Chapter 10- Who Is He?

T

he Next Morning

The sun barely broke through the horizon when the echo of car engines disrupted the eerie calm of the Singhania Mansion. Ishika sat quietly in the living room, her face pale, her mind a whirlpool of emotions. Yash stood by the window, his jaw tight and his eyes cold.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door. The butler opened it, revealing a group of local police officers. The lead officer stepped forward, holding a file in his hand.
"Mr. Singhania" he began with forced confidence, "we’re here to take Miss Sehgal into custody for further questioning in the murder case of Mr. Mehta."

Yash turned slowly, his presence filling the room like a storm brewing on the horizon. His voice, low and measured, cut through the room like a blade. "You’re here... to take her?"
The officer swallowed hard. "It’s standard procedure, sir. We have orders to—"

"Orders?" Yash interrupted, taking slow steps toward the officer. "Do you know whose house you’re standing in? Do you have any idea what happens when you try to cross me?"
The officer faltered, looking back at his team for support, but none of them dared to speak.

Yash’s voice dropped to a menacing whisper. "Leave. Now. Before I make sure you and your entire department are out of jobs by the end of the day."
The officer hesitated, but the weight of Yash’s threat was undeniable. He nodded stiffly and motioned for his team to leave. As they walked out, Yash stood by the door, his glare following them until they disappeared from sight.

On The Other Side Of the World

In a bustling CBI office in Ahmedabad, the ACP sat at his desk, casually flipping through a case file. The soft hum of the air conditioner was the only noise in the room. His team stood at a respectful distance, exchanging wary glances.

A junior officer approached hesitantly, file in hand. "Sir" he began, his voice trembling slightly, "a high-profile case has just been transferred to us from Mumbai. It’s the Mehta murder case."
ACP didn’t look up, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Mehta murder case?" he repeated, his tone laced with intrigue. "And why exactly does this sound like it’s going to be interesting?"

The officer shuffled uncomfortably. "It involves Ishika Sehgal, sir. The media is all over it. Apparently, Yash Singhania has been interfering."
ACP’s hand froze mid-flip, and he finally looked up, his dark eyes gleaming with sharp amusement. "Ah, the almighty Yash Singhania. This just got even better." He leaned back in his chair, his smirk deepening. "Tell Mumbai to sit back and relax. I’ll handle it from here."

The officer nodded and started to leave, but the ACP’s voice stopped him.

"One more thing" he said, his tone deceptively casual. "Make sure they know—I don’t care about power or connections. The truth will come out, no matter what."

As the officer hurried out, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. His smirk widened as he muttered to himself, "Yash Singhania... Let’s see how much your money can protect you this time."

━━༻❁༺━━

The black SUV cut through the endless stretch of highway as if it had no intention of slowing down. Inside, ACP sat in the back seat, his hands steepled in front of him, eyes sharp and unblinking as they skimmed through the case file. The occasional glare from the afternoon sun didn’t faze him; his mind was entirely focused.

"We should reach Mumbai in another two hours, sir," the driver informed, glancing nervously in the rearview mirror.

ACP hummed absentmindedly, his smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Good. The sooner, the better. Let’s not keep Mr. Yash Singhania waiting."

Beside him, Sub-Inspector Raghav cleared his throat. "Sir, if I may—this Yash Singhania has quite the reputation. Powerful, influential, with connections that stretch far beyond—"
ACP's sharp gaze flicked toward him, effectively cutting him off. "And since when did reputations scare us, Raghav? If they did, we’d be in a different line of work." He closed the file with a snap, tossing it onto the seat beside him. "Money and connections don’t intimidate me. Facts do. And so far, the facts in this case reek of something deeper."

Raghav nodded, retreating into silence. ACP shifted his gaze back to the road ahead, his jaw tightening slightly. "Singhania wants to play savior? Let him. I’ll remind him who’s in charge once we get there."

━━༻❁༺━━

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden hue over the sprawling Singhania Mansion as ACP’s convoy approached. The grand gates loomed ahead, guarded by a small army of security, all of whom immediately tensed at the sight of the black SUVs rolling into the driveway.

With a quiet nod from the ACP, his team disembarked, their disciplined movements echoing his unspoken command.

Stepping out of the lead SUV, ACP’s black boots crunched against the gravel as he adjusted his aviators, his presence undeniable. Clad in a crisp black shirt, his signature leather holster strapped across his chest, he moved with purpose toward the gate.

