NEXT MORNING

The first rays of sunlight streamed through the curtains, slowly pulling Rakshit from his sleep. He blinked a few times, disoriented, his mind still clouded with remnants of the night before. As awareness returned, he became acutely aware of the warmth pressed against his side.

Drishti.

His arm was draped over her, his hand resting gently on her waist. She was still asleep, her breathing soft and even. Rakshit's heart skipped a beat as he realized how close they were, their bodies entwined as if they had fallen asleep in each other's arms.

It wasn't something that happened often-if at all. He couldn't even remember the last time they had slept this close. Usually, there was a wall of distance between them, a gulf that neither seemed willing to cross. But last night... last night had been different.

He hadn't intended to hold her like this, to let his guard down so completely. But something about the way she had felt in his arms-so small, so fragile-had stirred something deep inside him, something he hadn't felt in a long time. Protectiveness. Affection.

Rakshit's brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of his own emotions. It was infuriating how she could make him feel so many things at once, most of which he didn't want to admit, even to himself. She was his wife, yes, but their relationship had never been about love. It was a marriage of convenience, a power play, a battlefield where neither of them wanted to be the first to surrender.

And yet, here they were, tangled up together, her head resting against his chest as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Rakshit felt a pang of something-regret?-as he realized how much he had missed this kind of closeness, this kind of connection. But could it even be real, or was it just another illusion, another trap in the complicated game they were playing?

He sighed softly, careful not to wake her, and gently loosened his hold. But as he did, Drishti stirred in her sleep, her hand reflexively tightening around his arm, as if she didn't want him to leave. The small gesture caught him off guard, sending a wave of warmth through him that he hadn't expected.

He wanted to stay like this, just for a little while longer, to pretend that everything between them was okay, that there wasn't a storm brewing just beneath the surface. But he knew better. Drishti was hiding something-something big-and it was only a matter of time before it came to light.

Reluctantly, Rakshit began to pull away, trying to disentangle himself from her without waking her up. But as he did, he couldn't help but glance down at her face, peaceful and serene in sleep. For a moment, just a moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like if things were different-if they could find their way to each other, not just in the darkness of night but in the light of day as well.

But that was a fantasy, and Rakshit was not a man who indulged in fantasies.

With a soft sigh, he finally managed to slip out of bed, leaving Drishti still curled up in the spot where they had been lying together. He stood there for a moment, watching her, a mixture of emotions swirling inside him. He wasn't sure what was happening between them, but he knew one thing for certain: whatever it was, it was far from over.

HALF AN HOUR LATER

Drishti stirred, her body instinctively rolling over, only to find the other side of the bed empty. For a split second, she felt an inexplicable pang of disappointment. Shaking it off, she reminded herself why that should be the last thing on her mind.

She sat up, running her hands through her hair, trying to shake off the remnants of a restless night. The memories of the previous night-the closeness, the warmth, and the confusion-flashed in her mind. She could still feel the ghost of his touch on her waist, and it both angered and unsettled her.

Determined to keep her emotions in check, Drishti got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. As she was about to close the door, she heard a soft knock. She turned, startled to see Rakshit standing in the doorway, fully dressed, his expression unreadable.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was heavy, thick with unspoken words. Drishti felt her pulse quicken, but she steeled herself, determined not to show any weakness.

"Good morning, Mrs. Shergill " Rakshit finally said, his voice low, almost tentative. It wasn't like him, and that only made Drishti more wary.

"Morning, Mr. Shergill." she replied curtly, her tone colder than she intended. She saw a flicker of something in his eyes-hurt, maybe?-but he quickly masked it.

Without another word, he turned and left the room, leaving Drishti alone with her thoughts. As the door clicked shut behind him, she let out a shaky breath. She needed to stay focused, to find the truth about him and what he was hiding. But as much as she tried to convince herself that she hated him, the confusion in her heart was growing stronger with each passing day.

