A/N: A light hearted, humorous yet mysterious chapter since y'all have been depressed enough. One of the longest chapters I've ever written.

Happy reading, Enjoy <3

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The first light of dawn began to filter through the curtains, casting a soft, warm glow across the room. Drishti woke up slowly, the comfortable weight of sleep still draped over her. As she stirred, her senses gradually came alive, and she became aware of the soothing rhythm of someone's breathing close to her.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she was immediately met with the sight of Rakshit, his face nestled against the crook of her neck. They were lying entwined, their bodies pressed closely together. Drishti's heart skipped a beat as she realized they had fallen asleep in each other's arms. She could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against hers, a gentle reminder of the intimacy they had shared throughout the night.

The warmth of Rakshit's body enveloped her, and she could feel the faintest whisper of his breath against her skin. For a moment, Drishti was disoriented, her mind grappling with the reality of their close proximity. Her heart raced, a mix of surprise and a flutter of something deeper that she couldn't quite name.

As she attempted to shift slightly, she felt Rakshit's arms tighten around her instinctively, as if to pull her closer. The gesture was so natural, so unconscious, that it took Drishti by surprise. She found herself momentarily frozen, her breath caught in her throat. The protective, tender embrace felt so unlike the rigid, often detached Rakshit she was used to.

Rakshit stirred awake, his senses slowly coming into focus. He felt the softness of Drishti's body pressed against him and the comforting warmth of her arms around him. Confusion and curiosity flitted across his face as he opened his eyes, locking onto Drishti's with a mixture of surprise and realization.

For a heartbeat, they simply stared at each other, both of them caught off guard by their close proximity. Rakshit's gaze softened as he took in the sight of Drishti's slightly disheveled hair and the faint blush on her cheeks. He felt a sudden, unexpected surge of tenderness and vulnerability. The warmth of her body against his, the gentle rise and fall of her breath, all contributed to an overwhelming sense of closeness.

Drishti's cheeks flushed deeper as she met his eyes, feeling a blend of embarrassment and something else-a growing sense of affection that she had been trying to keep at bay. The realization that they had fallen asleep like this, holding each other so closely, left her feeling exposed yet strangely comforted.

Rakshit hesitated, unsure of how to react. He could sense the vulnerability in the moment, the unspoken connection that had formed between them. Despite the initial shock, a small, sincere smile played on his lips, reflecting a mix of warmth and a hint of amusement. He shifted slightly, carefully disentangling himself from Drishti's embrace, but his movements were gentle, as if reluctant to break the spell of their shared closeness.

Drishti, still processing the intimacy of the situation, allowed herself to relax slightly. As Rakshit pulled away, she felt a pang of disappointment, an odd sense of loss at the sudden distance. She sat up slowly, her heart still racing, and tried to compose herself, her gaze never quite meeting his.

Rakshit cleared his throat, attempting to regain his usual composure.

As they both began to disentangle themselves from the sheets and adjust their positions, the warmth of the morning sun seemed to highlight the subtle shift in their relationship. The close contact they had shared, though unintended, had created a new layer of understanding between them.

Though they moved back into their individual spaces, the quiet, unspoken acknowledgment of their shared embrace lingered, filling the room with a new, delicate sense of intimacy.

The following days became a repetitive pattern-Drishti juggling her responsibilities while Rakshit rested and slowly recovered. Despite his initial reluctance, he had to admit that Drishti managed everything with remarkable efficiency. She worked from home, prepared the files at home and all Rakshit had to do was sign them so it gets approved. But she only went to the company when they had important meetings.

Rakshit noticed her attentiveness, how she ensured that he took his medicines on time, how she made that bland diet as prescribed by the doctor, and how she would ultimately convince him to eat it. Yet, despite her efforts, their relationship remained in a state of limbo. Rakshit was acting nice and chill because he didn't wanted to cause more damage and hurt both of them. Yet, he still hadn't forgiven her, or he couldn't, and had no intention of doing so anytime soon.

Each night, they would sleep in the same bed, and each morning, they would wake up in similarly close proximity. But those moments were fleeting, almost accidental, and neither of them spoke about it.

2 WEEKS LATER

Finally, the day came when Rakshit was fully recovered. The doctor had given him the all-clear to return to work, and Rakshit, eager to dive back into his routine, was more than ready. He wanted to reclaim control, to immerse himself in work.