One of the guards stepped forward, raising his hand to block the entry.
“This is private property” the guard said, trying to maintain his composure despite the heavy air of authority that surrounded the ACP. “You can’t enter without—”

ACP raised a hand, silencing the man mid-sentence. Slowly, he removed his sunglasses and tucked them into his pocket, revealing sharp eyes that bore into the guard with an intensity that left no room for debate.

“I’m an ACP” he said, his voice calm but edged with command. “And I’m not asking for permission. Step aside, or I’ll have this gate dismantled brick by brick.”

The guard hesitated, eyes flicking nervously to his comrades. They all exchanged uncertain glances before reluctantly stepping aside, allowing the ACP and his team to pass.

Inside, the Singhanias had gathered in the living room, their tension palpable. Yash stood near the window, his posture stiff, arms crossed, a dark scowl on his face. Ishika sat on the couch, her usual spark replaced by an unsettling stillness, her fingers digging into the fabric of the cushion as she tried to steady her nerves.

The sound of boots clicking against the marble floor drew everyone’s attention as the ACP entered, his figure cutting through the room like a force of nature. He surveyed the family with cold precision before his gaze locked onto Yash, who was already glaring at him with disdain.

“Who the hell are you?” Yash demanded, his voice laced with annoyance as he stepped forward, trying to assert his dominance.

The ACP’s lips curved into a slow smirk as he took off his sunglasses and slipped them into his pocket. His dark eyes locked with Yash’s, unflinching, his posture relaxed yet exuding an undeniable air of authority. He tilted his head slightly, his smirk widening, clearly enjoying the tension.

“ACP Amar Singh Chauhan” he replied, his voice cool and measured. “CBI. And I don’t need an invitation to do my job, Mr. Singhania.”

Yash’s jaw tightened, his dislike for this man immediate and visceral. “Do you even know who you’re talking to?” he spat, his tone dripping with arrogance.

Amar’s smirk deepened, as if savoring the moment. “Oh, I know exactly who you are” he said, his voice dripping with sarcastic politeness. “The Yash Singhania. Business tycoon, media darling, and apparently, someone who thinks the law bends for him.” He leaned forward slightly, narrowing his gaze. “Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.”

Yash’s fists clenched at his sides, his anger simmering beneath the surface. For the first time in years, someone had dared to enter his home and challenge his authority so effortlessly. His mind raced with questions about this man’s audacity.

Ishika sat frozen, her heart racing. Amar’s demeanor was unnerving. He wasn’t here to negotiate or be swayed by power; he was here for the truth, and that thought terrified her. She knew she was innocent, but the weight of the accusations, combined with the towering presence of ACP Amar Singh Chauhan, made her feel like a cornered animal.

“Miss Ishika Sehgal” Amar said, his voice cutting through the silence. He turned to her, his tone cold but not unkind. “You’re coming with me. For questioning.”

Ishika’s eyes widened in shock. “I—I didn’t do anything!” she protested, her voice trembling. “You can’t just—”
“She’s not going anywhere,” Yash interrupted, stepping in front of her, his towering figure shielding her from the ACP’s gaze. His voice dropped to a low, menacing growl. “Not unless you’ve got a court order.”

Amar didn’t flinch. If anything, his smirk only deepened as he crossed his arms, taking in Yash’s challenge with an almost bored expression. “A court order? Don’t tempt me, Mr. Singhania. I’ll get one before you can make your next business deal.”

The air in the room thickened with palpable hostility. Yash’s dislike for Amar was now coupled with a simmering fury. This man wasn’t afraid of power, and worse, he seemed to relish the confrontation.
Amar turned back to Ishika, his gaze softening just slightly as he assessed her. “Miss Sehgal” he said again, his voice low, almost soothing. “I’m not here to judge you. But I will find out the truth, no matter what it takes. You can come with me willingly, or we can do this the hard way. Your choice.”

Ishika’s heart hammered in her chest. She looked at Yash, silently pleading for help, but Yash’s face was unreadable, his jaw clenched in silent fury.

Amar raised an eyebrow, the tension in the room reaching a boiling point. “Well?” he prompted, his gaze flicking between Ishika and Yash. “What’s it going to be?”

Yash took a step forward, his chest rising and falling with the strain of suppressing his anger. “She’s not going anywhere, Chauhan” he said through gritted teeth.

Amar straightened, his eyes never leaving Yash’s. “Have it your way” he said, his voice casual yet laced with a dangerous edge. “But remember, Mr. Singhania—obstruction of justice has its consequences.”