━━༻❁༺━━

MALHOTRA CORPORATION PVT LTD, BOARDROOM

The elegant boardroom of Malhotra Corporation was a testament to modern luxury, with its sleek glass walls, high-backed leather chairs, and a long polished table that gleamed under the bright overhead lights. But for Rakshit, it could have been a dingy basement for all he cared at the moment. His usual sharp focus was scattered, and the words of the presenter faded into a blur as his thoughts spiraled back to the mansion-to Drishti.

"Mr. Shergill, do you agree with the proposed timeline?" one of the senior executives asked, snapping Rakshit out of his thoughts.

"Yes... yes, of course." He replied, though he hadn't heard a word of the presentation. His response was met with nods, and the meeting continued, but Rakshit was far from the room.

Drishti's behavior today had been... off. From the moment he had walked into the breakfast room this morning, she had acted as if he were a mere shadow, something to be overlooked and ignored. Her eyes, usually filled with fiery sarcasm when they clashed, had been cold, distant. But more than that, there was a visible hatred-a loathing that had pierced through him like an arrow.

And that had unnerved him.

"Why the hell do I care?" he muttered under his breath, tapping his pen restlessly against the table.

It was a valid question. They hated each other-that was the dynamic they had built since the day they had been forced into this twisted marriage. Sarcastic jabs, biting remarks, and cold stares were the norm. But today had been different. Today, she had looked at him as if she couldn't bear to be in the same room, as if his very presence was repulsive to her. And then... she had simply acted as if he didn't exist.

A voice in the back of his mind whispered that he should be relieved. This was what he wanted, wasn't it? To be left alone, to not have to deal with her constant challenges and snide comments. But the truth was far from it. Her indifference was like a splinter under his skin, something small yet impossible to ignore.

His thoughts raced, trying to make sense of it all. "Was it something I said? Something I did?" But nothing came to mind, nothing that would justify this complete 180 in her behavior.

"Mr. Shergill, if you would like to add anything?" another voice interrupted his thoughts, pulling him back to the present once again.

"No, proceed as planned." Rakshit replied curtly, his patience wearing thin.

He couldn't concentrate. Not here, not with the way his mind kept wandering back to the mansion, to Drishti's icy demeanor. The rest of the meeting was a blur, a string of words and presentations that he barely registered. His colleagues would handle it. They always did.

As the meeting finally drew to a close, Rakshit stood up, straightening his suit jacket. The others filed out of the room, but he lingered, his hand resting on the back of his chair. He stared out the glass walls, the city skyline twinkling in the distance, but all he could see was her-her eyes, filled with a hatred that went deeper than their usual animosity.

"This isn't right... Something's wrong," he murmured to himself, feeling a gnawing sensation in his chest. He didn't know why he cared, but he did. It wasn't about pride, or ego, or even the power dynamics they constantly played with. This was something else, something that he couldn't quite grasp.

For the first time in a long while, Rakshit felt uncertain, vulnerable even. And it made his blood boil.

"She'll have to answer for this," he said with resolve, grabbing his car keys.

Leaving the boardroom, he strode out of the building, his mind already crafting the confrontation he knew would happen when he returned home. Drishti wouldn't get away with this silent treatment. Whatever game she was playing, he would figure it out-and end it on his terms.

━━༻❁༺━━

SHERGILL GROUP OF COMPANIES

The company was quieter than usual. The staff had retreated to their quarters, and the only sounds were the ticking of the grand clock in the hallway and the occasional rustling of the wind against the tall windows. Drishti's heart pounded in her chest as she stood before the door of Rakshit's office, her hands trembling slightly as she grasped the cold doorknob.

"He will be late today... This is my chance." she whispered to herself, as she turned the knob, pushing the door open with a slow, deliberate motion.

The room was dimly lit, only the soft glow of the desk lamp illuminating the space. She took a moment to steady herself, her breath coming in shallow gasps. This was not just any task. It was the task-one that could either reveal the truth or plunge her deeper into despair.

Walking over to the large mahogany desk, her eyes fell on the small safe the same one she saw yesterday. It was barely noticeable to the untrained eye, but Drishti knew it was there. She had seen Rakshit absentmindedly glance at it during one of their arguments, his face momentarily flickering with something she couldn't place-an emotion she could now only describe as fear.

