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"What is this, A Zoo? Are you the Alpha Lion now?"

A tiny laugh escaped..

"You're delusional, Mister!" she shouted in disinterest.

"..Go chase your reflection somewhere else!"

His jaw clenched.

"You're lucky I don't have you thrown out."

She crossed her arms tightly, glaring up at him, "..And Who the hell are you?? Haan??"

They stared at each other -Enemies created in seconds.. Unaware that destiny had already tied their fates far, far tighter than either could imagine.

She jabbed her finger at him again - this time, aggressively enough that water flicked onto his already ruined shirt.

"You know what...," she snapped, her voice ringing across the eerily silent floor..
"If Arrogance had a face, it would be You. I'd rather fight a wild boar than waste another breath near your inflated Ego."

His jaw ticked as he looked at the wet chaos standing before him.

"And I don't spend a second entertaining a Loud mouthed Brat who thinks tantrums are personality traits."

The words sliced deep but Niyati only smirked wickedly, tossing her wet hair with exaggerated flair.

"Oh please," she shot back with a half-laugh, ".....Tum jaise logon ke liye toh main apni chappal bhi na utaaru!"

"Good, Because trash belongs outside— not near me."

Niyati gave him one last scathing look, her chest heaving from the adrenaline and rage, "You are Rude! Arrogant! Snobbish! A walking ego the size of Jupiter!"

For him she wasn't worth his attention just another loud, reckless distraction but somehow with every careless word and chaotic breath, she clawed her way under his skin like a splinter he couldn't ignore.

He didn't responded and gripped the steel edge of the pool with one hand and stepped out..

And then..

He looked down at her.

Eyes cold. Jaw sharp.

Like she was a raindrop on marble — small, insignificant, already forgotten.

His gaze lingered, not because he cared.

"You lack awareness," he said, voice detached slicing through the moment like a blade. "...And etiquettes. Next time you run blindly, try not to do it where people of value walk."

He didn't wait for a response and tuned away leaving wet footprints behind him..

To her, he was an infuriating man who thought the world revolved around his footsteps.

To him?

She was just noise.
Useless. Unimportant. Forgettable. A Foolish Disrespectful Brat who needed to be taught lessons she wouldn't forget.

Both equally wrong.
Both equally doomed.

✨

RATHOD MANSION

The house was quiet, unusually so. Even the clocks seemed to tick slower tonight, as if time itself were cautious not to disturb what was yet to unfold.

Rida sat by the window on the couch. Her legs were curled beneath her, her posture small, as if trying to take up less space in a world that already made her feel misplaced. Her long hair, a symbol of elegance, once always perfectly styled was now tied in a loose, careless bun.

A book rested in her lap, open at page seventy-nine. It had been on that same page for nearly an hour. Her eyes read the same line again and again but her mind remained anchored in the garden, in the footsteps of the evening that had left behind quiet tremors.

"Jiji aa rahi hain, Rida beta... Rudra unhe do din mein le ayega. Shift ho jaao apne kamre mein. She shouldn't know this."

And now, as she stared into the soft darkness, her thoughts whispered like wind brushing against old scars.

"How can I go back to that room?"

She had asked herself that too many times.
"How can I walk back into a space I was thrown out of... like I didn't belong? I have self-respect. I won't place my dignity at the doorstep of a man who didn't care if I stayed or left. I can't step into a space where I was made to feel invading. How can i pretend that bed still holds space for my dignity?"

It had been ten days since he has returned from Bangkok. Ten days.

And not once had he looked her in the eye for longer than a second. Not once had he reached out.

They passed like two shadows in the hallway sometimes brushing too close, sometimes clashing, never touching hearts.

And then—
A soft knock.

"Rida?," Kanak's gentle voice filtered in, tugged her out of the spiral.

"Maa... aap abhi tak soyi nahi?," Rida asked, voice soft, stepping aside. "Kuch chahiye?"

She smiled gently, placing a warm hand on Rida's head like she always did— out of habit, out of love.

"Chahiye to tha..."

"Toh kahiye na Maa," Rida urged, guiding her to the bed.

She placed her hand on hers and said gently, "I want you to move back... to his room."

Rida stilled..

The slight smile vanished, replaced by an unreadable calm.

"You're husband and wife, Beta.. You should live together with love.. Not like strangers under the same roof... You're meant to share more than just a surname and a roof. This distance..This Silence between you two... It's not what marriage looks like— it's becoming a wall.. These walls won't heal wounds. Togetherness will."

Rida sat quietly, fingers laced in her lap despite the storm that brewed inside her.

He's the one who turned us into strangers, Maa.. He wants Silence...

She didn't say it out loud because the woman in front of her deserved respect.

Because she wasn't accusing her.

