This one's for my madam ji! <3 Sarahthegreat4

Chapter 5: Unraveled Ties

2 Months Later

Ishika sat in her plush leather office chair, her fingers idly tapping against the edge of her polished glass desk. The golden, embossed invitation card lay in her hand, its elegant lettering almost mocking her.

"Mr. and Mrs. Malhotra cordially invite you to the Annual Business Gala, a night of celebration, partnerships, and progress..."

Her sharp eyes scanned the overly cheerful lines, and a faint scoff escaped her lips. A celebration? Progress? She knew better. These galas were nothing more than polished arenas for whispered judgments, business rivalries, and egos vying for attention under the guise of sophistication.

Ishika exhaled sharply and tossed the card onto the desk, the glossy paper sliding slightly. "Another waste of time," she muttered, already turning her attention to the stack of reports beside her.

Her secretary, Tara, chose that moment to walk in, carrying a folder and a steaming cup of coffee. The click of her heels echoed briefly in the quiet office as she approached the desk.

"Ma'am, the Malhotra gala invitation?" Tara asked, her tone professional but tinged with curiosity as her gaze flicked to the discarded card.

Ishika leaned back, crossing her arms. "I've seen it. I'm not interested. I have no time for parties masquerading as business events."

Tara hesitated, setting the folder on the desk before speaking. "Well, ma'am, I thought you should know... Yash Singhania will be attending."

The words hung in the air like a spark in a room filled with tension.

Ishika's fingers, which had been idly playing with her pen, stilled. Her expression didn't change immediately, but Tara noticed the slight tightening of her jaw.

For a moment, Ishika said nothing, her mind swirling with thoughts. Yash Singhania. Of course, he would be there. The self-proclaimed king of the business world wouldn't miss an opportunity to bask in the limelight. The thought of his smug smirk and infuriating confidence ignited a flicker of irritation within her.

Tara, sensing the shift in her boss's demeanor, added cautiously, "It might be an opportunity, ma'am. You know how he enjoys...showcasing his achievements. A chance to counter him in public could be advantageous."

Ishika's lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. "Showcasing his achievements? You mean basking in his delusions of grandeur?"

Tara stifled a chuckle but said nothing, waiting for Ishika's decision.

Finally, Ishika picked up the invitation again, her gaze sharp and calculating. If Yash Singhania thought he could own the room at this gala, perhaps it was time to remind him who he was dealing with.

Her fingers tightened around the card, a flicker of determination in her eyes. "Fine," she said curtly, setting the card down with a decisive motion. "Prepare my gown. I'll go."

Tara nodded, a small smile of approval crossing her lips as she turned to leave.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Ishika leaned back in her chair, her fingers drumming against the desk once more. The faintest smirk tugged at her lips. If Yash wanted to play games, she'd make sure she was ready-and this time, she wouldn't just match him; she'd outshine him.

━━༻❁༺━━

The Gala

The grand ballroom of the Malhotras' mansion was a spectacle of opulence, draped in hues of gold and ivory. Crystal chandeliers hung like suspended stars, casting a soft glow over the elegantly dressed crowd. A live jazz band played soothing melodies in the corner, and waiters weaved seamlessly through the throng, carrying trays of champagne.

Ishika stepped through the grand doors, her emerald green gown hugging her frame with precision, its sequins catching the light with every step she took. Heads turned as whispers rippled through the crowd. Some admired her poise, others speculated about her resilience after her recent public setback. But Ishika cared for none of it. Her focus was singular-to remind the world, and more importantly herself, of the fighter she was.

Her heels clicked against the polished marble floor as she descended the staircase, her gaze sweeping the room. And then, her eyes landed on him.

Yash Singhania.

He was by the bar, his posture languid yet commanding. Dressed in a sharp black suit that seemed tailored by the gods, his tie hung slightly loosened, giving him an air of calculated disarray. His dark eyes met hers, and his lips curved into that insufferable smirk that made her fists itch to connect with his face.

