Advik :-
The punching bag swayed violently in front of me, absorbing every hit I threw at it, but none of it felt enough. My fists kept moving long after my muscles begged me to stop. Sweat ran down my temples, my chest burned, my knuckles throbbed but I welcomed the pain. It was easier than thinking.
Easier than remembering her mouth against mine.
Easier than remembering the roka ceremony with Ira.
Easier than admitting I was trapped in something I hadn't planned for.
I struck again, harder, the sound echoing through the gym walls of the farmhouse. The memory followed anyway- Reyna's breath hitching, the way she stiffened beneath my hands, the way she looked at me downstairs as if I'd torn something sacred apart.
An hour had passed. Maybe more. Time had stopped meaning anything.
"Advik."
I froze mid-motion.
My mother stood near the entrance, her soft voice cutting through the fury pounding in my head. She looked at me the way she always did when she knew something was wrong- quiet, observant, worried.
"Stop," she said gently. "You'll hurt yourself."
I jerked my hand away, breathing hard.
"What, Mom?" I muttered, wiping the sweat off my face with the back of my hand.
She looked... worried. Not the usual irritated Meera Raichand but genuinely scared.
I stepped back from the bag, my chest rising and falling too fast. I avoided her eyes.
"What is wrong with you?" she asked. "Tell me."
"There's nothing wrong," I replied, though the words felt hollow even to me.
She shook her head slowly. "I can't see my old Advik,my son in you anymore. Something is eating you from inside. Tell me what it is."
She folded her arms.
"Don't lie. You look restless, angry, distracted. Ever since the morning - something is bothering you."
I clenched my jaw. If I opened my mouth, too much would spill out- things I couldn't afford to say. Things that would change everything.
Instead, I said the one thing that had been circling my mind since we left the Rathore house. "I don't think Ira wants to marry me."
My mother went quiet. She studied my face for a long moment, then sighed, as if she'd expected this.
"Arranged marriages are like that," she said calmly. "You both will adjust slowly. Don't overthink it."
Adjust.
The word landed wrong. Heavy. Suffocating.
She stepped closer and placed a hand on my arm, her touch grounding but distant. "You're exhausted. Go take a shower. Get some sleep."
I nodded, not because I agreed, but because I didn't have the energy to argue.
She left, her footsteps fading down the hallway, leaving me alone again with the silence and my thoughts.
Adjust???
She said we would adjust.
Adjust to a life neither of us chose.
Adjust to a bond neither of us wanted.
Adjust to a fate planned by others.
I stared at the punching bag, my reflection faintly visible in the mirror behind it. The man staring back at me looked angry. Confused. Lost.
I didn't know why I was doing any of this. I didn't know when control had slipped from my hands. Frustration surged again, sharp and uncontrollable, and I stepped forward, driving my fist into the bag once more, then again, as if I could punch the answers out of it.
My phone buzzed.
I stopped. Rudra's name lit up the screen.
I answered without hesitation. "Yeah."
"What happened?" he asked. "You sound messed up."
"Meet me at Marine Drive," I said. "Half an hour."
There was a brief pause. "I'll be there."
I ended the call and stood there for a moment longer, breathing hard, before turning toward the showers.
Cold water beat down on my skin, washing away the sweat but not the restlessness clinging to me. I stood under the shower longer than necessary, head tilted back, eyes shut, letting the noise drown out my thoughts. It didn't work.
Her face still surfaced the moment I blinked.
The kiss.
The silence.
The way everything had gone wrong so fast.
I dressed quickly, grabbed my keys, and was out of the farmhouse before anyone could stop me.
The Ferrari roared to life beneath my hands, familiar and reckless, and I drove like the road owed me answers. The city lights blurred past as I pushed harder, faster, the wind cutting through the open windows, carrying the scent of salt and asphalt. Mumbai at night had always been my escape- loud enough to silence my head, wild enough to match the chaos inside me.
Marine Drive came into view like it always did, stretching endlessly beside the dark ocean, calm and violent all at once. I parked at my usual spot, the one place that didn't ask questions.
Rudra was already there, leaning against his car, hands in his pockets, eyes sharp even in the dim light.
He straightened when he saw me. "Hey....What happened?" he asked. "Are you actually getting married?"
I laughed under my breath, the sound hollow. "Looks like it."
He frowned. "You don't sound thrilled."
I stared out at the water, waves crashing against the rocks below. The truth pressed against my ribs, heavy and insistent. And for the first time that night, I let it out.
I told him everything.
The Rathore house.
