CHAPTER-29 The Secret Bond

Hey guys!! 💕

How are you all doing? 🥺 I knowww you’re waiting for the next chapter 😭✨ but this is just a small important note so no one gets confused! 👀

The timeline is like this 🕰️ —
The day Dhruv leaves Piya and talks to her on video call 📱 is the same day in Paris 🇫🇷 when Diya is getting to know about Piya’s new trouble… including the Naksh scene and everything 👀💔

So yeah, all of it is happening at the same time! ⏳✨ Please don’t get confused, babies 🫶

Love you all sooo much 💖
Thank you for your endless support 🥺✨
Viransh Pov

I smiled faintly thinking about the name I always call her — Angel. She thinks it started recently, but she has no idea how long I’ve been carrying that name for her in my heart. I still remember the first time I saw her. She was just 12 years old, and I was twenty-one.

That night changed everything.

PAST 10 YEARS AGO

She was standing on the terrace wall of a seventy-five floor building. The wind was harsh, her hair flying around her face, and she was just staring at the sky like she was searching for answers there. I was wearing a mask that night; no one knew who I was. I quietly walked toward the edge and sat down a little distance away from her.

"Hey, Angel," I said softly.

She startled at my voice and almost lost her balance. My reflexes kicked in instantly, and I grabbed her arm before anything could happen. I pulled her down safely beside me, and only then did I notice that she was shivering.

"What’s the matter, cutie?" I asked gently.

"Nothing," she muttered, avoiding my eyes and playing with her fingers nervously.

I could see she was holding everything inside. Her silence was louder than any scream. I spoke calmly, keeping my tone soft so she wouldn’t feel threatened. "It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me your name or identity. But at least speak. Don’t keep it inside."

She stayed quiet for a long moment before finally whispering, "No one at home knows I’m not there."

I had guessed that much. "How old are you?" I asked.

She looked at me and blinked. "12."

I was genuinely shocked. She looked older than her age, taller and more mature. "Why are you here at this hour?" I asked carefully.

"I felt suffocated," she replied softly. "So I came here."

I glanced at the edge she had been standing on. "Oh, so you were breathing better while standing on the edge of a seventy-five floor building?"

She immediately lowered her head. "I’m sorry."

That apology didn’t sit right with me. For the first time in my life, I gently pulled a girl into my arms, making sure she felt safe. Before she could misunderstand, I asked clearly, "Are you comfortable with my touch? If not, I’ll move away."

She looked into my eyes, and I saw fear mixed with exhaustion. Then the tears came. She didn’t hold them back.

"I’m not okay," she whispered brokenly. "First life took away my dad, and now my mom is there but she’s not the same. It feels like she doesn’t see me anymore. I hate being the elder child. Why do I have to handle everything? Don’t I deserve to be happy?"

Her words pierced deeper than she realized. I hugged her gently as she cried into my chest, letting her release everything she had been holding in. After a few minutes, I lifted her chin slightly and spoke softly.

"Listen to me, Angel. Your mom lost someone too. She’s hurting in her own way. You deserve to behave like a normal kid, and you will. But for a little while, be strong. Not forever. Just for now."

She sniffed and asked in a small voice, "Will she become the old mummy again if I become mature for some time?"

I nodded. "She needs time. And she needs you."

Slowly, she climbed down from the wall completely and sat properly beside me. I finally exhaled in relief. "So, Miss Angel, what’s your name?" I asked.

"Diya. Diya Kasani."

"Nice name, sweety," I replied.

She gave a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. I held her hand gently and said, "Chalo, let’s go. I’ll buy you ice cream and drop you home."

As we walked, she looked up at me curiously. "What’s your name though?"

I smiled behind the mask. "People call me Dark Shark. You can call me whatever you want."

She giggled. "You’re so tall. I can see you properly now. You have blue eyes."

"Yes, Miss Angel."

She suddenly said, "I hope my future husband also has blue eyes like you."

I chuckled. "They’re rare in India."

"Then I’ll marry a foreigner," she pouted playfully.

I teased her back. "Oh really?"

She looked at me seriously and said, "Or you do one thing. You marry me when I turn twenty-two."

I played along with her childish tone. "Okay. Promise, Angel."

Her face lit up with pure happiness, and she jumped excitedly. I dropped her home that night and left quietly.

But I never forgot her.

And now, years later, she’s here. Sleeping peacefully beside me, holding me like I belong to her. I brushed a strand of hair away from her face and whispered softly, "You kept your promise, Angel."

