The hotel room was silent.

Too silent.

For a long moment after the door closed, Samaira didn’t move. The city lights flickered through the glass, casting shifting shadows across the room, but she stood still—back against the door, eyes closed, breathing slow and measured.

Then, without a word—

She pushed herself forward.

The trembling was gone.

Completely.

Her shoulders straightened as she walked deeper into the room, each step lighter, steadier, as if the weight she had carried all night had been left outside that door.

She stopped in front of the mirror.

For a second, she just looked.

Really looked.

Red eyes. Smudged kajal. Tear-streaked cheeks. Lips slightly swollen from how hard she had pressed them together to stop herself from breaking.

A perfect picture of devastation.

Her fingers rose and brushed lightly under her eye.

Then—

A soft exhale.

“Impressive,” she murmured.

Her voice held no pain.

No crack.

Just quiet acknowledgment.

She tilted her head, examining herself like an artist studying her own work.

“Bas…” she clicked her tongue softly, “makeup thoda zyada hi kharab ho gaya.”

*(Just… the makeup got a little too ruined.)*

Her lips curved faintly.

“Itni mehnat se kiya tha.”

*(I worked so hard on it.)*

The smile lingered for a second.

Then vanished.

Just like that.

Samaira turned away from the mirror and walked toward the bathroom.

The shower turned on with a soft hiss.

Hot water poured down, steam slowly filling the glass enclosure.

She stepped in without hesitation.

The water hit her skin, washing away the remnants of the night—kajal, tears, sweat, everything.

But not once did she lean against the wall.

Not once did she cry.

Not once did her breath falter.

Her eyes remained open the entire time.

Calm.

Focused.

Thinking.

Minutes passed.

When she stepped out, her hair damp and her face bare, there was no trace of the woman who had broken down in the mansion.

Not even a shadow.

She wrapped a towel around herself and walked back into the room, moving with quiet precision.

Her suitcase lay open on the bed.

She picked out fresh clothes. Simple. Clean. Controlled.

Every movement was deliberate.

Unhurried.

Unbothered.

As if nothing had happened.

As if everything had gone exactly as planned.

Dressed and composed, she sat on the edge of the bed and reached for her bag.

From inside, she pulled out her phone.

And then—

Another small object.

A SIM card.

Her fingers moved smoothly, almost mechanically.

The current SIM slid out.

Set aside.

The new one clicked into place.

The phone powered off.

Restarted.

For a brief moment, the screen stayed black.

Samaira leaned back slightly, watching it.

Waiting.

When it lit up again, she unlocked it and went straight to messages.

One contact.

No name.

Just a number.

Her thumb hovered over the keyboard.

Then typed.

**Phase one complete.**

She stared at the words for a second.

No hesitation.

No doubt.

Then added another line.

**He believed everything.**

A faint smile touched her lips.

Send.

The message delivered instantly.

Samaira placed the phone aside and leaned back on her palms, staring up at the ceiling.

The room was quiet.

Peaceful.

Controlled.

Exactly how she liked it.

“Game abhi interesting hoga…”

*(Now the game will get interesting…)*

Her eyes drifted toward the window.

Far away, somewhere in the city—

Advait Singh Shekhawat probably believed he had broken her.

The thought almost made her laugh.

---

Morning came quietly.

Soft sunlight filtered through the curtains, spilling into the room in warm, golden hues.

Samaira woke slowly.

No panic.

No heaviness.

Just awareness.

She blinked once, then sat up, stretching her arms slightly.

For a moment, she simply looked around.

Neutral walls.

Soft sheets.

A place untouched by memory.

Good.

She got out of bed and walked toward the mirror.

Her reflection stared back.

Composed.

Sharp.

Unfazed.

A faint bruise of exhaustion lingered under her eyes—but even that seemed controlled, like a deliberate detail rather than a flaw.

She brushed her hair slowly, thoughtfully.

Her mind wasn’t replaying last night.

It was moving ahead.

Planning.

Calculating.

A soft knock echoed through the room.

She paused.

Brows knitting slightly.

Room service?

Housekeeping?

She hadn’t ordered anything.

The knock came again.

This time, firmer.

Samaira set the brush down.

Walked toward the door.

Each step slow.

Measured.

Her hand reached the handle.

And for a split second—

Something flickered in her eyes.

Not fear.

Recognition.

The door had barely opened halfway when Samaira froze.

For a second—just a second—something flickered across her face.

Then it vanished.

Replaced by something sharper.

Colder.

Controlled.

She didn’t step back.

Didn’t move aside.

She just stood there, blocking the doorway, her fingers still curled around the handle.

Advait stood on the other side.

Exactly as he always did.

Composed.

Unbothered.

As if the night before had never happened.

As if he hadn’t just torn her world apart.

A slow, humorless smile touched her lips.

“Why are you here?” she asked, her voice steady, edged with quiet hostility.

No greeting.

No hesitation.

Her eyes scanned his face, searching—not for answers, but for something she couldn’t quite name.

