The room glowed softly under the warm flicker of candles, rose petals scattered like whispers across the bed. The heavy wooden door clicked shut behind Aarav, sealing them in this private world. Riya stood there, heart pounding, her silk lehenga hugging her curves just right. She watched him approach slowly, his eyes locked on hers, that hungry smile pulling at his lips.He closed the distance in seconds, his hands sliding around her waist, strong and sure. Her palms pressed flat against his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart matching hers. Aarav leaned in, capturing her lips in a slow, deep kiss-tender at first, like savoring melting chocolate, then building with a gentle suck on her bottom lip, his tongue teasing hers in lazy circles that sent sparks down her spine.Before she could catch her breath, he spun her gently and pinned her against the cool wall, his body flush against hers. His hands caught both of hers, lifting them high above her head, fingers interlacing as his thumbs brushed the sensitive skin near her ears. Riya shivered, her breath hitching.Aarav buried his face in the curve of her neck, nuzzling slow and hot. "Baby," he whispered, voice husky like gravel wrapped in velvet, "do you want this tonight... or do you need more time?"She nodded, eyes half-lidded, whispering, "Yeah."He grazed his tongue along her earlobe, breath hot against her skin. "Baby, it won't hurt at all." His words dripped with promise, low and teasing.Riya bit her lip, nodding again. "It... it might a little."Suddenly, Aarav pulled back, eyes wide with mock panic. "Yaar, I'm so scared! I need Mummy right now, please!" He grinned like a kid, but his voice cracked with nerves.Riya's eyes flashed with surprise-and fire. She grabbed his wrists, yanking him close, and crashed her lips into his in a deep, hungry kiss that stole his breath. They stumbled backward, tumbling onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, but the kiss didn't break. Tongues danced, hands roamed, the world narrowing to just this heat between them.Finally, they parted, gasping for air, foreheads pressed together. Aarav dove back in, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, sucking gently to leave faint love bites that made her arch. One hand pinned her wrists above her head; the other slid down her back, fingers tracing her spine before wandering lower, exploring every curve.His touch found the hooks of her blouse beneath the lehenga. With a flick, he undid them, peeling the fabric away. Now she lay in just her lacy black push-up bra-delicate lace cups hugging her full breasts, the sheer edges hinting at what lay beneath-and the flowing choli skirt. Aarav's hands cupped her breasts, squeezing softly, thumbs circling through the lace. He dipped his head, tongue flicking her cleavage, tasting her skin. Riya moaned low, a sound of pure pleasure rippling through her.His hands roamed everywhere-thumb brushing her lips, then down her neck, tasting every inch. He kissed and sucked her breasts, lavished attention on her stomach, then lower. A light tap on her core through the fabric made her gasp, followed by his lips pressing kisses there, teasing, building that ache.Aarav stood abruptly, ripping off his shirt and tossing it aside. He fell back onto her, his full weight pinning her deliciously to the bed. They hugged tight, bodies melting together. Kissing fiercely, his fingers worked the ties of her choli, loosening them without breaking contact.He sat up mid-kiss, pulling her with him onto his lap. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as his hands guided her closer. The kiss deepened while he unclasped her bra, letting it slide away. Gently, he laid her back, her arms around his neck, legs locked around him. His mouth found her bare breasts-lips first, then tongue swirling nipples, sucking until she moaned and laughed breathlessly, overwhelmed.Aarav yanked the blanket over them, cocooning their naked skin-clothes strewn forgotten on the floor. She beneath him, him hovering close. The night blurred into rhythm-her soft moans turning to gasps, fear melting into wild laughter.The bed creaked and shook. "Slow down, baby-oh fuck, it hurts!" she'd cry, then giggle, "Why so gentle? Be bold!""Oh! Ahh! Don't stop-please, don't stop!" Her screams mixed with pleas, bodies slick and urgent.After four hours of that feverish dance, the shaking eased. Exhausted, they collapsed under the blanket, naked and tangled, hugging so tight it hurt-in the best way. Sleep claimed them, wrapped in each other, as the night whispered on.
