जिस पल मैं उन्हें देखती हूँ,
सारी तकलीफें, सारे जख्म धुंधले हो जाते हैं।
हर दर्द की याद भी ख़ामोश हो जाती है,

क्योंकि वो हमेशा से मेरा सुकून रहे हैं।

(BAI MANSION)

(SHANGHAI, CHINA)

Kashi lay in bed, lost in her thoughts, the outside world fading from view. Even the distant murmurs of maids, the chirping of birds, the quiet whispers of guards outside her room—all of it seemed irrelevant. There was only one person on her mind.

Him.

Hours had passed since she'd woken, yet he hadn't come to see her. Not as a husband. Not even as a human, she had hoped. Maybe, just maybe, he would care. But he didn't. Everyone else came—comforting words, hollow smiles—but not him. Not the man she truly wanted.

Tears pricked her eyes, burning like salt. She hated that she still cared for a man who wouldn't even look her way. Seeing her? Too much to hope for. God, why had she expected anything at all?

She was a fool. She should have known better.

Worthless. That's what she felt. Did she not deserve her husband's care? Did he feel nothing—no pity, no concern?

Kashi's hands clenched the silk of her saree, wrinkling it beneath trembling fists. Her eyes traced the ceiling—white, elegant, empty, just like her.

She had known this truth all along. Yet knowing didn't lessen the ache.

He was emotionless. She had ignored the rumors, the whispers. Now they made sense.

Still, she refused to believe them.

Stubborn. That's what she was. Stubborn and in love. The world could turn against him, the Triads, even his family—but she never would.

They called him many things. A monster. A beast wrapped in a man's skin.

She didn't care. She never would.

He was her husband. And no one—no one—had the right to speak against him.

Ruthless. Heartless. Feared. Still hers.

She knew of his killings, the blood on his hands. Yet she was unshaken. Fear had died long ago. She had been born into the Mafia; at four, she had watched her mother murdered. Trauma had become her beginning. Pain had transformed into strength, fear into power.

Mercy didn't exist in their world. Her father had taught her a lesson: "Always protect what's yours." And she had. Weakness had been buried deep, transformed into resolve.

Love, however, made her remember. That helpless four-year-old screaming as her mother was killed. Rage had burned her soul then—and it never left.

Even now, echoes of her father's enemies laughing haunted her. She would never allow herself to feel helpless again.

And Minsheng? Ruthless, untouchable? Anyone who dared insult him would awaken a fury in her she could not control. God forbid. She would kill with bare hands. She would bleed, not with guilt, not with regret, but with pride.

No one touched her husband and walked away.

This wasn't mere love—it was inheritance, Ansh Deewan's blood running in her veins. And even if it weren't, she would still be ready to kill for Minsheng.

Then she felt it. That familiar scent she hadn't sensed in over a year.

Her legs moved without thought, bare feet sliding across the carpet. Hands reached for the doorknob, careful not to betray the faint chime of her bangles.

And then—she saw him.

The Devil in Disguise.

Minsheng stood at the door, flanked by his men, heads bowed. The unmistakable aura of someone who had just left destruction behind clung to him.

He was still. Silent. Powerful. A gun rested at his waist as casually as a handkerchief. His suit jacket hung open, revealing a crisp white shirt clinging to his sculpted frame. Blood matted the fabric, tracing the contours of his muscles like a second skin.

Kashi's breath caught. She froze behind the door. Her eyes roamed shamelessly—from his waist to chest, up to the face she had longed to see. Every inch of him was danger. Sin. Desire.

"Haaye... kitna hot hai," she whispered under her breath.

Oh and there it was — the tattoos on his chest.

The Dragon Tattoo — dark ink curling over his skin, its scales sharp, its eyes almost alive in the low light. It stretched over the hard planes of his chest like it was born there, breathing with him, claiming him.

She knew what it meant — the Bai family lineage.
Every man in the family had it.
A mark not just of blood, but of power.
A symbol etched into the skin of those who carried the Bai name — their silent declaration that they belonged to a dynasty that ruled the underworld.

It wasn't just a tattoo.
It was the crest of a mafia empire.
A sign of loyalty, of ruthlessness, of the throne each Bai son was born to protect... or fight for.

And on him, it was even more dangerous.
More commanding.
More alive.

God, she couldn't look away.

The way the dragon shifted with every breath he took — tightening over muscle, its tail curling as his chest rose — it was impossible, absolutely impossible, to drag her eyes anywhere else.

It reminded her of exactly who he was.
What he carried.
What he could destroy... and what he could protect.

And still, a shiver ran down her spine.
Because on him, that mark wasn't just a symbol of a mafia legacy.

It was a warning.
And a promise.

Kashi's breath hitched. Her cheeks burned red, her heart thudding faster with every glance. The sight should have terrified her. Any sane person would've recoiled from those hands — the same ones that had snapped necks, crushed bones, and buried enemies in cold earth.

But Kashi wasn't like everyone else.

Because she wasn't just Kashi. She was Minsheng's Kashi — even if he never called her his.

Instead of fear, there was curiosity. Dark. Unexplainable.
She wanted to know him — the real him, behind those walls.

The husband who abandoned her on their wedding night. The man who disappeared without a word. The same man who now stood before her, drenched in blood and silence.

She wanted to know him.

And despite everything — the abandonment, the distance, the pain — she could never hate him.

She didn't move. She barely breathed, terrified of being caught staring.

His eyes swept the mansion — calm, sharp, unfeeling. His men stood frozen, scared to even breathe. His posture was rigid, his expression unreadable. But she could tell — he wasn't in a good mood.

Still, she couldn't look away. Like a magnet to steel, her eyes clung to him.

She couldn't believe that this dangerous, breathtaking man was her husband — someone who could kill one minute and make her heart race the next.

Then he moved.

She froze as his gaze lingered toward their bedroom door. Acting fast, she quietly shut it and leaned against the wood, her heart pounding. Her hands twisted in her saree, her lips caught between her teeth. Her toes curled in a mix of fear and something she couldn't name.

She knew the answer already.

Kashi tiptoed back to bed and lay down, pulling the blanket over her shoulders. She closed her eyes, pretending to sleep — as if she had never been awake at all.

But sleep wouldn't come.

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

 VISHAKHA'S AND YANSONG BEDROOM

Vishakha lay in bed, her saree rustling softly as the early morning wind drifted through the half-open window.

The curtain swayed with each passing gust, casting shifting shadows across her face — a face drawn tight with a tension she couldn't shake off.

Her fingers clutched at the edge of her saree, twisting the fabric again and again, as though that small motion could keep her thoughts from spiraling.

She turned on the mattress, the faint creak breaking the stillness that filled the room. Her heart felt heavy — a strange, unmoving weight pressing down, refusing to let her breathe with ease.

For a long moment, she just stared at the wall ahead, the dull paint blurring into nothingness. A sigh escaped her, low and weary.

