Singhania Mansion | 10:00 A.M.
The morning arrived without warning.
Not with chaos.Not with fear.But with an unsettling normalcy that felt almost cruel.
Sunlight slipped softly through the curtains, pale gold fingers brushing the walls, as if the night before had never happened. As if the darkness, the hands, the fear had been nothing more than a bad dream the body eventually forgets.
Anaya lay still, staring at the ceiling.
Her body felt... fine.
A little stiff. A little tired. But there was no sharp pain. No screaming reminders of being trapped, dragged, swallowed by shadows. Her breath came easy. Her limbs obeyed her.
Alive.
The realization settled slowly in her chest, heavy and unfamiliar.
She listened to the house for a while. No alarms. No hurried footsteps. Just the quiet rhythm of a home waking up, insisting on routine, on continuity. On moving forward.
Her project was still pending.
The thought arrived uninvited, practical and grounding.
Work had always been her anchor. When emotions threatened to spill over, deadlines held her steady. And today, more than fear, more than exhaustion, she needed control. She needed something familiar. Something that still belonged to her.
So she decided to go to the office.
Not because she was careless.Not because she was brave.
But because she refused to let one night decide how small her world would become.
She got out of bed slowly, testing herself, steadying her breath. The mirror reflected a woman who looked calmer than she felt. Shadows lived under her eyes, yes, but there was resolve there too. Quiet. Unnegotiable.
Anaya chose a cherry-red silk shirt, the fabric smooth and fluid against her skin, the color deep and bold like dried cherries. She paired it with black trousers, crisp and sharp, grounding softness with structure. A blazer followed, settled over her shoulders with deliberate care.
Red and black.
Strength wrapped in elegance.
She checked herself once more before leaving the room, smoothing the fabric, squaring her shoulders. Whatever had happened last night did not get to announce itself today.
Downstairs, breakfast waited.
The dining table felt quieter than usual. Familiar faces. Familiar routines. Mrs. Singhania moved around with practiced ease, serving food, asking gentle questions that carried worry beneath their casual tone.
"Where are you going, Anaya?" her mother-in-law asked softly, watching her closely.
Anaya paused only for a heartbeat.
"Office, Mumma," she replied, her voice calm. "Project complete karna hai."
Silence followed.
Then Rudra's voice entered the space, steady and final."You're not going alone."
He hadn't looked up from his tablet. He didn't need to.
"We're going together."
Anaya glanced at him then.
Composed. Controlled. Almost distant. But she knew better. She always did. The way he slid a glass of water toward her without a word. The way his presence occupied the space beside her, solid, immovable. Like something that refused to let the ground shift again.
Across the table, Ravi sat unusually quiet.
She noticed it immediately.
His plate lay untouched. Tea cooling slowly in his cup. His eyes lifted now and then, not toward food, but toward her. Studying. Guarded. As if he were holding something back.
"Tum kuch khaoge nahi?" she asked gently.
Ravi startled, as though pulled out of deeper thoughts. Before he could respond, Rudra's voice cut through smoothly, almost saving him.
"Car nikaalo," he said. "Late ho rahe ho."
Ravi stood at once. Relief flickered across his face before he nodded and left the table.
Anaya didn't comment, but the silence stayed behind like an unspoken sentence.
Breakfast ended quietly.
She rose, adjusting her bag over her shoulder, and looked at Rudra."Chalein?"
He stood immediately, setting the tablet aside, and followed her out without another word.
Outside, the black G-Wagon waited, engine already humming.
As Anaya stepped into the car, the door closing softly behind her, a thought surfaced. One she hadn't allowed herself since waking up.
The world hadn't stopped last night.
But neither had she.
They walked out together.
The corridor ended, the doors opened, and the black G-Wagon waited right there, engine already humming softly, as if it had been holding its breath along with them.
Ravi was two steps ahead.
He reached the car first, pulled the door open for her without a word. The gesture was practiced, respectful. Protective.
Anaya slipped inside, settling into the seat carefully. The door shut with a muted thud. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just final.
Ravi moved around the car and got into the driver's seat. Rudra took his place beside her, on the left, his movements calm, unhurried. The car eased forward, gliding onto the road.
"Office... twenty-five minutes," Ravi said quietly, eyes already fixed ahead.
No one replied.
Silence filled the car.
Not the comfortable kind. Not the awkward kind either.
This silence had weight.
The city passed by outside the tinted windows. Traffic lights. Early-morning vendors. People walking like the world had not tilted on its axis just hours ago.
Ravi's focus never wavered from the road.