Yash drained the last of his whiskey before casually making his way toward her, his movements deliberate, each step like a challenge. Ishika held her ground, her chin tilting up in defiance.

"Ms. Ishika Sehgal" he drawled, his voice smooth as silk but laced with mockery. He held a glass of champagne in one hand as he stopped a mere foot away from her. "Or should I say, the queen of second chances? How does it feel to taste defeat again?"

The smugness in his tone was enough to ignite a fire in her chest, but Ishika refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her anger. She tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as she let a slow smile curve her lips. "Oh, look who it is. The man who mistakes arrogance for confidence. Tell me, Yash, does the weight of your ego ever make you stumble?"

Yash chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a ripple of irritation down her spine. "I'm surprised you made it here after your embarrassing performance at the press conference. But I guess even failure deserves a night out."

The crowd around them began to quiet, subtle glances exchanged as people discreetly turned their attention to the verbal sparring. Ishika felt their eyes on her, but she didn't falter. Instead, she stepped closer, the heels of her stilettos clicking against the floor like a drumbeat of defiance.

"Failure?" Her voice was like honey laced with venom, smooth yet cutting. "At least I don't hide behind inherited success. I built my empire brick by brick, unlike some people who just inherited their way to the top. Tell me, Yash, how does it feel to be a placeholder in someone else's legacy?"

For a fleeting moment, she saw something flicker in his eyes-annoyance? Resentment? It was gone before she could pinpoint it, replaced by his usual smirk.

"Ah, Ishika" he said, his tone almost pitying. "Always so dramatic. Is this your way of convincing yourself that you're relevant? That losing to me doesn't sting as much as it does?"

Ishika's breath caught for a second, but she masked it quickly. She leaned in, her voice dropping to an icy whisper. "Keep underestimating me, Yash. It makes it easier to prove you wrong."

The space between them felt electric, the air charged with unspoken challenges and clashing egos. Yash's gaze locked with hers, his smirk fading into something unreadable. For a moment, it was as if the world around them had disappeared, leaving just the two of them in this simmering standoff.

A waiter interrupted the moment, offering them champagne. Ishika took a glass with a graceful flick of her wrist, using the distraction to break the intense eye contact. She turned on her heel, her emerald gown swishing behind her as she walked away with a defiant sway in her step.

Yash watched her retreat, a strange mixture of amusement and something deeper flickering in his chest. He downed the last of his drink, his jaw tightening as he tried to shake off the lingering tension.

"She's something else," he muttered under his breath, the smirk creeping back onto his face.

━━༻❁༺━━

The party was at its peak, the hum of conversation blending with the soft notes of the jazz band. Yash stood near the balcony, nursing a fresh glass of whiskey. His sharp eyes scanned the room, his mind buzzing with the night's events-her fiery words, her defiance, the spark in her eyes. Ishika Sehgal was a force, no doubt.

"Yash Singhania" a voice broke through his thoughts.

Yash turned, his polite smirk already in place. A man in his late twenties stood before him, dressed in a sleek suit but wearing an expression that screamed overconfidence.

"I've been meaning to introduce myself" the man continued, extending his hand. "Anurag Mehta. A name you might've heard of?"

Yash shook his hand with practiced ease. "Should I have?" His tone was polite, but the slight edge in it made Anurag falter for a beat.

Recovering quickly, Anurag smirked. "You've been locking horns with Ishika Sehgal, haven't you? Well, let me save you some trouble. She's been like this since college-always loud, always desperate to prove something. But deep down?" He leaned in slightly, his voice dripping with disdain. "She's just a scared little girl playing dress-up. All bark, no bite."

Yash stilled. His grip on the whiskey glass tightened, but his face betrayed nothing. He simply raised an eyebrow, his silence urging Anurag to continue.

"She's nothing, really" Anurag went on, emboldened by Yash's lack of response. "Just a product of pity and misplaced ambition. People like her don't belong in the spotlight. She's a joke, Singhania-"

"Enough."

The single word, spoken in a tone like steel, sliced through the air. Anurag blinked, startled by the sudden shift.