And this time, I intend to keep mine too.

I met her again after 2 Years.

It was at a resort. She had come there with her school for a picnic. The moment I saw her step out of the bus in her school uniform, I recognized her instantly. She had grown taller, almost five-six or five-seven now. There was a glow on her face that hadn’t been there that night on the terrace.

She was smiling.

Laughing.

Alive.

I didn’t approach her. I just stood at a distance and watched her like a silent guardian. That’s when I overheard her talking to her friends near the dining area.

"Arey yaarrr, I didn’t like the food managed by our school," she complained, scrunching her nose cutely. "I don’t even like that paneer curry, and I’m allergic to it. They only kept that one thing to eat."

She huffed and walked away, clearly irritated.

My jaw tightened.

I immediately called the restaurant manager and showed him her school uniform. "Call the school management right now," I instructed calmly.

Within minutes, the principal arrived. She looked arrogant even before she opened her mouth. I don’t judge people easily, but her expression said enough.

"Ma’am," I began politely, "why aren’t proper food facilities arranged for the students? Some of them may have allergies."

She replied in a dismissive tone, "If they have allergies, they should inform us beforehand. And you expect us to open a five-star restaurant for such a small budget?"

I sighed internally.

I turned to the restaurant manager and handed him double the payment. "Feed all the students properly today. Whatever they want."

Then I looked at the principal again and said firmly, "Especially her."

She looked confused. "Excuse me, and who are you to interfere?"

I stepped closer and said coldly, "Mind your tongue. I’m Viransh Rajvanshi, not your servant."

Her expression changed instantly. Shock. Recognition.

She nodded stiffly.

"Yes," I added with a faint smirk, "the youngest businessman. You’ve probably heard of me."

I walked away before she could respond.

I sat inside the restaurant, positioned where I could see her without being obvious. That’s when I heard her friends scream.

"Diya! Diya! See, see — he came!"

She froze.

And then she started blushing.

I followed her gaze and noticed a six-foot guy with glasses standing near the entrance. Her friends began teasing her mercilessly.

"Diya, propose to him already! He’ll accept you!"

She sighed dramatically. "Already Nia did it from my account without my knowledge. He rejected me."

She looked genuinely upset.

I felt something sharp twist inside my chest.

Who the hell was that idiot who rejected her?

But at the same time…

I felt relieved.

That day passed in a blur. I didn’t talk to her. I just made sure she was taken care of.

And I left.

1 Year passed.

When I sent Dhruv to Hyderabad for his studies, I noticed her again. She was close to him — best friends. I didn’t interfere, but I observed. From that point, she wasn’t just a memory anymore.

She became a constant thought.

I always knew who she was, where she lived, who she bonded with. Not in a controlling way — but in a protective way. I needed to know she was safe.

The third time I met her, she was seventeen.

At a temple.

The crowd at Tirupati Balaji Temple was suffocating, waves of devotees pushing from every side, chants echoing in the air. In that chaos, my eyes found her—Diya—holding her family together like she always did, making sure everyone was fine before herself.

I was watching her when the crowd suddenly surged harder. At first, it looked like nothing unusual, just another push. But then I noticed the man behind her. His movements weren’t accidental. His hand lingered where it shouldn’t.

Before I could step forward, she reacted.

Her hand rose, and the sharp sound of a slap cut through everything. People turned, whispers rising, and the man stumbled back, shocked, before disappearing into the crowd.

For a second, I felt something close to pride. She didn’t hesitate. She didn’t stay silent.

But the moment she stepped out of the crowd and reached her family, everything changed.

Her mother didn’t look worried. She looked angry.

Her mom immediately blamed her, saying, "Nuvvu aa signals istundey emo!"
(Maybe you are the one giving signals!)

Diya looked at her, stunned and hurt, trying to explain herself as she replied, "Mummy, nenu em chesina?"
(Mom, what did I even do?)

Instead of understanding, her pedamma stepped in harshly, saying, "Nuvvu aa siggu sharam lekunda potav andari deggarki!"
(You behave without shame around everyone!)

Her pinni added with a mocking tone, saying, "Mogavalu chusta manchiga anipistadi kada merku?"
(You like it when men look at you, right?)

Her babai didn’t hold back either, accusing her by saying, "Andaru ninnu aa chustey neeku chala nachutadi kada!"
(You enjoy it when everyone stares at you, don’t you?)

And then her brother, almost casually, dismissed everything she went through by muttering, "Attention seeker."

