The massive boardroom of Sachdeva Enterprises was cloaked in an eerie silence, broken only by the sharp clack of a file being slammed shut. Madhav Sachdeva’s jaw clenched as he stood by the window, staring out at the city skyline with eyes that barely blinked.

“They won it,” came the stiff voice of one of the board members. “Verma Enterprises has officially secured the HSRP tender. The announcement just went live.”

The words echoed like gunfire through the glass walls.

Madhav turned, his expression unreadable—but the storm in his gaze was unmistakable. “After everything we planned, everything we aligned… that man managed to outbid us?” His voice was calm, but the fury it carried simmered just beneath the surface.

An assistant entered hesitantly with a tablet. “Sir… the media is already picking it up. There’s speculation that the Verma proposal had strong government backing.”

Madhav’s lips curled into a cold, calculating smirk. “Yashveer Verma has always known how to play dirty in a clean suit.”

He moved back to the head of the table, hands clenched. “I want every file, every loophole, every connection that deal had. I want to know how he pulled it off. And most importantly—where we missed.”

“Yes sir,” came the nervous replies, and the team quickly scattered to begin the damage control.

As the doors shut behind them, Madhav sat down, leaning back in his chair. “This is far from over, Yashveer,” he muttered under his breath. “You may have won the battle… but I still intend to win the war.”

------

The Verma house was lit up like a festive evening—subtle yet radiant. Laughter floated through the spacious living room as business partners, key team members, and close family celebrated the long-awaited win. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, soft music playing in the background, and the occasional clink of champagne glasses gave the entire room a warm, victorious buzz.

Yashveer Verma stood near the fireplace, a rare, relaxed smile on his face. “This deal wasn’t just a win,” he told the team gathered around him, “it was a statement. We are still the name in this industry.”

Applause followed, echoing his pride. Riddhi giggled in a corner with a mock glass of juice, pretending to toast along with the adults. Viyansh, dressed in a sharp navy blazer, stood beside his father with quiet pride, occasionally exchanging subtle glances with Anukriti, who had been invited as part of the inner circle.

Ridrakshika entered the room a little late, adjusting the sleeves of her pastel kurta. Her eyes flicked to her father first—she hadn’t seen him this content in months. She couldn’t help but smile.

“Papa…” she walked up, her tone warm. “I’m proud of you.”

Yashveer looked at her and placed a hand over her head. “Your smile is all the celebration I need, beta.”

“Arre, bhai!” Viyansh grinned, walking over to Ridrakshika and throwing an arm around her shoulder. “Tujhe pata bhi hai, Papa ne kitne bade sharks ko hara diya hai? Including that Sachdeva snob.”

Anukriti nudged him playfully, “Bas ab thoda modesty bhi le aao, Mr. Victory Verma.”

They all laughed, but behind the warmth, Ridrakshika’s eyes grew distant for a second at the mention of Sachdeva.

Adyansh.

She brushed it off quickly. “Let’s not talk about them. Aaj celebration hai. Papa, I’m going to steal some cake before Riddhi finishes it all.”

-------

The hallway on the upper floor was quiet, the echo of laughter and music from the celebration below fading into the background. Anukriti stepped out of the restroom, casually fixing her dupatta over her shoulder, her heels softly tapping the marble as she turned the corner.

Suddenly, a hand reached out—firm yet gentle—and pulled her inside a dimly lit guest room. She barely had time to react.

“Viyansh—!” she gasped, but her words melted into a surprised smile as she found herself pulled into the familiar warmth of his arms.

His embrace was tight, almost desperate. Like he’d been waiting for this moment all evening. Like letting her go had become unbearable even if it was for a few minutes.

“I missed you,” he whispered into her hair, his breath warm against her temple.

Anukriti looked up, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Kabse toh yahin hoon tumhare saath. Miss kaise kiya?”

Viyansh loosened his hold just enough to see her face. His gaze locked with hers, unreadable but intense.

“Miss… matlab I missed you being in my arms,” he said, his thumb slowly tracing the back of her hand.

The silence that followed was heavy. Electric.

His fingers traveled to her waist, not possessive—just anchoring her, grounding himself. His lips were parted slightly, his breath uneven.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice low, a question wrapped in yearning.

Anukriti’s breath hitched. Her lashes lowered, a shy smile tugging at her lips. She gave a small nod—subtle, delicate—but enough to light a fire in his eyes.

