PUNE
AT COLLEGE
The classroom hummed with soft chaos—chairs scraping, phones buzzing, laughter slipping through half-open mouths. Morning lectures were still ten minutes away, and freedom filled the air.
Saanvi sat by the window, sunlight brushing her cheek as she highlighted notes she already knew by heart.
“Sun,” Ananya whispered, dragging her chair closer, eyes sparkling,
“South Mumbai. Teen din. Sea breeze. No parents.Yrr kitna maja aayega na ,full freedom”
Saanvi sighed without looking up.
“Freedom ka matlab ye nahi hota ki discipline mar jaaye, Ananya.”
Ananya groaned. “Tu kab boring hona band karegi?”
Veer dropped into the empty chair beside Saanvi with dramatic flair.
“Good morning, future topper and present killjoy.”
Saanvi smiled faintly. “Good morning, present failure.”
Veer clutched his chest. “Itna sach bhi nahi bolna tha.”
Ananya laughed. “Ignore him. Bata, permission mili ya nahi?”
Saanvi hesitated. “Papa mushkil se maane h . Unke liye trip matlab risk.”
Veer leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
“agr uncle ni mante to main aake uncle ji ko bol deta hoon—uncle, main hoon na.”
Saanvi shot him a glare. “Veer!”
He raised his hands. “Mazak. Mazak. Waise bhi… South Mumbai dangerous hai. Tumhe protect karna padega.”
Ananya smirked. “Haan haan, filmy hero. Aise bolne pe uncle tujhe hi jahanum pahucha dete”
Saanvi shook her head, but her lips curved.
“Bas yahi chahiye—normal sa trip. Koi drama nahi.”
Fate smiled quietly.
RATHORE MANSION
Kabir knocked at Rudra's room door once and entered without waiting.
“You’re late,” Rudra said, fastening his watch. Not a complaint. A fact.
Kabir exhaled. “The board meeting dragged. They’re nervous.”
“They should be,” Rudra replied calmly. “Fear keeps people sharp.”
Kabir glanced at the tablet in his hand. “We have a problem. Someone accessed internal movement logs last night. Not the main server—secondary.”
Rudra’s fingers stilled for half a second. “That narrows it down.”
“Yes,” Kabir said. “Someone close. Someone who knew where to look.”
Rudra picked up his coat. “Find the name.”
Kabir hesitated. “And if it’s one of ours?”
Rudra met his eyes. “Then he was never ours.”
Kabir nodded once. “I’ll handle it quietly.”
Rudra walked past him. “No. Handle it permanently.”
Kabir fell into step beside him as they left the room, voice low.
The living room was chaos — soft, domestic, alive.
Ruhani adjusted Aarav on her hip, already tired.
“Aryan, tumne phir se uske shoes ulte pehna diye.”
Aryan defended himself instantly.
“Usne khud pehne!”
Aarav looked down at his feet, then up, very serious.
“Mamma, Aryan mamu jhooth bol rahe hain.”
Aryan gasped. “Tu toh mera hi aadmi tha!”
Ruhani smirked. “Sach bolna sikh gaya hai.”
Aarav nodded proudly. “yess papa taught me.”
Aryan froze. “Of course. Of course.”
At that moment, Rudra came down the stairs.
Aarav immediately leaned forward.
“Mamu!”
Rudra stopped, instinctively holding the child steady as Ruhani handed him over.
“what happened?” Rudra asked.
Aarav complained “Aryan mamu ne meri red crayon tod di.”
Aryan raised a finger. “Accident.”
Rudra looked at Aryan. Just one look.
Aryan sighed. “Fine. Main nayi la dunga.”
SAXENA HOUSE
The Saxena home smelled of ghee and warmth.
Saanvi sat on the floor folding clothes while her mother handed her neatly ironed kurtas.
“Two days only,” her mother said. “And call every night.”
“I will,” Saanvi smiled.
Her sister peeked in. “Bring me something from Mumbai.”