That morning, Rakshit was meticulously preparing himself for his return. He chose his favourite suit, a classic combination of a crisp white shirt, a black waistcoat, and black pants. He strapped his watch around his wrist and adjusted his tie, his reflection staring back at him from the mirror. Everything was in place, everything except-

A frown creased his forehead as one of the buttons on his waistcoat snapped off. He stared at it in disbelief for a moment before exhaling in frustration. "Guess I need to change" he muttered, already unbuttoning the waistcoat when the door to his room creaked open.

Drishti stepped inside, her entrance as graceful as ever. She was dressed in a stunning black saree that accentuated her elegance, the soft fabric hugging her figure perfectly. Her long hair was left open, cascading down her back, with a few strands playfully brushing against her face. Her jhumkas danced lightly with each step, complementing the radiance in her eyes.

"Why're you getting worried, Mr. Shergill? No fikar when I'm here!" Drishti's voice was light and teasing, her smile bright as she walked toward the drawer.

Rakshit paused, his hands frozen in mid-action as he watched her. His heart gave an unexpected lurch, and he had no idea why. "What are you doing, Mrs. Shergill?" he asked, his tone wary, yet unable to mask the curiosity in his voice.

"Just stand still" she instructed, pulling out a needle and thread from the drawer. Her voice was confident, and there was a warmth in her tone that caught him off guard.

Obeying her command, Rakshit stood still, his eyes following her every move. Drishti approached him with calm precision, threading the needle effortlessly. Her fingers brushed against the fabric of his waistcoat as she began to stitch the button back in place. Rakshit couldn't help but notice the concentration etched on her face, the slight furrow of her brow, and the way her lips pursed in focus.

His gaze drifted to the few strands of hair that had fallen over her face, swaying gently with the air. The urge to tuck them behind her ear startled him, and he quickly looked away, trying to ignore the way his heart seemed to pound just a little harder in his chest.

Drishti's proximity was intoxicating, and Rakshit found himself unable to tear his eyes away from her. The scent of her perfume-a soft, floral fragrance-filled his senses, and he realized with a jolt that he was holding his breath. When she finally finished, she leaned forward slightly, cutting the thread with her teeth. The action was simple, yet Rakshit found it oddly endearing.

"There you go, problem solved!" Drishti's voice broke through his thoughts, and their eyes met. There was a spark of something unspoken in her gaze, something that made Rakshit's heart stutter. He quickly looked away, clearing his throat to mask his sudden discomfort.

"Where are you going in this saree?" he asked, attempting to regain his composure, though the curiosity was genuine.

Drishti's response was playful, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, to get married to the love of my life. You wanna attend it? Special invitation to you."

Rakshit rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips despite himself. "Who's the unlucky guy? I pity him. But I'll surely attend if the food is good, though I highly doubt that."

"Very funny. I'm coming to the office with you" Drishti announced, walking toward the door as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Suddenly?" Rakshit asked, genuinely confused by her decision.

Drishti turned back to him, her expression sincere yet determined. "You're all well now, so I can go to the company with you."

Rakshit watched as she walked out, the black saree flowing elegantly behind her. There was something about her today, something different, and it left him feeling more unsettled than he cared to admit.

He slipped on his black shoes, his thoughts still tangled in the recent exchange, and followed her downstairs.

IN THE CAR

As they sat in the car, the silence between them was comfortable, though not devoid of the underlying tension that had built up over the past weeks. Rakshit was driving, his eyes focused on the road ahead, but his thoughts kept drifting to Drishti, who was seated beside him, looking out the window.

Breaking the silence, Rakshit remarked, "I thought you're the type to stay at home after marriage."

Drishti turned to him, a small smile playing on her lips. "I can handle both work and home. I respect those who want to stay at home and look after their family after marriage, but I respect those as well who handle both. You know, their life, their decisions."

Her words were simple yet profound, and Rakshit found himself nodding in agreement. "I have no problem that you work. But I thought you were the type to stay at home and dream. You know, pink hearts, romantic husband, etc." He smirked, trying to keep the conversation light.

Drishti grinned, a playful glint in her eyes. "Romance aur pink hearts ki umeed mai aapse nhi krti, Mr. Shergill."
(I don't hope for romance and pink hearts from you, Mr. Shergill)

Their banter was interrupted by a call from Vinay, one of Rakshit's trusted employees. Rakshit answered the call, placing an AirPod in his left ear, a habit he had developed over time.

"Yes, I have that file. Yes, she's with me too" Rakshit responded, his gaze shifting briefly to Drishti, who was now staring at him curiously.

But before the conversation could continue, the line went dead, and Rakshit sighed in frustration. "This phone... give me my charger," he said, turning to Drishti.

