The rain was unrelenting—pelting the windshield like sharp needles, smearing the view ahead. The wipers kept moving rhythmically, but everything still looked blurred. Just like her vision. Just like her life.
Mahira's hands were shaking on the steering wheel.
She didn’t remember where she was driving, or if she was even driving toward anything. The road was unfamiliar. The city looked unrecognizable. Every honk, every flash of headlight, every droplet of rain on glass was an echo of something inside her unraveling.
Nivesh.
His name used to taste sweet in her mouth. Now it was bitter, metallic, like blood.
She couldn’t erase the image. The moans. The glint of sweat-soaked betrayal on another woman’s skin. On his skin. The room smelled of sex and perfume that wasn't hers. She had planned everything. The anniversary gift still sat on the backseat, untouched and irrelevant. Her lavender saree clung to her skin now like a cruel joke.
She had wanted to surprise him. But it was she who was surprised.
Her breath hitched.
The car jolted slightly as she slammed the brakes harder than she needed to. A sharp whistle came from somewhere behind, but she didn’t care. The world could collapse around her, and she wouldn’t flinch.
She pulled over to the side of the road, the rain now drowning out even the soft hum of the engine. She couldn’t sit still anymore. The suffocation in her chest was unbearable.
She opened the door and stepped into the rain.
It was cold. Her saree was soaked within seconds. She didn’t flinch. Her heels made an odd clicking sound against the wet asphalt as she walked aimlessly. Hair stuck to her face, her lipstick smudged at the corner of her mouth. Her body trembled, but she didn’t know if it was from the cold, the heartbreak, or both.
A group of people passed her. Some stared. Some looked away quickly. No one stopped.
Her hands were clenched. Her heart was hollow. Her eyes, blank.
This was it. The final nail in whatever remained of the life she thought she had.
She didn’t hear the car pull up behind her. Didn’t notice the figure watching her from the shadows of the headlights. The man didn’t move at first. He just watched. Observed.
Like he had done for years.
She was... different.
Not just the saree clinging to her soaked curves or the way her mascara ran like black veins down her cheek. It was something else—something deeper.
The fire in her was still there. But it was faint, hidden behind layers of broken glass and betrayal.
“Excuse me.”
The voice was low. Calm. Measured.
She turned slowly, strands of wet hair sticking to her lips. Her eyes met his.
Blue.
Strikingly blue. Familiar. Unfamiliar.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Just silence. And then everything tilted. The world spun.
She collapsed.
At apartment
The apartment was warm. Too warm.
She stirred slightly, her lashes fluttering against damp skin. The scent of cinnamon and faint leather lingered in the air. Clean, muted walls. The hum of rain tapping against glass windows.
Her head pounded.
She tried to sit up, but strong hands steadied her shoulders before she could move.
“You fainted. You're safe now.”
His voice again. Calm. Deep. It didn’t match the storm inside her. She opened her eyes.
He stood above her—tall, lean, dressed in a simple black shirt rolled up at the sleeves. His hair was tousled slightly, as if he had run his hand through it too many times. There were glasses folded on the table beside him. His watch ticked too quietly to be noticed unless one was listening carefully.
Mahira blinked.
“Do I know you?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
He smiled, just barely. “Not really. But we’ve crossed paths before.”
That didn’t help. Her brows furrowed.
“You were walking alone, soaked, in the middle of the road. You could’ve been hit. I couldn’t just... leave you there.”
She glanced down at her clothes. A blanket was wrapped around her. Her saree was gone, replaced by an oversized white shirt—his, probably. Her heart skipped for a second.
“Where’s my phone?” she asked.
“On the table. I didn’t check it. You’ve been asleep for almost two hours.”
The room fell silent again. He didn’t ask her what had happened. Didn't pry. Didn’t throw words of sympathy like cheap tissues.
Instead, he just... sat.
There was something about him. Something she couldn't place. A familiarity behind his eyes, a calmness that didn’t belong to a stranger.
And he was quiet. Too quiet.
“You didn’t have to bring me here,” she said flatly.
“I know. But I wanted to.”
“Why?”
Another smile. This time smaller, almost unreadable. “Call it instinct.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, watching the way he leaned back on the couch, unbothered, measured, like a man used to waiting. He didn’t try to sit close. He didn’t offer her comfort. And maybe that was why she didn’t push him away.
“What’s your name?”
“Vihaan.”
Vihaan.
Her heart gave an involuntary twitch.
She had heard that name before. A memory—faint and blurred—bubbled just beneath the surface.
“You’re... not a doctor, right?”
“No,” he said. “Lawyer.”
Of course.
Mahira’s lips twitched, a bitter smile forming. “Figures. Only someone trained to deal with human disasters could handle me right now.”
Vihaan’s jaw clenched slightly. “You’re not a disaster.”
She paused. That... felt strange.
“Most people would disagree,” she whispered.
He looked at her then—really looked. There was no pity in his eyes. Just focus. Like she was a puzzle he’d memorized and studied for years.
She turned away.
“Do you want me to call someone?” he asked softly.
Mahira shook her head. “There’s no one.”
Not anymore.
Not after what she saw.
She couldn’t even bring herself to say his name aloud. Her husband. The man who had once kissed her like she was made of stars. Who now moaned another woman’s name in the same sheets they once shared.
“I just need to get out of here,” she said suddenly, standing up too fast.
Her legs buckled. He caught her.
Strong hands. Warm.
Too warm.
“Careful,” he murmured, voice low near her ear.
She froze. His scent hit her—wood, spice, and something darker.
She stepped away quickly. Her walls slamming back up.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“I’ll drive you wherever you want.”
She hesitated. Her mind was chaos, a thousand thoughts colliding. The betrayal. The shame. The broken dreams.
Revenge.
The word came uninvited. Cold and sharp.
Maybe this wasn’t the end of her story.
Maybe it was the beginning of something else. Something darker.
Her eyes slowly met his again.
And that’s when she decided.
“I don’t have anywhere to go right now,” she said.
A beat of silence.
His jaw tensed. “You can stay here as long as you need.”
She nodded slowly.
He didn't ask for explanations. He didn’t ask questions. But Vihaan—whoever he really was—seemed too calm. Too prepared for a storm he shouldn't have expected.
And Mahira?
She didn’t know it yet, but she had just stepped into the eye of something much bigger.
Because Vihaan hadn’t forgotten her.
Not from high school. Not from the first time he saw her walk through the corridor like she owned the world, radiating fire and confidence while protecting the ones others mocked.
Back then, she had smiled once—just once—in his direction. And t
hat one moment? It had ruined him.
And now, she was back. Shattered. Changed.
But still his.
She just didn’t know it yet.
Here's the chapter 2
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See you in a next chapter
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