She wasn't defending Prakhar either... she was simply hoping.

"Ma... please don't ask me that."

"I can't... I won't go back into that room again where I was made to feel unwanted. I never asked him to love me. I've never expected that. I just want to hold on to whatever dignity I have .So please don't ask me to go back to his room..," she whispered, averting her gaze to the floor.

His mother gently slided a hand on her hair, "Neither am I asking you, nor am I ordering you. I'm... requesting. Not to go back to his room-but to your room. It belonged to both of you, not just him.

Rida's voice softened again, "Ma, I understand your concern. I really do. But this isn't just about claiming space — it's about not forcing myself where I'm not wanted. Please don't misunderstand me. I'm not refusing out of ego.."

She exhaled softly, "I can't go back like nothing happened. Not unless he is ready to make space for me..."

She continued, "He asked me to leave, Maa. That room— that isn't mine and I really don't want to invade his space.."

Her mother's eyes softened.

"You think I don't see it? The pain in your eyes, the exhaustion behind your poise?"

Rida replied in voice so gentle, "Then why ask me to go back there? Why not ask him to take a step for once?"

And then, his mother voice cracked.

"Because he doesn't know how. I have tried so many times.."

Rida fell silent for a long moment, watching her..

She finally said softly, "Maybe... he never learned how to show what he feels. Maybe... he thinks loving openly makes him weak."

"He wasn't always like this. My Prakhar... He used to be sunshine, not this storm cloud he carries around now."

"Some things has changed him.. Somewhere along the way... life stripped him of softness. He built walls, started speaking less, feeling less-or at least pretending to. He started believing that silence was strength, that distance meant control."

"Ma, Please I—"

But she was cut off.

"Then More I can do than request is a pleading?..."

That struck her. Rida turned quickly, eyes wide, voice urgent.

"Ma... please don't say that. Don't plead. Not to me. That's not something I can bear."

"Then go back. Not for him,Not even for me just for the peace of this house. Rudra will be bringing Dadi in two days. She's already upset with him. If she senses something's wrong, it won't go well."

Rida's brows knit, confused.
"Why is Badi Dadi upset with him?"

Her mother didn't answer.

Rida furrowed her brow..

"She's not truly upset, Rida...nor does she hates him. It's just something she pretends."

Rida's eyes softened.

"Pretends?"

"Hmm..."

"She loves him... fiercely in her own way. But she doesn't show it easily. Maybe... he takes after her that way. Both of them-full of love, and yet hiding it like it's a flaw. She scolds him, avoids softness with him, but I've seen the way she watches him when he's not looking."

She paused.

"Just like him... standing at a distance, pretending not to care when he does more than anyone else."

Rida blinked, something in her chest tightening.

"Mirrors of each other..Maybe that's why they clash," she murmured.

His mother smiled faintly.

"Or maybe that's why they understand each other more than any of us ever could."

And then she went still. Her thoughts caught in a place she didn't revisit often.

The quiet that followed wasn't just silence — it was memory, grief and the ache of everything unsaid.

Rida noticed.

Trying to ease the heaviness in the air.

"But he really thinks I can't breathe unless I orbit him. That man has the arrogance of ten kings and the empathy of a brick wall."

She chuckled cupping her cheek, "I know my son seems cold to you.. Brooding. Arrogant, even cruel sometimes. Like he carries storms in his eyes and doesn't care who drowns."

Rida blinked.

"But he's not like that. Not really. What you see... it's not who he is. It's what he's become to survive."

His mother turned to the window, eyes glazing over with memory.

"He's still a child inside, Beta...That same boy who once cried silently into my saree because a bird got injured because of him. That same boy left his passion for us."

"He's buried that child. Deep. Under layers of steel, control & that dangerous look he gives the world. It's all a disguise. A mask he stitched over time to protect himself. He shows the world his coldness, because warmth... would expose him. Lost in a world where love has no place, and softness feels like a threat."

Rida felt something stir in her chest— pain, but not hers. His.

Turning towards her with unshed tears she continued," You know, He doesn't show his vulnerability to anyone. Not even me. He holds everything in-like a vault with no key. Not because he doesn't feel. But because he feels too much.He thinks if he tells me, I'll break. So he carries his pain inside & sometimes, that it cuts him deeper than any sword."

A tear slipped down her cheek.

"You think he's not paying attention when he's not here? But he knows where you are at every moment...What you're doing.. What's happening around..He's that protective. Always watching from a distance, even when he's a thousand miles away. That's how he loves quietly. Deeply. Dangerously. Not in words, but in shadows."

Rida's breath hitched. Her throat closed with emotion.

"My son is not a bad man, Rida..He's just— exhausted.. Don't take him that way. He's just... lost in a world that demanded too much of him."