"I don't know where it is." she replied, a "duh" edge to her voice.

"What?! Look, as for now, you're not Mrs. Shergill but Ms. PA. Find my charger and give it to me. Check, it might be in the glove compartment," Rakshit instructed, his tone slightly impatient.

Drishti rolled her eyes, opening the car's glove compartment as she searched for Rakshit's charger. Just as she located it, the car took a sudden turn, causing her to lose her balance. The papers and documents stored in the glove compartment spilled onto the floor. As she scrambled to gather them, her eyes met Rakshit's briefly, a sheepish, almost tearful smile playing on her lips as she muttered, "Sorry."

Rakshit, who had been focused on the road, glanced at her and sighed heavily. "It's fine" he said, his tone laced with irritation, though he tried to keep his composure.

Drishti continued picking up the scattered papers when her gaze fell on a sheet with a pink heart drawn on one side. Intrigued, she picked it up, her lips curling into a teasing smile. Handing him the charger, she quipped,

"Ohh... pink heart. Jiski aap abhi thodi der pehle baat kar rhe the."
(Ohh... pink heart. The one you were talking about sometime ago)

Her tone was playful, the teasing lilt unmistakable. "Seene me dil nhi hai toh dil hai yeh prove krne ke liye use draw kr diya. Interesting, Mr. Shergill."
(To prove that you have a heart, which you don't, you drew it. Interesting, Mr. Shergill)

Rakshit's eyes flicked to the pink heart before he responded nonchalantly, "Yeh dil maine nhi, kisi aur ne draw kiya hai, Mrs. Shergill." There was a hint of a challenge in his voice, daring her to react.
(I didn't. Someone else drew this, Mrs. Shergill)

Drishti's eyebrows shot up in mock surprise as she retorted, "Mrs. Shergill? You just said I'm your PA! That means I should clean your mystery compartment glove nicely." She leaned in slightly, her eyes narrowing with a mischievous glint.

"Kya pta isme kiska dil ho...aur usme kya kya rkha ho..."
(Who knows who's heart might be there... and what might be in it)

She laughed, the sound light and carefree, as she continued to gaze at the pink heart.

However, as she turned the paper over, her laughter faltered. Her eyes widened, and her face fell when she saw the photograph it concealed. It was an image of Rakshit and Lavanya, with Lavanya kissing him on the cheek. The playful atmosphere evaporated instantly.

Rakshit noticed her change in expression and, without missing a beat, said, "What happened? I told you, I'm unpredictable. Now you already saw the pink heart, that means I'm romantic too." His tone was casual, almost dismissive, but his eyes searched her face for a reaction.

Drishti remained silent, her fingers tightening around the photograph as she processed the image. The familiar sting of jealousy pricked her, but she tried to push it aside. "That is nothing, just a random click" Rakshit added, sensing her discomfort but not fully understanding its depth.

Suppressing a laugh that threatened to escape, Drishti pressed her lips together. Despite her best efforts, a giggle burst forth as she finally met his gaze. Rakshit frowned, clearly irritated. "Isme hasne wali kaunsi baat hai?" he asked, his voice gruff.
(What's there to laugh?)

Drishti struggled to regain her composure, her laughter bubbling up again as she replied, "Nhi nhi...mai has nhi rhi... mai aapki baaton pe nhi has rhi, mai aapke expressions pe has rhi hu." She glanced at the photograph again, laughter shaking her shoulders. Rakshit's stoic expression only fueled her amusement.
(I'm not laughing at your talks. I'm laughing at your expressions)

His frustration grew as she spoke again,

"Tasveer me bhi wahi aur taqdeer me bhi wahi. Jo pass hai use nazarandaz krna, jaha pe kahi nhi hai waha par nazron ka dekhna, pink heart office me, sapno me Mehra ki deal... aur aap kehte hai aap romantic hai?" She broke into laughter once more, the sound ringing out in the small space of the car.
(Same expression in this photograph and in general as well. Ignoring the one who's close to you, eyes staring at nowhere, pink hearts in office, Mehra's deals in dreams. And you say you're romantic?)

"Hasna band karo warna mai aisa kuch boldunga jo mai bolta bhi hu, ya mujhe bolna aata nhi hai" Rakshit warned, his patience wearing thin.
(Stop laughing or else I'll end up saying something I don't say, or I don't know how to say)

Drishti, still grinning, teased him further, "Waise bhi aapko bolna kya aata hai? Office ki baatein, papers, files, Mehra ki deal. Yahi Sab na?"
(What do you know how to say anyways. Office talks, papers, files, Mehra's deal. That's all, right?)