The roka.The marriage I felt trapped inside.The locked room and,
The kiss I hadn't planned but hadn't stopped either. The girl I couldn't stop thinking about.
Rudra listened without interrupting, his expression unreadable. When I finished, he reached into his bag and pulled out two beers, handing one to me without a word.
The beer was cold in my hand, condensation sliding down the glass as I stared at the ocean. The waves crashed against the rocks with a violence that felt familiar- controlled chaos. Rudra sat beside me, elbows resting on his knees, watching me from the corner of his eye like he always did when he knew I was hiding something.
"So," he said finally, breaking the silence, "this roka thing... it's real?"
I let out a slow breath. "It's happening whether I want it to or not."
"That bad?" he asked.
Rudra turned sharply toward me. "And you are telling me that you kissed Reyna"
"The mafia princess?" he asked. "The one whose sister you're supposed to marry?"
I nodded once, jaw tight.
"Fuck," he muttered. "That's messy."
"You think?" I scoffed, taking a long sip. "I didn't plan it. I didn't even want it. It just... happened."
Rudra studied me, his voice lower now. "Did she want it?"
The question hit harder than it should have.
"Yes, maybe....I don't know it clearly yaar" I said quietly. "And that's the problem."
He leaned back on his hands, staring at the water. "You don't look like a man who just made a mistake, Advik. You look like a man who crossed a line he can't come back from."
I clenched the bottle in my hand. "I don't understand it. I've been trained my whole life to control everything- deals, people, emotions. And then she walks in and suddenly I don't recognize myself."
Rudra didn't smile. He didn't tease me. That's how I knew this wasn't just another reckless night.
"You're getting married into an alliance," he said carefully. "Not into love. You knew that."
"I know," I snapped, then sighed. "Ira is... good. Calm. Sincere. She deserves someone who can look at her without thinking of someone else."
"And you can't," he concluded.
I shook my head slowly. "All I can see is Reyna. Her anger. Her mouth. The way she looked at me like I betrayed her without saying a word."
Rudra handed me another beer. "You're screwed."
I huffed a humorless laugh. "Glad you think so."
We drank in silence for a few moments, the city lights reflecting off the water like broken stars.
"What are you going to do?" he asked eventually.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I'm trapped between duty and something that feels... dangerous."
Rudra glanced at me. "Dangerous is your type."
I almost smiled.
Then he nodded toward the far side of the promenade. "Speaking of dangerous- looks like some drunk idiot is bothering two girls."
I followed his gaze briefly, then turned back to the ocean. "Ignore it. I'm already on edge."
I took another sip, trying to focus on the sound of the waves.
That's when I heard it, her voice.
Slurred. Furious. Familiar.
"I will kill you if you touch her again."
My blood ran cold.
I turned and the world tilted.
Reyna stood there, fury blazing in her eyes, a drunk man clenching his fist in front of her.
And just like that, every promise I'd made to myself shattered. Something dark snapped inside me.
The beer slipped from my hand and shattered against the pavement. Anger surged up my spine, hot and blinding, drowning out every rational thought.
I was already on my feet before I realized I'd moved.
Reyna :-
The house had finally gone quiet.
Too quiet.
Ira had cried herself to sleep in Aarav's arms, her sobs slowing into exhausted breaths, her lashes still wet when I pulled the blanket over her. Devika had retreated into silence. Papa's footsteps had disappeared into his study- the place where decisions were made and hearts were broken.
And I couldn't breathe anymore. I slipped down the hidden stairs, past the security door, into the basement.
The Rathore shooting range smelled like metal, oil, and control. Concrete walls. Targets lined up in neat rows. A place Papa had built to teach us discipline, precision, survival.
For me, it was therapy.
I didn't turn on the overhead lights. I didn't need to. My hands moved on instinct as I picked up the gun, fingers steady even though everything inside me was shaking.
I loaded the magazine.
Click.
The sound grounded me. I raised my arm and fired.
The recoil slammed into my palm, the echo ricocheting through the empty space. I fired again. And again. And again. Each bullet carried something with it- rage, betrayal, confusion, heartbreak I refused to name.
Advik's face flashed before my eyes.
The kiss. The way his mouth had stolen my breath. The way he had walked downstairs and sat beside my sister like none of it had happened.
I shot again.
The target tore apart.
Good.
My chest felt too tight, like something was clawing its way out of me. I reloaded without thinking, my movements sharp, precise. Papa had always said emotions made you sloppy.
He was wrong.
Anger made me accurate.
I emptied another round.
My arms started to ache, sweat dampening my hairline, but I didn't stop. I couldn't. If I stopped, I'd feel everything.