Lost in her thoughts, Vishakha didn't even realize the presence behind her.

Then there it was — his touch, like always — gentle, grounding, achingly familiar.

Even after all these years, that same touch could silence the chaos inside her, could bring her back to the present no matter how far she drifted.

His hands — warm, steady, impossibly large against her small frame — slipped beneath the soft fabric of her saree resting at her waist. The silk yielded under his fingers as he drew her closer, until her back met the firm wall of his chest. The faint scent of sandalwood clung to him — the same one she had fallen in love with years ago.

Gosh, she still loved it — the warmth, the nearness, the quiet claim in that touch.
It sent a trail of shivers up her spine, her breath catching in her throat. And just like before, her cheeks flushed crimson, betraying her heart — still foolishly, helplessly his.

Before Vishakha could even turn, she felt his breath against her neck — soft, teasing, impossibly tender. That one familiar exhale was enough to make her eyes flutter shut. Then came what she had known would follow — Yansong's head finding the crook of her neck, fitting there as if made for him alone.

He breathed her in — slow, deep, reverent.

And in that moment, Vishakha forgot everything.
The worries, the heaviness, the noise in her mind — all of it faded. She was not the woman who had been weighed down a few minutes ago; she was simply his, safe and still.

That was the control he had over her, even now.

And she loved it.

"Jaan, you don't have to worry," Yansong's voice came out soft — perhaps the softest it had ever been. Almost amusing, coming from a man once known for his ruthless edge.
God, his enemies would've been shocked.

"Yeah, I know I don't have to," she whispered, "but I can't help it. I saw the sadness on Kashi's face. Minsheng could have at least come to meet her." Her voice thinned into a sigh as her fingers found his hands and rested there.

"You're right, Jaan. The boy should have gone to see her. But he didn't — and yet, I know he feels guilty for it," Yansong murmured, his arms tightening around her, pulling her even closer.

"Don't worry about it, Jaan. Get some sleep. You need it."
His words came with a kiss — light, reassuring — against her neck.

And just like that, Vishakha let it go. The worries, the ache, the noise.
Because if she ever did face the world again — she knew one thing for certain.

Her husband would be right behind her.

Always.

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

DEEWAN MANSION

Kalyani stood in the living room of the mansion, flipping distractedly through a magazine, her eyes darting to the clock every few seconds.
Sunlight filtered through the curtains, painting soft patterns across her face — the tension still unmistakable in her expression.

The distant shuffle of servants echoed through the hallways, but she didn't hear it.
None of it.

God, she was frustrated — the worry gnawing at her, eating her alive.

A pause.

The door creaked open.
She shot up in an instant.

There they were — her sons, Aksh and Ekaksh.

A huge sigh of relief escaped her lips, like a weight had just been thrown off her chest.

Without a second thought, she rushed toward the main door where her boys stood, disheveled but safe.
And then, she glared.

Oh, she did. And it was real.

Two nights. Two whole nights they had disappeared — just like that.

"Tum dono ko zara bhi fikar nahi hai ki ghar bhi aana hota hai? Huh?!"

Her voice came out sharp — angry, almost rough — but beneath it was that tremor of pure, motherly fear.

God, this was too much. How could they vanish like that?

"Maa..."
Aksh's voice was soft, pleading. Oh, she knew that tone — that sweet, guilty tone that always melted her anger.

They were buttering her up again. And the worst part? It worked. Every single time.

"Don't 'Maa' me, Aksh!" she snapped, voice rising just a little. "Tell me where you were! I want answers!"

"Ask Ekaksh, Maa! He was the one blabbering about partying!" Aksh blurted, quick to defend himself, his face the perfect picture of innocence — like a boy who had no idea what she was talking about.

And before she could even respond, Aksh darted off — escaping the storm.

Kalyani's gaze snapped to Ekaksh, who stood frozen, his mouth open in disbelief as he watched his brother flee.

He hadn't even done anything — yet somehow, he'd been framed in seconds.

"Maa, I didn't! Bhai is lying!" Ekaksh whispered, eyes downcast, fingers fidgeting like a scolded child.

God, it was almost amusing — the same man known for his sharp tongue and fearless sarcasm now stood there like a little boy, terrified of his mother's wrath.

"Ekaksh," Kalyani said, her tone low but firm, "if you both ever disappear again without telling me, I swear I'll lock you in your rooms and throw away the key. Do you hear me?"

Her finger jabbed toward him as she glared — angry, yes, but her voice trembled ever so slightly with leftover fear.

Ekaksh nodded quickly, wide-eyed, and hurried off before she could say another word.

And just like that — they were both gone again.

Kalyani sighed, shoulders finally easing.
God, they were safe.
They were home.
And that was all that mattered.

Yet even as relief settled over her, a faint unease refused to leave.
What if next time they weren't so lucky?
What if something happened and she never got to see them walk through that door again?

She pressed a hand to her chest, steadying the thud of her heart.
No matter how grown her sons became — to her, they would always be those two little boys running through the halls, laughing without a care.

And the thought of ever losing them — even for a night — was something her heart could never bear again.

God, she feared — a lot she did.

This wasn't just about losing her sons.
It was about losing the only people who truly cared — her boys.

Kalyani sank back onto the sofa, sighing heavily, facepalming, rubbing a tired hand over her face.
God, she hated it — this feeling that still clawed at her, even after all these years.

Even when she wanted to leave it behind.

With both her daughters — Kashi and Isha — married and living their own lives, and a husband who had stopped caring long ago, she felt utterly alone.

And God, it was real.
The isolation was real. And her boys — they were all she had.

God forbid, if something happened to them, she would lose it.
She really would.

"Hey Shankar, mere bachon ki hamesha raksha karna... aapse vinti karti hu. Please," Kalyani whispered into the empty living room — so soft that only the air could have heard.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she wiped them away quickly, forcing a smile.
No, she couldn't cry. She couldn't let herself break.

Because God, she feared it — the abandonment.
The fear was raw. Too real.

But she had to be strong she knew.

ANSH'S STUDY

Ansh sat in his chair, flipping the pen between his fingers — lost in thought.
The room was dark. Too dark.
Just like how he felt inside, no matter how stern a face he tried to keep.

His hands clenched against the edge of the table.

Then his gaze flickered toward the camera.
And there she was.

Kalyani.

Sitting on the sofa, face buried in her palms — defeated.
Tears rolling down her cheeks, one after another.

God, he hated it.
That sting in his chest every time he saw her cry — it was unbearable.
Each tear felt like a knife twisting deep inside him.

His jaw tightened, fists clenching harder until his knuckles turned white.

God, why.

Fuck... fuck... fuck...

"Kaash... kaash tum samajh paati, Kalyani," he whispered into the silence.
"Tum akeli nahi ho. Kabhi nahi thi."

His eyes shut tight — as if that could silence the ache.
As if darkness could hide the truth of what they had become.

God, he loved her.
He really did.