Saanvi laughed. “I’m not going for shopping.”
“You’re lying,” her sister said confidently.
"Diii mujhe bhi le chalo na" ishani drwaled lazily " mai yaha akele kya karungi apke bina"
Saanvi chuckled "Tere to exams h n abhi, nahi hote to definitely leke jati"
"Annnnn" ishani groaned.
Their mother watched quietly, pride and worry mixing in her eyes.
“Pack light,” she said finally. “And stay careful.”
Saanvi nodded. “Always.”
As she zipped her bag, her heart fluttered—not with fear, but with a feeling she couldn’t name.
At night
Kabir stood alone in the monitoring room, lights dim, screens alive with data streams. His fingers moved fast—too practiced to hesitate.
“Got you,” he muttered.
A name blinked on the screen.
Internal clearance. Logistics access. Old loyalty.
Kabir’s jaw tightened.
He picked up his phone.
“Bhai ,” he said the moment the call connected. “I have the name.”
There was a brief silence on the other end.
“Say it,” Rudra’s voice came—calm, unreadable.
Kabir did. Just once.
Rudra didn’t react. Didn’t ask questions.
“Bring him,” Rudra said simply.
“And Kabir—”
“Yes, bhai ?”
“Make sure he understands he’s already dead. The only thing left is how useful his last breath will be.”
The call ended.
Kabir closed his eyes for a second.
The warehouse was silent except for the steady drip of water echoing against concrete.
The man tied to the chair was already broken — not bleeding excessively, not screaming anymore. Just shaking.
Zain stood behind him, sleeves rolled up, movements calm, almost ritualistic. There was no rage in him. Only obedience.
Rudra watched from a few steps away, hands in his pants pockets, face unreadable.
Kabir stood beside him — arms crossed, jaw tight. Not detached. Not cruel. Just disappointed.
“He confessed,” Zain said quietly, not turning around.
“Access logs. Timing. Routes.”
Rudra didn’t respond.
Kabir stepped forward slightly. “Why?” he asked the man.
“You had security. Money. Protection.”
The man laughed weakly. “Protection?” he croaked.
“You think this city protects anyone?”
Zain’s hand tightened on the man’s shoulder — not threatening, just reminding.
“Answer properly,” Zain said calmly. “You’re still breathing. That’s mercy.”
The man swallowed. “Someone reached out. He knew things. About Rathore Group. About… before.”
Kabir frowned. “Before what?”
The man hesitated.
Rudra spoke then — his voice low, steady.
“About my mother.”
The room shifted.
Zain went still.
Kabir’s eyes darkened.
“Yes,” the man whispered desperately. “He knew her name. He said… she wasn’t collateral. She was a message.”
Rudra took one step forward.
“That’s a dangerous lie,” he said softly.
Zain leaned in closer to the man’s ear.
“Be careful what you say next,” he murmured. “Because he doesn’t forgive lies.”
The man shook violently. “I swear. He said this is only the start. That Rathore blood always pays its dues.”
Kabir looked at Rudra. “Did he give a name?”
The man shook his head. “Never. Only instructions. And a warning.”
Rudra’s gaze sharpened. “What warning?”
“That you’ve built empires to forget,” the man whispered.
“But some people survive only to remember.”
Silence followed.
Zain straightened slowly. “That’s enough.”
Rudra turned away, already done with the man.
“End it,” he said quietly.
Zain nodded once.
As Rudra and Kabir walked toward the exit, Kabir spoke under his breath,
“This isn’t random.”
Rudra didn’t look back.
“No,” he said. “It’s personal.”
Behind them, the warehouse fell silent.
Zain remained behind — loyal as shadow, ruthless as necessity.
And somewhere in the city,
someone was watching.
Waiting.
***************************************What do you think ,how their worlds gonna meet if they are polls apart.
Did you like Rudra or not.i do think he is kinda hot😜 what do you all think.
Do comment your opinions.
@duskyglow
Write a comment ...