With a final glance at Ishika, who was now visibly trembling, Amar turned on his heel and gestured for his team to follow. “Let’s go. For now.”

As they walked toward the door, Amar’s smirk returned, his confidence unshaken. He wasn’t leaving because Yash had won—he was leaving because the real game had only just begun.

━━༻❁༺━━

The silence that followed Amar’s departure was deafening, but inside the Singhania Mansion, it was anything but calm. Ishika sat motionless on the couch, her fingers gripping the edge as though it was the only thing tethering her to reality. Her breaths came in uneven gasps, her mind replaying every word Amar had said. The weight of his accusations pressed down on her chest like an iron hand, suffocating her.

“I’m going to jail,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “They’ll punish me for something I didn’t do. I’ll—”
Yash, who had been pacing near the window, his jaw tight with restrained fury, turned to face her. “Ishika, stop it,”he said firmly, his voice steady yet laced with concern. “You’re overthinking this. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

But she didn’t hear him. Her fear had taken over, spiraling into panic. “I’ll be sentenced. They’ll find a way to blame me. I didn’t do anything, Yash, but they’ll still—”

“Ishika, enough,” he interrupted, stepping closer, his tone growing sharper. But she continued, her voice rising with each word.
“I’ll be punished! I’ll—”

“Ishika!” Yash barked, his voice cutting through her hysteria like a whip. He moved swiftly, grabbing her wrist and pulling her up from the couch. The suddenness of his action made her gasp, and before she could react, he had pulled her closer.

Their faces were mere inches apart, his piercing eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. His grip on her wrist was firm, grounding her as if silently demanding her full attention.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice low but commanding. His tone was both sharp and desperate, his frustration mingling with an undercurrent of care. “You know you’re innocent. You know you haven’t done anything wrong. So why are you acting like this? Why are you letting fear control you?”

Ishika’s wide eyes stared back at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly as her panic warred with the steady force of his words.
“They can’t prove something that never happened,” Yash continued, his voice softening but no less firm.

“Do you hear me? You didn’t do anything. Stop punishing yourself for something you haven’t done.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. For the first time since Amar had left, her racing thoughts began to slow.

“The Ishika I know,” Yash said, his tone shifting, a mix of exasperation and something softer, “isn’t so weak. She doesn’t crumble under pressure. She fights back, no matter how tough the situation gets.” His free hand gestured sharply as he continued, his frustration evident. “Where’s that Ishika? The one who never gave up, the one who could take on the world if she wanted to?”

His words hit her like a jolt, breaking through the fog of fear clouding her mind. Her breathing began to steady, and for the first time, her shoulders relaxed, just a little.

“Yash,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He shook his head, cutting her off gently. “No. You don’t get to give up now, Ishika. Not when you’re innocent. Not when you’re stronger than this.”

There was a moment of silence, heavy with unspoken emotions. Ishika’s gaze softened as she looked at him, her fear slowly being replaced by something else—determination.

“You’re right,” she murmured, her voice steadier now. “I can’t... I can’t let them win like this.”

Yash’s grip on her wrist loosened, but he didn’t let go entirely. He took a step back, giving her space but still holding her in his gaze. “That’s more like it,” he said, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Ishika nodded, a silent thank-you in her eyes as they met his.
Yash’s expression turned serious again. “We’ll find the real culprit,” he said, his tone resolute. “But I need you to be strong, Ishika. I can’t do this alone. You need to trust me, and more importantly, you need to trust yourself.”

She swallowed hard, her chin lifting slightly. “I will,” she said, her voice firm despite the lingering tremor.
For a moment, they simply stood there, the air between them charged with unspoken understanding. Then Yash released her wrist fully, stepping back but never breaking eye contact.

“We’ll figure this out,” he said, his tone softer now, almost gentle.
Ishika nodded again, her resolve hardening. For the first time that evening, she felt like she could breathe again. Yash’s words had pulled her back from the edge, grounding her in a way she hadn’t expected.

As she watched him walk toward the window, his shoulders tense but his demeanor calm, she realized that beneath his sharp edges and blunt words, Yash was her anchor—steady, unwavering, and always there when she needed him the most.

And for that, she was grateful, even if she couldn’t say it out loud just yet.

