Utsav
“Utsav beta, where are you?”
Mumma’s voice echoed through the wide hallway, filled with laughter and a hint of tiredness. Her words carried the softness of cotton, the warmth of afternoon sun. “Mumma is tired… how will I find you now, hmm?”
Her footsteps tapped rhythmically across the marble floor—tap... tap... tap...—each one accompanied by the musical jingle of her silver anklets. I knew that sound better than any lullaby in the world. It meant Mumma was close. It meant the game was still on.
I crouched lower behind the thick curtain, my little knees tucked into my chest, my arms wrapped tightly around them. The soft fabric tickled my cheeks as I whispered to myself, lips curled in a secretive grin.
“Utsav... hidden Mumma,” I giggled under my breath.
My words were broken, laced with the clumsy grammar of a four-year-old mind still learning how to make sense of sounds and meanings. But I was proud—so proud—that I hadn’t told her where I was.
“I won’t tell Mumma that... I been hide behind... cultains,” I mumbled proudly, almost bursting with my own cleverness.
Outside my hiding spot, I heard her laugh. That laugh—carefree, unburdened, brighter than all the lights in the mansion. A sound that danced into my ears and wrapped around my heart like warm mittens.
“Ohh, so Utsav isn’t hiding behind the curtains, hmm?” she said in a mock serious tone, her voice still playful. “Then what should I do now? I’ll get tired like this! Where should I search?”
Her voice was coming closer.
My tiny fingers clutched the edge of the curtain, pulling it tighter around me. I peeked through a small slit. She was almost there—her smile mischievous, her eyes sparkling even though her face looked pale.
Mumma’s belly was big now. Round and tight like the red balloon I once burst by mistake. Papa had said a brother or sister was inside there. I didn’t understand how—but it made Mumma tired more often. She still smiled though. Still played with me.
Even when I could see she was sweating, walking slowly, her hand sometimes resting on her back.
I suddenly felt a twist in my belly—not the hungry kind. The guilty kind.
Maybe Mumma’s tired ‘cause I said to play hide and seek. Maybe she should be resting like Dadi said...
But... but I’ll win! I’ll win this time!
I slowly tried to shift out, to tiptoe away to another hiding spot. Just as I began to crawl, the curtain swished open and I froze.
Mumma’s eyes found mine in an instant, her smile wide and triumphant.
“Got you!” she laughed, and her hands launched straight for my belly.
“Nooo!” I screamed, but it was no use. Her fingers danced across my tiny stomach and sides. I laughed so hard, I couldn’t breathe.
“Badmaash!” she scolded between giggles. “You’re troubling Mumma, huh?”
I kicked and twisted, squealing in delight, trying to escape—but I didn’t want to escape. Not really. Her laughter felt like a warm blanket, her hands like home.
Before I knew it, I was lifted off the floor—scooped up like a feather.
I looked up.
Papa.
His arms strong. His smile wide. His eyes full of love.
“So now Utsav is troubling Mumma?” he asked with a mock frown that didn’t reach his amused eyes.
I giggled and threw my arms around his neck as he carried me.
And for a moment... just one small, perfect moment... the world was full of laughter and love. A mother, a father, a little boy wrapped in their happiness.
No silence.
No fear.
No loss.
The harsh ring of my phone tore through the stillness, yanking me from the cocoon of memory like a hook in flesh.
My eyes blinked open.
Gone were the curtains.
Gone was the warm, familiar laughter.
Gone was the smell of Mumma’s jasmine perfume in the air.
Now there was only silence. And shadows.
The study room was cold, clean, and precise—just how I liked it. Not a single trace of childhood anywhere. Not a single relic of innocence.
I leaned back in my chair, jaw tightening.
Memories.
They come like waves. But they don’t wash you clean.
They drown you in what you can never have again.
I should’ve buried that one too.
Because memories make you soft. They make you vulnerable.
And Utsav Mehrotra does not do weakness.
Not anymore.
I picked up the phone.
“Is it done?” I asked, voice clipped and devoid of emotion.
“Yes, sir. It’s done,” Reyansh responded crisply.