Yash turned to him fully, his eyes dark, his smirk replaced by something colder. He took a step closer, his towering presence forcing Anurag to instinctively step back.

"Let me make one thing clear" Yash began, his voice low but brimming with authority, each word sharp enough to cut. "You don't speak about Ishika Sehgal like that. Not to me, not to anyone."

Anurag swallowed, attempting to muster his earlier bravado. "I was just saying-"

"No" Yash interrupted, his tone even harsher now. He leaned in slightly, his gaze locking onto Anurag's with a ferocity that made the man shrink. "You weren't just saying. You were running your mouth, thinking it makes you look clever. It doesn't. It makes you look pathetic."

Anurag stammered, his face flushing under Yash's unwavering glare. "I-I didn't mean any offense, Mr. Singhania."

Yash tilted his head slightly, his smirk returning but now tinged with menace. "Here's the thing, Anurag. You don't get to decide who belongs where. And the next time you think about spewing your trash opinions about her, I suggest you think again." His voice dropped to a near whisper, dangerous and lethal. "Because if I hear you disrespecting her, I'll make sure you regret it. And trust me, I don't make idle threats."

The room seemed to go quiet around them, the weight of Yash's words pressing down on Anurag like a vise. The man nodded quickly, his previous arrogance completely deflated.

"I-I understand. Won't happen again" Anurag muttered, barely meeting Yash's gaze.

Yash took a step back, his smirk softening into something unreadable. "Good. Now run along, Anurag."

Anurag didn't need to be told twice. He scurried off, his confidence shattered.

Yash watched him leave, swirling the whiskey in his glass. His heart was pounding, not from the confrontation but from the realization that followed. Why had he defended her? Ishika Sehgal was his rival, his competition, the thorn in his side. Yet, the image of her from earlier-the raw pain in her eyes, the vulnerability she'd so desperately tried to hide-kept replaying in his mind.

"Damn it!" he muttered under his breath, downing the rest of his drink.

He turned back to the party, his usual smirk in place, but his thoughts were a tangled mess. Yash Singhania didn't care about people. He didn't get involved.

But with Ishika? It was starting to feel like he didn't have a choice.

━━༻❁༺━━

After an hour

The party was alive with chatter and laughter, the glittering lights reflecting off the serene pool. Ishika stood by the poolside, her emerald gown draping elegantly around her, catching the faint glow of the water. Her composed demeanor was matched by the rare, genuine smile lighting up her face as she conversed with a guest. The sound of her soft laughter blended seamlessly with the hum of the evening.

On the far side of the gathering, Anurag nursed his bruised ego, his mind churning with bitterness. The memory of Yash's scathing words from earlier in the evening replayed in his mind like a mocking refrain. Yash was untouchable-his influence and reputation shielded him. But Ishika? She was within reach, an easier target for his festering spite.

Feigning nonchalance, he weaved through the crowd, a forced smile plastered across his face. As he neared Ishika, his gaze darkened. "Ah, Ishika!" he called out jovially. "Didn't expect to see you by the pool tonight. Isn't it ironic how life places people near their fears?"

Ishika's polite smile faltered momentarily, her shoulders stiffening. She turned to face him, her expression cool and dismissive. "Anurag," she said curtly, "I didn't realize this event was doubling as a comedy show."

Her tone carried the perfect balance of wit and sarcasm, drawing a few chuckles from the nearby guests. But Anurag's grin only widened. "A sharp tongue as always," he muttered before stepping closer, invading her personal space.

It happened in an instant.

Anurag stumbled forward, feigning clumsiness, and bumped into her shoulder. The force was deliberate but subtle, just enough to make her lose her balance. Ishika's heel caught on the edge of the pool, and for a split second, panic flashed across her face. She teetered precariously before plunging backward into the cold, unyielding water.

The world around her disappeared into a muffled haze as the water engulfed her. Panic seized her immediately. Memories of childhood fears gripped her chest like a vice, making it impossible to think or breathe. She flailed desperately, her arms cutting through the water in frantic, uncoordinated motions.

