Reewa’s POV
The air in her suite at the Taj Rambagh Palace felt too still. Too untouched. Too pristine.
Reewa stood in front of the mirror, the black saree still clinging to her skin like a memory she couldn’t shed. Her earrings had already been torn off—flung onto the marble floor the moment the door had shut behind her.
Her hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the vanity.
Rudraksh.
Rudraksh Singh Rathod.
Rudru.
He had dared—again. Staged that whole damn scene, the auction, the bid, the speech. Declaring her as if she were a piece of art to be bought, owned, displayed.
Four crores. Not for the piece. Not for the charity.
For her.
He had turned her legacy into a weapon. Her name, her craft, her life's work into another notch in his arrogant game.
A furious tear slipped down her cheek, and she slammed the drawer shut so hard that the glass tray inside cracked.
"Goddammit!" she hissed.
Her chest rose and fell in uneven waves. This wasn’t just anger. It wasn’t just shame.
It was the betrayal of memory.
Of knowing she had once smiled at him when no one else had.
Of knowing that the boy who used to tug her braid during childhood festivals had become this man—obsessed, calculated, terrifyingly powerful. And she couldn’t even look at him without her heart threatening to rip open her ribs.
She didn’t hear the knock.
But the door opened anyway.
Her eyes flew to the mirror.
And there he was.
Leaning against the doorframe like he belonged there. Like he had every right.
Rudraksh had discarded the bandhgala. He wore a black kurta now, sleeves rolled to his elbows, hair slightly disheveled, a storm brewing in his obsidian eyes.
“You should’ve knocked,” she said coldly.
“I did.”
Her gaze sharpened. “Then you should’ve left when no one answered.”
He stepped inside anyway, slow and deliberate. “You walked out of the gala. In front of everyone. Not even a glance back.” His voice was quiet, but laced with something raw. “I thought I’d give you a chance to scream at me in private.”
Reewa laughed. A hollow, dangerous laugh. “You think this is funny?”
“I think this is overdue.”
She turned on him, eyes blazing. “You used me.”
“I highlighted you.”
“You humiliated me!”
“I honored you.”
“You owned me—like I was some relic to be displayed!”
He took one more step forward, but she backed away, hand raised between them like a warning.
“You don’t get to do that, Rudraksh. Not anymore. Not after you disappeared for years, left me with scars, and came back to play king in my life!”
His jaw tensed. “You think I left by choice?”
“You never even said goodbye.”
He didn’t answer. Just stared at her. And that silence sliced deeper than any insult.
Reewa’s voice cracked then, something soft and raw pushing through her fury. “I waited. Do you know that? At fourteen, fifteen, sixteen—I waited. For a letter. A call. Anything. But all I got was silence. And Ira’s empty eyes when I asked her where her brother went.”
He looked like someone had struck him.
Her voice shook harder now, but she didn’t stop. Couldn’t.
“You haunted every page of my teenage diary. Every time someone touched me, I flinched—because no one felt like you. And I hated myself for it. For needing you. For dreaming of someone who vanished like I was just a phase to be outgrown.”
“Reewa—” he stepped closer.
“No!” Her voice broke. “You don’t get to say my name like that. Like it still belongs to you.”
And then silence stretched between them—ugly, thick, trembling.
He closed the distance in one step, grabbing her wrist—but gently, like she was glass.
“I never outgrew you,” he said hoarsely. “I ran. Because if I stayed, I would’ve destroyed you.”
“You already did,” she whispered.
His hand dropped.
She turned her back, breathing ragged. “Get out.”
He didn’t move.
“I said get out!” she screamed, throwing the champagne glass against the wall. It shattered like her composure.
But Rudraksh didn’t flinch.
“I won’t apologize for claiming what’s mine,” he said quietly. “But I will apologize for breaking what I swore I’d protect.”
She looked at him, eyes red, voice trembling. “And what exactly do you think I am to you now?”
He didn’t hesitate.
“An obsession I never outgrew. And the only war I’ll ever lose willingly.”
Her knees almost buckled.
But she wouldn’t let him see her fall.
She turned away again, hiding the tears that streamed down like silent thunder.
And this time, when he left, he shut the door softly behind him.
----------
The silence after Rudraksh left was suffocating.
Not peaceful. Not calm.
It was the kind of silence that screams louder than chaos. The kind that wraps around your ribs and squeezes until it feels like your lungs will collapse.
Reewa sat on the floor of her suite, back against the bed, knees pulled up to her chest. Her fingers were still trembling, faint imprints of where his hand had held her wrist ghosting on her skin. She stared at the shattered glass across the room.
The sharp edges caught the light like her memories—dangerous, glittering, impossible to pick up without bleeding.
What had she done?
What had he done?
She buried her face in her arms. No tears came now. She had cried them all out when the past burst its damn of silence and spilled through her like a flood. Every word she’d screamed at him had been real. Raw. Years of buried emotions clawing to the surface like fire escaping a sealed jar.
But now, with the adrenaline gone, she felt hollow.
Exposed.
Vulnerable in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to be in years.
The knock on the door startled her.
She didn’t answer.
But it creaked open anyway—and this time, it wasn’t Rudraksh.
It was Ira.
She walked in quietly, barefoot in a lilac nightgown, eyes tired and searching. Her long hair was tied back, face scrubbed clean of the glam from the gala, but her presence carried the same grace it always had.
Reewa blinked back the sting in her eyes.
“Ira…”
“I saw you leave,” she said softly, kneeling in front of her. “And I saw him leave your room fifteen minutes later.”
Reewa’s throat tightened. “I didn’t ask him to.”
“I know,” Ira said gently.
