(Flashback)

Mahir leaned back in his plush leather chair, the cool air of his office barely registering as his eyes remained fixed on the image in front of him. There, glowing on his computer screen, was a picture of her. Ritika Sharma. Her features were illuminated by the dim light of the monitor-the sharp angles of her face, the determined set of her jaw, the fire in her eyes.

She was captivating, far more than he had initially anticipated. He had been observing her for weeks, but it wasn't until he truly saw her that he realized just how deep his fascination had grown.

His assistant stood silently by the door, awaiting orders.

"Make all my interviews go on air everywhere," Mahir said quietly, eyes still locked on the screen. "New, old... Whatever it takes. If you need to hack her system, do it. I want her to see only me. Everywhere. Flood her world with my presence."

The assistant nodded and started to leave when Mahir's voice cut through the silence once more. "And send her the invitation to the business ball. I want her there."

Mahir barely registered the man's response as he left the room. His thoughts were elsewhere, drifting back to the first time he saw her. The day everything had shifted.

---
*How did all this even start?*

It had been a routine stop for coffee, a rare moment away from the chaos of his business. Mahir preferred places where people didn't recognize him-small, obscure cafes where he could sit in the corner and observe the world with the invisibility only his power afforded him.

But that day, the calm had been disrupted. Mahir's attention was drawn by a commotion near the front counter. A young man, clearly wealthy from the look of his designer suit, was berating the barista, his voice rising with each word.

"Are you really this stupid?" the man sneered. "How hard is it to make a simple order?"

Mahir's eyes narrowed, but before he could look away in disinterest, a woman stood up from her table-Ritika. She approached the man with the kind of boldness that immediately caught Mahir's attention.

"I don't know who you think you are," Ritika said, her voice calm but cutting, "but no amount of money gives you the right to treat people like garbage."

The rich brat turned to her, shocked. "Do you have any idea-"

"I know exactly who you are," Ritika interrupted, stepping closer. "Just another spoiled child who thinks the world owes him something. But not here. So apologize to him."

For a moment, the man looked ready to lash out, but Ritika's unflinching gaze held him in place. With a muttered curse, he turned and stormed out of the cafe, leaving the barista trembling but grateful.

Mahir had watched the entire scene unfold in silence, his eyes never leaving her. She was fearless, unapologetic, and completely in control of the moment. It was then, as she casually returned to her seat as if nothing had happened, that Mahir knew he was hooked.

She wasn't like the others. Ritika had fire-a dangerous kind of confidence that made her stand out in a crowd. And Mahir wanted that fire for himself.

---

The memory faded, but the pull she had on him didn't. His eyes drifted back to the present, back to her picture on his screen. His fingers traced the outline of her face on the monitor, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"I wonder," he murmured to himself, "how much of that fire will still burn when you realize what I've done, little fox."

She had no idea that every step she took had already been planned.

---

The next few weeks were a game of cat and mouse. Mahir made it a point to visit places where he knew Ritika frequented, observing her from a distance. One afternoon, she had been browsing in a quaint flower shop when he positioned himself at the far end, pretending to be engrossed in his phone. Ritika had barely glanced his way, completely unaware that he was there. But Mahir's gaze never wavered, watching her every move as she absentmindedly fingered the petals of a rose.

There were moments like these that fueled his obsession. The thrill of being so close to her, of watching her without her knowing, sent an intoxicating rush through his veins. She was getting bolder in her own obsession, sending him flowers and anonymous notes-gifts he accepted with quiet satisfaction.

His lips curled into a smirk as he read the words. Little did she know, he was already aware of everything she had done. The anonymous gifts, the notes-he'd been watching her as closely as she had been watching him.

"She's so predictable," he muttered to himself, running a hand over the smooth leather seat. "But she'll learn soon enough that I've always been one step ahead."

He had even gone so far as to place a tracker on her, hidden in her bag during one of their brief encounters, when he bumped into her purposefully *accidently* .It had been easy, almost too easy. She'd had no idea, too distracted by her growing infatuation to notice the subtle movements of his hands as he brushed past her.

---

Now, sitting in his office once again, Mahir couldn't help but admire how perfectly everything had fallen into place. Ritika thought she was orchestrating this twisted game of obsession, but in reality, she was just playing a part he had written for her.

"She'll be at the ball soon," Mahir whispered, eyes gleaming with anticipation. "And that's when the real fun begins."

He stood, straightening his jacket as he prepared to leave. The game was far from over, but with each passing day, he could feel the moment approaching when he would finally reveal just how deep his obsession truly ran.

For now, though, he would wait, savoring every move she made.

"You are mine now, my little fox. Every step you take, every move you make, every breath you take.. It's all part of my plan"

After all, what's the thrill of the hunt without a little patience?