━━༻❁༺━━

NIGHT TIME

The clock struck 2 a.m., and the house was silent except for the faint rustling of leaves outside. Yash was still awake, his mind tangled in the threads of the mystery they were unraveling. Ishika’s face, pale and strained, kept flashing in his thoughts. Why do I care? he scolded himself. She’s my rival, not my responsibility.

But the nagging feeling wouldn’t leave. Before he knew it, he found himself outside her room. The door was slightly ajar. He hesitated, debating whether to go in or not. Just check if she’s asleep and leave, he told himself.

He pushed the door open softly. The dim glow of the night lamp on her bedside table bathed the room in a warm orange hue. Ishika lay on the bed, her back turned to him. She’s asleep, he thought, relieved. But the lamp caught his attention.

He stepped closer and turned it off. Darkness immediately consumed the room.

A second later, he heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by rustling. He froze. Ishika sat up on the bed, her movements frantic. And then, she did something that completely threw him off—she lunged at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his torso.

“Please… please turn the light back on!” she whispered, her voice trembling with fear. “I’m scared… I’m so scared, Yash… please don’t leave me in the dark…”

Yash stood stiff as a statue, his mind reeling. Her grip was desperate, her body trembling against his. For a moment, he couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

“Ishika”he began softly, trying to untangle himself, but she only tightened her hold.

“Please!” she cried, her voice cracking. “Don’t… don’t turn off the light. I can’t—I can’t breathe in the dark. Please, Yash, don’t leave me…”

Her words sliced through him like a blade. This wasn’t the Ishika he knew—the fiery, determined rival who could match him in wit and willpower. This was someone broken, someone haunted.

He exhaled slowly, his hands hovering awkwardly in the air before they finally settled on her shoulders. “Ishika… calm down,” he said, his voice a mix of firmness and unease. “It’s just the light. There’s nothing to be scared of.”

She shook her head against his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt. “You don’t understand… I hate the dark… it—it takes me back there…” Her voice broke, and she let out a sob.
Yash felt a knot tighten in his chest. Back where? he wondered, but he didn’t ask. Instead, he reached over to the nightstand and flicked the light back on.

“There,” he said quietly. “The light’s on. You’re fine now.”

But Ishika didn’t let go. Her sobs had quieted, but her grip remained firm. Yash stood there, battling his own thoughts. Leave her. Let her deal with this herself. You’re rivals, remember?
But another part of him—the part that saw her tears and heard the tremor in her voice—refused to listen. Against his better judgment, he slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, guiding her to sit as well.
“Ishika,” he said, his voice softer this time. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Whatever this is… it’s not here. It can’t hurt you anymore.”

Her breathing was still ragged, but she finally pulled back slightly, enough to look at him. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her cheeks were streaked with tears. “I—I’m sorry,” she stammered, wiping at her face.

Yash shook his head. “Don’t apologize.” He hesitated, then asked, “What… what happened? Why are you so scared of the dark?”

Ishika’s gaze dropped to her hands, which were clenched tightly in her lap. “I… I can’t,” she whispered. “Not now. Just… thank you.”

Yash stared at her for a long moment. She was still trembling slightly, and he had the sudden urge to pull her back into his arms. What are you doing? This is Ishika. She’s your rival, he reminded himself. But seeing her like this—so small, so vulnerable—made something inside him shift.

He stood up abruptly, running a hand through his hair. “Get some rest,” he said, his voice gruffer than he intended. “You’ll need it for tomorrow.”

She nodded silently, lying back down as he walked to the door. Just as he was about to step out, he paused, his hand on the doorknob.

“I’ll leave the light on,” he said without turning around.

“Thank you,” Ishika murmured.
Yash closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment. His heart was racing, and he couldn’t shake the image of her tear-streaked face from his mind. Damn it, he thought. This is getting too complicated.

7 DAYS LATER

In the past few days, the air around Yash had grown thick with tension, a sense of uncertainty clouding his every thought. He couldn't escape the feeling that something inside him had shifted since Ishika's arrival. The days had been filled with internal battles—between logic and something deeper that he didn’t want to acknowledge. He had tried to ignore it, to maintain the distance he was supposed to, but it was becoming harder and harder to stay indifferent.

Meanwhile, Ishika was slowly starting to regain the strength she had lost. The trauma, the accusation, everything that had once broken her was slowly being replaced with determination. She was no longer the vulnerable woman who had arrived at Yash's doorstep. Her eyes, though tired, had regained their fire. The woman who had always fought for what she believed in was reappearing, bit by bit.