Rudra had his tablet in hand, scrolling through something unreadable, his face composed, distant. Too controlled.
Anaya sat between them, fingers curled around the seatbelt strap. She wanted to say something. Anything.
Her throat tightened.
Questions crowded her mind. What happened after they found her. How close it had been. Who else knew. What this meant now.
But none of the words made it past her lips.
Something held them back.
Pressure. Fear. Or maybe the understanding that once spoken, nothing would stay contained.
So, she stayed quiet. The silence stretched. Minutes passed. Twenty-five became forty. Almost fifty.
The office building finally appeared ahead, glass and steel rising into the morning light. Ravi slowed the car. "You can get down here, Anaya," he said gently. "I'll park and come."
She nodded. "I'll walk," she replied softly.
She didn't want attention. Didn't want people connecting dots. Didn't want the looks that came with beingthe CEO's wife.
The car stopped.
She opened the door, stepped out, and the cool air brushed against her face. The door closed behind her. She didn't look back. She couldn't.
Her heels clicked against the pavement as she walked toward the entrance, posture straight, pace steady.
Just another employee arriving at work.
Inside, the lobby was alive with quiet activity. The reception desk. Soft murmurs. The echo of footsteps on marble.
And then she saw them.
Three men stood near the desk. They didn't blend in. They weren't loud. They weren't rushed. They were... waiting. One of them stood slightly apart.
Around 5′9 ft. Well-built. Dressed impeccably. The kind of man whose importance showed not in excess, but in restraint.
She slowed instinctively.
He was speaking to the receptionist.
"If Mr. Singhania arrives," he said smoothly, "please inform me. I'll be waiting."
"Of course, sir," the receptionist replied. "He hasn't reached the office yet."
Something about the man's voice made Anaya's stomach twist.
Familiar. Uncomfortably so.
He turned.
Their eyes met.
For a brief, terrifying second, recognition flickered across his face.
Her breath hitched.
She didn't wait to confirm it.
Turning away, she walked straight toward the glass doors leading deeper inside, heart pounding, pulse loud in her ears. She didn't look back. She didn't need to.
She already knew.
Some ghosts don't follow you home.
They wait for you at work.
༶•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•༶♡₊˚*ೃ༄༶•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•༶
As I decided that he was really important, that was the only reason he was here, waiting in this office. There was no other explanation that made sense in my head.
So I decided not to stay there.
I decided to go down.
The golden elevator was right there. The one usually used only by the owners, the distributors, or family members. Not by people like me. But right now, I didn't care. I just wanted to disappear from the lobby. Fromhim. From his presence.
I moved toward the elevator, fingers already lifting to press the button.
And then—A voice. One sentence. It stopped me midway. "It's been a long time... no see, Miss Malhotra?"
My body froze. That voice. That tone. That smile I didn't even need to turn around to imagine. For a second, I told myself to breathe. To act normal. To greet him properly. Just say hello. Ask how he was. Then leave. Get into the elevator. Pretend this moment never happened.
Just professionalism, Just manners, My mind fought with itself, repeating the same thing again and again. Say hi, Leave. Say hi, Leave.
I repeated it twice before I finally turned. And there he was.
Kunal.
Standing there with his secretary and two bodyguards. Around twelve steps away, but it felt much closer. Too close. His smile was wide, confident, almost amused. Like this was entertainment.
I was scared. Not the kind of scared where you scream or run. The kind where your chest tightens and your instincts start screaming, but your body refuses to move.
This man didn't sound like the one I had met in my first year at this company. His voice was darker now. Sharper. I turned fully to face him.
Three men behind him. One assistant. Two bodyguards. I stood alone in front of the elevator reserved for the CEO and the owner of this company.
Awkwardly, I spoke.
"Oh... Mr. Rajawat. Good morning. It's... good to see you." He didn't answer that. Instead, he stepped closer. "Ah," he said casually, "the professionalism between us... that's not really a plate we should serve here, is it?"
He kept closing the distance between us. Five steps now. Four.
I straightened, forcing myself to stay calm.
"Professionalism is mandatory in public places," I replied, composing myself. "Calling each other by our last names shows respect. That's all I'm doing. Workplace manners."
My smile felt forced. Hollow. But I held it anyway. I just wanted to leave. Right now.
"So," he said, amused, "I can't even have a little conversation with you?"
His eyes gleamed as he stepped closer again.
"I just wanted to talk. It's really important."
He kept coming nearer. His men stayed back, watching.
"This isn't our first professional interaction," he continued. "We've known each other since day one. I think we can call each other by name instead of surname. Am I clear?"