Rakshit had enough. He pulled the car over in front of the company, the sudden stop making Drishti lurch forward slightly. He turned to her, his gaze intense, and leaned in closer than necessary, his eyes locking onto hers with a smouldering intensity.

"Mehra ki deal nhi, humari deal, holi wali deal. Yaad hai na? Mujhe chiddhane se pehle yeh sochlo Mrs. Shergill, mai jo mangunga tumhe dena padega, naa nhi bol skti."
(Not Mehra's deal, our deal, holi's deal. You remember, right? You have to give me what I ask for. You can't deny.)

Drishti swallowed, the teasing grin faltering momentarily under his piercing gaze. But she wasn't one to back down. Pressing her lips together, she quipped,

"Bol toh aise rhe hai jaise kaunse Taj Mahal maang lenge."
(You're speaking as if you're going to ask for Taj Mahal.)

Rakshit's eyes darkened with mischief as he replied, "Taj Mahal nhi....kuch aur. Sochunga toh bta dunga." He flashed her a smirk before stepping out of the car, leaving Drishti to follow behind, a mixture of amusement and unease swirling in her chest.
(Not Taj Mahal, something else. I'll think and then tell you.)

As they entered the company, they were greeted by the staff, all of whom were standing with wide smiles on their faces, ready to congratulate them for their wedding. The warmth of their welcome caught Drishti off guard, and she couldn't help but smile back. The staff members congratulated them and presented her and Rakshit with a series of flower bouquets, which Drishti accepted graciously, murmuring a thank you. Then, red flower petals began to rain down on them, the soft scent of roses filling the air. Drishti's heart lifted at the gesture, and she couldn't help but enjoy every moment of it.

"Sir, can we click a group picture with you?" one of the staff members asked hopefully, holding up a camera.

Rakshit, however, shook his head firmly. "No, not needed. And guys, thank you very much. We appreciate it. Wedding is done. Now, back to work" he said curtly before turning on his heel and heading to his office. Drishti followed behind him, juggling the flower bouquets in her hands.

Once inside his office, Rakshit immediately dove into his work, his fingers flying over the keyboard of his laptop. Drishti, determined to brighten the stark office, entered with the bouquets. Without looking up from his screen, Rakshit said, "Didn't I tell you to get rid of those?"

Drishti, unbothered by his dismissive tone, began arranging the flowers on his desk.

"Sir, they gave all these bouquets to us with so much love. I've told the office boy to bring vases; I'll put these flowers in them soon. Ab isme aapko kya problem hai?" She was already envisioning how much more welcoming the office would look with a splash of colour.

Rakshit's response was a sharp sneeze, which he barely had time to stifle. He gave her an exasperated look, his expression a mix of frustration and disbelief. "What is actually wrong with you?" he managed between sneezes.

Drishti's eyes widened in sudden realisation.

"Aapko phoolo se allergy hai?" she asked, her voice rising in concern.
(You have allergy from flowers?)

"Haa-" he began, but was cut off by another sneeze.

"Ab aapko phoolo se bhi allergy hai?!" Drishti repeated, now hurriedly picking up the bouquets, trying to hold them as far away from him as possible.
(Now you're allergic to flowers too!)

Rakshit's irritation was palpable as he asked, "What!?"

"Kuch nahi!" Drishti said quickly, moving closer to him as she noticed a few stray petals stuck in his hair. Without thinking, she reached out, gently brushing the petals away.

"Kya kar rhi ho?!" He asked, irritated.
(What are you doing?!)

"Aapki help Mr. Shergill! Dekhiye mujhe yeh toh nhi pta ki mai Mrs. Shergill kaisi hu par mai aapki PA bohot acchi hu" she added with a grin, trying to lighten the mood.
(Your help Mr. Shergill! I don't know if I'm a good wife or not, but I do know that I'm a good PA of yours.)

Rakshit was caught off guard by the sudden closeness. Her touch was soft, almost tender, and for a brief moment, he felt his irritation wane. But the next moment, he sneezed again, breaking the spell.

When she was done, Drishti turned and dashed towards the door, one hand still clutching the bouquets. She turned and said

"Sir, they've done so much for us. We should do some-"

"Yes, I've ordered cakes, cold drinks and snacks for them. They must be on the way."

"Sure!" She replied and turned again, ready to leave.

Just before leaving, she hesitated, a mischievous glint returning to her eyes.