But even as she rebuilt herself, Ishika couldn’t shake the feeling of unease every time she crossed paths with Yash. The rivalry between them was still there, but so were moments that left her questioning herself—moments when his voice softened, when he was unexpectedly kind. Those fleeting moments caused a constant ache deep inside her. She told herself to forget them, to focus on what really mattered, but the emotional turmoil she couldn’t quite escape was wearing her down.

Morning time

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting long, golden beams across the room. The silence in the air felt heavy, thick with the tension that had been building for days. Yash stood by the door, his figure rigid, his eyes hard and unreadable. The world outside might have seemed normal, but inside the walls of the house, a storm had been gathering.

Ishika lay asleep, her face relaxed in the quiet of the morning, unaware of the confrontation that was about to unfold. She had been through so much, and in her sleep, she looked vulnerable—like the girl she had once been, before all the accusations and the chaos. But as peaceful as her face appeared, the storm was already there, just beneath the surface.

Yash, standing near the door, couldn't help but notice how the soft light fell across her face. His chest tightened with conflicting emotions, but his resolve hardened quickly. He knew what had to be done.

With a deep breath, he broke the silence.

"Ishika" Yash said coldly, his voice hard and commanding.

Her eyes fluttered open, still clouded by the remnants of sleep. She shifted on the bed, confused, disoriented, her mind still processing the recent days' whirlwind. Her fingers curled slightly into the sheets, instinctively seeking comfort, but she didn’t yet understand why. Then, Yash stepped toward her, the harsh click of the night lamp being turned off resonating in the silence, filling the room with an unsettling darkness.
She blinked, her gaze now fully locked onto him, her expression still blurred with confusion.

"You need to leave," Yash said, his voice dismissive and final.

The words hit her like a physical blow. She froze, her breath catching in her throat. Her eyes widened in shock, her body instinctively recoiling from the sharpness of his tone. She could barely comprehend what he was saying—what he was saying. This wasn’t the Yash she had come to know, or so she thought.

"What... What do you mean? Yash," Ishika said, her voice filled with confusion.

Her voice was barely a whisper, thick with confusion and fear. Her mind couldn’t catch up to the weight of his words. She sat up shakily, her heart racing in her chest. Her hands trembled, and her eyes locked onto his with growing panic.

"You heard me. You’re a liability. You need to leave. Now. I have nothing to do with your scandals or whatever, just leave." Yash said, his tone cold, unemotional.

Ishika's heart dropped. It felt like her world was crumbling, the security she had found in this house shattering in an instant. She was confused, angry, hurt all at once. The words felt like a betrayal, even though she knew—deep down—that this was always his way. He had always been cold, calculating. But in the brief moments they had shared, had he really meant any of it? Had there been something more?

"But... you said you’d help me. You promised me you’d help me get through this. You can't just... You can't just turn your back on me now!" Ishika said, her voice breaking, pleading.

Her eyes pleaded with him, the raw emotion on her face more revealing than her words could ever express. She was scared—scared of what he would do, scared of what would become of her. But more than that, she was scared of the fact that she cared.

Yash's face remained unreadable. He couldn’t allow himself to feel pity, or empathy—not now, not with everything at stake. His emotions had been buried under layers of business decisions, rivalries, and everything he had been taught to prioritize. He had to protect his own interests, and this situation, no matter how much it hurt, was simply an obstacle in his path.
"Take the clothes. You’ll leave. It’s the only solution for both of us"Yash said with a long, cold breath.

Ishika’s breath caught in her throat. She had no words. She felt like everything she had been holding on to was slipping through her fingers. With trembling hands, she reached for the clothes he had brought her—clothes bought with his money, clothes she hadn’t asked for, but had somehow come to rely on.

Her pride kicked in, and she swallowed the lump in her throat. She couldn’t stay here if he didn’t want her. She wouldn’t let herself be the burden, the one he discarded so easily.

"Why did I even thought I could trust anyone else but myself? Anywyas, I won’t keep these clothes. Its bought from your money. I don’t need your charity,"  Ishika said, her voice quiet, controlled.

Her voice was quiet, but her eyes spoke volumes—betrayal, hurt, confusion, and something deeper she couldn't yet understand. She stood up shakily, her hands gripping the clothes tightly as if they were the only thing keeping her grounded.

Without another word, she turned and walked out of the room. The door clicked softly behind her, leaving Yash standing there, his chest tight with a mixture of emotions he couldn’t make sense of.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Yash’s façade crumbled. He was alone in the room, and the emotions he had tried so hard to suppress came rushing forward like a flood.