But the pain of her disbelief — the thought that she no longer trusted him, no longer believed he could love her — that's what tore him apart.

Her trust was the one thing he had lived on.
And now that it was gone...
all that was left inside him was emptiness.

A Pause.

Knock... Knock... Knock...

Ansh's gaze flickered sharply towards the door. He roughly wiped away his tears — tears he didn't even realise had fallen.

He swallowed hard. God, he hated this feeling. Why did he have to feel like this?

Why couldn't he just go and tell her everything? But he knew — she wouldn't even believe him.

"Come in." His whisper came out not just stern but rough to the core, his gaze pinned on the door as it slowly flickered open — revealing his sons, both staring at him with suspicious eyes.

Of course, they would.
They had every right to.

"Baba, we need to have some serious talk," Ekaksh whispered in his usual stern tone.

"Yeah, we do," Aksh — the eldest — added quietly from behind.

Ansh nodded faintly, not even having the energy to speak anymore. His eyes flickered between both of them — ready for the accusations he knew were about to come his way. His jaw clenched so hard, it looked like it might break.

"Baba, why would you send us to the club when there was no deal meant to happen? And why the hell would you tell us to stay out for a whole two days?" Ekaksh whispered, his voice caught between frustration and confusion. God, he wanted to know — why did their father do that?

And the worst part?
They had worried their mother for two straight days.

God, they knew she must have cried.

"Baba, and why didn't you tell Maa?" Aksh whispered, running a hand through his hair, completely frustrated by everything that had happened. "You were the one who told us not to come home — why?"

Ansh sat frozen — almost numb in his chair. He should have told them the answers.

What should he even tell his sons?

God, this was hard.

So he did what he knew best.

He avoided the situation.

Like always - escaping his emotions.

"You two have no right to question me," his voice rose, sharp and commanding, "agar maine bola toh bahar raho — no matter how many days."

"Do you hear me, Aksh and Ekaksh Deewan?"

"And I hope there won't be such useless conversations happening again."

The air in the room turned cold.

Aksh and Ekaksh both froze.
The tone in their father's voice sent shivers down their spine.

God, their father was serious — real serious.

And it was enough to make their legs tremble, their once stern gazes dropping to the floor — fear replacing everything else.

"NOW OUT OF HERE AND STOP WASTING MY TIME!" Ansh snapped — his voice sharp, almost trembling, yet dangerously cold.
There was a twitch in it, something that betrayed him — as if he didn't really mean any of it.

Yet behind that anger, behind that rage — hid something far more fragile.
A quiet, aching vulnerability.

And just like that, both brothers were gone — running off like scared cats, hearts pounding, eyes wide.
Leaving their father alone again — in the same dark, suffocating silence.

As the door shuts open and then close - Ansh finally sinks on his table letting out a deep breath.

"What have I become," he whispers to the empty room once again — hot tears stinging his eyes like a burning sensation.

His gaze flickers to the drawer attached to the table. He opens it — a family photo — him and Kalyani standing close, her hand on his arm.

Oh, and she is looking at him, not the camera.

God — this sight of her looking at him so lovingly.

He would do anything to feel it once again.

It doesn't take a second for his eyes to get teary as he stares at the picture, rubbing his fingers against it — trying not to tremble.

But his body trembles with the pain and regret he feels.

God, why him?

And for once — Ansh Deewan cries.
No... he bleeds.

His trembling fingers trace the picture slowly — as if trying to memorize it inside him.

The day — it's gone.
And that Kalyani?
Gone too.

Yet somehow, her eyes in that picture still look at him —
as if they never stopped.
As if a part of her still waits...
somewhere he can no longer reach.

He hopes.
And yesterday...

Gave him a reason to.

He could still see it — the way she looked at him, the way her fingers held on to his shirt.

It should've been nothing, really.
Just a reflex.
A moment.

But it wasn't.

It meant everything to him.

And now...
he wasn't letting go.

Not this time.
Never.

RAJPUT AND . CO

Arsh stood by the window of his office, staring at the city's traffic. The faint hum of people on the streets below drifted up to him — distant, meaningless — while his mind churned with a single thought: revenge.
Revenge on his wife — Isha.

Of course.

A mischievous smile curved his lips. He was going to get back at her. He really was.

God, he was so ready to scare her tonight.

She had embarrassed him — right there in front of the Singhanias. The deal had been signed, yes, but at what cost?

His wife — his own wife — throwing their fake sex life in front of Mr. Singhania.

The sex life - the one that didn't even exist. For God sake.

He could almost feel like burying himself six feet under the ground. For god's sake.

He remembered the distant whispers from the board meeting room — the moment she had walked in. The way she kept blabbering those words, not even realizing what they meant. His jaw clenched even thinking about the scene.

"What hubby? Did you already forget what you said last night — you wouldn't let me walk again. I was waiting in your favourite lingerie. Too bad you didn't come."

He mimicked her words — even the way she'd made those expressions and that tiny pout. What the fuck did she even mean by those words?

She didn't even have a lingerie, and yet she talked about it like it was so casual.

She had never worn one.

God, Mr. Singhania must think he's some kind of pervert who can't keep his hands off his wife.

Oh, and how could he forget — how Mr. Singhania had advised him to "keep his wife happy."

How the fuck was he supposed to keep that woman happy — the woman with a thousand personalities?

And yet his words didn't match his actions. In the one year of their marriage, not even a single day had gone by when he hadn't been there for her — supporting her in whatever she wanted or needed.

He sighed in relief — at least Mr. Singhania hadn't canceled the deal. He had worked so hard for it. Losing it would've made him either kill himself or call the Purush Helpline.

He thought dramatically, because god — that woman scared him. Scared him for what she might do next.

God, he hated it.

He fucking hated it.

How she got under his skin every single time.

She didn't seem affected. Of course she didn't.

Isha was never the one to be affected by people.

God, this woman.

Arsh stared at the wedding ring on his finger, then instantly ran a hand through his hair, pushing away that unfamiliar stirring in his chest.

God, what the fuck is wrong with him?

He wasn't some sweet, lovesick fool.

And yet... he couldn't deny the way his eyes softened — just thinking about his wife.

RING... RING... RING...

Arsh's eyes flicker toward the phone. A single name flashes on the screen — "KASHI."

His wife's sister.
His best friend since childhood.

His hand reaches out on instinct, picking up the phone — but there's a strange twist in his chest. Kashi... calling him? She barely called these days. Maybe she was too busy with her married life... or at least that's what he told himself so he wouldn't feel left behind.

"Kashi? Is that really you? Oh my god, did you actually remember me? God, you got so busy with your life as Mrs. Bai you never call."

Arsh's voice comes out softer than he intends — sad, almost disappointed — but he understands. She has her own world now.

It isn't like before... when it was always him and her planning every family event, when she was the one he trusted with every secret, every insecurity he never dared to share with anyone else.

But then he freezes.