Next Morning
Chauhan Mansion
Devraj Singh Chauhan walked down the grand staircase with his phone pressed to his ear, his voice calm but firm. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored charcoal-grey three-piece suit, crisp white shirt, and a muted silk tie. A classic Patek Philippe gleamed on his wrist, cufflinks catching the morning light—every inch of him screamed old money, authority, and control.
"Yes, this deal has to happen today," he said, reaching the dining table where Rudra Singh Chauhan was already seated. "No excuses. The meeting is at Bastian, Mumbai."
Rudra sat across the long marble table, effortlessly commanding even in silence. He wore a fitted navy-blue shirt with the top button open, sleeves casually rolled to his forearms, revealing a steel Rolex hugging visibly strong wrists. His black tailored trousers sat perfectly on his frame, polished leather shoes resting lazily against the chair leg. Messy hair, sharp jawline, unreadable eyes—handsome in a way that didn't even try.
On the call, someone asked, "Sir, will Rudra sir be joining?"
Devraj smiled slightly. "Of course. Without him, this deal won't even be possible. Listen carefully—both of us will be there. You reach before time."
He ended the call and took his seat. "Rudra, today's deal is extremely important. One small mistake, and we could lose billions. Be careful."
Rudra slid the files closer, already scanning numbers. "I know, Dad. I understand the importance. Everything will be fine. Don't worry."
Breakfast was served. Devraj ate calmly, while Rudra balanced bites with reading—profits, losses, projections—absorbing every detail like second nature.
Thirty minutes later, they stepped out of the mansion.
"Let's go together today," Devraj said.
"Okay, Dad."
They got into a brown Bentley Flying Spur, the engine purring as it rolled toward South Mumbai.
On the other side of the city…
A black Mercedes-Maybach cut smoothly through traffic. Inside, Priyanshi Singh Rajput sat behind the wheel—steady hands, calm eyes, razor-sharp focus. She wore a sharply tailored black blazer over a sleek satin blouse, paired with slim black trousers. Minimal makeup, nude lips, hair pulled into a neat low bun. A diamond stud in each ear, a Cartier watch on her wrist—nothing loud, everything powerful.
Beside her sat her secretary, Ravi Raj Maheshwari, files stacked neatly on his lap.
"Ma'am, last quarter profits dropped by two percent, but the long-term projection is solid if this deal goes through," he explained.
Priyanshi listened without interrupting, eyes on the road, mind already ten steps ahead. She nodded once. That was all Ravi needed to know she'd understood everything.
Neither of them knew—yet—that their destination was the same café.
Bastian, Mumbai
Rudra and Devraj arrived first, accompanied by their secretary. The café buzzed softly with elite conversations and clinking cutlery.
Devraj adjusted his blazer. "I'll just use the washroom."
Rudra nodded without looking up, already deep into the files, mentally calculating outcomes.
Moments later, Priyanshi walked in.
Heads turned—silently.
She moved with unshakeable confidence, heels clicking softly against the floor. Ravi leaned in and guided her toward a table.
They stopped right in front of Rudra.
Priyanshi pulled the chair opposite him and sat down gracefully. Ravi stood beside her.
Rudra didn't look up.
"Ma'am," Ravi said softly, "this is Mr. Chauhan's only son—Rudra Singh Chauhan. Heir of the Chauhan Empire."
Rudra lifted his head.
And everything stopped.
His brain refused to process what his eyes were seeing.
Her.
The woman from the wedding. The one whose screams had shaken something inside him.
She's… Ms. Rajput?
Industry whispers flooded his mind—Ms. Rajput, the ruthless businesswoman everyone feared. He had always imagined a woman in her fifties.
He leaned toward his secretary. "Is… is she Ms. Rajput?"
The secretary nodded.
Before Rudra could say a word, Priyanshi spoke—cool, detached.
"I don't talk to children. Where is Mr. Chauhan? This meeting was scheduled with him. If he's busy, why was it planned for today?"
Rudra's secretary replied politely, "Ma'am, sir will be here shortly."
Priyanshi glanced at her wristwatch. "You have five minutes. If he doesn't arrive by then, this meeting will be postponed."
Rudra POV
My mind was still stuck on one thing—her.
The girl from the wedding… was her.