He stepped forward, his hands tightening into fists. In a fit of frustration, he grabbed a vase from the table and smashed it on the floor, the glass shards scattering across the room like the pieces of his resolve.
"What the hell did I just do?" Yash muttered softly to himself.

The pieces of the broken vase mirrored his inner turmoil—chaos, confusion, and anger all tangled into one overwhelming storm.

Outside, Ishika walked away from the house, her steps heavy. She had no idea where to go, no place to seek refuge. But her pride was bigger than everything else. She wouldn’t beg him. Not anymore. If Yash didn’t want her here, she wouldn’t stay.

Her chest tightened as she walked away, a strange emptiness swallowing her up. Why did it hurt so much? He had always been her rival, always the one who played the game to win. Why did she care now?

Her mind raced, flashes of their moments together—those brief moments of softness—haunting her. The rivalry, the comfort, the closeness. She couldn’t make sense of it.

And in the house, Yash stood amidst the broken pieces, feeling like his world had just unraveled, but with no idea how to put it back together. His thoughts were consumed by her, by what he had just done, and by the one thing he couldn’t deny: a part of him had wanted to stop her from leaving.

But he didn’t.

He hadn’t.

Ishika, on the other hand, walked aimlessly through the streets, her thoughts swirling.

Why did it hurt so much? He was her rival. He had never been anything more than a means to an end. And yet, as she walked farther from the house that had sheltered her, a small part of her felt like she was losing more than just her temporary shelter.

She was losing something that she couldn’t put into words—a part of herself that she had never even realized she had given to him.
And somewhere inside her, she wondered if Yash was feeling the same way.

SINGHANIA CORPS

The events that occurred sometime ago had left Yash in a daze. His hand throbbed from where he had slammed it against the vase, the wound raw and painful, but it was nothing compared to the ache that weighed on his chest. As he made his way to the office, his mind couldn’t focus. The usual sharpness was gone, replaced by a haze of thoughts he couldn’t shake. He moved mechanically through his day, every task and every conversation feeling like it was happening in a distant world.

In the meeting, his attention wavered, his mind not on the presentations being made but on the silence of his mansion, the image of Ishika walking away burning itself into his mind. Her face—so hurt, so vulnerable. The way she had turned away from him, her pride pushing her to leave without a word of protest. His stomach churned, and for the first time, Yash couldn't breathe right. He had done what he thought was necessary, what he thought was the right thing to do. And yet, it felt wrong. He couldn’t understand why.

“Yash!” Dhruv’s voice cut through his reverie, snapping him back to the present. His assistant was standing in front of him, his usual carefree expression replaced with concern.
Yash looked up at him, trying to regain his composure, but it was impossible. Dhruv’s sharp eyes caught the distraction in his boss's demeanor, the tension that radiated from him. It was obvious something was deeply wrong.

“What happened?” Dhruv asked, crossing his arms. “You haven’t been like this all day. You’re not even listening.”

Yash took a deep breath, gripping the edge of the table, his hand still stinging. The weight of it all pressed down on him again, the decision he had made coming back to haunt him. “I... I sent her away,” Yash muttered, his voice low and strained. “I told her to leave.”

Dhruv raised an eyebrow, stepping closer, clearly stunned. “You what?!"

“I sent Ishika away,” Yash repeated, his voice tinged with frustration, as if he couldn’t quite explain why he had done it. “I had to. She’s a rival, Dhruv. She had no place in my house, and I couldn’t—”

Dhruv cut him off, the confusion turning to anger. “A rival?” he repeated, his voice rising. “Are you serious, Yash? She’s not your rival anymore. She doesn’t even have a home right now. Her company is gone. You pushed her away, knowing full well that she had nowhere else to go.”

Yash flinched at Dhruv's words, his chest tightening. “She doesn’t matter to me,” he said flatly, trying to convince himself more than anyone else. “I don’t need to help her. She’s been nothing but trouble from the start.”

Dhruv shook his head, his frustration growing. “That’s where you’re wrong. Yes, she might have been your rival, but for now, she’s just a woman—someone who’s been accused of something terrible and is trying to prove her innocence. And you pushed her away. You’re telling me you didn’t know she was at her lowest point, Yash? That she needed help? That she was only asking for shelter? You kicked her out when she needed you the most.”

