The sight of Ranvijay’s easy, dismissive glance at the striking investment broker—a glance that contained a world of shared history Adhya knew nothing about—had been a toxin in her bloodstream for three days.
It was not the banker’s looks that twisted the knife; it was the realization that Ranvijay had used her, Adhya, as a public display of ownership only to retreat into a private ease with someone else.
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Raigad ke shant mahal ke aangan mein shaam dheere-dheere utar rahi thi. Dhoop ki aakhri kiranen pattharon par pighal rahi thi, jaise waqt khud thahar sa gaya ho. Das saal ka Rudra Pratap Rajput, apni talwar se zyada apni baaton mein garv liye, rawana hone ke liye taiyaar khada tha. Uski aankhon mein ek ajab sa vachan tha—bachpana bhi, aur ek anjaani zimmedari bhi. Uske saamne khadi thi chhoti si Meera Rajvanshi, sirf chhe saal ki, jiske haathon mein abhi bhi khilone the, par aankhon mein poore raaj gharane ki masoomiyat chamak rahi thi. Rudra ne halka sa jhuk kar uski taraf dekha, jaise kisi rani ko pranam kar raha ho. “Meera,” usne dheemi par thehri hui awaaz mein kaha,“jab tum badi ho jaogi… main laut kar aaunga. Aur us din, main tumse shaadi karunga.”
Lily couldn't speak, shame and fury choking her. She wanted to look away, but his gaze was a magnetic, controlling force, demanding her total attention. The humiliation and the intensity of his absolute gaze collided, pushing her over the edge. Her body, the ultimate traitor, completed its surrender under the direct, demanding force of his eyes.
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