Then she tilted her head slightly.

“Check karne aaye ho?” she added softly.
(Did you come to check?)

A pause.

Her grip on the door tightened.

“Ki main zinda hoon ya nahi?”
(Whether I survived or not?)

Advait didn’t react.

Didn’t interrupt.

Didn’t deny.

That irritated her more than anything else.

A short breath escaped her.

“Ya phir…” she continued, her tone dropping, sharper now, “make sure karne aaye ho?”
(Or did you come to make sure?)

Her eyes locked onto his.

“That I didn’t survive it?”

Silence stretched between them.

Heavy.

Uncomfortable.

Unfinished.

She let out a soft scoff.

“Disappointing hoga na?” she muttered.
(Must be disappointing, right?)

Her lips curved again, but there was no warmth in it.

“I’m still standing.”

Still, no reaction.

Just that same steady gaze.

Observing.

Measuring.

It got under her skin.

“Say something,” she snapped suddenly. “You didn’t come all the way here just to stare.”

A beat.

Then finally—

“I came to say something.”

Simple.

Flat.

As if nothing else needed to be explained.

For a moment, Samaira just looked at him.

Processing.

Then—

She laughed.

It came out soft at first.

Then sharper.

A little louder.

Almost disbelieving.

“Oh,” she said between breaths, shaking her head slightly.

“Kal raat ke baad bhi kuch kehna baaki reh gaya?”
(Even after last night, you still had something left to say?)

She let out another short laugh.

“Incredible.”

Her hand left the door handle as she folded her arms.

“Matlab jo kuch bhi tha… woh kaafi nahi tha?”
(So whatever that was… wasn’t enough?)

She took a step forward, still blocking the doorway.

Her eyes didn’t leave his face.

“You humiliated me. Publicly. Thoroughly,” she said, counting it off lightly on her fingers.

“Character assassination bhi kar diya…”
(You even assassinated my character…)

Her voice dipped slightly.

“And now you’re here because you forgot a line?”

A pause.

Then, quieter—

“Or was that part not scripted?”

Advait’s expression didn’t shift.

But something in his gaze sharpened.

She noticed.

Of course she did.

And for some reason—

That made her smile widen just a fraction.

“Say it,” she said, tilting her head. “I’m listening.”

He didn’t speak immediately.

Instead—

He took a step forward.

Slow.

Measured.

Samaira’s body reacted before her mind did.

She stepped back.

Just one step.

Her back brushed lightly against the edge of the door.

Her brows drew together.

“Advait,” she said sharply, her voice losing a degree of control for the first time.

“What are you doing?”

He didn’t stop.

Another step.

She stepped back again.

Now her shoulders were almost against the door.

“Step back,” she said, firmer this time.

(Peeche raho.)

“Don’t—”

He moved closer.

Not aggressively.

Not hurriedly.

Just enough.

Enough to close the distance.

Enough to make her aware of every inch between them disappearing.

Her breath hitched slightly.

Not fear.

Not exactly.

Something more unsettling.

Unpredictable.

“Advait,” she said again, lower now, warning laced through her voice.

“I said step back.”

He didn’t.

Instead, his gaze dropped briefly—to her hand still near the door.

Then lifted again.

To her eyes.

And without breaking that eye contact—

He reached past her.

Her body went still.

For a split second, she didn’t react.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t even breathe.

His hand brushed the edge of the door.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

The door began to move.

The soft creak of it shifting filled the silence.

Samaira’s fingers tightened instinctively.

“Advait—”

But the words came out softer than she intended.

The door closed.

Click.

The sound was quiet.

But final.

Something about that small, insignificant sound snapped her out of whatever moment she had just slipped into.

Her eyes sharpened instantly.

Her posture straightened.

The space between them felt smaller now.

Tighter.

More dangerous.

She stepped away from the door immediately, putting a bit of distance between them.

“What the hell was that?” she demanded, her voice back to its edge.

“You don’t get to just walk in and—”

She stopped.

Because he wasn’t looking at her the same way anymore.

Not cold.

Not cruel.

Not even angry.

Just… focused.

Like he was trying to read something.

That unsettled her more than anything he had said last night.

“Say whatever you came to say,” she said quickly, cutting the silence before it stretched further.

Her tone was clipped now.

Controlled again.

“Quickly.”

A pause.

Advait didn’t move.

Didn’t look away.

And then—

As if none of this tension existed.

As if last night hadn’t happened.

As if she hadn’t just tried to throw him out—

He spoke.

Calm.

Even.

Almost absurdly normal.

“What would you like to have for breakfast?”

Hey my lovelies ❤️

I’ve been thinking…

I won’t be very active for a few days... Can be longer, and I really don’t want to leave the story incomplete.

So I have two options:

I post the next few chapters together right now (but they’ll be raw & unedited 👀)

Or I take a little time, come back, and post them properly edited — the way they deserve to be read ✨

What do you guys want?

Raw chapters jaldi?
Ya thoda wait karke perfect version? 🤭

Your wish is my command 😌