The silence hit suddenly.
I blinked, confused, squeezing the trigger once more.
Nothing.
I lowered the gun and looked at the magazine.
It was empty.
All of them were empty.
I laughed- a short, broken sound that didn't feel like it belonged to me. Of course. Of course I'd used them all. Anything to avoid thinking.
The spare bullets were locked away in Papa's locker and there was no way in hell I was walking into his study right now.
My hands trembled for the first time that night.
I leaned back against the cold wall, sliding down until I was sitting on the floor, gun resting uselessly beside me. My heartbeat thudded too loud in my ears.
I couldn't stay here.
If I did, I'd break.
I pulled my phone out with shaking fingers and scrolled to the one name that always meant escape.
Maya.
She picked up on the second ring. "Please tell me you're calling to spill tea."
"Pick me up," I said, my voice rough. "Marine Drive."
There was a pause. "Reyna... are you okay?"
"No," I admitted. "And I don't want to be alone."
"I'm on my way," she said immediately. "Ten minutes."
I hung up and stared at the targets one last time- holes torn through the center, ruined beyond repair.
Just like tonight.
I grabbed my jacket, shoved the gun back where it belonged, and climbed the stairs without looking back.
I didn't know what waited for me at Marine Drive.
But anything was better than staying in a house that suddenly felt like a cage.
I didn't tell anyone I was leaving.
The Rathore house was asleep, heavy with secrets and silence, but my blood was still on fire. I slipped out the back, hoodie pulled over my hair, heart pounding like I was doing something forbidden- like freedom itself was a crime.
Maya's car waited at the corner. She leaned out of the window the moment she saw me. "Get in."
I didn't even greet her. I yanked the door open and slid into the driver's seat instead.
"Hey..." she started.
"Let me drive," I said.
One look at my face and she didn't argue.
The engine roared to life under my hands. The road blurred as I pressed the accelerator harder than necessary, the BMW responding like it understood my rage. I drifted around corners, tyres screaming, adrenaline flooding my veins. Anyone who came in my way tonight would regret it. I didn't care about rules. I didn't care about consequences.
All I cared about was outrunning the ache in my chest.
Marine Drive appeared like a long, glowing scar beside the ocean. I slammed the brakes and stepped out, the salty wind hitting my face, tangling my hair. The city was alive- laughing, shouting, breathing while I felt like I'd been split open and left bleeding.
Maya turned to me, worry etched across her face. "What happened to you? Why are you this angry?"
The words spilled out before I could stop them and I told her everything,
The roka.
The lies.
The kiss.
Him sitting beside my sister like nothing had happened.
I spoke fast, bitter, my voice shaking with every truth I'd swallowed all evening. By the time I finished, my throat burned.
"I just want something," I said quietly, staring at the ocean, "that can shut my head up."
Maya reached into her bag and pulled out a small whisky bottle. "Drink."
I shook my head immediately. "No. I don't do this."
"Reyna," she said gently, pressing it into my hand, "just try. For once. Forget everything for five minutes."
The bottle felt heavier in my hand than it should have.
I stared at it for a long second, the glass catching the city lights, the liquid inside shimmering like something dangerous. Maya watched me closely, not pushing anymore, just waiting like she knew this wasn't about alcohol at all.
"I can't," I said again, quieter this time. "If Papa ever..."
"This isn't about him," she cut in gently. "This is about you."
I swallowed.
My chest hurt in a way that had nothing to do with breathing. It hurt because I kept seeing him-his hands on me upstairs, his face unreadable downstairs, his silence louder than any explanation. It hurt because my sister's tears were still wet on my fingers. Because I'd watched something break and had been powerless to stop it.
"I just want it to stop," I whispered. "For one minute."
Maya didn't say anything. She just nudged the bottle closer.
So I lifted it.
The first sip burned.
It scraped down my throat, harsh and unforgiving, making my eyes water instantly. I coughed, my face twisting, a sharp laugh escaping before I could stop it. It wasn't funny but it was something. Something other than pain.
"God," I muttered. "That's horrible."
Maya grinned. "Give it a second."
I took another sip. Slower this time.
The burn faded into warmth, spreading through my chest like a slow exhale. My shoulders dropped without my permission. The knot in my stomach loosened just a little.
I closed my eyes.
For a moment, the images blurred.
The roka tray.
The ring.
His eyes not looking at me.
All of it softened at the edges, like someone had turned the volume down on my thoughts. I wasn't okay—but I wasn't drowning either.
I drank again.