"He's not just my son. He's my protector. He has protected me like a father would. He's carried my burdens on shoulders that should've only known mischief and dreams. And now..."

Rida's eyes welled up too. Quietly, she slid closer, reached out and wiped her mother-in-law's tears.

She turned to Rida with eyes that shimmered with both sorrow and desperate hope.

A mother mourning a son who was still alive but unreachable.

"The worst part is... Now, he's forgotten how to live for himself. He's built this empire-yes-but not as a throne, Rida... as a fortress. A shield to keep the world out, to keep his wounds hidden. But what he couldn't see is... that shield? It's become his cage. One made of concrete meetings and cold boardrooms. He thinks this corporate empire is what keeps him safe. But it's slowly suffocating him.."

Her voice trembled.

"I watch him vanish a little more each day-behind files, deadlines, power suits, boardroom walls & silence. He smiles less. Sleeps less. Feels... nothing. And sometimes, when I look into his eyes, I wonder.. And seeing this my heart aches in a way I couldn't describe..It hurts me Rida..Very much.."

Rida's vision blurred.

His mother spoke ,"I wonder, Does my son even remember how to breathe without fighting? Without pretending he's unbreakable?"

Rida slid closer, wordless, her heart aching in a way she hadn't anticipated.

"Don't cry, Maa.." she whispered rubbing her arm..

"I'm not crying," her mother said, smiling through the glisten in her eyes. "I'm just remembering..."

A pause.

"I just want my son to live. Not survive, And you..." she looked at Rida with aching affection.

"So don't think he's bad. One day... when he truly sees you & your worth-not just as someone in his life but as someone meant to be in it- he will love you to an extent, no one ever could. He'll crave your presence like breath itself. You won't just be someone he loves... you'll be the silence after his storms, the only place where he can put down the swords he's been holding for years. Not because he needs saving, but because he'll realize you're the only place where he feels light where the weight of everything he's buried begins to lift."

"Behind that arrogance, that silence... there's a man aching to be understood. And when his soul finds its truth in you, he won't run anymore.He'll come to you not just with affection, but with pieces of himself he never dared show the world. Because with you... he'll feel safe enough to unravel.He'll tell you everything— not with ease, but with the kind of honesty that only love can pull out of a guarded heart..He'll look at you one day, and it'll hit him— you're not just in his life. You are his life."

And something inside Rida shifted. Quietly. Invisibly.
Like a ripple beneath still water-subtle, but certain.

Her mother stood and cupped her chin.
"Go to sleep now. I think I've disturbed you enough for tonight..."

Rida shook her head, gently. You never do, her eyes seemed to say.

A faint smile tugged at her mother's lips as she picked up the open book lying forgotten on the bed.

"Don't read this tonight. You work all day... you'll tire yourself out."

Then, just as she reached the door, she paused. Her fingers rested on the handle, her voice calm but edged with quiet finality.

"I've already spoken to Prakhar. Nancy will move your things to the room tomorrow."

She didn't wait for a response.

And with that, she left.

Leaving Rida behind.
Alone in her warm room,
With a heart no longer sure where it belonged.
With thoughts she wasn't ready to name.
And a flicker of hope she didn't dare feed.

She lay back slowly, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
The room hadn't changed. But she had.
Just a little.
Just enough.

✨

Rathod Corporation

She had waited. Waited until her fingers went numb gripping the file that now burned with urgency. The regular staff elevator was crawling somewhere near the thirty-first floor, a tiny blinking number mocking her from the hallway screen. She stared at it, foot tapping with barely concealed panic.

She had waited 7 minutes already, but the damn thing hadn't moved. Time wasn't just running— it was sprinting and she was stuck standing still..She had to reach the seventh floor before the file in her arms became irrelevant. Waiting any longer meant risking everything— her credibility, her work, and whatever little space she'd carved out in this glass empire. So, she did what she had promised herself never to do.

So she stepped into the elevator anyway marked,
"Restricted Access — Executive Use Only" with trembling reluctance, shoulders tense, head down, praying to slip away unnoticed.

She had comforted herself with one fragile thought.

He wouldn't be here. Not this early.

Her husband.

He never arrived before 9:30. It was just past 9:15 now. She had noticed his schedule by now. She crossed her fingers and pressed the button & prayed.

But the universe has a flair for irony.
And just when she allowed herself to exhale- just as the elevator's doors began to glide together sealing her inside- she heard it. A voice.

Deep, Composed, and Undeniably commanding-slicing through the stillness

"...and make sure Tokyo's legal revisions are handed in before the call—"

Her blood froze.

Before the doors could meet, they reversed with a mechanical sigh— with a dignified ding and an obedient hiss, unveiling a scene she had not prepared for..

There he was...

Standing just beyond the threshold, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a phone.