I let out a deep breath, pushing away the lingering remnants of the past—the tickles, the smiles, the tiny hands that once clutched my fingers.
“Good,” I said, my tone final.
And just like that, I returned to who I had become.
A man with no past.
Only purpose.
Because in my world, emotions didn’t just make you weak—they made you a target.
And I had learned long ago…
Love was the easiest way to destroy someone.
The entire Mehrotra mansion was in utter chaos—hustling servants rushing down the marbled hallways, the clinking of crockery in the kitchen, and the constant chatter of the wedding decorators setting things up in a frenzy. The noise was deafening, and the atmosphere felt more like a circus than a grand celebration.
Everyone had arrived. Dad, my stepmother, Uncle Advik, and Anvi—my little sister—had all reached yesterday. I didn’t care for most of them. My father was a businessman to the bone—always preoccupied, emotionally unavailable. My stepmother was just... there. A figure in the background who smiled too much and cared too little. And as for Uncle Advik, he was more of a name on a file than a presence in my life.
But Anvi? Anvi was different.
She was the only one who mattered. My Anvi—my baby sister—my angel. She was twenty-seven now, a grown woman, yet in my eyes, she was still the little girl who once held my fingers to take her first steps. I could still remember her giggles when I carried her on my shoulders, her tiny hands tugging at my hair. I'd burn this world to the ground for her without thinking twice.
She had rushed to meet Aditi first—her best friend—and I gave her space. I knew she’d come to me eventually.
And as for me, I was in my gym. Shirtless. Drenched in sweat. Every vein pulsing under my skin as I dropped to the floor and pumped out pushups in fluid, aggressive motion. The cool air from the AC did nothing to dry the sweat clinging to my chest, trickling down my torso. My hair was damp, sticking to my forehead. I preferred it that way. The pain. The exertion. The silence of my personal space. Far better than pretending to smile with people who only pretended to care.
This was my sanctuary—away from the clamor, away from the fake niceties, and definitely away from people who thought they could control me.
That’s when I heard the sound—the soft creak of the gym door opening. I didn’t pause. My muscles moved with rhythmic determination. But I knew who it was the moment I heard the click of her shoes.
Maya.
She entered in a fitted green exercise suit, her long hair tied in a sleek ponytail that swayed as she walked in. Those unmistakable emerald eyes of hers locked onto me as if I were a damn volcano she couldn’t stop staring at. Her gaze burned with unspoken questions—equal parts curiosity, fear, and something far more dangerous... desire.
I didn’t react. I didn’t even look at her again. She wasn’t worth my time right now.
“Ahm... hi,” she said softly, her voice cracking my focus. I didn’t stop, but I let my eyes flick toward her.
“Morning,” I said gruffly and went back to my pushups, grounding myself. One. Two. Three. Focus. Control.
She took a step closer, not letting it go. “What did you think about that?”
I didn’t answer immediately. I didn’t need to.
“About what?” I asked after a long pause, deliberately not looking at her. Let her chase the answer.
“Our... date,” she said, almost hesitantly.
That made me stop.
I stood up slowly, grabbing the protein shake beside me, taking a swig, and wiping my sweat off with the towel slung over the bench. I kept my movements measured, precise—letting her watch every motion like a predator circling its prey.
“I already dismissed that childish proposition,” I replied coldly.
She stepped onto the treadmill, setting it to a slow pace, pretending to focus on her exercise. But her eyes were locked onto me through the mirror’s reflection. Calculating. Nervous. Yet determined.
“But you remember I have proof against you,” she said with forced boldness, her voice trembling beneath her act of courage.
I turned slowly toward her, stepping closer.
Oh, she was terrified.
I could see it in her breathing, the way her hands clutched the treadmill’s sides a little tighter, the way her pupils dilated as I came near. And yet... she didn’t back down. Not even for a second.
“Same exercise time today?” I asked with a smirk, standing right beside the machine. I leaned slightly closer, invading her space, my voice a low threat. “Or should I say you needed an excuse to be alone with me?”