Because the voice that comes from the other side isn't the Kashi he knew.

"A-Arsh..."
Her voice is trembling, thin, breaking at the edges no matter how hard she tries to hide it.

Arsh's eyes darken instantly. That single quiver in her voice is enough to set every nerve in him on fire. Whoever made her cry — whoever it was — he wants to tear them apart.
But he forces himself to keep calm, steadying his breath, not wanting to scare her further.

"Kashi...?"

"Kashi, talk to me. What happened?"

"Arsh..."
Her voice cracks — harsher, more broken than before — and he feels his heart twist painfully. This was her... the girl who brought laughter into every corner of the house, who could turn any bad day around with one stupid joke.

But now?

She sounded nothing like that.

"Kashi, hey... calm down and talk to me, okay?"
His tone softens instantly, even as dread coils tighter in his chest. He's trying to stay steady, trying not to let the storm in his mind slip into his voice.

"Arsh... can you go home and check on Maa?"

"Why so suddenly? Kashi, what's going on? Are you okay?"
The worry bleeds through completely now. He doesn't care. She called after so long — and she was crying. Of all people, she was crying.

"Just check on Maa... please?"
Her voice trembles again, almost breaking on the word please.
And God — he had never heard her like this. Never seen her this desperate, this fragile.

This wasn't the Kashi he grew up with.
Not the one who danced in the rain like nothing in the world could ever hurt her.
Not the one who laughed like life was always kind.

No. This wasn't her.

And the truth hit him hard —
she wasn't okay.

She was nowhere close to being okay.

"Arsh... Maa called me. She was crying — she wasn't okay. Do you hear me?"
Kashi's voice comes out a little steadier now, as if she's forcing herself to pull it together, but the tremor underneath betrays everything — the fear of a daughter who lives far away, unable to check on her own mother, helpless and terrified.

"Okay... okay, I get it. I do. I'll go check on Kalyani Maa. Don't worry,"
he says softly, trying to reassure her, trying to hold her together even from miles away.

But even as he says the words... doubt pricks at him.

Was she only worried about Kalyani?

Or was there something else — something much deeper — tearing her apart from the inside?

Because every second he listened, he could feel it...
this wasn't just fear for her mother.

It was something more.
Something she wasn't saying.

"Kashi? Are you sure that's all?"

"There isn't... something else you're worried about? You can talk to me, Kashi. Remember, it's me. Arsh."

There was a pause.
A long one.

The kind of silence that crawls under the skin — the kind that says more than words ever could.
He held the phone to his ear, waiting... hoping she would open up.

Finally, she spoke.

"Arsh, really... don't worry. Maa called me crying, I panicked. I live so far away and... Maa doesn't just call crying. No, she doesn't — and you know that. That's all."
Her voice was soft, steady enough to pass. But that tiny twitch — that small break she tried to hide — didn't escape him.

He heard it.
He always heard it.

But he didn't push. Not this time.
Because he knew — painfully well — that she wouldn't tell him.
Wouldn't give him the truth.

She never did when she didn't want to.

"Okay, Kashi... you scared me, yaar. You called after so long — and that too crying."
His tone was gentle, pretending he was convinced by her explanation.

But inside?

He was anything but convinced.
He knew her far too well.
He knew when she was lying.
And right now?

She was lying.
And something inside her was breaking.

"Kashi... are you okay? How is everything? How are things going there?"
Arsh whispered, trying—failing—to keep the worry out of his voice. God, it ate at him, this helplessness. Knowing she was far away... knowing he couldn't just show up and check on her himself. The distance felt like a punishment.

"And how is that grumpy husband of yours?"
His tone shifted instantly — from soft concern to a cold, flat disinterest, like he was talking about the one kind of weather he despised more than anything.

"Everyone is okay, Arsh... chinta mat kar. Let me call you later, okay?"
Kashi whispered, but even in those few words he heard it — the unease, the tremor she tried to hide.

And then, just like that, she was gone.
The call ended.

Arsh stood there for a moment, frozen.
Then slowly, he moved — walking toward the window, his fists clenching hard at his sides.

He knew now.
She wasn't okay. Not even close.
Every instinct in him — the best-friend instinct he had always relied on — was screaming.

Something was wrong.
Very wrong.

And the first name that flashed in his mind?

That bastard of a husband.

Had he done something?

Arsh's jaw tightened, eyes darkening — darker than the sea on a moonless night.
A storm gathering.
Silent.
Deadly.

And he wouldn't rest until he found out the truth.

And honestly? It wasn't an act.

He did hate Minsheng. More than anything.

For no dramatic reason. No betrayal. No incident.
Just... because.

Because there was nothing to like about that man. Not one single thing.

For God's sake — Minsheng had never appreciated Kashi.
Not her kindness.
Not her quiet strength.
Not her intelligence.
Not the beauty she had — the kind that wasn't just physical, but something that made a room feel warmer the moment she stepped inside.

And somehow that man had gotten her... with zero effort.
And still didn't appreciate the absolute baddie he had married.

"Ugh, I hate that bastard," Arsh muttered under his breath.

But really... wasn't it universal?
No male best friend ever liked the guy she ended up marrying.

And of course it was the same for Arsh.

He burned. God, he did — at the mere mention of Minsheng's name.
Anyone could see it: the way his eyes darkened, the way his jaw clenched so hard it hurt, the way his entire body went still with anger.

And let's not forget — that dangerous urge he always fought — the urge to take the first flight out, show up at Minsheng's door, and kill the man with his bare hands...

...all while wearing a smirk.

He shook his head, hard — as if trying to shove those thoughts deep, deep down where they couldn't get out.

Because if Kashi ever heard what he was thinking...
he wasn't surviving another day in this world.

He didn't understand — not even a little — why the hell she would defend that bastard husband of hers.

For god's sake.

It made his blood boil.

It always did.

The next moment, sighing heavily, he left the company labeled "RAJPUT AND CO."

He rushed into the elevator, not even caring who called out after him — he knew he had to check on Kalyani Maa.
Kashi was worried, and if she was worried... that meant something.

Something seriously wrong.

The staff stared after him — confused, startled — but he didn't care. His assistant's call flashed on his phone; he ignored that too.

He snatched the keys from the driver and in the very next breath he was gone, leaving the man standing there, shocked and blinking.

He drove through the streets of Mumbai like a madman — the kind who wouldn't stop until he got where he needed to be.
He was never the one to break traffic rules.
And today he had.

Of course he did — because nothing else mattered when it came to family.

And then there it was — "DEEWAN MANSION."

The massive gates opened, letting him inside. He stumbled out of the car, barely pausing as he tossed the keys to the guard — who he knew would handle it.

He took the entrance stairs two at a time, steps muffled against the carpet. He took deep, shaky breaths — almost scared of what he was about to walk into, scared of what he might see.

The doors to the haveli opened with a long creak — a sound that matched the way his heart was racing in fear.