And then it hit me.
She called me a child.
Five minutes?
Five minutes?
My jaw tightened. Anger burned through my veins.
"Excuse me," I said coldly. "Did you just call me a child?"
She looked at her watch, then straight into my eyes. "That's why I don't talk to children. They don't hear properly."
I clenched my teeth.
I'm thirty. I've closed more deals than you've lived years, I screamed inside—but kept it to myself.
"Ms. Rajput," I said stiffly, "I'm not a child. And I understand the value of this meeting. You can talk to me."
She ignored me completely.
Turning to my secretary, she said, "Three minutes. After that, I'm leaving."
That was it.
"You think I came here to drink coffee?" I snapped. "If you can't wait, leave. No meeting."
She didn't even look at me.
"Two minutes," she said calmly.
My temper exploded. "You're ignoring me? Do you even know who I am?"
She leaned forward slightly, her eyes locking into mine—sharp, fearless.
"I know exactly who you are," she said softly. "A foolish child."
I stood up. "That's it. This meeting is cancelled."
She stood too—slow, unbothered. Placing both palms on the table, she met my gaze without blinking.
"It's your loss, not mine," she said. "And this behaviour proves exactly how big of a fool you are. Business is done with the brain, not emotions. Oh—sorry. You don't seem to have one."
I opened my mouth to reply—
"Priyanshi."
Devraj's voice cut through the tension.
Author POV
Devraj Singh Chauhan had returned, completely unaware of what had just unfolded.
He greeted Priyanshi professionally. "Ms. Rajput. Good to see you."
"Likewise, Mr. Chauhan," she replied, equally composed.
Without wasting a second, they sat. The meeting began.
Numbers flowed. Terms were discussed. Power met precision.
The deal was finalized.
Handshakes followed.
Priyanshi shook Devraj's hand firmly, nodded once, and walked out with Ravi—heels steady, back straight, expression unreadable.
Rudra stood frozen.
Watching her leave.
Knowing, somehow—
This was far from over.
After the Meeting
Rudra closed the file with a sharp snap and stood up.
"Dad, you go to the office," he said calmly. "I'll come later."
Devraj looked at him for a second, sensing something—but nodded. "Alright."
Within moments, everyone left.
The table was empty.
Only Rudra remained.
Rudra POV
How dare she call me a child.
A child?
I'm thirty. Thirty, damn it. I'm more than capable of making you scream on my bed miss priyanshi! Enough capable of fu!ck you like hell that u will forget even yourself and remember only me! You called me a child hu!! I m enough capable of making u beg for mercy and scream my name only my name! I m enough capable of making you pregnant with my child! —hell, I can put fear into men twice my age. And she looked straight into my eyes and called me a baccha. Aab Gustakhi Ki Hai To Saja to milegi😈
The audacity.
No one—no one—has ever insulted Rudra Singh Chauhan like that. Not in boardrooms. Not in the streets. Not even in the underworld.
The world knows me as a businessman.
Some know me as a businessman's son.
But who I really am?
Ask the underworld.
I was calm. Completely calm. And that scared even me—because when I'm calm after an insult, it means someone is about to pay.
"You'll get punished for this," I muttered under my breath.
"Just wait and watch, Ms. Rajput."
A slow, dangerous smile curved my lips.
Author POV
Rudra laughed softly—low, dark, unsettling. The kind of laugh that didn't promise chaos, but planned it.
He stepped out of the café and pulled out his phone.
"Ayansh," he said the moment the call connected. "Pick me up. Café ke paas. And bring the car. We're going to the cottage. Abhi."
On the other end, Ayansh Thakur—Rudra's best friend, equal partner in the underworld, the only man who knew everything—didn't ask questions.
"I'm coming," he said.
Exactly ten minutes later,
white Lamborghini Aventador stood parked near the curb, low, aggressive, impossibly loud even in silence. The sharp angles, scissor doors, and matte-black rims screamed danger. It wasn't a car—it was a warning.
Ayansh Thakur leaned against it casually, dressed in a crisp white shirt with the top buttons open, black trousers hugging his frame, sunglasses pushed up into his hair. Underworld royalty hiding in plain sight.