Her body stiffened.
“Well... you could say that. Maya doesn’t back down easily. When she wants something, she gets it,” she shot back, hiding the fear in her eyes with a fake smile.
I leaned closer, whispering just above her ear. “But you’re playing a dangerous game, Emerald.”
Her breath hitched when I called her that—Emerald. The nickname I gave her. I saw the ripple in her eyes, a wave of emotions she tried to bury: lust, confusion, fear.
I reached over and increased the treadmill speed. Her feet stumbled slightly as she struggled to maintain pace. Now she was practically running, her breath growing labored. Panic shadowed her defiance.
“Please stop this,” she said, her voice shaky, pleading now.
“Why?” I asked, a wicked smile playing on my lips. “Don’t you love games, Emerald? I’m only returning the favor... since you insisted on playing dirty.”
She struggled to keep up but still spoke, her tone sharp despite the panting. “Fine! I’ll leak the video... the proof of your real identity. You may play Mr. Gentlemen, but the world will see the truth—you’re the mafia king.”
That was it.
I moved in one swift motion and slammed the emergency stop on the treadmill. Before she could breathe, I yanked her off and pinned her to the cold wall with a loud thud. Her back hit the concrete hard, and she gasped, fear flashing in those brilliant green eyes.
“You think you can threaten me?” I growled, my face inches from hers. “You think smearing your lipstick on my clothes and bluffing about some video will make me bend to you?”
She squirmed under my grip, but I wasn’t letting go. Not yet.
“You were a game to me, Maya. An irrelevant one. I ignored you, gave you the benefit of the doubt. But now? You have my attention, Miss Shekhawat. Congratulations.”
Her breath was erratic, but she didn’t back down. “I marked your clothes... and one day, I’ll mark you, Utsav.”
“It’s Mr. Mehrotra to you,” I snapped.
“Fine,” she hissed, “Mr. Mehrotra. But I love you. I will make you mine. And if you don’t date me... I swear, I’ll leak everything.”
A vein popped on my temple. My grip on her wrists tightened as I slammed her back harder against the wall, her body caged under mine.
“What, you want me to fuck you? Is that what you’re really after?” I snarled, stunned by the words that left her mouth.
She didn’t flinch.
For a moment, silence engulfed us—thick, pulsing, dark.
“Maybe one day,” I said hoarsely, leaning closer until our breaths touched. “But that day, Emerald, you’ll beg for mercy.”
Her eyes widened, but she still didn’t cower. That was the damn thing about her. She was reckless, insane, but she wasn’t weak.
“Give me the evidence,” I said calmly now, deadly. “You know I could kill you right now. Snap your neck like a twig. But I won’t. I want to see just how far you’re willing to go. Because dating me? That’s not something you threaten your way into, sweetheart.”
“I won’t give it,” she said, chin raised. “I don’t care if you kill me. But Maya Shekhawat doesn’t back down.”
A slow, dangerous smile curled on my lips.
“Then game on... Emerald. But mark my words—by the time this game ends, you’ll be shattered.”
And with that, I let her go.
I didn’t wait to see her reaction.
I walked away, leaving her breathless, terrified, and maybe... just maybe... a little thrilled.
As I walked through the grand corridor of the mansion, the chaos and echoing voices faded behind me. My sweat-drenched shirt clung to my chest, a remnant of my brutal workout, but even the physical exhaustion couldn’t drain the intensity burning in my veins.
And then I saw her.
Standing right outside my room.
Anvi.
My angel.
She stood there with her arms crossed, a slight pout on her face—yet the moment her eyes met mine, they sparkled like they always did when we were kids. For a fleeting second, a genuine smile tugged at the corners of my lips—a rare sight, one I barely remembered how to make. But she... she always brought it out of me.
“My angel,” I whispered, walking straight to her and pulling her into my arms. “I missed you so damn much.”
She hugged me back with the same warmth, her tiny frame engulfed in my protective embrace. “I missed you too, bhai… so, so much.”
I led her inside my room, letting the heavy door close behind us. This room had witnessed violence, rage, secrets—but today, it softened for her.