Something broke in Reewa’s expression. “Why does he keep doing this to me?”
Ira didn’t pretend to have the answers. She just reached out and wrapped her arms around Reewa.
And for the first time in years, Reewa let herself lean on someone.
“He’s… changed,” she whispered into Ira’s shoulder. “But not really. It’s like the boy we knew is trapped in that man’s body—only now he has the power to destroy people. And I—God—I don’t know if I’m strong enough to face him and not fall apart.”
“You are,” Ira said fiercely. “You always were.”
Reewa pulled back, eyes wet. “He called me his obsession.”
Ira’s expression didn’t even flicker. “He meant it.”
“That’s not love, Ira. That’s control. Possession. It’s war.”
“And yet,” Ira said, with unnerving calm, “you looked at him tonight like you were still willing to be the battlefield.”
Reewa shut her eyes. Her voice was barely a breath. “I hate that you’re right.”
They sat there for a while in silence. The city outside buzzed faintly in the distance, and the palace around them seemed to hum with ghosts.
“I need to regain control,” Reewa finally said. “Of myself. Of this narrative. He thinks he can command attention with money and power—but I have my own empire. My voice. My mind.”
Ira smiled. “That’s the Reewa I know.”
Reewa nodded, jaw tightening with resolve. “No more running. No more silences. If he wants war, he can have it. But it’ll be on my terms this time.”
Ira rose to her feet. “You should get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
Reewa looked up at her. “Thank you… for not asking too many questions.”
Ira leaned down, brushing her hair from her face like a sister. “You don’t owe anyone your pain, Reewa. But when you’re ready to tell it—I’ll listen.”
After Ira left, Reewa finally stood up. Walked to the broken glass.
Piece by piece, she cleaned it up with her bare hands, ignoring the sting.
It felt fitting.
This mess was hers.
And she would face it with her head held high.
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Rudraksh’s POV
Rudraksh drove like a man possessed.
The palace gates blurred behind him, but he didn’t care. The guards knew better than to stop him. His car sliced through the desert road like a beast unchained—its engine roaring with the same fury that pulsed through his veins.
He should’ve stayed.
He should’ve dropped to his knees and begged for her forgiveness.
But he had never learned how to beg. Only how to conquer.
And tonight, he had lost.
To her pain. To his own demons. To the boy he had buried eight years ago in the sands of Rajgarh.
Rudraksh slammed the brakes near the cliff edge—his cliff.
The one only he knew of. The one where the wind howled like ghosts and the stars watched in brutal silence.
He got out, loosened the collar of his shirt, and let the wind lash against him.
But it wasn’t the wind that chilled him.
It was her voice.
“You don’t get to waltz back into my life and act like you didn’t burn it to the ground.”
Her words rang through his skull like bullets, each one digging into the remains of the boy who once swore he’d never hurt her. But he had.
Over and over again.
The gala had been a stage—but it was in her room where the masks had finally dropped. And God, she had looked at him not like a lover—but like a storm waiting to be survived.
You called her your obsession, a voice in his head whispered. And still you expected her to love you?
Rudraksh laughed bitterly, running a hand through his hair.
“Love,” he spat the word.
He didn’t know what it meant anymore.
All he knew was Reewa.
Her scent, like roses soaked in honey and fire.
Her voice, soft-spoken daggers laced with heartbreak.
Her defiance—the one thing even his power couldn’t crush.
She was the only thing that made him feel alive. The only tether he had left to humanity.
And he’d wrecked her.
He hadn’t gone to her room tonight to fight.
He’d gone to explain.
To finally tell her the truth about why he vanished. Why he left her bleeding on their last night together eight years ago. Why he took the shadows into his bones and never returned.
But the moment he’d touched her, all logic had burned away.
He had wanted to possess her. Not just physically, but soul-deep. To remind her that even after all these years, she still belonged to him.
But Reewa Singhal was not a thing to be possessed.
She was a woman forged in fire.
And now that fire had turned on him.
Rudraksh sank to the ground near the cliff’s edge, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.
He felt like he was seventeen again. Angry. Abandoned. Terrified of needing something he couldn’t control.
Terrified of her.
“Why can’t I let you go?” he murmured to the wind.
But he knew the answer.
Because Reewa was never his to let go.
She had always been his beginning. His only softness. The one thread of purity in a world that taught him to kill or be killed.
And now… she looked at him like he was the villain in her story.
Maybe you are, the voice whispered again.
He closed his eyes, letting her image flash behind his lids.
The way her lip trembled when she spoke of the past.
The fire in her gaze when she screamed that he ruined her.
The way her body had trembled beneath his, caught between rage and want and grief.
He had never wanted anyone else.
He had built empires. Commanded death. Bent the criminal underworld to his will.
But nothing—not even power—had made him feel as invincible as Reewa’s smile once did.
And nothing had ever made him feel as powerless as Reewa’s tears.
Fix it, his mind growled
But how do you fix something you broke with your bare hands?
You don’t.
You bleed for it.
You suffer.
You wait.
He stood again, slowly this time, as if gravity had become heavier.
The desert stretched endlessly before him, silent and dark.
Just like the years between them.
But this time, he wouldn’t disappear.
He would let her rage.
Let her curse him, hate him, claw at him with every scar he carved into her past.
And when the dust settled—if she still wanted to destroy him—he would hand her the dagger himself.
Because if he had to burn for her love, then he would.
Happily.
But he wouldn’t stop until she knew.
Knew the truth.
Knew that every breath he took without her tasted like regret.
Knew that obsession was never just about owning her—it was about never surviving without her.
Because Reewa Singhal wasn’t his weakness.
She was his only religion.
And Rudraksh Singh Rathod would never stop praying.
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