The moment he saw Rudra, he straightened and pulled him into a tight hug.
"Bro," Ayansh said softly. "Tu theek hai?"
Rudra didn't answer. He walked straight to the driver's side and opened the door.
"I'll drive."
Ayansh paused for half a second—then nodded and got in beside him.
The Lamborghini roared to life, slicing through the road like a predator released from a cage.
The café disappeared behind them as the white Lamborghini Aventador tore through the road, its engine growling like a beast finally unchained. The city lights blurred past, swallowed by silence.
Ayansh sat back, watching Rudra from the corner of his eye.
Too quiet.
Too controlled.
This was the version of Rudra that scared even the underworld.
Rudra POV
Child.
The word hit again.
And again.
And again.
My fingers tightened around the steering wheel, veins visible, jaw locked—but my face stayed calm. Too calm.
Thirty years.
Countless deals.
Blood on my hands the world would never see.
And she—
She looked me in the eye and called me a child.
A slow, dangerous smile curved my lips.
Not anger.
Curiosity.
"Tu ajeeb lag raha hai," Ayansh said quietly, studying me. "Tu gussa hota hai toh phat padta hai. Aaj tu shaant hai."
"Kyunki," I replied evenly, eyes fixed on the road, "aaj ego hurt nahi hua."
Ayansh frowned. "Toh?"
"Aaj interest paida hua hai."
Ms. Rajput.
Priyanshi.
Her image flashed in my mind—black blazer fitting her like a second skin, straight posture, chin lifted, eyes cold and calculating. No hesitation. No fear. No need to impress.
Power didn't sit on her.
Power followed her.
"She didn't bend," Ayansh said. "Most log bend ho jaate hain."
I let out a low chuckle. "Wahi toh problem hai."
Or maybe… wahi wajah hai.
"I don't want her money," I said suddenly.
Ayansh stiffened. "Rudra—"
"I don't want her body either," I continued calmly. "Bodies are easy."
The Lamborghini sped past the city limits, trees swallowing the road.
"I want her mind," I said softly.
"I want her control."dam fuck! I Want all of her!
I want her!
Silence filled the car.
The Chauhan private cottage
appeared ahead—isolated, stone walls hidden between tall trees, a place where screams never escaped.
"I don't want to break her," I continued.
"I want her to choose me—without realizing kab, kaise, kyun."
I parked the Lamborghini smoothly and stepped out.
But inside—
Something darker smiled.
Ayansh watched me silently.
For the first time, he wasn't afraid of Rudra Singh Chauhan being exposed.
He was afraid for the woman who had unknowingly caught his attention.
Because Rudra didn't chase.
He claimed.
And once a name entered his mind—
It never left.
Priyanshi penthouse
The city looked unreal from up here.
Glass walls. Endless lights. Mumbai breathing beneath her feet.
Priyanshi stood barefoot in her bedroom, arms wrapped around herself, staring down through the floor-to-ceiling window of her penthouse. The room behind her was dim, only the city glow and soft lamps alive.
In the background, the song played low.
("Judaa hum ho gaye maana magar yeh jaan lo na..)
(Kabhi main yaad aao toh chale aana…")
Her eyes burned.
Not because she was weak.
Because memories don't ask permission.
Her reflection stared back at her on the glass—sharp jaw, tired eyes, perfectly composed… breaking from inside.
His eyes flashed in her mind.
The way he used to look at her when he smiled.
The way he talked—soft at night, confident in the day.
Late-night conversations that lasted till sunrise.
Dreams whispered between laughs.
Restaurants, cafés, stolen moments.
His care. His promises.
I'll never leave you.
Her lips trembled.
("Tumhe main bhool jaaungi… yeh baatein dil mein na laana…")
A tear slipped down despite her control.
She inhaled slowly, deeply, like she had trained herself to do for years.
Then the song shifted.
"(Nahi jaana bula kar ke… yeh baatein tum hi kehte the…)" (ki tum bhi waqt Jaise The)
Her face tightened.
Pain crossed it like a shadow.
And suddenly—
She wasn't in the penthouse anymore.
She was nine years younger.
That day.
This day.