As soon as we sat down, she turned away with a dramatic huff and crossed her arms. “I’m angry with you, bhai. You’re bad.”
I raised an amused brow. “Hmm? What did I do now, princess?” I asked, trying hard not to chuckle at her theatrics.
“You didn’t even tell me about Aadi bhai’s marriage!” she accused, eyes wide and disappointed. “Okay, I get that you didn’t tell Dad or Uncle—fine. But me? I’m your angel! You hide things from me now too?”
I couldn’t hold it in anymore—I laughed. A real one. Me, Utsav Mehrotra—the man who'd forgotten how to laugh without venom—was laughing. But only because of her. Only because of Anvi.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, angel. What do you want? Should I grab my ears and beg? Or get on my knees for your forgiveness?”
She giggled, her mood lifting, and then pulled me into a tight hug. “No bhai, it’s okay. I forgive you. But…”
She paused.
That pause—my instinct sharpened instantly. I pulled back and looked her in the eye.
“But?” I asked, my voice steady, hiding the storm already building in my gut.
“Adhyatm,” she said. Just one name. One word. But it was enough to light a fuse inside me.
I kept my expression blank, calm… for her.
“What about him, angel?” I asked, pretending to be curious, though every muscle in my body tensed.
“He’s missing, bhai… No one knows where he is.”
Missing?
Oh, sweetheart… if only you knew.
He wasn’t just missing—he had been erased. Completely. Systematically. Burned until nothing but ash remained. That’s the thing about me—I don’t just remove people from my life. I eliminate their existence.
But I couldn’t tell her that.
“He’s missing?” I repeated, feigning concern. “But angel, didn’t he want to go to Korea? Maybe he left for that. He’d mentioned it, hadn’t he?”
Anvi shook her head, her brows creased in worry. “No bhai. I hired a detective. A really good one—Mr. Agnihotri. The best in Delhi. But even he couldn’t find him. He just… vanished. It’s like he never existed. It’s scary. I’m really worried.”
She hired a detective. Alone.
That made me pause.
So, my baby sister has grown up enough to do things on her own now. Smart. Brave. But still innocent—so dangerously innocent for a world like mine.
And to think, that bastard had the audacity to try to get close to her. Use her as a pawn to get to me. All while smiling that fake, polite smile.
Bad move, Adhyatm. Very bad move.
“Hmm,” I nodded slowly. “So even Agnihotri can’t find him? Then maybe… maybe he doesn’t want to be found, angel. But listen—don’t worry, alright? I’ll find him. And the moment I do, I’ll send him straight to you.”
I said the words gently, reassuringly, but beneath them was a vow of death.
Adhyatm wasn’t missing.
He was gone.
Forever.
He was a part of my spector network—an undercover mole from my rival’s camp. He tried to find evidence against me. Tried to leak information. Tried to dismantle the legacy I had built brick by bloody brick.
And when that failed, he aimed for something more personal—Anvi.
That’s where he crossed a line I don’t forgive.
In my world, forgiveness doesn’t exist.
I wrapped my arms tightly around her in a protective hug, my jaw clenched behind her soft hair. I could lie to her. I could kill for her. I could destroy empires just to keep her untouched by the filth of the world.
To her, I am her elder brother.
To the world, I am a storm.
And to those who try to play games with me—I am death walking in daylight.
Adhyatm thought he could dance in fire.
He didn’t realize I am the fire.
He thought he could play the game of shadows with me.
He didn’t realize I was born in the dark, molded by it, and I command it.
Let this be a lesson etched in ash and blood—no one touches what belongs to Utsav Mehrotra and lives to breathe another day.
Anvi nestled into my chest, her soft voice murmuring something about lunch, but I barely registered it.
My mind had already slipped back into its natural state—war.
No one can touch my sister.
No one can blackmail me.
No one can outsmart me.
Because once you've chosen to go against me… you’ve already lost.
And as I held my angel tighter, a smirk curled on my lips.
The world doesn’t know it yet, but I’m not the villain in their story.
I’m the goddamn end of it.
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