Before he could finish, I cut him off.
"Fine," I said quickly. "I'll call you Kunal. It's... surprising to see you in this office again."
He chuckled softly.
"I don't think we're enemies," he replied. "I work with the Singhanias. So of course I'll be here. But honestly... it's good to see you."
I was done.
Completely done.
My mind screamed at me to end this conversation. To smile. To say goodbye. To leave.
Inside, I murmured desperately,"Arre Bhagwan... bachalo mujhe, please."
But he wasn't done.
"I really want to talk to you," he said, his smile generous, almost fake. "It's important to me."
"I really have to go," I replied quickly. "I have an important meeting with my manager and my team regarding my project—"
I didn't get to finish. His fingers wrapped around my wrist. Tight, Possessive.
Cold fear rushed through me as his grip stopped me from pressing the elevator button.
"Leave... leave my hand!" I said, my voice shaking.
The elevator doors began to open. Before I could turn fully to see who was inside— A voice came from behind me. Not soft, Not calm, But Dangerous.
"Take your hands off her, Right now."
The anger in that voice was sharp enough to slice through the lobby. Everyone heard it. Kunal didn't let go. "This doesn't concern you, Mr. Singhania," he said, tightening his grip, his fingers burning against my skin.
The next moment happened fast. Two strides. That's all it took.
Rudra was suddenly beside me, fury radiating off him. His hand clamped around Kunal's wrist, twisting it hard enough to force him to release me.
I stumbled back as Kunal's grip broke. Rudra stood between us.
Protective. Furious. Unmovable.
He lifted Kunal's hand away and said, his voice dark and lethal,
"She is my wife."
Silence crashed into the lobby.
"Anaya Malhotra is my wife," he continued. "And that makes this very much my business." Then, colder."Is that clear enough for you, Mr. Kunal Rajawat?"
Kunal laughed. A low, unsettling chuckle. Almost unhinge, Like a man who didn't know when to stop.
"Your... wife?"
The words left Kunal with a chuckle. Not mocking exactly. Not amused either. Something hollow in between.
But then he noticed it.
Anaya wasn't looking at him.
She was standing close to Rudra, her eyes lifted toward him, steady and certain. There was no confusion there. No hesitation. Whatever existed between them was real, undeniable.
That single look made one thing clear.
Wifewas not a word thrown casually.
It was truth.
Still, ego is a stubborn thing. Madness even more so.
Before Kunal could say another word, Rudra spoke again, his voice calm now, almost deliberate.
"Let me correct myself," he said. "After the CEO of TecHigh Corporation—" His hand closed around Anaya's arm, not rough but Possessive. Protective.
Rudra pulled her closer, right beside him, as if claiming her in front of the world.
"This is Anaya Malhotra," he paused, then added without blinking, "sorry—Anaya Rudra Singhaniya."
His wife.
The words landed heavy.
Rudra's gaze sharpened as he looked straight at Kunal, something dark flashing in his eyes.
Kunal's smile stiffened.
"But that's interesting," he said slowly, tilting his head. "In public... in media... you're still known as the city's most eligible bachelor. Twenty-seven-year-old, Single."
He scoffed lightly.
"I heard stories," he continued. "About a missing bride. About a wedding that never really happened."
For a moment, silence stretched. Rudra didn't flinch, didn't explain, didn't defend. He simply stood there, unmoved, Anaya still at his side.
Kunal swallowed, then composed himself abruptly. "Right," he said, forcing a smile. "Mrs. Singhaniya." He paused, correcting himself almost automatically.
"That's... fine. My mistake."
There was embarrassment now. Sharp and visible. Something had cracked inside his pride.
"I think," he added, stepping back, "we should continue the meeting in the evening. I have to leave." His voice lacked conviction.
The lobby watched as he turned away, his men following him silently. Whatever confidence he had walked in with stayed behind. Something had hit his ego hard enough to silence him and without another word, Kunal Rajawat left.The air finally breathed again.
Anaya realized she had been holding her breath all this while. Her fingers trembled slightly.
Rudra noticed, He didn't say anything. He simply tightened his hold on her arm, grounding her, reminding her that she wasn't alone.Not anymore.
⁺˚*･༓✦༺༻✦༓･*˚⁺⁺˚*･༓✦༺༻✦༓･*˚⁺
Kunal left the company with his name echoing faintly behind him, the sound of his departure lingering far longer than his presence ever had. The glass doors slid shut, sealing him outside, but the disturbance he had stirred refused to leave with him.
