, on the highway, a car sped past recklessly. Kabir Bhai swerved sharply, moving our car to the other direction.

If he hadn't... we would have been in the accident.

My heart thudded as the car screeched to a halt. Kabir Bhai turned to me immediately, his voice urgent:
"Aru... you are safe na?"

I nodded quickly, forcing a smile:
"Yes, Bhai."

We both stepped out of the car, and that's when the chaos hit us. A large crowd had gathered, voices rising in panic. My eyes followed the smoke — the speeding car had crashed, and then... it blasted. Fire everywhere. Flames licking the sky.

The sight froze me. My chest tightened, my breath caught. Suddenly, I wasn't on the highway anymore. I was back at that place... the place where I had lost everything.

My body trembled, trapped in memories. The fire, the screams, the loss — it all came rushing back. My vision blurred, black dots dancing in front of my eyes. My chest heaved, panic clawing at me.

I tried to breathe, but the air wouldn't come. My hands shook uncontrollably. And then... everything went dark. I lost consciousness.

My phone buzzed, Kabir's name flashing on the screen. I picked it up, my tone sharp as always:
"Kabir, kya hua?"

His voice was tense, urgent:
"Rey... we are in hospital. Aroohi has lost consciousness."

For a moment, the world around me froze. The files on my desk, the empire I ruled — none of it mattered. Only her name echoed in my ears. Aroohi... unconscious.

I stood up instantly, my chair scraping back. My heartbeat thundered, anger and fear colliding inside me.
"Which hospital?" I demanded.

The moment I reached the hospital, my eyes scanned the crowd. Her family and my family was already there — Aarav, Kabir, elders, everyone gathered with worry etched across their faces.

I walked straight to Aarav, my voice sharp but trembling underneath:
"How did this happen?"

Kabir stepped forward, his tone heavy:
"On the highway... a car was speeding. We swerved to avoid it. That car crashed and blasted. Fire everywhere. She saw it... and she collapsed."

My fists clenched, jaw tightening. The word fire echoed in my head like a curse.

Her chachu sighed, his voice filled with sorrow:
"This is the thing I was talking about at that time... Aroohi is scared of fire. When she sees fire, she gets trapped in her past."

I froze. My chest tightened. Trapped in her past. The thought of her suffering, reliving pain, was unbearable.

I looked toward the ICU doors, my heart pounding. The Devil, the mafia king, was powerless in that moment — because the only thing that mattered was her.

I stood outside her room, my chest tight, waiting for answers. The door opened and the doctor stepped out, his expression calm but serious.

I moved forward instantly, my voice low but urgent:
"Doctor... how is my wife?"

He looked at me, then at the family gathered around, and replied:
"She is exhausted and tired... but not in a physical way. It's emotional. This is making her weak. She had a panic attack."

The words hit me harder than any bullet ever could. Emotional exhaustion. Panic attack. My fists clenched, but not in anger — in helplessness.

Inside, my thoughts whispered: "She fights me, she teases me, she makes me laugh... but inside, she carries wounds I never healed. Fire, her past, her pain — it all traps her. And I wasn't there when she fell."

I turned slightly, seeing Aarav, Kabir, and elders standing nearby, their faces pale with worry. For once, the Devil wasn't the one in control. For once, I was just a man, desperate for the woman I loved to open her eyes and come back to me.

I could see my family's faces — shock, worry, fear — all written across them. Dadu stepped forward, his voice trembling but steady:
"Doctor... so how can we treat her?"

The doctor adjusted his glasses, his tone calm yet firm:
"Give her some time. Make her open up. If she keeps holding everything inside for too long, it will only get worse for her."

His words cut through me like a blade. Emotional wounds. Hidden pain. Panic attacks. This wasn't something I could fight with power or control. This was something deeper — something only love, patience, and trust could heal.

The doctor gave a final nod and walked away, leaving silence behind.

We all entered the room together. Aroohi was lying on the bed, pale and fragile, her breaths uneven. Her chachu went first, sitting beside her, gently brushing her hair back. For a while, she was still... but then her lips began to move.

She whispered, broken words spilling out:
"Don't go... please don't go..."

Her body shifted restlessly, trapped in the nightmare again. And then suddenly, she screamed.

Without thinking, I rushed forward. My arms wrapped around her, pulling her against my chest, holding her tightly as if I could shield her from the world. My voice trembled, but I forced it steady:
"Jaan... open your eyes. See, you are not there. You are here. We all are here."

Her trembling body pressed against me, her heartbeat frantic. I held her closer, my hand stroking her hair, whispering again and again until my words became a lifeline.

Inside, my thoughts whispered: "She is fighting shadows of her past. But I will be her anchor in the present. As long as I breathe, she will never face this alone again."

Her eyes opened.

But they weren't steady. They weren't seeing us. Her gaze was distant, unfocused, searching for someone who wasn't there.

She moved slightly, her lips trembling, whispering broken words, reaching out as if chasing a shadow. My chest tightened — she wasn't looking at us, she was looking through us, lost in that place again.

Then suddenly, her lips trembled, and tears spilled down her cheeks. She began crying — not softly, but like she was seeing a ghost from her past. Her body shook, her voice broke, whispering words none of us could fully catch.