Yash’s chest constricted, guilt gnawing at him. He didn’t know how to respond to Dhruv’s words because they were right. He had been so focused on his own pain, his own pride, that he hadn’t stopped to think about hers. The image of Ishika’s face, her eyes wide with shock, still played over and over in his mind. The way she had stood there, accepting his decision without a word, without a protest, as if she was already preparing to walk away.

It all hit him like a freight train.
“I didn’t mean to hurt her" Yash muttered, his voice cracking as he spoke. His hand clenched into a fist. “I just… I didn’t know what else to do. She was a threat. I couldn’t let my guard down.”

Dhruv sighed, his gaze softening a little. “She may have been a threat, Yash. But right now, she’s not. She’s just a woman caught in a mess, trying to clear her name. And you threw her out. Just like that.”

Yash's heart pounded as Dhruv's words sank in. The doubts he had been pushing aside, burying deep within him, now resurfaced. What had he done? Why had he been so harsh? Was it because he didn’t want to admit to himself that he had started to care about her—at least a little? The thought made him sick, but there it was, undeniable.

Yash stood up suddenly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. “I have to find her,” he said, more to himself than to Dhruv. His voice was low, but there was a sense of urgency in it. He couldn’t just leave it like this. He had to make things right, even if he didn’t understand why it mattered so much.

Dhruv didn’t reply. Instead, he watched Yash walk out of the office, his expression unreadable.

WITH YASH

Outside, the city was as busy as ever, the streets filled with life, but Yash felt as though he was moving in a fog. He climbed into his car, the engine purring to life beneath him. His grip on the wheel tightened as the doubts continued to swirl in his mind.
Where would she be? Where had she gone? What if she had left the city? What if she never came back?

The conflicting emotions inside him threatened to overwhelm him. Every logical part of him told him to let her go, to leave her to deal with her own problems. After all, she had been nothing but a rival, someone who had tried to bring him down at every turn. But another part of him—something deeper, something he couldn’t name—drove him to search for her.

As he drove through the streets, his mind replayed the last few days—the conversations, the moments, the brief flashes of something more between them. He remembered the way her voice had cracked when she had asked him for help, the hurt in her eyes as she left.

He clenched his jaw. He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Would she even want to see him? Did he even deserve to find her?
The questions tortured him as he drove, his eyes scanning every corner, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Each second that passed felt like an eternity.

Somewhere deep inside him, a small, quiet part of him hoped—no, wished—that he could fix this. That he could make things right.

But as the hours passed, doubt crept back in, heavy and suffocating. What if it was too late? What if he had already pushed her too far?
Meanwhile, far from where he searched, Ishika walked alone, her heart heavy with the weight of what had happened. She hadn’t been able to stop the tears that fell as she walked away from Yash’s mansion. The house that had been a temporary refuge, now just a painful reminder of what she had lost.

She tried to push away the thoughts, the confusion, but no matter how much she told herself to move on, something inside her wouldn’t let go. Yash had pushed her away. He had rejected her when she was at her lowest.

But why did it hurt so much? Why did her heart ache every time she thought of him?

As she wandered through the unfamiliar streets, her mind raced, torn between her pride and the emotions she couldn’t quite understand. She had to keep going, keep moving forward, but the hurt remained, a constant ache in her chest. And somewhere in the back of her mind, the nagging thought lingered—Was he really as indifferent as he seemed?

Yash’s hands gripped the steering wheel as he drove through the streets. The night had grown colder, but his mind was heated, filled with thoughts of Ishika. He couldn’t let her go like this—not without clearing the air. He needed to find her, and he wouldn’t stop until he did.

He pulled up at the park, the place he figured she might be. The silence of the night seemed to stretch for miles, and there, sitting on a bench under a tree, he spotted her. Ishika was alone, her back stiff, her gaze far away as if lost in her thoughts.

Yash got out of the car, closing the door with a soft click, his footsteps crunching on the gravel. She didn’t notice him at first, her face unreadable as she stared ahead. He took a few steps closer, finally speaking up.

“Ishika.”

She stiffened at the sound of his voice but didn’t turn around immediately. Yash stood a few feet away, waiting for her response, his expression neutral.

“I know you don’t want to talk to me right now,” Yash said, his tone calm, collected, almost indifferent. “But I’m not here for a fight. I’m here to tell you one thing.”

Ishika shifted slightly but still didn’t face him. She kept her eyes ahead, not making it easy for him.

“I’m sorry about how things went down,” Yash continued, his words concise, no unnecessary sentiment. “But right now, that’s not what matters. What matters is finding out who’s behind all of this. The people who think they can manipulate us. I’m not going to let that happen.”