"Help!" she screamed, though the word barely broke the surface before water swallowed it. "Somebody, help me!"

The crowd stood frozen, unsure of how to react. Some whispered among themselves, others exchanged nervous glances, but no one moved.

Across the pool, Yash Singhania heard the commotion. His sharp eyes instantly locked on the struggling figure in the water. The sight of Ishika, thrashing helplessly, her usually unyielding demeanor shattered by terror, sent a jolt through his chest.

"Move!" he barked, his voice cutting through the stunned silence as he pushed his way through the onlookers. His coat was off in one swift motion, tossed to the ground carelessly, and he dove into the pool without hesitation.

The cold water bit at his skin, but he pushed through it, his movements precise and determined. His mind screamed at him to stop, to let her fend for herself-she was his rival, after all. But his body refused to listen. All he could focus on was reaching her before it was too late.

As he neared her, her flailing arms struck his chest, her panic making her dangerous to herself and anyone near. He grabbed her firmly, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Relax" he growled, his voice steady and commanding. "I've got you."

Ishika's movements stilled, her survival instincts giving way to trust-trust she didn't even know she had in him. She clung to him with all her strength, her nails digging into his soaked shirt as he pulled her toward the surface.

Breaking through the water, Yash held her tightly, her trembling body pressed against his chest. "Towel!" he shouted the moment they reached the edge, his voice echoing with urgency. "Get me a towel now!"

He hoisted her out of the pool, his strong arms never faltering despite her weight. The world around them blurred as he carried her to a nearby lounge chair. The murmurs of the crowd were distant, unimportant. All that mattered was her.

Kneeling beside her, Yash snatched the towel handed to him and began drying her arms and shoulders, his movements uncharacteristically gentle. Her trembling lips parted, her breaths coming in ragged gasps.

He covered her with his black blazer. She shivered beneath the fabric, her wide eyes locking onto his.

"You're okay" he said softly, his tone stripped of its usual arrogance. "You're safe now."

Ishika's eyes fluttered open, her tear-streaked face pale. She blinked, her gaze locking with his. "Yash..." she whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of gratitude and disbelief. For the first time, the fire in her gaze was replaced with vulnerability, a quiet plea for reassurance.

But her vulnerability only ignited something dangerous within him-an anger he couldn't explain.

"Are you insane?" he snapped suddenly, his voice low but intense. "You could've died!"

As the sounds of the murmuring crowd faded into the background, Ishika's voice broke through, weak but pointed. "Why?" she whispered, her lips trembling. "Why did you save me, Yash?"

Her question hit him like a bolt of lightning, and for a moment, he simply stared at her. His wet hair dripped onto his already soaked shirt, the icy chill of the water barely registering against the inferno of emotions burning within him.

He could've avoided the question. He could've walked away, leaving her to stew in her own confusion. But something in her gaze demanded an answer, demanded the truth.

Yash leaned in closer, his face inches from hers, his voice low and dangerous. "Why did I save you?" he repeated, each word laced with a quiet intensity.

Ishika's breath hitched, her fingers clutching the edges of his blazer tighter.

"You're mine to deal with" he said, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying the weight of a storm. "I won't let anyone else even dare to lay a finger on you."

His words sent a jolt through her, her chest tightening as his possessive tone echoed in her ears. The world around them seemed to blur, the crowd, the lights, the entire party fading into irrelevance. It was just the two of them now, locked in a battle of emotions neither was ready to admit.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. What could she say? That his declaration both infuriated and... comforted her? That despite her hatred for him, she couldn't ignore the warmth spreading through her at his words?

Yash straightened, breaking the spell, though his gaze never left hers. "Stay away from people like Anurag" he ordered, his tone sharp and commanding. "You think you can handle everything on your own, but tonight should've taught you otherwise. You're not invincible, Sehgal."