She hesitated, her mind racing through the possible combinations. What could it be? His birthdate? No, too obvious. Her mind reeled back to the moments they had spent together-times when he had let his guard down, albeit briefly.

"Think, Drishti... think," she muttered, running her fingers lightly over the keypad.

Then it hit her-there was a day he had mentioned, with a bitterness she had found unusual even for him. The day his parents got married. Could it be that?

Taking a deep breath, she carefully punched in the date. "2-1-0-7". The numbers clicked, and the safe door gave a soft whir, unlocking. Relief and dread washed over her in equal measure.

"You did it..." she whispered, half to herself, half to the universe.

Slowly, she opened the door, and her eyes fell upon something wrapped in a white cloth, stained and worn. Drishti's heart skipped a beat. Hands shaking, she reached in, unwrapping the cloth to reveal a cold, metallic object. Her breath hitched as the reality of what she held sank in.

A knife.

But not just any knife-it was the same knife described in the files, the one that had taken her mother's life, the one that haunted her every second. The blade was sharp, menacing, and as she turned it in the dim light, she could see faint traces of dried blood, preserved over time. Her mother's blood.

Her vision blurred with unshed tears, and a gut-wrenching sob escaped her lips. Her mind screamed in disbelief, but the evidence was undeniable, right here in her hands. The very weapon that had ended her mother's life was in Rakshit's possession.

"How could you...?" she murmured, her voice breaking as she fought back the tears. She tried to make sense of it all, but the pieces only led to one horrifying conclusion. Rakshit was the killer. The man she had married, albeit under twisted circumstances, the man she had tried so hard to see through, was the very monster she had been hunting.

The knife clattered to the floor as she stumbled back, her hands covering her mouth to stifle her cries. The room felt like it was spinning, and she clutched the edge of the desk for support.

"This can't be true... It just can't be..." Drishti's voice was barely a whisper, filled with disbelief and agony.

But the knife lay there, a silent witness to the truth she could no longer ignore.

She could almost hear her mother's voice, the soft, loving tone that had always been a source of comfort. Now it haunted her, filled with sorrow and pain.

"You trusted him, didn't you?" she said aloud, her voice shaking. "But he... he..."

Drishti sank to the floor, her body trembling as she was overwhelmed by the weight of her discovery. Every moment she had shared with Rakshit flashed before her eyes-every argument, every sarcastic exchange, every time she had tried to get under his skin. Had it all been in vain? Had she been living with her mother's murderer this entire time?

A sob escaped her lips as she stared at the weapon, the realization hitting her like a wave. Rakshit had done this. The man she had married, the man she had come to loathe and yet couldn't entirely ignore, was responsible for her mother's death. The weight of it all crushed her, and she could barely breathe as she clutched the knife, tears streaming down her face.

How could he? How could he be so heartless, so cruel? She had hated him from the beginning, but she had never imagined he was capable of something so monstrous. Her hatred had always been fueled by their clashes, by his cold demeanor, but this... this was something else entirely.

For a long moment, Drishti just sat there, her body numb, her mind in turmoil. The knife felt like an anchor, dragging her down into a sea of despair. Everything she had believed about Rakshit, everything she had hoped to find in him, was shattered in an instant.

But then, something snapped inside her. She couldn't let him win. She couldn't let him destroy her the way he had destroyed her mother. With trembling hands, she wrapped the knife back in the cloth and placed it carefully back in the safe. Her mind was a storm of emotions-rage, sorrow, and an overwhelming sense of betrayal.

Slowly, she turned the dial, locking the safe once more. The sound of the lock clicking into place felt final, like the closing of a chapter she never wanted to open again. But the damage was done. The truth was out, and it was more than she could bear.

Drishti's knees gave out, and she sank to the floor, her back against the desk. The tears came harder now, sobs wracking her body as she buried her face in her hands. Everything she had fought for, every hope she had clung to, was gone. All that was left was the unbearable pain of knowing the truth.