The day he broke her.
"Mujhe chhod de," he had said coldly.
"Main tumhare saath nahi rehna chahta."
She remembered falling apart.
Begging.
Please… aisa mat karo. Main mar jaungi.
And his voice—emotionless, cruel:
"Toh mar jao. Mujhe farq nahi padta."
Her breath hitched.
She remembered grabbing his legs.
Crying.
Shaking.
Begging him not to go.
He didn't even look back.
The song continued.
"Maine tumhari baat maani hai… maine banaya hai dil ko kaise…"
Her knees finally gave up.
Priyanshi slid down slowly, back against the glass, collapsing onto the cold floor.
This time, she didn't fight it.
She cried.
Not silently.
Not gracefully.
She cried like hell.
—
No one came.
No one dared.
The servants stayed frozen outside—fear and respect stopping them.
Her parents were in Vrindavan, far from this glass palace of pain.
And friends?
She didn't have many.
Just one.
Raviraj.
The only person who knew everything.
From childhood.
From scraped knees to broken hearts.
The boy who grew up beside her—three years old she was, six he was. Families close. Lives intertwined. Trust built over decades.
The only man she trusted after her parents.
He loved her.
Deeply.
Silently.
And never crossed the line.
To her, he was just her best friend.
Nothing more.
To the world, he was dangerously handsome—school, college, boardrooms—women noticed him everywhere.
But his eyes always searched for only one person.
Priyanshi.
—
Security downstairs didn't stop him.
They never did.
Raviraj walked into the penthouse carrying chocolates and a couple of wine bottles, knowing exactly which day it was.
The day that always broke her.
He moved toward the second floor, heart heavy, steps quiet.
—
Raviraj POV
Priyanshi… meri jaan.
I love you so much.
I wish I could tell you—just once—how deeply.
But I can't.
Because losing your friendship would destroy me more than loving you silently ever could.
I reached her room.
And I froze.
She was there.
Crumpled behind the glass window.
Broken.
For one terrifying second, my heart stopped.
I wanted to kill him.
That bastard who did this to her.
But no—
If he died, she would hurt more.
So he lives.
For her.
I walked to her slowly.
She didn't even notice me.
I picked her up gently.
She was crying uncontrollably.
She only ever cries like this with me.
Never in front of anyone else.
Her arms wrapped around me instinctively.
I didn't hug her back.
Not because I didn't want to.
God knows I wanted to pull her into my chest and never let go.
But I respected her boundaries.
Always.
I held her carefully, carried her to the bed, and made her sit comfortably.
She was shaking.
And all I could think was—
I'm sorry I can't take your pain away.
Author POV
Priyanshi sat at the edge of the bed, her shoulders slumped, tears still slipping down silently. Raviraj lowered himself onto the floor in front of her, close enough to protect, far enough to respect.
He looked up at her.
Just looked.
As if memorising her face all over again.
Slowly, he rose on his knees and cupped her face gently between his palms. His thumbs didn't wipe her tears. He didn't rush her. He simply held her face and kept looking—like if he blinked, she might shatter.
She kept crying.
Quietly now.
Raviraj POV
I just kept looking at her.
Thinking how one man destroyed my jaan.
Nine years ago, when everything was fine—Priyanshi used to laugh freely. She enjoyed life. Every moment felt alive around her.
And that one boy…
He ruined everything.
He moved on.
But Priyanshi… she's still carrying that pain like a wound that never healed.
I asked softly, "Did you eat something?"
She shook her head no.
And suddenly she broke again—leaned forward and hugged me, crying into my chest.
Seeing her like this made my own eyes burn.
I wanted to hold her tighter.
Much tighter.
I wanted to pull her into my arms and never let go.
But I couldn't.
Not because I didn't want to—
Because I loved her enough to respect her limits.
I swallowed my pain.
After a while, she pulled back and sat straight again at the edge of the bed. I remained on the floor beside her.
I asked gently, "Chocolate?"
She looked at me with teary, irritated eyes.
"I'm not a child, Ravi. Please… if you brought wine, give it to me. Fast."
I hated this.
I never wanted her to drink like this.
But tonight… I had no choice.