The fire in Ishika's eyes returned, albeit faintly. "And you're not as heartless as you pretend to be, Singhania." She took a break and spoke again, "I don't need your protection" she shot back, though her voice wavered. "I can take care of myself."

Yash's lips curled into a bitter smirk. "Sure" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "That's why you were seconds away from drowning."

Her cheeks flushed, anger and embarrassment battling for dominance. "I didn't ask for your help" she snapped, her tone defensive.

"And I didn't need you to" Yash retorted, his eyes narrowing. "But that doesn't mean I'll stand by and watch you get hurt. Understand this, Ishika-no one touches you except me. Not Anurag, not anyone."

His words hung in the air, heavy and final. Ishika stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest, a chaotic mix of emotions she couldn't decipher.

Without another word, Yash turned on his heel and walked away, leaving her sitting there, wrapped in his blazer and drowning in her own thoughts. The sound of his retreating footsteps was almost deafening in the silence that followed.

Ishika clutched the blazer tighter around her, her fingers trembling. Yash's words echoed in her mind, their weight sinking into her chest.

"You're mine to deal with."

The possessiveness in his tone should've angered her. And it did-at least on the surface. But beneath that anger was something she didn't want to acknowledge. Something that terrified her more than her near-drowning experience.

Because for the first time in her life, Ishika wasn't sure who she was really fighting-Yash, or herself.

Meanwhile, as Yash stepped into the cool night air, anger bubbled within him-anger at himself for diving in, for saving her. She wasn't supposed to matter. She was his rival, nothing more.

But no matter how much he told himself that, he couldn't erase the image of her terrified eyes, her trembling hands gripping him like he was her only anchor.

And for the first time in years, Yash Singhania felt utterly and completely lost.

Yash's way to his house

The drive home was long, though the streets were mostly deserted. The rhythmic hum of the engine did little to soothe Yash's restless mind. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, knuckles white against the leather, as the events of the night replayed in a relentless loop.

Ishika's terrified face as she flailed in the water. The sheer panic in her eyes when she realized she couldn't save herself. The way she clung to him as if he was the only thing keeping her alive.

"Damn it!" Yash muttered under his breath, slamming a hand against the wheel.

He couldn't shake the image of her vulnerability, so stark and raw, so different from the fiery, headstrong woman who met his every word with defiance. She had looked so small in his arms, her body trembling, her usually sharp tongue silenced by fear. He hated that the sight of her like that had shaken him to his core.

Why did I jump in? he thought bitterly, his jaw tightening. He should have let someone else handle it, anyone else. It wasn't his responsibility to save her. She was his rival, for God's sake-a thorn in his side since the day they met. But the moment he saw her in danger, all logic had abandoned him.

Yash exhaled sharply, his hand running through his damp hair. He could still feel the chill of the water clinging to his skin, the weight of her against him as he pulled her to safety. Her fingers had gripped his shirt like a lifeline, her trembling voice calling out his name.

Yash...

The sound of her voice, so broken and soft, echoed in his mind. It unsettled him in ways he didn't want to admit.

"She's nothing to you," he muttered aloud, as if saying it would make it true. "Just a rival. Nothing more."

But his words felt hollow.

As the car stopped at a red light, Yash let his head fall back against the seat, staring blankly at the empty intersection. He wasn't supposed to care. He wasn't supposed to feel anything. Yet, when he had seen her struggling in that pool, something primal had taken over. Fear-real, gut-wrenching fear-had gripped him, and the thought of losing her had been unbearable.

Why?

He clenched his jaw, the question gnawing at him. She was just another opponent, another person vying for the top spot. So why did it feel like his heart had been ripped out at the thought of her drowning? Why did the sight of her tears stir something in him he had buried long ago?

"Focus, Yash" he growled, slamming his hand against the wheel again. He needed to get her out of his head. She was a distraction-a dangerous one. He had spent years building walls around himself, protecting his heart from anyone and anything that could break him. Ishika Sehgal was no exception.

But even as he told himself that, the memory of her faint, tired smile lingered.

"And you're not as heartless as you pretend to be, Singhania."

