The scent of iron and rain still clings to the back of my throat, a physical reminder of the crimson that stained the floor forty-eight hours ago.

Two days. Two days since the world tilted on its axis and Simon’s voice—once a source of terror—was silenced forever.

Aditya didn't just end him. He dismantled him.

I close my eyes, and the echo returns. “She’s choosing him over you,” Simon had taunted, his voice slick with malice.

At the time, it felt like a death sentence. Now, it feels like a prophecy I’m too terrified to fulfill.

Is it selfish to want to keep them both in the light when I am still so deeply submerged in the shadows?

If wanting to hold onto both of them makes me a villain in my own story, then I’ll wear the crown. I cannot—will not—lose either of them. The void left behind would be too wide to survive.

Then there is Adi.

His confession still hangs in the air, heavier than the silence of this house. He looked at me with eyes that finally *saw* me—really saw me—and told me his memories had returned. He loves me with a ferocity that feels like it could either save me or burn me alive. How can someone love a person whose soul feels like shattered glass?

He has his memories back. He found his way out of the fog.

But as I stare at my reflection, I don’t see a woman who has been saved. I see someone still treading water in the pitch black.

He’s reaching out from the shore, but the current of everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve endured, is still pulling me under.

_______________________________

The silence in the penthouse is louder than I expected. Even with Mia and Dominic here, the space feels cavernous, filled only with the ghost of a presence that I spent so much time trying to ignore.

Salvatore is back at his mansion. Reyansh and Siddharth Bhai have retreated to theirs. The chaos has settled into a domestic stillness that should feel like peace, but instead, it feels like a vacuum.

Aditya has been gone for two days. Three more to go.

I catch myself looking at the door, or checking my phone for a notification that hasn't arrived. It’s a bitter irony that catches in my chest.

When he was standing right in front of me, I went out of my way to stay silent. I let walls build up between us until they were miles thick. And that day...

I chose Salvatore without a second thought. I didn't hesitate to push Aditya aside.

Now, that Hindi proverb won't stop looping in my mind:

> *"Mil jaye toh mitti,*

> *Kho jaye toh sona."*

> *(If you have it, it's merely dust; if you lose it, it becomes gold.)*

It’s a haunting truth. When he was a constant, I treated his devotion like something common, like something I could always count on without effort.

Now that he’s miles away at a business meeting—now that there is a physical distance between us—he has turned into gold. Every memory of his confession, every look he gave me before he left, feels precious in a way I wasn't brave enough to admit when he was here.

Is this the price of my hesitation?

I’m surrounded by luxury and the people I care about, yet I feel like I'm counting down the seconds until a man I once refused to speak to walks back through that door.

I spent so much time running from the depth of his love, only to realize that in his absence, the dark I'm drowning in feels colder than ever.

_______________________________

I understand. I missed the crucial buildup and the specific friction of that first interaction with Rahul.

Let’s reset and capture the full sequence—from the caffeine haze in your office to the suffocating silence of that boardroom.

The caffeine is vibrating in my bones, but it can’t seem to reach my brain. Fifteen cups. Fifteen empty, bitter reminders that I am spiraling.

I haven't slept, I can’t focus on the spreadsheets glowing on my monitor, and the walls of this office feel like they’re closing in.

*Knock. Knock.*

"Come in," I snapped, not looking up.

The door creaked open. It was Rahul. My accident of an assistant. He stood there, hovering nervously with a tablet in his hand.

"Ma'am... all the investors have been waiting in the boardroom for the past 15 minutes."

The words hit me like a slap. "What the fuck, Rahul? And you are telling me this now?" I shouted, finally looking up.

My vision blurred for a second from the sudden movement.

Rahul flinched, stepping back. "Ma'am... this is the fourth time I have come to inform you," he whispered, his voice trembling.

"You... you told me to leave every time."

I froze. Fourth time? I didn't remember him coming in once. "What? Okay, whatever. I am going."