He took a step closer, his voice a bit more firm. “I’m not asking for forgiveness. You don’t have to forgive me. But we need to work together, figure out who’s behind this, and deal with it. After that, we’ll part ways. You go your way, I go mine. Simple.”

Finally, Ishika turned to face him. Her eyes were still guarded, her expression conflicted. “You really think it’s that simple?”

Yash didn’t flinch. “It’s as simple as it gets. We find the culprit, and then we’re done.”

Ishika looked at him for a long moment, then let out a small, bitter laugh. “You always have your own way of doing things, don’t you?”
“I always get the job done,” Yash replied, his voice steady, unfazed. “That’s what matters.”

There was a brief silence as they stared at each other. Ishika seemed to weigh her options, but after a moment, she gave a small nod, reluctant but resigned.

“Fine,” she said, her voice almost cold. “We’ll find the culprit. But don’t think this changes anything.”

Yash gave her a small nod in return. “It won’t.”

Without another word, he turned and walked back toward his car, knowing this wasn’t a beginning, but a necessary step forward. Ishika watched him as he walked, but this time, there was no anger in her eyes—just a sharp, knowing resolve.

The two of them were bound by this one goal. And once it was done, they would go their separate ways.

Yash sat in the car, staring ahead, his hands gripping the steering wheel. The engine hummed as he shifted into gear, preparing to drive off. But before he could move, he let out an exasperated sigh and shouted out to the figure standing behind him,

"Aaj car mein baith jaogi na?”

Ishika paused for a moment, then let out a soft chuckle. She was still processing everything, but something about Yash’s nonchalant command made her feel a brief moment of relief. Without hesitation, she walked over and got into the car, sitting beside him in the passenger seat.
“Chalo,” she said, her voice quiet but resolute.

Yash didn’t look at her immediately, but his grip on the steering wheel loosened slightly as he started the engine and drove off. The road ahead was unclear, but the one thing that felt certain in that moment was the silent agreement between them—an understanding that, for now, they were in this together.

Ishika leaned back in her seat, her gaze drifting out the window. Her mind raced with questions—about everything that had happened, about the truth she was still trying to uncover, and about the strange connection she felt with Yash despite their rivalry. But at that moment, as she watched the passing scenery blur by, there was one thing she could hold on to—at least she had someone by her side, even if it was her rival.

It was a small comfort, but it was enough.

As Yash drove, his thoughts swirled in a mix of confusion and frustration. The silence between him and Ishika was almost suffocating, yet somehow, it felt like the most peaceful thing he had experienced in days. His eyes remained on the road, but his mind wasn't focused on the twists and turns ahead. Instead, it lingered on the very woman sitting beside him.

This is ridiculous, he thought. What am I doing?

His jaw clenched, but he kept his expression neutral. Ishika’s calm acceptance of the situation—of everything—baffled him. She hadn’t begged him to take her back. She hadn’t shown the anger or bitterness that he half expected after what he had done. She had simply... agreed. Chalo. Those two words, so simple, yet so loaded.

He glanced at her for a moment, catching a glimpse of her profile as she stared out the window. There was something in her gaze—something far away.

I should’ve never let her get this far into my life. But here we are. She’s the last person I should be helping, yet...

He shook his head, muttering a curse under his breath. There was no need to complicate things. This wasn’t about them. This was about the case, about finding the real culprit. She wasn’t his responsibility. She was his rival. She’d always been.

But still... as much as he tried to remind himself of that, as much as he tried to justify his actions, a small part of him—something that he could never quite shake—was frustrated by the fact that he wasn’t sure why he didn’t just leave her behind.

His thoughts flickered back to her chuckle, so soft yet strong.

She’s a woman who knows how to handle herself. I can't deny that.

His grip tightened slightly on the wheel, but the unease remained. He wanted to focus on the task at hand, but she was constantly at the back of his mind, pulling him in. He didn’t want to feel this way, but something about having her here, so close, despite everything—despite the rivalry—made him wonder if he was starting to care more than he should.
But no. That couldn’t be it.

He pushed the thoughts down, focusing on the road again. He had made a decision—help her find the truth, then walk away. That was the plan. Anything else was irrelevant.
Still, as the miles passed and the silence stretched on, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that things were far from simple. What have I gotten myself into?

A/N: Ae ae ae ae, PHASAAA!!! *winks*