I stood there, frozen—not because of what happened in the crowd, but because of what was happening now.

Each word they threw at her was heavier than the slap she had given that man.

Diya didn’t argue anymore.

She didn’t defend herself.

She just went quiet.

And somehow, that silence said more than anything else.

I clenched my fists, anger rising in my chest. I had seen injustice before, but this… this was different. This was her own family breaking her down.

Later, when the crowd shifted again, I noticed her mother struggling to move forward. Instinctively, I stepped in and helped her get through safely, guiding her to a less crowded space.

Once she was steady, she thanked me, saying, "Thank you beta… these crowds are difficult."

I nodded, but my mind was still on what I had witnessed. Carefully, I brought it up, saying, "Aunty… what happened earlier… Um I was present there "

She immediately grew defensive, brushing it off as she said, "She overreacts sometimes."

I shook my head slightly, knowing that wasn’t the truth. Keeping my tone respectful but firm, I told her, "No aunty, she didn’t."

She looked at me, surprised, as if she hadn’t expected anyone to say that.

I continued, making sure she understood what I saw, saying, "I was right there. That man was not pushed by the crowd. He was taking advantage."

She went silent for a moment, her expression shifting, uncertainty creeping in as she asked, "Are you sure…?"

Without hesitation, I reassured her, saying, "Diya didn’t create a scene. She protected herself."

The noise around us faded as she processed my words. I softened my tone, hoping she would truly hear me, and said, "Sometimes girls don’t need correction. They need support."

She didn’t respond immediately. There was something changing in her expression—confusion, maybe even realization—but years of beliefs were holding her back.

After a pause, she simply said, "She’s very stubborn."

A faint, almost helpless smile crossed my face as I replied, "Or maybe… very strong."

She didn’t argue after that.

She didn’t agree either.

But for the first time, she didn’t blame Diya again.

And as I looked at Diya standing at a distance—silent, composed, carrying everything alone—I realized something clearly.

They didn’t see her.

But I did.

And maybe… that was where everything truly began.
PAST ENDS

And then…

At twenty-two.

She came back into my life.

This time, not as a distant memory.

But as a woman.

When I saw her again properly, something inside me settled. And when I found out Mumma liked her too, I knew I didn’t have to fight destiny alone.

The airport day?

I left my ring in her purse intentionally.

The street fight in Mumbai?

Planned.

The confrontation at Echelon Dynamics?

Also planned.

I needed her to remember me.

I was the one who suggested to Mumma, "She can be my PA."

Mumma had raised an eyebrow and asked, "Are you sure?"

And I had replied calmly, "I know what I’m doing."

Every step. Every encounter. Every coincidence. Was me.

I looked at her sleeping face beside me and smirked softly.

She thinks it was fate.

No, angel.

It was me. You were always mine. And in every upcoming life… You’ll still be mine.

I smiled faintly, lost in the memories of the past. Every moment replayed in my head like a perfectly edited film — the terrace, the resort, the temple, the airport. I had controlled so much of this story, shaped so many encounters, and yet there was one thing I had never truly seen.

The depth of her pain.

I didn’t know she was carrying so much inside her heart all these years. I knew she was strong. I knew she had suffered. But I didn’t know the weight she had been dragging behind that smile. And that realization unsettled me more than anything else.

Never mind.

From now on, she won’t carry it alone.

I tightened my arm around her waist, pulling her closer to me as if the world might try to snatch her away. She shifted slightly in her sleep but didn’t wake up. Instead, her fingers curled softly into my shirt, as if she trusted me even in her unconscious state.

"Enough suffering," I murmured under my breath. "You’ve done enough of that, Angel."

I lowered my head and gently hid my face against her chest, listening to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. It was slow. Calm. Safe. And for the first time, I allowed myself to relax completely in someone’s presence.

I inhaled softly, holding her a little tighter.

"I’ll take care of you," I whispered. "Even if you don’t know how much I already have."

After some time I felt her soft skin under my face The sight stole my breath. The first three buttons of her silk blouse had come undone, exposing a sliver of her chest. My cheek had rested directly against that warm, smooth skin. A jolt, electric and immediate, shot through me. My body responded instantly, a hard throb settling low in my groin. I closed my eyes, a desperate attempt to rein in the rising tide of desire. *Control, I repeated silently, a mantra against the surging heat.

But then, a faint flutter. Diya’s eyelids, dark lashes a delicate fringe, slowly lifted. Her gaze, still hazy with sleep, found mine. A blush, faint but undeniable, bloomed across her cheeks.