He stepped inside, scanning the hall. His eyes landed on Naresh Deewan, the eldest patriarch of the family, sitting in his usual chair — sipping tea, holding the newspaper as always.

Naresh's eyes flickered from the paper to Arsh — a flash of shock, then a warm smile broke across the old man's face.

In the next moment, Naresh rose and pulled Arsh into an embrace.
Arsh froze — not used to this kind of affection from anyone except his wife, Isha.

But... he liked it.
For a moment, he allowed himself to sink into that warmth — a warmth he didn't often let himself feel.

"How come you decided to visit us, Arsh? Is everything okay? Is Isha — did she do something?"

Naresh's voice held worry, concern, and of course — curiosity. He would never openly blame his granddaughters, but he knew. God, he knew how mischievous and free-spirited Isha could be.

Arsh chuckled softly, replying,
"No... it's not like that, Bade Papa. I just came to pick something from Kalyani Maa. Uh — it's something Isha asked for."

His voice was gentle, controlled — carefully composed. He was used to hiding his real emotions.

Naresh didn't suspect much and laughed lightly.
"Acha thik hai, beta. Main toh dar gaya tha. Well, Kalyani must be in the dance room."

Arsh nodded, his feet already carrying him toward the lift that would take him to the E-Wing — where the dance room was.

He knew his mother-in-law, Kalyani, loved Bharatanatyam more than anything. And some of that love had passed on to both his wife, Isha, and his best friend — Kashi.

The elevator doors slid open.
He stepped in, heart pounding harder with each passing second.

As he reached the wing, he hesitated, then knocked — softly.

"Maa..." he whispered, his voice small, almost scared of whatever he was about to walk into.

Kashi had cried while calling him.

And that meant something.

Something serious.

Door creaked open — and there stood Kalyani.

Arsh's eyes instantly traced the dark circles beneath hers. They didn't go unnoticed.

For a moment, Kalyani's sad face flickered with surprise... then a warm smile slowly replaced it.
"Arsh bacha, what are you doing here? Is everything okay?"

Arsh chuckled softly, rolling his eyes in that familiar, playfully dramatic way.

"Yeah, maa, chill. You're still that worrying lady. Just chill, okay?"
His voice came out light — too light — as if this was a casual drop-by and he hadn't practically flown here in panic.

Kalyani smiled at her son-in-law's usual chill tone. He had always been a son to her. She kept her composure well, a soft smile resting on her lips. She tried—she thought she was hiding her sadness.

But Arsh saw it all. Oh, he did.

Still... he needed to understand what was wrong without asking directly.

"What maa, you're so shocked? Can't a man visit his favourite woman in the world?"
He raised an eyebrow at her still-confused expression, teasing just enough to ease the atmosphere.

A playful smirk tugged at his lips — and that made Kalyani genuinely smile at last.

She finally stepped aside and let him in. Arsh entered, glancing around the room. It was filled with classical ornaments... and Kalyani was wearing ghungroo.

He froze.
All the playfulness vanished in an instant.

It made sense.
Too much sense.
Now he was sure — something was wrong.

Because if there was one thing he knew about Kalyani... dancing was her peace. Her solace. The place she ran to only when she was hurting.

"Of course you can come see your favourite lady, Arsh."
She whispered it with a smile that knew far too well how to hide pain.

"And oh I forgot — how did the deal with the Singhanias go? And how is everyone at home?"

"Everything is okay, maa. And Isha is okay too, don't worry. And the deal went well — otherwise your daughter might have made a little mess."
Arsh chuckled, his expression softening at the mention of Isha and the deal.

Kalyani nodded at his words — but she didn't answer the way she should have.
She didn't answer... at all.

"Maa, are you okay?"

Arsh's words pulled Kalyani out of her own turmoil. She let out a shaky, awkward laugh — almost broken.

"Of course, what would be wrong with me, bacha? Don't worry, I'm perfectly fine." Kalyani murmured, smiling warmly — though nothing about it felt warm.

Arsh didn't ask more.
No, he didn't.

A beat.
A pause.

And then — the resignation.

He knew Kalyani wouldn't tell him anything. He knew pushing would only go in vain.

"Maa, I guess I should leave before your daughter starts thinking I'm screwing some woman," he said, amused — his tone flipping completely, opposite to everything he actually felt inside.

Kalyani smiled and nodded.
"Okay, beta... go."

And just like that he was gone.

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

RAJPUT'S MANOR

Arsh enters the Rajput Manor, his dark eyes scanning—and there she is. His wife, Isha—her legs crossed as she sits on the couch, saree swirling around her legs, hands clasped together resting on her lap. His eyes soften the moment they land on her, tracing the mangalsutra around her neck, shining as the moonlight from the window casts shadows on it. As usual she is waiting for him, like she always does—but today?

There is tension in the atmosphere. And it's not just the room—the tension lingers on Isha's face as well. The woman he knows for pulling pranks now sits there lost in thought. His expression mirrors hers.

He walks inside, his steps muffled by the carpet, and she turns to look at him—the tension in her features easing a little at the sight of him. Isha stands up, her long hair flowing down her back like waves in the ocean. She fixes her saree as if smoothing away wrinkles that aren't even there.

Arsh smiles. Oh yes he does—the real one, the one he shows only here. God, he loves this—her habit, the way she moves her tiny hands over her saree. It's adorable and cute.

At least to him.

"Aap late ho gaye."

Isha's voice pulls him out of his thoughts—that sweet voice, the one that always grounds him. He nods, shedding off his coat. Isha takes it—he never asked her to, but she always does, hanging it on the hanger like it's something precious.

He nods again at her words, finally sitting down on the couch, the exhaustion of the day settling over him.

"Mujhe tumhe kuch batana tha."
His voice comes out deeper than expected—but that isn't what startles him. It's her voice saying the same words at the same time.

"Mujhe aapko kuch batana tha," Isha murmurs, surprised herself.

"It's okay, you go first." Arsh pats the spot beside him.

Isha sits, finally speaking. "Di ka call aaya tha. She is coming to India and uh... I don't know, maybe it's just me who felt it, but she didn't seem happy. Not even a bit. Her voice was like... uh... so low."

Arsh looks at her, surprised. He had talked to Kashi an hour ago and sensed it too—she wasn't okay, and she was lying.

"I know, Isha, I do. And... did she tell you she is coming?" Arsh asks thoughtfully, hands clasped together on his knees. His expression unreadable, completely opposite of what he feels inside.

"Yeah... Di called me randomly, and her voice— it didn't sound okay. I don't think she is okay." Her eyes, full of concern and worry, search his.

"Isha, I know you're right. I talked to her too... uh... and she was crying. She didn't tell me much, didn't even talk much—like she was scared or I don't know. And she told me that I gotta go see Kalyani Maa. She said Maa had called her crying and told me to check on her."
His eyes finally reveal confusion, fear, curiosity.