I pushed past him, my heels clicking aggressively against the marble floor as I marched toward the boardroom. I didn't check my hair. I didn't check my makeup. I just wanted the noise in my head to stop.

I pushed the double doors open. I didn't look at Reyansh. I didn't look at Siddharth Bhai or Dominic. I certainly didn't look at the row of suits sitting across from them.

I walked straight to my chair at the head of the table and sat down.

"Please continue, and I sincerely apologize for being late," I said, my voice cold and flat.

I opened the folder in front of me. I stared at the numbers. But the meeting didn't "continue."

It hung in a strained, awkward silence.

"Right," one of the investors cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. "As we were discussing... the Budget & Timeline for the infrastructure phase is reaching a critical point. We are looking at a Margin  of exactly 27% , but that’s only if the Logistics hold up."

"The Logistics will hold," Siddharth Bhai said, his voice laced with a calm authority, though I could feel him glancing at me. "We’ve factored in the Expertise needed for the transition. Shreya, the Process & Style for the executive wings—do you think they meet the Lifestyle & Needs  we discussed?"

I didn't answer. I didn't even blink. I was staring at a graph, but all I could see was the way the ink looked like a dark pool.

"The Preferences of the offshore partners are shifting," another investor added, emboldened by my silence. "They feel the current Functionality is too rigid. Perhaps if we—"

"Shut up," Dominic’s voice cut through the room like a blade. He wasn't even looking at the investor; he was watching me, his jaw tight.

"Don't disrespect the work that’s already been finalized. The plan stays."

"But the ROI—"

"Fuck off with your ROI," Reyansh snapped, leaning forward, his eyes flashing with a dangerous impatience. "We aren't here to renegotiate. You’re here to sign off on the 27% and get out."

The room went deathly quiet. A normal Shreya would have handled this. She would have reigned in Reyansh, calmed the investors, and commanded the room.

Instead, I just sat there. Sulking. Drowning.

*Mil jaye toh mitti, kho jaye toh sona.*

The investors were looking at me, waiting for the CEO to speak, for the woman who ran this empire to take control. But that woman was missing.

I was just a girl in a power suit, staring at a file I wasn't reading, wondering why the world felt so empty without a man .

"Shreya?" Siddharth prompted gently."What do you think about the timeline?"

I didn't lift my head. I just turned a page—one I hadn't even read. I felt like a ghost sitting in a high-back leather chair. The coffee made me vibrate, but the emptiness in my chest made me heavy.

"Do whatever you want," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"Ma'am?" the investor asked, leaning in.

I finally looked up, my eyes bloodshot and vacant. "The budget is fine. The style is fine.

But I wasn't. As they dove back into the technicalities of the project, I went back to the file. I wasn't sulking because of the business; I was sulking because the office felt too big, the coffee tasted like ash, and the person who usually challenged my every word was three days of silence away.

I was a CEO, a powerhouse, a woman who had just seen a man destroyed for her. Yet here I was, drowning in a boardroom, unable to even remember what 27% was supposed to represent

The boardroom had become a battlefield of voices I couldn't stand to hear anymore.

The investors, emboldened by my apparent trance, started talking over Reyansh and Siddharth, their voices rising in a frantic, greedy pitch.

"The 27% Margin is simply not enough to cover the Logistics risks!" one yelled, slamming a hand on the table. "We need to re-evaluate the Expertise fees and the Functionality of the entire—"

"I told you to shut up!" Dominic roared, his hand twitching near the edge of the table. "The Process & Style have been approved. You’re overstepping."

"We aren't overstepping, we're protecting our capital!" the lead investor shot back, ignoring Dominic’s lethal glare. He turned toward me, his voice dripping with condescension. "Ma'am, surely you see that the Budget & Timeline are—"

"And Don't disrespect the chair by assuming she isn't aware of the numbers," Siddharth interjected, his voice low and vibrating with a suppressed rage. "The Lifestyle & Needs of this project are non-negotiable."