"Angel, can I kiss you?" The words tumbled out, rushed, barely a whisper. I watched her, suspended, waiting. She blinked, her expression still distant, dreamlike. I couldn’t wait. "Baby, I want to kiss you."

A soft nod. That was all I needed. I plunged forward, my mouth crashing onto hers. I devoured her lips, a hungry, urgent assault. First the lower one, then the upper, sucking, tugging, claiming. My hand, as if possessing a will of its own, found her breast, pressing, shaping the soft mound.
A low, guttural moan, "Mmmph," vibrated against my lips. I parted her mouth with my tongue, a deep, invasive exploration of her cavern. Her breath hitched, a faint gasp escaping as I delved deeper, tasting, swirling.
She tasted of sleep and sweetness, a heady mix that fueled my hunger. Her hands, delicate and insistent, began to tap against my back, a silent plea for air. I relented, pulling back from her lips, but only to attack her neck.

My mouth found the tender skin beneath her ear, a hot, wet suction. She moaned again, a soft, drawn-out "Ahhh," that thrilled me. I moved lower, tracing a fiery path down her throat, my lips leaving a trail of heat. I paused, my gaze meeting hers, a silent question in my eyes.

Diya’s POV

I was a trembling mess.

My breathing was uneven, my fingers clutching onto him like he was the only thing grounding me. Everything felt overwhelming — the closeness, the warmth, the way my heart refused to calm down.

And then his hands moved lower.

The moment I realized where they were heading, something inside me panicked. Not because I didn’t want him… but because I wasn’t ready for that step.

My eyes flew open.

“Wait.”

The word came out soft but urgent.

He stopped immediately.

Not even a second of hesitation.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine, his breathing still heavy — but controlled.

“It’s okay,” he said gently. “I know you’re not ready. I’m not ready either. It’s okay, love. I’ll freshen up.”

And then he pressed the softest kiss on my forehead.

My heart swelled.

No disappointment.

No irritation.

No pressure.

Just care.

The kind of care I had always craved but never received.

After he walked away, I quickly buttoned up my shirt, my fingers trembling — not because of what almost happened… but because of the thoughts racing through my head.

Did I do something wrong?

Was I too much? Or too little?

Will he judge me?

I don’t even look that great… why would someone like him stay?

What if he leaves like everyone else does?

My insecurities were louder than my heartbeat.

I hated that about myself.

Why did I always assume I wasn’t enough?

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t even hear him come back.

Until—

A sudden soft peck landed on my temple.

I froze.

He stood there, looking at me — not with desire, not with frustration — but with something steady. Something reassuring.

“Stop overthinking,” he murmured, almost as if he could read my mind.

stayed quiet because I didn’t know what to say. And then he knelt in front of me — something I had never imagined. The Viransh Rajvanshi kneeling? For me?

“Listen, angel,” he said softly. “Stop overthinking. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you, do you understand?” He paused, his voice gentler. “I don’t know why you think so much, but I’m with you. Calm down. Take a deep breath.” I did.

“Now go freshen up,” he added, then smirked. “If you want… I can help you bathe.”

My eyes widened in embarrassment, heat rushing to my cheeks. “You’re so shameless, sir.”

His smirk only deepened. “Someone has to make you a little shameless too, Angle.”

Flustered, I ran into the washroom.

When I came back out to grab my clothes, I froze. He had just bathed and hadn’t changed yet Water droplets clung to his skin, tracing paths down the sculpted planes of his chest, disappearing into the waistband of the towel. He dried his dark brownish hair with another towel, oblivious, or so it seemed, to her presence.

My gaze traveled, unbidden, over the expanse of his body. Eight-pack abs, sharply defined, rippled under his skin. His chest, broad and powerful, tapered to a lean waist. The muscles in his back flexed with each movement, his biceps bulging subtly. He was, she thought, a living sculpture, a Greek god stepped from myth. My mouth went dry. I stood, mesmerized, openly ogling

“You’re staring, Miss Kasani,” he said, amused.

My eyes snapped up, meeting his. Those pretty blue eyes, deep as the ocean, held a knowing amusement. The world around them faded. Driven by an impulse she couldn't name, I moved. I walked straight towards him, my steps light, almost a trance. My hand found his naked chest, fingers splaying over warm, firm skin. The other hand rested on his shoulder. I rose onto her toes, my body pressing lightly against his, and kissed him.