Isha nods, surprised as she takes it in. Her hand lifts to brush away the hair on his forehead, and for a moment everything is still. He feels her bangles clinking softly with each movement—and that one sound soothes him.

Arsh closes his eyes, leaning into her touch. It's rare for him. But one thing he knows—something constant—is that Isha would never take advantage of him or his vulnerability. She never has.

"Don't worry, Arsh. We will find out what's wrong. Hmm? And aap tired lag rahe hain... let me go serve dinner."

Isha doesn't ask more questions—not about how Kashi called him, not about when he went to visit her mother. She doesn't, because she understands. She always does.

She knows him.

Smiling softly, she retreats toward the kitchen. Arsh watches her, the gentle rustling of her saree filling the room—and he finds calm in that simple noise.

And for once, Isha isn't mischievous, throwing pranks at him. And he—a man usually surrounded by board meetings, decisions, responsibilities—finds himself, for once, letting his guard down and letting someone take care of him.

And just like that, they find peace with each other—without even saying it.

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

BAI MANSION

10:00 AM

Kashi lay in bed — long past the time she usually wakes. Morning light filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows on her face. Her eyes barely open, hands clenched at her sides, clutching her saree fabric as if it were the only thing holding her together.

She couldn't think much — nothing made sense.
The woman who always woke before sunrise, bathed before anyone even stirred... today, she lay there. Still. Unmoving. Because she just couldn't get him out of her mind.
Now that he was here.
Now that he was back.

Earlier, it used to be just her and her thoughts of him — and that was okay, because she didn't have to face him.

But now?

He was here. He was real.

And suddenly everything felt stupid — all her overthinking, all her denial, all her hope. God, she really did feel stupid.

She still couldn't grasp any of it — that he was here and he wasn't leaving.

Kashi sighed heavily as the realization hit her again — his sudden appearance, her fainting in his arms, and then... seeing him in a way she never imagined she would.

She still couldn't get the image out of her head — him in that shirt, soaked in blood.
A sight that should have terrified her.
But it didn't.

And deep down she knew — nothing about him would ever scare her.
Even when the world feared him... bowed to him... she didn't.

A beat.

Pause...

A knock pulled her out of her thoughts. She sat up abruptly, eyes snapping to the door — her heart racing a little too fast.

Could it be him?

No, it couldn't. Why would he come to see her?
It's not like he cared.

"Uh... who is it?" Kashi's voice trembled — maybe from her racing heartbeat, or maybe from the sadness she felt... sadness that he hadn't come to see her, not even once.

She waited.
Oh, she waited — hoping.
Hoping it was him.

Because deep down, even if he didn't care... she did.

She always would.

And then — it came.

"Uh... it's me."

She froze.
She didn't need a name.
She would recognize that deep voice anywhere — at any time, in any crowd. Always.

Just like that, every ache, every heaviness lifted off her chest.
For a moment, there was only one truth —
He was right outside.
His voice ringing in her ears like temple bells.

A small smile crept onto her lips before she could stop it.

Stupid her.

Isn't she?

Another knock — soft, yet determined — pulled her back to reality.

"Kashi... aap thik hai?"
Words so soft. So soothing. So impossibly simple — yet healing something in her she didn't even know was broken.

And then she reacted — oh she did. Fast.

Kashi swung her legs off the bed.
She fixed the bedsheet — something she didn't need to do, but did anyway, like a schoolgirl trying to impress her crush.

Then she rushed to the mirror, checking herself.
She looked like a mess. God, she really did.

She rifled through her cosmetics, pulling out a lipstick, applying it with shaky hands.

Then she fixed her hair.

There.
All done.

She hurried to the door, attempting to calm her racing heart.

God, Kashi, control yourself.

She opened the door, eyes lowered — she didn't dare look up.

Minsheng stood there — unreadable eyes, fists clenched at his sides.
A crisp white shirt. Coat. Matching pants.
Looking nothing like the man she had seen hours ago — drenched in blood, looking the hottest she had ever seen.

"Kashi?"
His deep voice rolled through her, sending a shiver down her spine.

With all the courage she had left, she finally looked up — she had to.
Because of their height difference, she had to tilt her head all the way back.

And that's when it happened — their eyes locked.

His unreadable ones.
Her soft, trembling ones — full of emotions she couldn't hide.

Kashi felt her heart leap.
God, this was happening.
This was really happening.

She was looking at him.
And he... he was looking back.

Shankar, thank you, thank you so much for giving her this moment.

She finally spoke — too afraid he would think she was ignoring him.

"Uh... yes, I'm okay."
She fidgeted with her saree — so soft, so vulnerable, so small in front of him.

God, he froze.

This threw him off — he had expected tears, maybe a glare, maybe a slap. Yes, he had.

But this woman was unpredictable.
And all she did was look at him with those soft eyes.

"Uh... aap behosh ho gayi thi."
He slid his hands into his pockets — and that alone made her breath hitch.

She froze.
How could someone look so handsome just... standing?

He nodded.
"Can I come in?"

She nodded too quickly.
"Uh—yes. Of course. Come in."

Stupid her. Who keeps someone standing at the door when they came to see you?

Minsheng stepped inside, looking around — he hadn't seen this room in a year.
But it was theirs.
The room she had spent alone.
The bed she had slept in alone.

And guilt hit him — heavy, bitter guilt for everything he had done to her.

Without a word, he pulled out a strip of medicine from his pocket — lifted his hand toward her.

Kashi froze.
He had brought her medicine.
He knew.
He remembered.
He cared.

God, he really did.

She felt like crying. Tears of happiness this time.

"Yeh kya hai?" she whispered — needing to confirm if this was real, if he truly brought it for her.

"Uh... yeh aapki medicine hai, right? Aap kal lena bhool gayi thi... isliye aapko chakkar aa gaye."

Kashi stared, eyes glistening.
He cared. He really cared.
And he showed up with her medicine.

This wasn't "small" for her.
This was everything.

She took it quietly, trying to hide the emotion burning in her chest.

But then — she saw it.

A bruise.
Dry blood.
His knuckles swollen.
Untreated.

Her eyes snapped to his, full of concern she didn't hide.

"Aapko lagi kaise?"

He hadn't expected that.
No one cared about his wounds — ever.
But this woman he had only ever hurt... she cared.

Something stirred in his chest — painfully, deeply.

Before he could react, Kashi hurried into the bathroom — saree swinging behind her.

In the next moment, she was back — first aid box in hand.

Minsheng went rigid.
What was she doing?
She should slap him.
Push him away.

But here she was — ready to heal him.

Not just his wound.
Something else too — something he didn't have a name for.

Her small hand reached for his large one.

He couldn't move.

When her fingers touched his wound, he flinched — not from pain, but from something he didn't know he could feel.

She worked on his injury quietly, gently — as if nothing else existed.

And Minsheng... he couldn't react at all.
Not when she touched him like he was something sacred.

He has had worst than this and yet she worries over his wounds.