Her words had cut deeper than he wanted to admit. For years, he had worn his cold, ruthless demeanor like armor, keeping everyone at arm's length. He had convinced himself that he didn't need anyone, that emotions were a weakness he couldn't afford.

But tonight, those walls had cracked.

He shook his head, gripping the wheel as the light turned green. "You saved her because anyone would've done the same," he told himself firmly. "It doesn't mean anything."

Yet, a nagging voice in the back of his mind argued otherwise. The truth was, not anyone had jumped into that pool. He had. Without hesitation, without thinking twice, he had risked himself to save her.

And now, he couldn't stop thinking about her-the way she had looked at him, the way her body had clung to his like he was her only source of safety.

He hated the way it made him feel. Vulnerable. Conflicted. Weak.

By the time he pulled into the driveway of his sprawling mansion, Yash felt utterly drained. The usually comforting sight of his home offered no solace tonight. He parked the car and sat there for a moment, his hands still gripping the wheel as if letting go would unleash the storm of emotions raging inside him.

"She's nothing" he whispered one last time, but even he didn't believe it.

As he stepped out of the car and into the quiet night, Yash couldn't shake the unease settling in his chest. For the first time in years, he felt truly off-balance. And it was all because of her.

Ishika Sehgal had always been a thorn in his side, a rival he couldn't ignore. But now, she was something more-a mystery he didn't know how to solve, a fire he didn't know how to extinguish.

And that terrified him more than he cared to admit.

Yash parked his car in the driveway with a screech, the tires skidding slightly against the gravel. His mansion loomed ahead, its grand facade bathed in soft yellow lights, but tonight it felt cold and suffocating. His chest heaved with a storm of emotions-anger, frustration, confusion-all coiling tightly inside him, threatening to explode.

As he pushed open the door to his house, the silence greeted him like a mocking companion. He slammed the door shut behind him, the sound echoing through the empty halls. The pristine order of his home only added to his agitation. Everything was perfect, in its place, controlled. Everything except him.

With a low growl, he grabbed the vase on the console table and hurled it against the wall. The shattering sound was satisfying but did little to calm the raging fire within him. His breathing was erratic as he stalked into the living room, his movements sharp and restless.

"Why?!" he roared, his voice bouncing off the walls. He swiped the stack of files off the coffee table, sending papers flying across the room. The sound of glass breaking followed as he knocked over a crystal tumbler, the shards scattering on the floor like the pieces of his composure.

His mind replayed the scene at the pool. Ishika's panicked screams. Her trembling body in his arms. The way her lips had parted to say his name, soft and fragile, piercing through his defenses like a bullet.

He kicked the ottoman, sending it sliding across the marble floor. "Why did I care?" he demanded, his voice a mixture of anger and despair. "She's just my rival! Just another obstacle!"

But even as he shouted, he knew the words were a lie. If she were just another rival, he wouldn't have felt the suffocating fear that had gripped him when he saw her drowning. If she were just another obstacle, he wouldn't have been so consumed by the memory of her tears, her vulnerability.

Yash staggered to the bar and grabbed a bottle of whiskey. His hands shook as he poured himself a glass, the amber liquid sloshing over the rim. He downed it in one gulp, the burn doing little to dull the ache in his chest.

"Damn it, Ishika" he muttered, slamming the glass onto the counter. The sound of the glass cracking echoed in the room, but he didn't care. "Why do you do this to me?"

He raked a hand through his hair, pacing the room like a caged animal. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, none of them making sense.

Her smile flashed in his mind, the faint curve of her lips after he had saved her. It wasn't mocking or defiant like it usually was. It was... soft, genuine, almost grateful. And it had undone him in ways he couldn't comprehend.

"No" he growled, shaking his head violently. "I don't care about her. I can't care about her."

But his heart betrayed him. And that terrified him.

Yash grabbed a photo frame from the mantle-a picture of him at a business award ceremony, his expression proud and composed. It was a reminder of the man he was: ruthless, focused, untouchable. He hurled the frame against the wall, watching as it shattered into pieces.