Her chachu moved quickly, sitting beside her. He leaned in, his presence steady, protective. Aroohi turned toward him instinctively, and with a sob, she wrapped her arms around him, clinging tightly.

I stood frozen for a moment, my chest tightening. Watching her cry, watching her hold onto her chachu like she was drowning and he was her anchor — it tore something inside me.

Then suddenly, her lips began to move. Tears streamed down her face as she clung to him tightly, her voice breaking into desperate cries:
"Please... please tell him to stop... please... I can't live without him... please..."

She repeated it again and again, her sobs echoing through the room. My chest tightened, every word cutting into me like a blade. Watching her cry, watching her beg, it felt like she was fighting shadows I couldn't see — but I could feel her pain as if it were my own.

I stepped forward, unable to stay back any longer. My fists clenched, my heart trembling. Inside, my thoughts whispered: "She's trapped in her past, begging for someone to stop, confessing she can't live without him. And I wasn't there when she needed me. But now... I am here. I will be the one to stop her pain, no matter what it takes."

Her family watched in silence, her chachu holding her as she cried. And I stood there, the Devil himself, broken by the sight of my wife pleading for mercy against ghosts that haunted her — and confessing the truth that she couldn't live without me.

 I went to her, sat beside the bed, and pulled her trembling body into my arms. Her tears soaked into me as I whispered against her hair:
"Jaan... see, we all are here. Nothing will happen to you."

She clung to me tightly, her grip desperate, as if I was the only anchor keeping her from drowning. Then, almost in a whisper, her broken voice escaped:
"Please... save him..."

The words froze me. Save him? Who was she seeing in her nightmare? My chest tightened, but before I could ask, her body went limp again. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she lost consciousness in my arms.

Panic surged through me. I looked up sharply:
"Karan! Go call the doctor, now!"

My hand cupped her cheek, patting gently, my voice trembling as I begged:
"Jaan... open your eyes, please. Don't leave me. Come back to me."

Around me, both families stood in stunned silence, watching the Devil himself break — his voice raw, his eyes desperate, his entire world crumbling in his arms.

I was still holding her limp hand when the doctor rushed in. My voice was sharp, desperate:
"Check her, now!"

He leaned over, examined her quickly, then prepared an injection. I watched every movement, my heart pounding, my jaw tight. The needle slid into her arm, and the doctor finally looked up at me and the family.

"Don't worry," he said calmly, "she will wake up after some time."

For a moment, the air in the room loosened. The family sighed in relief, but I couldn't. My grip on her hand didn't ease, my eyes didn't leave her face.

Inside, my thoughts whispered: "She's safe for now... but how long can I keep her safe from the ghosts that haunt her? She breaks, she cries, she begs — and I can't lose her. Not now, not ever."

I brushed my thumb gently across her cheek, my voice trembling but firm:
"Jaan... open your eyes. Please. I'm here. Nothing will happen to you."

The Devil, feared by the world, sat beside his unconscious wife — restless, vulnerable, and waiting for her to return to him.

Behind me, voices stirred. Kabir bhai, Maa, the others — all hovering, all restless. I turned, my voice sharp, commanding.
"You all go home. I'll call when she wakes up."

They froze. Kabir's jaw tightened, Maa's eyes burned with tears. She stepped forward, her voice trembling but firm.
"I will not leave my child here."

For a moment, I wanted to argue, to push them all out, to keep this moment mine alone. But then I saw Maa's hands clutching her dupatta, the fear in her eyes. She wasn't just stubborn — she was breaking too.

I exhaled, my grip on Aroohi's hand tightening. "Fine," I muttered, softer now. "Stay. But don't crowd her. She needs peace."

The room fell quiet. Kabir nodded, Maa sat down near the bed, her gaze fixed on Aroohi. And me? I stayed right where I was, forehead pressed against her hand, whispering silently to the only woman who could shatter me.

After what felt like endless hours, her lashes fluttered. Aroohi's eyes opened slowly, searching, and then landed on us. My chest tightened, relief flooding through me. I leaned closer, my voice low but trembling with emotion.

"Jaan... you're okay na?"

She gave a faint nod, and that single movement was enough to steady my storm. Maa rushed forward, Kabir bhai followed, and one by one everyone came to meet her, their voices soft, their eyes wet with relief.

After some time, the doctor entered, his tone calm. "She's stable now. You can take her home."

I exhaled, the weight finally lifting. When I returned to the room, she was already standing, fragile but determined. My heart clenched — stubborn as ever. Without a word, I stepped forward and scooped her into my arms, bridal style.

She gasped softly, her voice weak but teasing. "ansh... I can walk."

I looked down at her, my grip firm, my tone unyielding. "I know. But I will not let you walk when I am here."

Her eyes softened, her lips curved faintly, and I carried her out, past the worried faces, past the sterile walls. Outside, I gently placed her in the car seat, making sure she was comfortable. Then I slid in beside her, started the engine, and drove us towards home — away from the hospital, away from fear, carrying her back into the world where she belonged.

stay tuned for next chapter

bye 

lots of love from your 

author ikku