This time, I didn't cough.
I laughed.
It surprised me- how sudden it was, how loud it sounded in the open air. Maya laughed too, the sound infectious, reckless. We leaned back against the railing, shouting nonsense at the ocean, the waves swallowing our voices like they didn't matter.
My head felt light. My limbs felt loose. The anger didn't disappear but it stopped stabbing. It floated instead, dull and distant, like something I could ignore for a while.
"This is stupid," I said, smiling despite myself.
"Exactly," Maya replied. "That's the point."
I tilted my head back, staring at the sky, laughing again- too much, too freely, like a girl who had forgotten she was supposed to be strong all the time.
For a few fragile minutes, I wasn't Reyna Rathore.
I wasn't a mafia princess.
I wasn't the girl who watched the man who kissed her, choosing her sister.
I was just a girl standing by the sea, drunk on borrowed courage, pretending the world hadn't already carved something permanent into her heart.
And that was when the night turned ugly.
One moment, Maya and I were laughing- too loud, too careless, leaning into the ocean breeze like nothing could touch us. The next, a shadow fell across the pavement in front of us.
He smelled of alcohol before he even spoke.
"Enjoying yourselves?" the man slurred, swaying slightly as he came closer. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his smile crooked in a way that made my skin crawl. His eyes dragged over us slowly, deliberately, like we were something on display.
Maya stiffened beside me.
"Go away," she said sharply.
He laughed, a low, ugly sound. "Why so angry, sweetheart? Night's still young."
My jaw clenched. I stepped half a pace forward, placing myself slightly in front of Maya without even thinking about it.
"We're not interested," I said. "Move."
Instead of listening, his gaze shifted back to Maya. "You though," he continued, voice thick, "you've got a pretty mouth. Bet you're fun when you're not pretending to be tough."
Maya recoiled. "Don't talk to me."
That should have been the end of it but it wasn't.
He took another step closer, invading our space, his grin widening. "Relax. I'm just talking. No need to act like...."
He reached out. His fingers brushed Maya's arm.
Something snapped inside me so violently I felt it in my bones.
"Don't touch her," I said, my voice cutting through the air like a blade.
He blinked, surprised, then smirked. "Or what?"
I shoved him.
Not hard enough to knock him down, but enough to make my point.
He laughed again, louder this time, emboldened by the alcohol and his own arrogance. His eyes dragged over Maya in a way that made my stomach twist.
"And what if I do?" he sneered. "What will you do if I touch this sexy bitch again?"
The word hit me like a slap.
My vision sharpened instantly, the haze in my head burning away under pure rage. I stepped forward before Maya could even react, my body moving on instinct.
"If you touch her again," I said, my voice low, steady, lethal, "I will kill you."
For a second, he just stared at me.
Then he smiled.
A slow, ugly smile that told me he didn't believe me.
"Oho," he mocked, taking a step toward me. "Big words for a small girl. What are you going to do, huh?"
He came closer. Too close.
His chest brushed mine, his breath hot and foul against my face. My heart slammed against my ribs not with fear, but with fury. My fingers curled into fists, my body coiled, ready to strike.
But my balance betrayed me.
The alcohol slowed me, dulled my reflexes just enough.
He noticed, then grabbed my wrist when I raised my hand to slap him. His grip was rough, fingers digging into my skin.
"Careful," he said, leaning in too close, his breath sour. "You shouldn't provoke men you can't handle."
My vision swam. The alcohol dulled my balance, slowed my reactions. I tried to pull free, but his hold tightened, his face inches from mine, satisfaction flashing in his eyes.
"You think you're scary?" he mocked. "You're just...."
He never finished the sentence.
A fist came out of nowhere.
The impact was loud. Brutal.
The man staggered back, grip loosening instantly as he crashed into the railing. I blinked, heart racing, trying to focus through the haze.
Another punch landed.
Then another.
I could barely register what was happening at first- just movement, force, anger unleashed without restraint.
And then my vision cleared.
I saw him.
Advik.
His expression was lethal, jaw clenched tight, eyes dark with a fury that made my stomach drop. He didn't hesitate. He didn't warn. He struck again, every punch precise, controlled, devastating.
The drunk man collapsed, scrambling backward, suddenly sober with fear.
The world seemed to tilt around me.
I stood frozen, wrist still aching, heart pounding wildly not just from what had almost happened, but from the man standing in front of me now.
The same man who had kissed me.
The same man who had sat beside my sister.
The same man now burning everything in his path.
For the first time that night, I wasn't sure whether I felt safer...
Or more terrified.