The scent of his skin, a warm, musky cedar, enveloped me as my lips met his. I pressed, a soft insistence, drawing his lower lip between my own. A shock went through him, subtle but present, a stiffening that spoke of surprise. A small shock ran through him. He went slightly still, clearly surprised. A tiny, naughty thrill rose inside my chest. I felt the slight parting of his lips, an unspoken invitation, and deepened the kiss. My fingers felt cool against the back of his neck as she slid them into his short hair, holding him gently and pulling him closer. The world narrowed to the press of our mouths, the soft give of his lips, the gentle suction she created.

He responded then, a low groan rumbling deep in his throat, a sound that vibrated against mine. His arms, strong and sudden, slid around my waist, lifting me effortlessly until my feet dangled inches from the floor. The shift in height allowed a more complete union, a flush of heat blooming between our bodies. I felt the solid planes of his chest against my breasts, the hard line of his hips against mine. The kiss intensified, a hungry exploration, tongues dancing, seeking, intertwining. His breath hitched, a soft gasp, as my tongue traced the sensitive ridge of his gums. I leaned into him, all my weight surrendered, lost in the intoxicating rhythm.

Minutes passed… or maybe it was just a few seconds. I couldn’t tell anymore. Everything felt blurred until my lungs started aching softly for air. I slowly pulled away from the kiss, a faint sound breaking the silence between us. Our foreheads were still touching, our eyes closed, and I could still feel the warmth of his breath on my lips. The whole world felt like it was humming around us.

When I opened my eyes slowly, his were already open. He was looking at me so intensely, so openly, that my cheeks instantly turned red.

“Aww… now you’re acting innocent?” he teased softly, though my voice was still a little breathless. My blush deepened. Viransh Rajvanshi is becoming my weakness day by day, I thought quietly.

“Kya hua, baccha?” he asked gently, his voice low but full of concern. His thumbs moved softly on my back in a slow, comforting way.

“Kuch nahi,” I said, shaking my head lightly. “Please… put me down.”

He lowered me slowly, but his hands stayed on my waist for a few extra seconds before letting go. The moment my feet touched the floor, everything felt real again.

Feeling shy and nervous, I turned away and walked toward the bathroom. I could almost feel his eyes still on me. A long, hot shower sounded perfect right now… maybe it would calm the fire he had just started inside me.

Piya's POV:-

I woke up to sunlight spilling through the floor-to-ceiling glass wall, the golden rays stretching across the bed. The curtains were left open, and the space beside me was cold. Empty. My chest tightened instantly.

Did he leave me again?

After last night… after everything… did he just walk away? My throat burned as the thought settled in. Maybe I was stupid to believe him. Maybe he was using me again. I hugged myself and forced a shaky breath before getting out of bed, his oversized shirt slipping off one shoulder.

When I walked downstairs, a few house helpers stood in uniform along with security guards. Their presence only irritated me. Why does he even care about me now? He should’ve just left me alone.

I turned into another room—and froze.

My entire body went numb.

A black panther stood in the middle of the room.

Not just any animal. He was massive. Sleek black fur that looked like silk under the sunlight. Muscles shifting under his skin with every subtle movement. A long tail swaying lazily behind him. And those eyes—bright green, sharp, observant, almost… intelligent.

“Ahhh!” I screamed and ran.

My heart felt like it would burst as I reached the end of the hallway and slid down the wall, sobbing. The panther followed me, but he didn’t pounce. He didn’t attack. He stopped a few feet away and sat down.

Sat down.

One paw crossed over the other. His ears weren’t flattened. His teeth weren’t bared. He was just… watching me.

Still, I trembled violently.

A maid stepped forward. “Ma’am, please don’t be scared—”

A deep growl rumbled through the air.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t aggressive. But it was enough to make everyone freeze.

The panther had shifted slightly in front of me, his body angled protectively. His green eyes now fixed on the maid, warning her without moving an inch. His tail flicked once.

The maid swallowed. “Ma’am… Nyx is protecting you. Please don’t be scared. He won’t hurt you. Your clothes are kept in sir’s closet. I’m Alya. I’m here to assist you.”

Protecting me?

I slowly looked at him again. Nyx.

He wasn’t growling at me. He was guarding me.

With shaking legs, I stood up and walked toward the room. He followed silently, but not in a hunting way. It felt more like a shadow staying close. When I entered the room, he settled near the door, as if claiming his position.

After freshening up, I opened the closet and froze again—this time in shock. So many women’s clothes. All my size. Carefully arranged.

I wore a baby pink Anarkali suit. On the bathroom mirror, a sticky note was waiting for me.