"Fuck off with the excuses, Siddharth!" the investor barked. "If Shreya isn't going to speak, then we are taking the Preferences of the board back to—"

*Thud.*

I didn't realize I had moved until my palms hit the mahogany table. The sound echoed like a gunshot, silencing every man in the room.

I stood up slowly, the fifteen cups of coffee finally screaming through my veins. I didn't look at my brothers. I didn't look at Dominic. I looked straight at the men who thought my silence was a weakness.

"Damn it," I whispered, the sound more terrifying than a scream. I leaned forward, my shadow falling over the lead investor. "I will kill you all. All of you. Do you think I’m sitting here for your entertainment?"

The color drained from the investor's face.

"The Logistics are set. The 27% is final," I hissed, shoving the gold pen across the table so hard it skidded and hit his chest. " Fucking sign it already. Every word coming out of your mouth is getting on my nerves."

The investor scrambled to grab the pen, his hands shaking so violently he could barely find the signature line.

One by one, they passed the documents down, scribbling their names in a frantic, desperate rush. They didn't even look at the clauses anymore. They just wanted to escape the room.

The second the last folder was closed, I stood tall, my eyes cold and vacant once again.

"Now get the fuck out. All of you."

They didn't wait for a second invitation. They scrambled out of the boardroom, the sound of their retreating footsteps the only thing filling the silence I had reclaimed.

I sank back into my chair, the adrenaline leaving me as quickly as it had come. I didn't feel powerful. I didn't feel like a CEO.

_______________________________

  Now, back in the sanctuary of my office, the walls felt like they were pulsing. I leaned my head back against the leather of my chair, closing my eyes, but it was worse.

Every time I blinked, I saw him.

I saw Aditya standing by the window. I saw him leaning against the doorframe. I saw the way his eyes softened when he looked at me. It was a haunting—a beautiful, agonizing hallucination that reminded me he was still hundreds of miles away.

Across the room, Dominic, Reyansh, and Siddharth were huddled on the velvet couch.

The low rustle of pages and the scratch of pens as they reviewed the signed files should have been comforting.

Instead, it was just more noise. I couldn't do the coffee anymore. My heart was already a trapped bird hitting its cage. I needed something to dull the edges.

I pressed the intercom button with a trembling finger.

"Rahul," I said, my voice sounding hollow even to me.

"Yes, Ma'am?" his voice came through instantly, sounding weary and cautious.

"Bring a bottle of wine to my office. Now."

There was a brief, pregnant pause on the other end. "Ma'am? It's... it’s barely 2:00 PM. You have three more meetings scheduled for this afternoon."

I felt the heat rise in my chest, that jagged impatience returning. "Did I ask for a schedule update, Rahul? Or did I ask for a bottle?"

"I... I apologize, Ma'am. Which one should I—"

"The vintage Cabernet. The one from the private cellar. And four glasses," I added, glancing toward the couch. If I was going to drown the silence, I didn't want to do it alone, even if I couldn't bring myself to talk to them yet. "Just get it here. Fast."

"Immediately, Ma'am."

_______________________________

The ten minutes felt like ten hours. I sat there, my eyes tracing the outline of a shadow near the bookshelf that looked painfully like him, only to have it dissolve into nothing every time I blinked.

The door opened quietly. Rahul walked in, his head down, carrying a silver tray with the vintage Cabernet and four crystal glasses.

He set them down on the mahogany coffee table near the couch with a soft clink. He didn't say a word; he didn't have to.

The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. As soon as he retreated and the door clicked shut, the silence became unbearable.

I stood up, walked to the tray, and began pouring the dark liquid, the sound of the splash hitting the glass feeling overly loud in the quiet office.

"Pour yourself," I said, my voice tight as I pushed the glasses toward them.

Siddharth Bhai looked from the tray to me, his brow furrowed. "No, Shreya. We aren’t drinking. It’s the middle of a work day and you've already had enough caffeine to stop a heart."