Anaya stood rooted to the spot for a second longer than necessary, her fingers curling slightly at her sides as the weight of everything collapsed inward. The truth. The exposure. The way her life had been spoken aloud in a space that was never meant to hold it. Her heartbeat thudded unevenly, and for a brief, humiliating moment, she felt too visible.
Then she felt it.
A hand settled on her shoulder.
Warm. Steady.
Rudra's fingers brushed there gently, grounding her, anchoring her back into herself before her thoughts could spiral further. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice lowered enough that it belonged only to her.
She inhaled slowly, forcing air into lungs that had forgotten how to work properly. When she lifted her gaze to him, her eyes searched his face, as if asking a silent question she didn't dare speak aloud. He looked calm. Unmoved. Holding the chaos back for her.
"Yeah," Anaya replied quietly, her voice steadier than she felt. "I'm okay… I'm fine." A pause, then softer, "Thank you."
She meant more than the words allowed.
But silence, she knew, never stays loyal.
A low murmur began to rise around them, cautious at first, then spreading through the lobby like a restless tide. Whispers slipped through the air, brushing against her skin, reaching her ears whether she wanted them to or not. Anaya's shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly as awareness settled in.
Everyone was watching.
Near the reception desk, a woman tilted her head slightly, her eyes lingering on Anaya with a look that shifted from curiosity to understanding. "Oh… I see," she murmured, barely audible, yet loud enough to sting.
Another voice followed, lower, edged with something between disbelief and admiration. A coworker leaned closer to her companion, gaze flicking openly now between Anaya and Rudra. "How lucky she is," she whispered, not bothering to soften the awe in her tone.
The murmurs multiplied. Questions formed without being asked. Assumptions bloomed without permission. Some voices carried envy, some disbelief, a few sharp enough to cut if Anaya let them sink in. She didn't turn to look, didn't allow herself the weakness of meeting their eyes, but she felt every stare pressing against her back.
Employees she had laughed with. Coworkers she had trusted. Clients who now looked at her differently. Faces familiar and unfamiliar blurred together. Even Johnny stood near the reception desk, frozen somewhere between shock and amazement.
They know now, Anaya thought, her throat tightening slightly. Not everything… but enough.
Mrs. Anaya Rudra Singhania.
The realization didn't arrive with drama. It arrived quietly, painfully, in the way conversations stalled mid-breath, in the way phones were forgotten in idle hands, in the way the lobby itself seemed to hold its breath.
Rudra felt the shift.
He straightened subtly, his presence changing the atmosphere without effort. A faint, controlled smile touched his lips as he turned toward the gathering crowd, his authority settling over the space like a command no one dared ignore.
"I believe," he said evenly, "it's best to clear the air."
The lobby stilled.
Anaya's pulse quickened. She glanced at him, a flicker of question crossing her eyes, but he didn't look back yet.
"Let me introduce myself," Rudra continued, his tone calm, deliberate. "And my partner." A brief pause, intentional. "I am Rudra Singhania, CEO of TechHigh."
A beat passed.
"The woman beside me is legally, ritually, and lawfully my wife."
Anaya's breath caught despite herself. Her fingers twitched, instinctively reaching for the edge of her composure.
"She is Anaya Malhotra," he said, then corrected smoothly, firmly, leaving no room for speculation, "Mrs. Anaya Rudra Singhania."
The reaction was immediate.
Sharp inhales echoed. Soft gasps rippled through the space. Somewhere behind them, a chair scraped faintly against the floor. The whispers returned, louder now, uncontained."That's the CEO's wife?""But she works here…""She doesn't even act like—""So the rumors were true…"
Anaya heard every word. Each one scraped against her nerves, but she kept her expression composed, her chin lifted. She refused to look shaken. Refused to shrink.
Rudra didn't turn back to acknowledge the noise. His attention returned to her instead, his gaze steady, protective without being possessive. "I think," he said quietly, meant only for her, "it's time we stop hiding."
She swallowed, then nodded once. Barely.
Then he spoke again, louder, to the room. "Now, let's proceed to the meeting room. Close colleagues only."
He didn't wait for approval.
His hand guided Anaya forward as he turned toward the golden elevator. The doors slid open smoothly, revealing an empty cabin waiting for them. As they stepped inside, Anaya felt the weight of the lobby lift slightly from her shoulders.
The doors closed.
The whispers, the stares, the unfinished stories were left behind on the other side of polished metal and glass.
Inside the elevator, silence returned.
This time, it wasn't suffocating.
It was intimate.
And charged with everything neither of them had said yet.