"Waise... ek baat puchu?" she asked, her tone playful.
(Well.... can I ask something?)

Rakshit didn't respond, but the questioning arch of his eyebrow prompted her to continue.

"Aapne bahar picture click krwane ke liye isliye mana kar diya na kyuki aapko dar tha aapke expression firse same honge?"
(You denied to click pictures because you were afraid your expressions might be the same.)

She couldn't help but burst into laughter again, remembring his expressions from the photographer earlier, her amusement doubling when she saw the way he glared at her.

Rakshit's patience was finally at its limit. He slammed his laptop shut with a loud thud, the sound echoing in the room as he glared at her.

"Sorry, never mind! M-mai inhe rakhwakar aati hu." Drishti stammered, quickly exiting the room before he could say another word.

Left alone, Rakshit shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He whispered to himself, "Yeh kabhi nhi badlegi."
(She will never change.)

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As Drishti hurried out of the office, balancing the bouquets awkwardly in her arms, she couldn't help but smile to herself. The banter with Rakshit always left her with a strange mix of emotions-amusement, exasperation, and something else she wasn't ready to name yet. His expression when she teased him about his allergy was priceless, and she felt a little thrill at having gotten under his skin, if only for a moment.

Meanwhile, inside the office, Rakshit leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. The remnants of Drishti's laughter still echoed in his ears, and despite his best efforts, he couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from twitching upward. There was something about her that was infuriatingly charming, though he would never admit it aloud. She had this uncanny ability to shift the atmosphere in a room, leaving him both irritated and intrigued.

He shook his head, trying to refocus on his work, but his thoughts kept drifting back to their conversation in the car. The way she had joked about the pink heart and the picture of Lavanya had caught him off guard. He had expected her to be upset or at least a little jealous, but instead, she had laughed. And not just a polite laugh, but a full, genuine one that had completely disarmed him. It was a rare sound, and one he found himself wanting to hear again.

But then there was the matter of the bouquets. He wasn't used to anyone challenging his decisions or questioning his authority, especially not in such a playful manner. Yet, Drishti had done just that, and somehow, he didn't mind. In fact, it was oddly refreshing.

He stood up from his chair and walked over to the window, watching as the last of the office workers returned to their duties. The sight of them had initially irritated him-he wasn't one for unnecessary gestures or displays of affection, maybe because he never received it before. But seeing how much it had meant to Drishti, he found himself reconsidering. Perhaps there was more to these little gestures than he had allowed himself to believe.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Before he could respond, Drishti peeked her head in, a cheeky smile playing on her lips.

"Flowers are all taken care of, Mr. Shergill" she announced, stepping inside with a playful tilt of her head.

He arched an eyebrow, trying to maintain his stern demeanor, but her lighthearted energy was infectious. "Good. Now maybe I can get some actual work done without sneezing my head off."

She bit back a laugh, nodding. "Of course, sir. Anything else you need? Maybe a new box of tissues?"

He rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in them. "Just make sure those flowers are far, far away from this office."

"Already done." She gave him a mock salute and turned to leave, but paused at the door, glancing back at him. "Oh, and Mr. Shergill?"

He looked up, his eyes meeting hers. "What now?"

"Try to smile once in a while. It's not as bad as you think." she said, her tone softer, almost sincere.

"Woh Son of Sardaar movie me Ajay Devgan nhi kehta hai? Waise hi mai keh rhi hu. Pati dev ji, kadi has bhi liya karo!" The lightness in her voice was calming, her presence soothing and the way she seemed so full of life was endearing.
(Ajay Devgan says na in the movie "son of sardaar", that's how I'm saying this to you. Mr. Husband, smile sometimes!)

For a moment, he just stared at her, surprised by the unexpected advice. But before he could respond, she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her.

Rakshit let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He wasn't sure what to make of her-this woman who seemed to have stepped into his life with the sole purpose of turning it upside down. But one thing was clear: Drishti was like no one he had ever met before, and that made her both a challenge and a mystery.

As he sat back down at his desk, he found himself still thinking about her words. Maybe there was something to be said about letting go, about allowing himself to enjoy the little moments, even if they were unexpected. He couldn't remember the last time someone had made him smile like that-genuinely, without any pretense or purpose.

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at his lips as he resumed his work. Maybe she was right. Maybe, just maybe, smiling wasn't such a bad idea after all.

But as the day went on and he threw himself back into the familiar grind of work, that fleeting thought got buried under piles of reports, emails, and meetings. Still, the memory of her laughter lingered in the back of his mind, a small, persistent reminder that perhaps there was more to life than deals and deadlines.