━━༻❁༺━━

ON THE OTHER SIDE, WITH RAKSHIT

The drive back to his office was supposed to be routine, just a way to wrap up the day after that distracted meeting with the Malhotras. But nothing about today had been routine, and Rakshit's mind was still in turmoil. Drishti's cold indifference had crawled under his skin, and he couldn't shake off the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

As his car pulled up to the sleek glass tower of the Shergill Group of Companies, Rakshit's thoughts were still racing. He knew Drishti would be there. She often used his office when she needed a quiet place to work or to escape the ever-watchful eyes at the mansion.

He entered the building, barely acknowledging the greetings from his employees. His stride was purposeful, but there was an underlying tension in his every step. Reaching his office, he opened the door, expecting to find her working, her usual scowl ready to greet him.

But what he found instead stopped him in his tracks.

Drishti was sitting on the floor, her back against the polished mahogany desk. Her body was curled up, her arms wrapped around her knees, and her face was buried in her hands. The soft sound of her sobs filled the room, each one a stab to his heart. Tears streamed down her face, glistening in the dim light of the office, and her entire frame trembled with the force of her anguish.

For a moment, Rakshit just stood there, frozen. His mind struggled to process the scene before him. Drishti was always so strong, so defiant, always ready with a sharp retort or a challenging glare. But here she was, shattered, broken in a way he had never seen before.

"Mrs. Shergill...." he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of worry and fear.

He rushed towards her, his heart pounding. Kneeling down beside her, he reached out and pulled her into his arms without a second thought, his need to comfort her overwhelming everything else. His grip was firm, protective, as if he could shield her from whatever had caused this pain.

"Mrs. Shergill, what happened? Why are you crying? Talk to me!" He pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with desperation.

But she didn't respond. Her body remained stiff in his arms, and for a moment, he thought she might relent, that she might let him in. But then, with a sudden burst of strength, she shoved him away.

"Don't touch me!" she screamed, her voice raw with emotion. "Don't come close to me!"

Rakshit staggered back, the force of her push and her words hitting him like a physical blow. He watched, stunned, as she scrambled to her feet, putting distance between them. Her eyes-those eyes that had always been full of fire-were now blazing with a hatred so intense that it took his breath away.

"I hate you!" she spat out, her voice trembling with fury. "I hate you so much, Rakshit Shergill!"

He opened his mouth to speak, to ask what he had done, but the words caught in his throat. He had seen Drishti angry before, furious even, but this was different. This was pure, unfiltered loathing.

"You're a monster!" she continued, her voice rising with every word. "You don't care about anyone else, do you? All you care about is yourself-your damn ego, your damn pride! You destroy everything you touch!"

Her words cut deep, each one like a knife to his heart. He didn't understand. What had happened? What could have possibly pushed her to this point?

"Mrs. Shergil, please..." He tried again, his voice cracking. "I don't understand. Just tell me what's wrong. We can-"

"No!" she interrupted, her voice full of venom. "There's nothing to talk about. I don't want to hear anything from you!"

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, but the tears kept falling, her hands shaking as she brushed them away angrily. Rakshit watched her, helpless, his own emotions in turmoil.

He had never seen her like this-so hurt, so broken. And it terrified him. The more she pushed him away, the more he felt his own walls crumbling, his own defenses failing. For the first time, he felt truly lost, unsure of how to fix this, unsure of how to reach her.

Finally, she seemed to regain some semblance of control. She wiped her face, her eyes now cold and distant, devoid of the fiery hatred from moments before. Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked towards the door.

"Mrs. Shergill, wait-" he called after her, but she didn't stop.

She didn't even glance back as she left his office, her footsteps echoing in the hallway as she disappeared from sight.

Rakshit was left standing in the middle of his office, his heart pounding, his mind reeling. The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of her words pressing down on him like a leaden blanket.

He didn't understand. What had he done to deserve this? Why had she looked at him with such hatred, such disgust? And why, despite everything, did her leaving feel like a punch to his gut?

As the door slowly closed behind her, Rakshit collapsed into his chair, his hands covering his face. For the first time in a long time, he felt truly helpless. The one person who had always stood up to him, always challenged him, had walked out of his life, leaving him more confused and broken than ever before.