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t leave you. Don’t overthink. I had some important work.”

I pouted despite myself. He could’ve woken me up.

Another note was tucked inside the closet.

“I’ve kept your favorite chocolates. I told Alya to give them to you. I’m sorry, Butterfly. I’ll apologize properly once I come back. And Piya Basu, please take care of my baby, okay?”

My stupid heart betrayed me. A whole zoo of butterflies exploded in my stomach.

When I turned around, Nyx was sitting on the bed.

Not like a wild animal. Not restless. Not destructive.

He was watching me.

His massive body looked almost too big for the bed, but his eyes… they were soft. Curious. Warm. He tilted his head slightly when our gazes met.

For a second, the way he looked at me reminded me of Dhruv.

That intense, possessive softness.

I chuckled bitterly at the comparison.

Gathering courage, I slowly walked toward him. “Hi…” I whispered.

Nyx didn’t move. He simply blinked once. Slowly.

With trembling fingers, I reached out and touched his head. His fur was softer than I expected—smooth, warm, alive. He made a low sound, almost like a hum, and leaned into my palm.

I blinked in surprise.

“You… you like that?” I murmured.

He closed his eyes halfway and pressed his massive head gently against my hand.

I laughed softly.

The terrifying black panther was melting like a kitten.

I kissed his forehead carefully. He responded by licking my cheek with a surprisingly gentle swipe, and I giggled. His whiskers tickled my skin.

“Aww, my baby panther… such a good boy,” I cooed.

He climbed onto the bed properly and rested his heavy head on my lap. I could feel his steady breathing. The rhythmic rise and fall. His trust.

He wasn’t just guarding me.

He had accepted me.

“Chalo, we’ll go eat something, okay baby?” I asked.

He lifted his head and gave a soft chuffing sound, almost like agreement.

I narrowed my eyes playfully. “Baby Nyx, do you know where your rude and dumb dad is?”

His ears twitched, and he gave me a look that almost felt judgmental.

Before I could continue, Alya came and asked me to come downstairs.

A security guard was holding an iPad. Dhruv appeared on the screen, Bluetooth in his ear, looking away. Nyx immediately walked toward the iPad, and the guard visibly stiffened.

“Nyx, are you taking care of your mama?” Dhruv asked.

Mama?

My cheeks burned.

Nyx puffed his chest slightly and stood tall beside me.

Then Dhruv looked at me—and froze.

“Na bangaram…” he murmured softly. (Bangaram means “gold,” an affectionate way of saying meri jaan.)

I bit my lip to stop myself from smiling.

“Please ra, sachipota nenu… inka sampaku nannu aa pink pink champalatho. Chala andanga unnavu, bangaram.”

(Please baby, I’ll die… don’t kill me with those pink cheeks. You’re looking very beautiful, my baby.)

I didn’t respond. I was still hurt.

The guard nervously said, “Ma’am, please take the iPad. Otherwise Nyx will kill me. He’s already growling thinking I’m troubling you.”

I sighed and took it. “It’s okay, bhaiyya.”

Nyx instantly relaxed and curled near my legs.

“Butterfly… sorry na,” Dhruv said softly.

“It’s okay. I’m hungry. Bye,” I replied and cut the call before my voice could betray me.

I handed the iPad back. “Bhaiyya, don’t give it to me again if he calls. Otherwise next time I won’t stop Nyx.”

He gulped.

I giggled

For breakfast, I had my favorite Pesarattu — green gram dosa (Hindi: moong dal ka dosa). The familiar taste grounded me.

And with Nyx silently walking beside me like my shadow, I left for the office.

Paris

Author’s POV

One week had passed in this beautiful chaos.

In these seven days, Viransh and Diya had grown inseparably close. What began as comfort had slowly turned into something deeper — something steady. Viransh had started understanding Noor beyond her smiles, beyond her stubbornness, beyond her playful arguments. And Noor… she had found her safe place, her comfort person — her Jaan.

Between quiet mornings and late-night talks, there were business meetings to attend. Noor accompanied him sometimes, sitting gracefully beside him, observing the world he ruled so effortlessly. In between all that seriousness, she made time for shopping.

She shopped for everyone.

For his brothers.
For his friends.
Even for people she wasn’t very close to.

When Viransh asked why, she simply shrugged and said she felt like it was right.

Shopping in Paris turned into their own little world. Diya walking ahead with bags in her hands, Viransh following like an amused king watching his queen rule a mall.