If wine could numb her pain even a little, I would give it to her myself.
I poured it into a glass and handed it to her—
But before I could say anything, she snatched the entire bottle from my hand.
Just like that.
I didn't stop her.
I only changed the song.
Because some nights, silence hurts more than noise.
Raviraj POV
When I turned around, I saw her.
She was standing on the bed.
Half the wine bottle was already empty.
She was drunk.
Properly drunk.
And then the music changed… and Priyanshi started dancing.
For a second, my breath got stuck.
After nine years… she was dancing again.
She used to love dancing so much. I still remember—school functions, college fests—she never missed a single chance. Dance was her soul. Her happiness.
But after second year of college… everything changed.
After him.
She never danced again.
And today—seeing her move like this—it felt like my sunflower had bloomed again.
Sunflower.
That's what I used to call her since we were kids.
I was ten. She was seven.
My little sunflower.
And watching her dance like this didn't just make my day—it healed something inside me. It felt like happiness had quietly returned to life.
—
Author POV
Raviraj stood on the floor, a little distance away from the bed, watching her like his soul had finally come back to his body.
The background song played:
"Murghi kya jaane ande ka kya hoga…"
Priyanshi danced like a little child who just got freedom from school forever.
Her moves were messy, funny, completely unplanned.
Raviraj laughed through tears. He wanted to hug her so badly at that moment. He even took a step forward—
Then stopped.
Maybe… if he touched her, the moment would break.
So he stayed still.
The song continued:
"Arre life milegi ya tave pe fry hoga…"
She was fully drunk now. She had no idea what she was doing or why she was doing it. In one hand, she held the wine bottle, sometimes balancing it on her head while dancing like a mad kid.
Then the music switched again:
"Toh hooth ghuma, seeti baja, seeti baja ke bol bhaiya… All is well!"
Suddenly, Priyanshi jumped off the bed.
She almost lost her balance but didn't care.
She started whistling loudly and shouted, "Oyeeee!"
She called all the servants into the room.
"Aaj koi kaam nahi karega!" she announced dramatically.
"Aaj sirf naacho!"
One by one, the servants entered her room, shocked.
Seeing Priyanshi this happy… they smiled. Some of them even had tears in their eyes. They had never seen her like this before.
Raviraj started recording quietly.
This moment—he wanted to remember it forever.
A servant whispered, "Sir, phone mujhe de dijiye. Aap ma'am ke saath enjoy kijiye."
Priyanshi instantly turned.
"Oye!" she shouted.
"Aaj koi servant nahi, koi ma'am nahi!"
She looked at Raviraj, then back at the servant.
"Aur koi sir bhi nahi. Aaj hum sab dost hain. Samjhe?"
Then she waved her hand dramatically.
"Aur sunno! Aaj main koi order nahi dungi. Aaj tum sab mere dost ho. Maze karo!"
She suddenly squinted her eyes at Raviraj.
"Oye Ravi! Idhar aa!"
"Saale, jaldi khana mangwa! Subah se bhookhi hoon. Kuch khaya hi nahi!"
Everyone burst out laughing.
Raviraj laughed too. The servants laughed.
Their eyes were wet, but their hearts were full.
Priyanshi frowned.
"Kya koi mar gaya hai kya? Sab ro kyun rahe ho?"
"Jaldi khana mangwao na, Ravi!"
A servant said softly, "Ma'am, hum bana dete hain—"
"Oye!" she interrupted, barely able to stand straight.
"Bola na—koi ma'am nahi!"
She pointed at herself.
"Sirf Priyanshi. Aaj sirf Priyanshi. Samjhe?"
—
Raviraj POV
I can't explain how happy I felt.
Seeing her like this… laughing, dancing, alive.
She looked so cute, demanding food like a small kid.
Without wasting a second, I ordered food—
Butter chicken, dal makhani, garlic naan, paneer tikka, fries, pasta, chocolate lava cake—everything she loved.
"Twenty minutes," I told her.
She nodded dramatically and went back to dancing—with the bottle on her head.
This moment was getting recorded everywhere.
In my phone.
In my heart.
In my soul.
—
Author POV
Priyanshi clapped her hands loudly.