Like they mean something

He scoffed internally — what was wrong with her?

He was a monster.
And she treated him like someone who mattered.

"Kashi, you don't have to—"
His voice came out deeper, rougher, his eyes fixed on her, trying to understand this woman.

"Shhhhh."
She shushed him — firmly.
Almost glaring at him — fierce and protective.

She had shushed him.

Him.
BAI MINSHENG — a man known for his reputation, feared everywhere.

And she... shushed him.

He stared in disbelief — and something else he couldn't describe.

"It's done," she said, moving casually, as if shushing a man like him was nothing.

But she didn't know the truth —
She healed more than his wound.
She healed something he didn't even know was broken.

 She looked up, catching his gaze on her — so intense it nearly stole the breath from her lungs. God, it was too much to bear right now.

Kashi cleared her throat and looked away. She loved this — loved this moment more than anything — yet she couldn't hold his eyes for more than a second.

God, but she wanted to know what sat behind them.

But Minsheng... he was too frozen to react. He didn't know what to do. He wasn't accustomed to emotions — he never was.

"Uh... mujhe kuch kaam hai. Main chalta hoon," he stammered.
This had never happened before.

The tables had turned. God, they really had.
The man known for making grown men twice his size tremble was now the same man who couldn't even talk to his own wife without stammering.

His men would've laughed — God, they truly would have.

And just like that, he was gone.

Kashi stood there, trying to steady her racing heart — he had just talked to her. He never did. It was nothing... and yet it wasn't.

God, today was the end of her.

It really was.

The day she had always waited for had finally happened — it really had.

And more than anything... he cared. She knew he did.
He didn't realise it — no one did — but for the first time ever, Kashi felt seen. Truly seen.

And by now she knew — he might not show it, but he cared.

He really, really did.

And for now... that was more than enough for her.

From the shadows, a tall figure with an unwavering gaze watched the scene unfold.
His voice dropped to a whisper — so soft the air itself barely caught it.

"Things are changing... and so is my boy."

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

CHEN RESIDENCE

Edward stood in the kitchen in his crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up, forearms exposed. His eyes were softer today — no guarded tension, no unreadable mask — just a gentleness that almost felt fatherly. His pants hung on his hips, making him look effortlessly handsome as he moved the spatula with practiced ease, determined to make the perfect pancakes his princess would adore.

Of course she would. Her daddy was making them.

Inaayat — Edward's daughter — stood on the stool by the kitchen island, beaming with those impossibly adorable eyes. Barely six, yet her little mind held more understanding than any child her age should ever need.

"Daddy... did Mommy call?" she whispered, hope fluttering in her voice — that delicate hope only little girls have, the kind that always turns into disappointment.

Edward froze. The spatula stilled midair. His smile faded for just a breath as unfamiliar memories clawed at him. But he swallowed them down and replaced it with a bright smile, lifting his daughter into his arms and kissing her cheeks.

"My baby," he murmured softly, "Mommy works hard. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, Daddy..." Inaayat pouted, fingers fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt.

"And who does Mommy work for, hmm?"

"Me..." she said, pout deepening — then raised her hand excitedly like a child who'd just been given her favourite doll.

"And that's why we have to wait for Mommy." Edward tapped her nose gently, and she burst into giggles. His smile widened — because seeing his daughter smile was everything.

His heart clenches - it does, for lying to his little girl.

But a father's heart forgives the lies that keep his child happy.

A moment later, little Inaayat wriggled out of his arms and bounced off toward her toys, her tiny body full of life.

Edward exhaled, long and heavy. A lie — that was all he seemed capable of giving her lately. Something small. Something fragile. Something that kept her little heart from shattering.

Nothing hurt him more than his princess crying. Not a business loss. Not heartbreak. Nothing.

She was — and always had been — his weakness.

Edward stared at the ceiling for a moment before finally picking up his phone, scrolling through contacts until the name appeared.

SHANAYA.

His thumb hovered over the call button. His chest tightened. For a second — just one — he almost pressed it.

But then he stopped.

A man known for his aloof and goofy nature - almost weakened when it came to his favourite ladies

The phone slid out of his hand and landed on the couch. He turned back to the stove.

And smelled it.

Burning.

"Shit." He'd actually forgotten the pancakes.

He could already imagine Inaayat staring at the charred mess and then roasting him for it, giggling uncontrollably and falling onto the couch clutching her tiny stomach.

The image felt... domestic. Warm. Familiar.

Something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Not since Shanaya.
His wife.
Oh well.

Ex-wife, he corrected himself.

Then his phone rang.

It yanked him straight out of the past.

He glanced at the caller ID.

KASHI.

There was only one reason she would call him.

His idiot best friend had done something.

"God, Minsheng," Edward muttered, dragging a hand through his hair, frustration spiking. "What the fuck did you do this time?"

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

BAI MANSION

Kashi stood in the room — now draped in another saree, a deep red one with green embroidery trailing across the dupatta. In front of the mirror, she slid the green-and-red bangles onto her wrists, a combination she had crafted herself. They clicked softly, and she couldn't help the small beam that rose on her lips.

She looked breathtaking — she knew she did — especially with that warm brown-coffee lipstick staining her smile.

And then it happened.
Her breath hitched.

Even today... it still did.

Her gaze drifted to the sindoor resting in the gold sindoor daani. It felt like yesterday — that first time he had filled her hairline, claiming her, marking her, naming her as his.

His wife.

Kashi's hand trembled as she lifted the golden daani. God... it felt reverent. Holy, almost. Only now did she truly realise how much it meant to her — how deeply it had rooted itself inside her heart.

She slipped two fingers into the little box. The red powder brushed against her skin — the very color that bound her to him — and in that moment, all over again:

She is madly, insanely in love.

Slowly, with a breath she didn't realise she was holding, she lifted her fingers and filled her hairline with the sindoor.

A tear slid down her cheek. It really did.

Because being his... feels like a privilege she gets to hold.

That's what she believes it is.

And despite all the pain — despite everything — she finds a strange, quiet peace in being his.

RING... RING... RING...

Kashi turned toward the nightstand, her phone lighting up with a single word on the screen — MAA.

She wiped her tears quickly, a smile tugging at her lips. Of course she smiled. It was her mother.

Like a little girl who'd just been given a new frock, she grabbed the phone.

"Maa!" Kashi beamed, her voice bright.

"Bacha..."
The reply came — Kalyani's voice, but trembling, thin... as if her mother had been holding herself together with both hands and was losing grip.

Kashi's heart dropped.

"Maa, what's wrong? Please... talk to me?" she whispered, fear curling tight in her chest. Living so far away, not knowing what had happened, sent her mind spiraling into the worst possibilities.

"Maaa..."
"Kuch toh bolo..."
Her voice cracked, desperation rising.

"Beta..."

And then the dam burst.

Kalyani sobbed — raw, broken, real — and Kashi felt something inside her shatter right along with it. That sound... God, that sound would haunt her.