At one boutique, he leaned closer to her ear and murmured,
"You're buying gifts for everyone, baccha… but what about me?"

She didn’t even look at him.
"Viransh, stop being dramatic."

He smirked.
"Oh? So I’m not special anymore?"

She turned, holding a tie against his chest.
"You are. That’s why I’m choosing personally."

He leaned closer again, voice lower this time.
"Then choose something that reminds you of me… so you miss me when I’m not around."

Her cheeks warmed. She pretended to focus on the fabric.
"You’re impossible."

And he whispered softly,
"Only for you, Jaan."

The days felt lighter.

One evening, they decided to have dinner at the famous Le Meurice Restaurant.

The ambience was golden, elegant, romantic without trying too hard. Noor was admiring the chandelier when Viransh suddenly straightened in his chair, his expression turning serious.

He looked at her directly and said in calm, composed French:

"Je t’aime, Noor." (I love you, Noor.)

She blinked.

He continued, voice steady as if discussing a business merger,
"Veux-tu m’épouser ?" (Will you marry me?)

Diya froze.
Her fork stopped mid-air.

"Hawwwww, sir! Why are you speaking in a language I don’t know? You’re so mean!"

Viransh slowly raised one eyebrow.

"Sir?" he repeated softly.

She immediately straightened.
"Umm… Viransh."

He leaned back, amused.
"So now I’m not sir anymore?"

She narrowed her eyes and continued eating as if nothing happened.
"I don’t respond to foreign-language pranks."

He shook his head, smiling faintly, watching her innocence. She didn’t understand a single word — and yet he felt like he had confessed everything.

After dinner, they returned to their hotel.

That night, Diya fell asleep quickly, tired from shopping and walking. Viransh lay beside her, watching her peaceful face. He brushed a strand of hair away and whispered softly,
"Un jour, tu comprendras, baccha…" (One day, you will understand, baccha…)

The remaining days in Paris passed in a blur.

Viransh made it his personal mission to trouble her.

If she was reading, he would suddenly whisper,
"Jaan, tu m’aimes ?" (Jaan, do you love me?)

If she was drinking coffee, he’d steal it and say,
"C’est à moi maintenant." (It’s mine now.)

She would glare.
"Give it back!"

He’d lean closer and murmur,
"Dis s’il te plaît." (Say please.)
Diya frowned immediately.
"What did you just say? And don’t look at me like that!"

He smirked, clearly enjoying this.
"I said… say please."

Her eyes narrowed.
"You could just say it in English, Ansh."

He tilted his head slightly, teasing her.
"But where’s the fun in that, Noor?"

She huffed.
"I don’t understand French, okay? Stop showing off."

He leaned even closer, lowering his voice.
"Très bien, baccha." (Very good, baccha.)

She blinked again.
"What now?!"

He chuckled softly.
"I said very good, baccha."

She crossed her arms dramatically.
"You’re impossible."

"And you," he replied calmly, "look very cute when you’re confused, Babe."

She turned her face away, pretending to be annoyed — but the slight smile she was hiding betrayed her completely.

Between teasing, laughter, soft glances, and unspoken promises, Paris became their quiet chapter of peace — a memory stitched with warmth, mischief, and love waiting to be understood.

Paris had been their soft chapter — golden lights, stolen glances, French confessions she did not understand, and love spoken in a language only his heart translated. But tonight, Paris looked different.

Now Diya was dressed like temptation wrapped in fire.

The deep red embellished bralette hugged her perfectly, intricate golden detailing catching the dim light like scattered sparks. The neckline dipped just enough to make a statement without asking for permission. High-waisted black fitted pants sculpted her silhouette flawlessly, and over it all she wore a sleek black leather biking jacket, unzipped just enough to reveal danger and elegance together. Her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, framing her sharp collarbones. Minimal makeup, bold lips, confidence radiating from every inch.

She looked heavenly.

She looked untouchable.

She looked furious.

Two and a half hours ago, she had wanted to attend the business meeting with Viransh. She had dressed up, excited to sit beside him, to watch him rule that room like he always did. But he had refused.

He had cupped her face gently and said, "It's important, jaan. Please listen to me. Stay here. I’ve arranged guards."

And that was it.

No room for argument.

No explanation beyond “important.”

And she hated that.

Now she was at a high-end Parisian pub, seated at the bar with her phone propped against a glass, her friends on video call.

On the screen were Ananta, Arya, and Piya. Their familiar faces filled her display, grounding her in a city that suddenly felt distant.