"This is not who I am" he whispered, his voice breaking. His hands trembled as he leaned against the counter, his head hanging low. The weight of his emotions pressed down on him, suffocating and relentless.

He didn't know what was worse: the fact that Ishika had almost died tonight or the fact that the thought of losing her had shaken him more than anything else ever had.

Yash closed his eyes, his breathing ragged. He felt exposed, raw, and vulnerable in a way he hadn't felt in years. And he hated it. He hated her for making him feel this way.

For the first time, Yash Singhania was not able to fight his feelings. And no matter how hard he tried, it was a battle he was slowly losing.

━━༻❁༺━━

With Ishika

Ishika sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers clutching the hem of Yash's blazer that still hung around her shoulders. Her emerald gown was soaked, her hair dripping water onto the pristine carpet, but she didn't care. Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths as the events of the night replayed in her mind like a relentless storm.

The image of Yash diving into the water haunted her. The way he had held her, his strong arms pulling her out of the suffocating darkness. His voice, low and steady, whispering, "I've got you." The memory made her throat tighten, her eyes burning with unshed tears.

Her hands trembled as she shrugged off the blazer and placed it beside her, the faint scent of him still clinging to the fabric. It was a cruel reminder of the man who had saved her. Her rival. The man she had sworn to defeat.

But tonight, something had shifted. His words, those maddening, infuriating words, echoed in her mind, refusing to be silenced. "You're mine to deal with. I won't let anyone else even dare to lay a finger on you."

Her fingers tightened against the fabric of the bed as those words rang louder, tugging at emotions she didn't want to name. How dare he? How dare he claim such authority over her?

And yet, as much as his tone had irritated her, it had also done something else-something she hated to admit. His declaration had made her feel... protected. Safe.

"What is wrong with me?" she whispered, burying her face in her hands. She should be angry, humiliated even. Anurag had pushed her into the pool, and she had been the spectacle of the night. But instead, all she could think about was Yash.

She replayed the moment over and over-the fire in his eyes, the way his jaw had tightened as he spoke. It wasn't just anger at Anurag; there had been something personal in his words, something possessive.

"Mine to deal with" she murmured, her voice shaking. The phrase sent a shiver down her spine. He had spoken it with such conviction, as if it were a universal truth, as if the world itself had bent to his will in that moment.

Her mind drifted to the way he had shielded her from the crowd, his jacket draped over her trembling body. The softness in his voice when he told her she was safe. The way he had looked at her-not as his rival, but as someone who mattered to him, even if just for that fleeting moment.

She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. "No" she muttered, shaking her head. "I can't do this. I can't feel this."

But the more she tried to push it away, the stronger the memory became. The intensity of his gaze, the way his words had wrapped around her like an unbreakable chain. She hated it-hated him for making her feel things she didn't want to feel.

"I hate him" she said aloud, her voice trembling. But the words felt hollow, a desperate attempt to convince herself of something that was no longer true.

Her pacing stopped as she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her makeup was smudged, her eyes red from the panic and tears. She looked nothing like the confident, composed businesswoman who had walked into the gala tonight.

"You're pathetic" she muttered to her reflection. "Letting him get under your skin like this."

But no matter how hard she tried to suppress it, the truth was glaringly obvious. She didn't hate Yash Singhania. She hated the way he made her feel-helpless, confused, and seen in a way no one else had ever seen her.

And then there was his possessiveness, the way he had claimed her with his words. It should have angered her. It did anger her. But beneath that anger was something deeper, something more dangerous.

Her cheeks burned as she remembered the way her heart had raced when he leaned in, his voice low and steady. "No one touches you except me." The words had sent a chill through her, not of fear, but of something far more confusing.

She sank onto the edge of the bed again, her head in her hands. The fear of drowning had been nothing compared to the fear of what Yash had awakened in her.

Because for the first time in her life, Ishika wasn't sure who she was really fighting-Yash, or herself. And that terrified her more than she could bear.