And the worst part was, he didn't even know why.

━━༻❁༺━━

SHERGIL HOUSE

When they arrived at the mansion, neither of them spoke. The mansion loomed ahead, its grandeur a stark contrast to the desolation they both felt. As the car pulled up to the entrance, Drishti was the first to move. She stepped out, not waiting for Rakshit, and walked briskly into the house. Her footsteps were hurried, as if she wanted to escape as quickly as possible.

Rakshit followed at a distance, his heart heavy with the weight of unspoken words. He knew they would eventually have to face each other, but he had no idea what he would say or how he could begin to fix what was broken.

BEDROOM

The tension in their bedroom was palpable as they entered. Drishti immediately moved to her side of the room, avoiding Rakshit's gaze. She could feel his eyes on her, but she refused to acknowledge him. Her mind was too full of anger, hurt, and betrayal. She needed time-time to process everything, time to figure out what to do next.

Rakshit, on the other hand, felt an unbearable sense of helplessness. He wanted to reach out, to demand answers, to make things right. But every time he tried to approach her, the memory of her tearful face and her hateful words stopped him. He was afraid of making things worse, afraid that any wrong move would push her further away.

He was so powerful, yet so powerless in front of her.

Drishti silently changed into her nightwear, her movements mechanical, as if she were on autopilot. Rakshit watched her from across the room, his heart aching with every second that passed. He wanted to say something, anything, to break the oppressive silence between them, but the words wouldn't come.

Finally, Drishti climbed into bed, turning her back to him as she lay down. She pulled the blanket over herself, curling into a tight ball, her body language screaming that she wanted nothing to do with him. Rakshit remained standing for a moment, unsure of what to do. The distance between them felt insurmountable.

Eventually, he sighed, a deep, resigned sound, and walked over to his side of the bed. He changed out of his clothes, his movements slow and deliberate. The bed, which had always felt too large for just one person, now felt like a chasm between them.

As he slipped under the covers, the silence grew even more suffocating. He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his thoughts a jumble of confusion and frustration. Every so often, he glanced at Drishti's form, her back still firmly turned towards him.

The minutes dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity. Rakshit's mind refused to quiet down, the events of the day playing on repeat. The more he thought about it, the more it hurt. He had never imagined that he could feel this lost, this out of control.

At some point, he couldn't take it anymore. The silence, the distance-it was too much. He turned onto his side, facing Drishti, his voice soft and tentative.

"Mrs. Shergill...." he began, but she didn't respond. Her breathing was steady, but he knew she wasn't asleep. She was deliberately ignoring him, and it stung more than he cared to admit.

"I don't know what I did..." he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, "but whatever it is, I'm sorry. I'm not good at... this. But I want to make it right."

There was no response. The silence that followed was deafening.

He waited for a while, hoping she would say something, anything, but the only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall. His heart sank as the reality of the situation settled in. Drishti was too hurt, too angry, and no amount of apologizing would fix it tonight.

Finally, Rakshit gave up. He turned back onto his back, staring at the ceiling once more. The distance between them felt like miles, and for the first time in a long time, he felt truly alone.

Sleep didn't come easily that night for either of them. Drishti lay awake, her mind racing with thoughts of betrayal and loss. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the knife, felt the cold metal in her hands. The pain was overwhelming, but she refused to let it show. She couldn't afford to be weak-not now, not when she needed to be strong.

Rakshit, on the other hand, was plagued by a different kind of torment. His thoughts kept circling back to Drishti's tears, her pained expression, and the words she had thrown at him. He wanted to understand, wanted to fix things, but he didn't know how. The helplessness he felt was suffocating, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized how much he didn't want to lose her-even if he didn't fully understand why.

Hours passed in silence, the night dragging on in endless darkness. The distance between them remained, a chasm that neither of them knew how to cross. And as the first light of dawn began to creep through the curtains, it brought with it no relief, only the cold, hard reality of the new day.

They were two people, lying side by side, yet worlds apart. And as the sun rose, it felt as if that distance was growing wider with every passing moment.