He moved in slowly, giving her time, space… and then—finally—their lips met.

It was a soft kiss at first. Tender, unhurried, like he was learning her in pieces. His hand cupped her jaw, tilting her face gently as his lips moved against hers with the kind of care that made her heart thump wildly.

She responded just as softly, her fingers tangling into the fabric of his shirt. His lips pressed into hers with more confidence now, deeper—still slow—but fuller, more intense. His thumb brushed her cheekbone, steadying her as if she were the only real thing in the world.

He kissed her like she was a secret he’d waited too long to uncover.

There was no rush.

No chaos.

Just the quiet intensity of a thousand unspoken words finally finding a voice.

When they finally broke apart, their breaths mingled in the silence. Anukriti’s eyes fluttered open slowly, her cheeks flushed crimson. She didn’t say anything—just hugged him tightly, hiding her face in his chest, grounding herself.

Viyansh let out a shaky breath and smiled, wrapping his arms around her just as tightly. He placed a featherlight kiss on her forehead, as if sealing the moment into eternity.

“I love you kriti.” he whispered against her skin.

Downstairs, the celebration went on.

But here, in this little pocket of stillness—the world had paused.

-----

The school corridors buzzed with their usual morning chaos—students laughing, teachers calling out, lockers clanging open and shut. But amidst all the noise, Adyansh noticed something far louder in his world—Ridrakshika’s silence.

She hadn’t even looked at him all morning.

Not during assembly. Not during class. Not even a glance.

He stood a few steps away, watching as she talked to Esha, her expression carefully blank, deliberately avoiding his eyes. And it burned. Somewhere deep in his chest, it burned.

He tried walking up once—“Ridrakshika,” he’d said lowly—but all he got was a tight-lipped nod and her walking away like he didn’t exist.

And damn, that hurt more than any insult she’d ever thrown his way.

Later that day, during lunch break, Ridrakshika walked out alone to the garden area behind the library—needing space, needing to breathe.

That’s when Rehan spotted her.

“Hey,” he called out, his voice deceptively casual as he walked toward her, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Alone today? That’s new.”

Ridrakshika stiffened, glancing sideways. “I prefer it that way sometimes.”

But Rehan only smirked, stepping closer. “Or maybe someone disappointed you so badly, you finally gave up?”

His words were dipped in sugar, but the malice underneath dripped clear. She took a step back, her body tensing.

He noticed—and enjoyed it.

“I mean,” Rehan added, his voice dipping lower, “you really should’ve known better than to expect anything from him…”

She clenched her fists. “What do you want, Rehan?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged. “Just a friendly conversation. Tumhe samajhne ki koshish kar raha hoon. Kyunki lagta hai tumhare aas paas ke log tumhe deserve nahi karte.”

“Back off, Rehan,” she snapped, voice sharp.

And that’s when Adyansh appeared.

Like he’d been watching from a distance.

Like his protective radar had just hit its limit.

His jaw was tight, fists clenched, storm brewing in his eyes as he walked up, eyes never leaving Rehan’s.

“Problem hai?” Adyansh’s voice was low—dangerously so.

Rehan raised his hands, smug as ever. “Not at all. Bas baat kar rahe the.”

“Baat karne ke liye consent chahiye hota hai,” Adyansh said, stepping in front of Ridrakshika now, blocking her completely. “Which you clearly didn’t have. Now leave.”

Rehan gave a mock bow, eyes flicking to Ridrakshika once more. “Always the hero, huh? Be careful. Hero se villian banne mein zayada time nahi lagta.”

And with that, he walked away.

Ridrakshika pulled away from behind Adyansh immediately. “What the hell was that?”

Adyansh turned to face her, confused. “What?”

“I was handling it!” she hissed. “I didn’t need your rescue mission.”

Adyansh sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Thunder, I know you can handle yourself.”

“Then why—”

“Because I didn’t want anything to happen to you!” he snapped, louder than he intended. Then, softer, almost pained, “Main bas... nahi chaahta ki tumhe kuch ho.”

Ridrakshika’s breath hitched slightly, but she quickly masked it.

She looked at him for a long second—conflicted, hurt, guarded.

But she said nothing.

And Adyansh?

He just stood there, his heart loud in his chest, watching her walk away from him once again.

And this time, it hurt even more.

__________________________________Stay tuned for further updates 🎀

~shanshya🧿