What kind of daughter was she, sitting here while her mother cried alone?

"M-aa-a... pl-please sp-peak to me..." Kashi begged, breath hitching. She couldn't breathe — truly couldn't — not with those sobs echoing in her ears like a nightmare.

A shaky whisper finally came through.

"Beta... please aa ja... I need you."

Kashi froze at the plea — but only for a heartbeat. Determination surged.

"Maa, I'm coming. Don't worry."

"I will wait... your maa really needs you..."
And the call cut, leaving Kashi staring at the screen, numb and overflowing at the same time.

But she couldn't unhear those sobs.

She had to go to India — now. Nothing else mattered.

Without wasting another second, she grabbed her phone again and dialed Edward — the one person she knew would help her.

Asking her own husband?

No. She couldn't. She wouldn't.
Even after the care he'd shown, even after the medicine he'd brought...

The doubt still lived. And it still hurt.

Tears stung her cheeks like fire — sharp, burning, punishing.
God, she hated this.

Why always her?
Why did every sliver of happiness crumble the moment she touched it, replaced by something that hurt even deeper?

"Shankar... please, maa ki raksha karna," she whispered, pressing her palms together, eyes squeezed shut. In this moment, only her God could hold her mother safe. Only He could.

Footsteps approached.

Kashi hurriedly wiped her tears — fast, harsh, as if erasing them could erase the ache underneath.

A knock followed — deep, low, familiar.

"Kashi, come down. Everyone is calling you."
Minsheng's voice slipped through the door, quiet, almost gentle.

But Kashi couldn't breathe, let alone speak. The thought of going downstairs... of facing everyone... of someone noticing the tear tracks she hadn't fully erased — it tightened her chest like a vise.

She didn't want to be seen.
Not like this.
Not when she felt like she was breaking.

"Kashi?"
The voice came again, soft but closer this time.

She swallowed hard.

"U-uh... y-yes... I'm com-ming..." she managed, voice barely holding together.

A beat.

Then she heard the steps retreating.

He was gone.

A shaky sigh slipped past her lips. She straightened, forcing her trembling hands to move with purpose as she wiped the last traces of tears from her face. She dabbed a bit of cream over her cheeks, hoping — praying — it would hide the redness, the ache, the storm.

"Pull yourself together, Kashi... be strong for Maa," she whispered to her reflection, voice barely more than breath.

She held her own arms for a moment, grounding herself.

She had to be strong.
If not for herself... then for the woman who needed her the most.

For her mother.

Downstairs, she found Minsheng on a phone call. She didn't look at him for more than a second — she couldn't. Her mind was already racing toward India, toward her mother.

And then she saw them — her grand in-laws.

Vishakha and Yansong stood waiting, smiling warmly. She returned the smile automatically, even though her heart was still trembling. If anyone in this mansion noticed things, it was Vishakha — of course it was.

"My princess is well, finally," Yansong declared in his usual dramatic tone, opening his arms wide for Vishakha like a father welcoming his daughter.

Kashi's chest loosened just a little.
She stepped forward and hugged him — genuinely. Yansong had been nothing less than a father figure to her in this house.

He pulled back with a pause, studying her for a moment. She frowned, unsure.

Then he huffed theatrically.

"Well, now that my princess is well... we can finally roast Vishakha."
He shot a mischievous side-eye at his wife, who rolled her eyes but smiled anyway.

Kashi let out a laugh — a real laugh, big and sudden — and something inside her eased, even if briefly.

Across the room, Minsheng stopped mid-sentence.

He turned, instinctively, and there she was — laughing.
A sound he had never bothered to seek.
A sound he wasn't sure he deserved to hear.

She was an angel.
And he... he knew exactly what he was.

Her laughter echoed, drowning out the voice in his ear.

"Mr. Bai? Hello? Are you there?"
His associate's voice cut through, confused.

A rare sight indeed — the White Tiger of the underworld, the man feared for his reputation and worshipped for his efficiency, pausing a call... just to listen to his wife laugh.

Too foreign a moment for a man who lived buried in work, buried in shadows.

Later, as everyone gathered at the dining table, Kashi's eyes drifted across the familiar scene — Minsheng beside her, gaze lowered, focused on his food the way he always was... unreadable, unreachable.
Vishakha was busy scolding Jun and Yunji for not eating properly, while Yansong chuckled beside her, amused by the domestic chaos.

But Kashi... she knew she couldn't wait.
If she didn't say it now, she never would.

"Gigi... I want to say something."
Her voice was small, nervous — and it only worsened when every head lifted, every gaze turning to her.

"What is it, Kashi?" Vishakha asked gently.

Kashi inhaled.

"I... want to go to India. To visit my family."

Beside her, Minsheng froze.
A subtle pause — but enough.
Visit her family?
Which meant he would have to go.

God, what the fuck.

"Toh bacha chale jaana," Vishakha said immediately, smiling softly.
"Ab toh Minsheng wapas aa gaya hai."

Kashi's heart soared.
So easy — so unbelievably easy.

She had expected resistance, tension, maybe even a cold refusal... because things never came easy to her. Never her way. Always the hard way.

"But Gigi... aap inse toh puch lijiye," she added softly, still clinging to that bit of kindness — that instinct to ask permission from a man who was her husband yet had never truly been there.

Yansong scoffed.

"What is there to ask him?" he said sharply.
"They are your parents, Princess. Not his."

His eyes shifted to Minsheng — a silent dare, sharp enough to cut steel.

Minsheng could feel the weight of it drilling into him.

He nodded stiffly.

"...Yes. We will go."

A smile bloomed on Kashi's face — wide, real, overflowing.
After a whole year... she could finally see her parents.

God, it felt like a dream.

"I have to pack!"
And she shot up from her chair, rushing toward the stairs — almost stumbling in her haste like a child who'd finally gotten the one thing she'd been aching for.

"Aaram se."

His deep voice called out — almost worried.

Kashi froze mid-step.
Everyone did.

That tone — that worry — from him.
From Minsheng.

For a second, she didn't feel invisible.

For the first time...
she felt seen.

Then, an hour later, her phone beeped.

Kashi paused mid-fold, staring as Edward's name flashed across the screen.

EDWARD: "Sorry Kashi, got stuck with Inaayat, but I'll be there in the morning to teach your bastard husband a lesson."

A soft laugh escaped her—almost a giggle. Edward, ever the protective brother, assuming Minsheng had somehow hurt her.

The irony wasn't lost on her. Her husband's best friend, yet here he was, taking her side.

Laughter bubbled up again—rich, pure—but then she caught herself.

Today had been... incredible. A blast, really.

And yet... the way Minsheng had given her medicine, so gentle, like it meant nothing but everything. He cared—he really did.

And when he whispered "Aaram se" as she stumbled on the stairs...

God, her heart had skipped a beat.

And just like that, all over again, she fell in love with him.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

By InkandIvoryWritess