Her breath caught in her throat like even oxygen dared not pass in his presence..

His voice died mid-sentence as his eyes found her inside.

There was simply a pause.
Barely perceptible.

His eyes held hers with quiet intensity— not outrage, not welcome. Just... stillness.

His secretary beside him paused too..

The soft whirr of the elevator's mechanics was the only sound until his polished shoes stepped forward crossing the line that separated outside from inside & made this small space shrink to nothingness. She hesitated before bowing her head stepped back..

He tilted his head slightly to his secretary— barely a movement, his posture saying everything his lips didn't. His secretary took the cue & stepped in uncertain but obedient, the tension thickening as the doors closed behind him.

Inside, not a word passed.

She stood still, clutching the file closer, acutely aware of the measured silence.

Though he looked straight ahead now, not at her... she could feel it.

The storm he never voiced.

The elevator began to ascend, slow, deliberate, mirroring the storm brewing between them.

The scent of his cologne flooded the entire space instantly— woodsmoke, leather something dark and expensive, with a hint of winter..

She wished she could disappear into the walls, melt into the brushed steel panels behind her..

His voice broke the silence, low but edged.
To his secretary.

"Didn't I make it clear. This elevator is meant for my executives. Not staff."

She knew she was the target..

His secretary hesitated & slightly glanced to the side at the silent figure standing behind them.

She clenched the file tighter.

And worst of all... he knew exactly what he was doing.

Her jaw tightened, her gaze forward, "I am sorry.. "

"The file needed to be delivered urgently. I didn't have any other option."

Something in his chest tightened for the way he said but pushed it aside as if it didn't matter to him.

The secretary beside Prakhar shifted, visibly uneasy.

The air felt too thick for such a small space..

But Prakhar?

He said nothing.

Didn't even look at either of them.
Hands in his pockets. Eyes forward.

With a soft ding, the elevator slid open at the fifth floor.

Neil stepped out with a polite bow of the head toward Prakhar.

The doors whispered shut behind him.

Now it was just two of them.

The overhead light cast soft reflections on them.. His eyes remained ahead.. But she knew-knew-he was aware of her every breath, every slight shift in posture. .

His gaze flicked barely to the side panel, catching her reflection. A glance so brief it could've been imagined.

Then in that same unreadable tone, smooth as glass but edged like a scalpel, he spoke, "There are a dozen other elevators in this building."

The implication hung in the air, but laced with unmistakable meaning.

She didn't answer immediately. Her gaze drifted forward, toward the blinking panel of floors, then briefly too briefly toward the metal wall again. Her own reflection stared back.

A mask of grace and calm.

She didn't reply.

Didn't even blink.

But he saw it..

That faint tightening around her jaw.
The way her gaze dropped to the panel briefly as if involuntarily scanning for the floor number. The flicker of discomfort that darted through her eyes like lightning behind clouds. Like her entire body had tensed for a second then relaxed again, rehearsed and graceful.

Something that passed through her eyes- just for a breath & gone too quickly.

He didn't know what it was. But neither moved. They were climbing higher..

But his voice came again, quieter this time, deliberate.

"Let's not make it a habit. Choose other ones. This one is not for Convenience"

There was no heat in his words. Just precision. Like a warning carved in ice.

Then she spoke barely above a whisper, "It won't happen again."

He turned toward her fully now, a dangerous calm settling on his features.

"And Next time," he said finally, voice smooth but firm, "....try to find an option that doesn't involve violating boundaries."

That hit lower than she expected.

Because he wasn't just talking about the elevator anymore.

She stood there in silence..

Her eyes were on the mirrored wall beside him, avoiding his gaze, but not in fear. She wasn't afraid of him. She was just...always nervous around him.

He looked at her face and this time, it lingered, tracing..

For a moment, he seemed like he wanted to say something else- maybe something sharp, maybe something softer..

He looked away again, but there was tension in the line of his jaw, the slight movement of his thumb inside his pocket.

But the moment passed.

Ding.

Eighth Floor.

The doors began to part.

She stepped forward every

He didn't look at her but heard the muted clink of her bracelet and the rustle of her soft fabric..

Not in a way a man should notice meaningless noise. But it snagged him. Like her sound had found a place in the architecture of his mind and echoed in the empty space..

The faintest breeze followed her movement, trailing her fragrance-a quiet, haunting blend of jasmine and something earthier like peonies in rain.

Clean. Familiar. Dangerous.

It hit him before he was ready.

His breath caught for just half a second.
He didn't exhale.

Couldn't.

His lungs betrayed him— inhaling.

For just a second.

The doors closed behind her.

He exhaled, slow and controlled. The lift continued upward but she'd left something far more intimate behind..

Her scent — delicate, unmistakable.

And it still ghosted around him...

✨

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