"You are," I snapped, sliding a glass so hard it nearly hit his hand. "Now fucking do it already."

"Why are you suddenly forcing us?" Reyansh asked, leaning back on the couch and crossing his arms, his eyes narrowed.

"Because I feel like it. Now drink."

Dominic let out a low, dry chuckle, finally putting down the file he was holding. "Oh, I get it now. She’s been sulking since the second she arrived at the board meeting. This isn't about wine."

"I did not sulk," I lied, my voice cracking slightly. "Now drink up."

"You are a pathetic liar," Reyansh retorted, his tone sharp but filled with a frustrating kind of knowing. "You can’t even lie properly anymore. Look at your hands."

"Shut up," I hissed, turning away from them to stare out the floor-to-ceiling window.

"You’re missing him, aren’t you?" Siddharth asked softly, the gentleness in his voice making my throat ache.

"Nope. Not at all," I said, my back still turned. "He’s no one."

"Really?" Reyansh’s voice is closer now. "Even Salvatore noticed it before he left. The way you were looking at the door, the way you went quiet whenever his name came up."

I gripped the edge of my desk until my knuckles turned white. "I only care about Salvatore."

"Jesus," Dominic muttered, the sound of him finally picking up a glass and swirling the wine echoing behind me. "That’s the worst lie in the entire universe, Shreya. Even for you."

_______________________________

The wine was starting to burn a trail down my throat, but it wasn't enough to drown the hallucinations. Then, the door swung open.

There he was. Again. The same silhouette, the same shadow, the same mocking presence. Something inside me just snapped.

The five days of silence, the fifteen cups of coffee, the suffocating guilt of choosing Salvatore—it all came boiling over in a wave of hysterical rage.

"Didn't I tell you to get the fuck away from my head?" I screamed, my voice cracking as I pointed a shaking finger at the empty air. "Can't you just leave me alone for a second? You have been playing with me for the past five fucking days! God, I am even having fucking sex dreams about you!"

I saw Reyansh’s glass freeze halfway to his mouth. Dominic’s eyes went wide, but I couldn't stop. The dam had broken.

"You are a manipulator! You aren't here with me! You left me after confessing your feelings—didn't even bother to look at me! I didn't even wait to hear how I felt or what I wanted. You left. Five fucking days. No message, no calls, nothing! I don't want to see you for God's sake... just vanish as always! You always leave, that's your speciality. You grumpy asshole. You are arrogant pervert. You... you... *Kutta, harami, behenchod!* You just get out of my head already, damn it!"

I squeezed my eyes shut, leaning heavily against the desk, my chest heaving. My hand tightened so hard around the crystal glass that it shattered, the shards biting into my palm, the red wine mixing with the red of my blood.

I welcomed the pain. I wanted it to ground me, to make the vision disappear.

"Kitten."

The voice wasn't in my head. It was deep, vibrating through the actual air of the room, anchored by a weight that a ghost shouldn't have.

My eyes snapped open.

I blinked. Once, twice, ten times.

He didn't dissolve. He didn't turn into shadows. He was standing there in a charcoal suit, looking travel-worn and stunned, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin crawl.

Reyansh, Siddharth, and Dominic were frozen on the couch, looking at me with expressions of pure, unadulterated horror—like I’d just confessed my deepest, darkest sins to the very person I was supposed to be hiding from.

Which I had.

"Kitten," Aditya whispered again, taking a single step forward, his voice like velvet over gravel.

The reality hit me like a physical blow. The sex dreams comment. The cursing. The fact that he was actually here, three days early, hearing every word of my breakdown.

My stomach, already roiling from the coffee and wine, gave a violent heave.

I didn't even have time to be embarrassed. I lunged for the small dustbin beside my desk leg and retched, my entire body shaking as t

he stress of the last week finally forced its way out.

The room was deathly silent, save for the sound of my own misery and the heavy, rhythmic thumping of my heart. He was really here. And I had just told him everything.

Fuck my life .....

_______________________________