"Guys! Sunno!"
"Khana bees minute mein aa raha hai."
She grinned wide.
"Tab tak… sab naacho!"
The music got louder.
And the penthouse—
for the first time in years—
was filled with real laughter.
Author POV
The song suddenly changed.
"Oh jeeta karke payega…
Marne se pehle hi mar jaayega!"
The moment the beat dropped, Priyanshi jumped back onto the bed and started dancing again—wild, carefree, completely ridiculous.
Her moves were so funny that everyone just stood there staring at her.
She noticed immediately.
"Oye!" she shouted, pointing around.
"Sab mujhe mat dekho. Naacho!"
That was enough.
Everyone burst into laughter and started dancing.
Raviraj was still recording when Priyanshi looked straight at him and said,
"Oye sunn bey! Tujhe letter likh ke doongi tab naachega kya?"
For a second, there was silence—
Then everyone, including Ravi, burst out laughing.
"Chal naach, naach bey!" she yelled.
Still laughing, Ravi placed the phone carefully on the table, adjusting the angle so that everyone—especially Priyanshi—was clearly visible. Then he walked to the side of the bed and started dancing slowly.
Not loudly.
Not crazily.
Just enough… to make her feel happy.
Soon, everyone completely lost themselves in the moment.
Music.
Laughter.
Movement.
Ravi danced too, but his eyes kept returning to her again and again—watching carefully, making sure she didn't hurt herself while dancing on the bed.
—
The next song played:
"Sun ye gaana kaam aayega,
Bas kha le, pee le, jee le,
Kyunki zindagi hai short…"
Priyanshi suddenly started dancing like a chicken.
A full-on chicken.
Flapping hands, bobbing head, dramatic expressions.
Everyone screamed with laughter.
Soon the entire room echoed with loud voices:
"Arre fikar not! Arre fikar not!"
Priyanshi was shouting the lyrics at the top of her lungs, completely out of tune, completely happy.
—
Then the song changed again.
"Saari umar hum mar-mar ke jee liye,
Ek pal toh ab humein jeene do…"
Priyanshi jumped down from the bed and hugged every single servant one by one.
Tight hugs. Messy hugs.
Then she climbed back onto the bed and announced loudly,
"Dekho! Bahut mar liye hum log!"
"Aaj sab apna gham bhula do!"
She started singing loudly along with the song, dancing at the same time.
No one remembered who they were.
Where they came from.
What they carried inside.
Everyone was just… living.
—
The music continued.
"Give me some sunshine,
Give me some rays,
Give me another chance,
I wanna grow up once again…"
Now everyone was shouting the lyrics together—laughing, dancing, forgetting everything.
Priyanshi danced on the bed, everyone gathered around it like a circle of happiness.
"Bachpan toh gaya, jawaani bhi gayi,
Ek pal toh ab humein jeene do…"
Suddenly—
Priyanshi jumped straight off the bed and landed on Ravi.
Her legs wrapped around his waist.
Her hands around his neck.
The room was still full of noise and dancing. No one noticed.
But Ravi did.
This time… he lost control.
He held her tightly.
As if letting her go would cost him everything.
He hugged her back—hard, protective, desperate.
Then, without thinking, he pressed a soft kiss on her forehead.
At that exact moment—
Her body went limp.
She fainted.
Ravi panicked instantly.
He carefully laid her down on the bed, adjusted the blanket around her, and brushed her hair away from her face.
Just then, the food arrived.
"She'll wake up tomorrow now," Ravi said softly.
"Chalo, hum log kha lete hain."
Everyone quietly left the room.
While leaving, Ravi looked back once—smiling softly at her sleeping face.
The door closed.
Downstairs, everyone thanked Ravi before sitting down for dinner.
Later, as Ravi was about to leave the penthouse, he suddenly froze.
His phone.
He had left it upstairs.
The phone that had recorded everything.
He quietly went back up, opened the bedroom door slowly—careful not to wake her.
He walked to the table, picked up his phone, and finally stopped the recording.
For five long minutes, he stood there—just watching her sleep.
A soft smile on his lips.
Then, silently… he left.
The night continued.....