Arya squinted dramatically at the camera and said, “Why do you look like you’re about to ruin someone’s life?”

Diya rolled her eyes slightly and replied, “Shut up. I’m just out for a drink.”

Ananta leaned closer to the screen and said, “You’re glowing and pissed at the same time. What happened?”

Diya exhaled. “He didn’t let me attend the meeting. Said it was important and left guards outside like I’m some fragile thing.”

Piya spoke softly, “Maybe he was just worried.”

Diya shook her head. “I don’t like being kept away from things.”

There was a brief silence. Then Arya said gently, “You’re in Paris. At least enjoy that.”

But Ananta’s expression changed slightly as she looked at Piya.

Diya noticed it immediately. “What? Why are you two looking at each other like that?”

Piya hesitated.

“Piya,” Diya said, her tone shifting, “tell me.”

Piya swallowed and spoke quietly, “Something happened that night… after Dhruv left.”

The music in the pub continued thumping in the background, but Diya’s focus narrowed completely to her phone.

Ananta leaned back and said bluntly, “Naksh tried something.”

Diya’s fingers tightened around her glass. “What do you mean tried something?”

Piya’s voice trembled slightly as she explained — not in one heavy blow, but in pieces. How she had been asked to stay back. How the office was locked. How he had made disgusting comments. How he had questioned her character. How he had slapped her.

The color drained from Diya’s face.

“He slapped you?” she asked slowly.

Piya nodded.

Ananta added with restrained fury, “And she broke a computer on his head.”

Arya muttered, “Serves him right.”

Diya’s jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me that day?”

Piya looked down at her lap. “You were already dealing with things. I didn’t want to add more.”

Diya’s voice softened instantly. “It’s okay, Piya. You’re very strong. I love you.”

Piya gave a small smile and replied, “I love you too, Diyu.”

Ananta then added another piece, “He also tried to manipulate her about Dhruv. Said disgusting things. After that… Dhruv disappeared the next day.”

Diya frowned. “Disappeared how?”

“No calls. No explanation. Nothing,” Arya replied.

That unsettled her.

The harassment.

The manipulation.

Dhruv vanishing.

And on top of it all, Viransh refusing to let her stand beside him tonight.

Her mood darkened completely.

She picked up her vodka and took a slow sip.

Arya noticed immediately. “Don’t overdrink.”

Diya gave a small smirk. “Relax. I can handle it.”

She was a heavy drinker. Alcohol never controlled her.

But something about tonight felt heavier.

As she set the glass down, a man took the stool beside her.

He glanced at her phone screen briefly before she angled it away.

He smiled. “You look too stunning to be drinking alone.”

Diya replied without looking at him, “I’m not alone.”

He chuckled. “Virtual company doesn’t count.”

Ananta’s voice came sharply from the phone, “Who is that?”

Diya replied calmly, “No one important.”

The man leaned slightly closer. “Rough night? I can help with that.”

Diya turned slowly, eyes cold. “Excuse me?”

He shrugged casually. “No strings. One night. Distraction. Paris is famous for that.”

Piya’s eyes widened on the screen. Arya whispered, “Hang up the call and leave.”

Diya’s voice dropped dangerously low. “Do I look like I need saving from boredom?”

He smirked. “You look like you need to forget someone.”

That did it.

Her mood, already shattered, turned volcanic.

She downed the remaining vodka in one go.

“Find someone else,” she said flatly.

He raised his hands slightly and walked away.

Ananta said firmly from the screen, “Diya, go back to the hotel.”

Diya sighed. “I’m fine.”

She ordered another drink.

Arya protested, “Enough.”

But Diya waved it off.

She took one more sip.

And suddenly—

Her vision blurred.

The music sounded distant.

Piya’s voice on the phone became faint. “Diyu? Why are you not responding?”

Diya blinked rapidly. “That’s… weird…”

Her grip on the counter weakened.

Ananta shouted through the phone, “Diya! Leave the drink!”

The lights above her stretched unnaturally.

Her body swayed.

The phone slipped from its stand.

And before she could process what was happening—

Diya blacked out.

Her body collapsed beside the bar, the video call still connected, her friends screaming her name from miles away.

Author’s Note 🤍

Thank you so much for reading till here. It honestly means a lot to me. If you enjoyed this chapter, please don’t forget to vote and comment on your favourite part. I’d really love to know which scene or line touched you the most.

Your support keeps me motivated to write more, so let’s complete the target and unlock the next chapter together. Thank you for being here and supporting my story 🫶