And maybe, just maybe, there was more to Drishti than he had initially thought.

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The night wore on as Rakshit and Drishti returned home, exhausted from their day. After a quick dinner, they both headed to bed, ready to unwind and recover from the day's activities.

Drishti settled into bed first, her tired body sinking into the soft mattress. Rakshit followed soon after, and they both drifted off to sleep, unaware of the closeness that would soon define their rest.

The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting a warm, comforting hue over their sleeping forms. As the hours passed, the exhaustion of the day seemed to melt away, leaving them in a state of peaceful slumber.

Unconsciously, Drishti shifted in her sleep, inching closer to Rakshit. Her head nuzzled against his shoulder, and her arm draped over his chest. Rakshit, in turn, responded to the warmth of her presence by instinctively wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. They both remained blissfully unaware of their intimate positioning.

As they lay there, their breaths synchronized in a gentle rhythm, the slight rise and fall of their bodies creating a harmonious pattern. Rakshit's face softened in his sleep, his usual stern features relaxing into a serene expression. Drishti's face was nestled against his chest, her features relaxed and peaceful.

In the quiet of the night, their accidental embrace spoke volumes. The physical proximity was not just a result of fatigue but a subtle reflection of their deepening bond. The boundaries that often seemed so rigid during the day dissolved in their unconscious state, revealing a tenderness they had yet to fully acknowledge.

The warmth of Rakshit's body against hers provided Drishti with an unexpected sense of security and comfort, while Rakshit found a rare moment of tranquility in Drishti's presence. Their subconscious minds were gently reassured by the closeness, creating a serene bubble of affection around them.

They slept peacefully in each others' arms, the worry of the world fading in background, unaware of what was about to happen.

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In the quiet shadows of the Shergill mansion, a figure stood alone in a dimly lit room, their face obscured by the low light. The tension in the room was palpable as the figure clenched their fists, their jaw tight with frustration. Every breath they took was a struggle to control the anger boiling within them. The recent developments between Rakshit and Drishti were the source of their ire. The once-well-laid plans were now in jeopardy, and this was unacceptable.

The figure paced back and forth, their mind racing with dark thoughts. The sight of Rakshit and Drishti getting along, sharing moments of warmth and affection, was a direct threat to their meticulously orchestrated scheme. The plan had been in motion for years, a web of deceit and manipulation woven with care, and now it was at risk of unraveling.

With a sharp intake of breath, the figure stopped pacing and grabbed their phone. Their hands trembled slightly, not from fear, but from the raw intensity of their emotions. They dialed a number, their eyes narrowing with determination as the phone rang. When the call was answered, the figure's voice was cold, laced with a controlled edge of menace.

"Yes, it's me" the figure said, their tone clipped and authoritative. "I need you to listen carefully. I have a task for you. This is crucial."

The voice on the other end responded with a hurried, eager tone, ready to comply with any instructions. The figure's eyes darkened as they continued, their words measured and deliberate.

"Rakshit and Drishti have been growing closer, and this cannot continue. I need you to make sure they are driven apart. Create a situation that will force them to confront their differences in a way that cannot be ignored. Make it personal, make it painful-whatever it takes. This plan must not fail."

The figure paused, listening intently to the response on the other end of the line, nodding slightly as they heard the confirmation of their orders.

"Good. Ensure that everything is set into motion immediately" the figure instructed, their voice taking on an ominous tone. "Remember, this is not just about disrupting their relationship. This is about eliminating any chance they have of thwarting my plans. I've spent years perfecting this scheme, and I will not allow a mere change in their relationship to sabotage it."

After a few more brief exchanges, the figure hung up, their eyes gleaming with a cruel satisfaction. They replaced the phone on the table, their face breaking into a sinister smirk. The room seemed to close in around them as they reveled in the malicious satisfaction of their imminent victory.

"Rakshit Shergill and Drishti Shergill" the figure muttered to themselves, their voice dripping with contempt and resolve.

"You think you can interfere with my plans so easily? I won't let this go unchallenged. I'll make sure you both part ways. This girl, with her interference, cannot be allowed to destroy what I've been plotting for years. Not now, not ever."

With a final, resolute glance around the room, the figure turned on their heel, their mind already racing with plans to ensure that their carefully crafted scheme would continue on its dark path. The smirk on their face remained, a stark reminder of the lengths they would go to ensure their machinations came to fruition, no matter the personal cost.

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Author: DAMN 5.4K WORDS!!