Utsav
“What happened? Why did Maya run away like that?” Ishanvi’s voice cut through the heavy silence, tremulous and confused, as if I was expected to have all the answers about Maya Shekhawat.
I didn’t.
And even if I did, I wouldn’t explain it.
“I don’t know. She just said she needed to go home.” My reply was curt, cold—delivered with a jaw tight enough to fracture glass and eyes deliberately devoid of concern.
Ishanvi’s brows knitted in distress. “But… she was here. Just two seconds ago, she was trying to calm me down. She was hugging me, Utsav. Then she just—left.” Her voice cracked toward the end, laced with betrayal, and I noticed how utterly alone she looked now. Aditi was unconscious, lost somewhere in that lifeless hospital bed. Shravni—their chaotic firecracker of a friend—was out of town for her album shoot. And Maya? Maya had stormed out of the hospital like a fucking hurricane without giving a single explanation.
Not my problem.
Not my business.
Except it was.
“You should go home,” I told Ishanvi, keeping my arms folded across my chest. “Standing here won’t bring Aditi back. Not today.”
Blunt. Ruthless. Just a matter-of-fact statement, but it made her flinch all the same.
“She’s in a coma, Ishanvi. Crying here won’t change that.”
Aditya stepped in before she could collapse. “Don’t cry, Ish. Anvi’s at home. She’ll take care of you,” he said gently, although his clenched jaw told me just how much pressure he was holding inside. “Utsav bhai is right. You should get some rest.”
“But… what about Aditi?” she whispered.
“She’ll be fine,” I replied, my voice a monotone of control and finality. Not because I believed it. But because I knew someone needed to say it. Even if it was a lie.
Ishanvi nodded, barely holding herself together as she wiped her tears. She didn’t argue, didn’t question. She simply surrendered to her grief like a girl who had no one left to lean on. My assistant Rohit quietly approached and led her away, escorting her out of the hospital and toward the car.
I stayed.
Alone.
Seated on a sterile bench in the corner of the hospital corridor, arms folded, back straight, ignoring the pitying and curious glances thrown in my direction. I knew the doctors were whispering about me. The American heart surgeon, the one who didn’t speak unless necessary, the one with the chilling stare and a reputation that followed him like a shadow.
They looked at me like I was some unhinged animal waiting to attack.
I didn’t bite.
I hunted.
Their stares didn’t matter. Their assumptions didn’t matter. What mattered was the knot twisting in my chest and the question that refused to leave my mind.
Where the hell did Maya go?
And why did she leave like that?
Without a word. Without a glance. Without giving a damn that her best friend was fighting for life.
Reckless woman.
I knew she wouldn’t sit idle. Maya Shekhawat was made of fire and madness. She didn’t cry in corners or ask for help—she kicked doors open. She charged into storms. She made chaos look like art. But this time, she was out there alone, chasing something. And I had a gut-deep certainty: she wasn’t going to do things right.
She was going to bring hell.
And the worst part?
Somehow, I didn’t want her to walk into it without me.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, a harsh vibration that sliced through the uneasy quiet around me. I pulled it out, glancing at the screen. Kabir.
I pressed the answer button and brought it to my ear. “Any update?” I asked, voice sharp and clipped, laced with the authority I never needed to announce.
“Yes, sir,” came his usual calm tone, loyal and efficient like always. “Miss Shekhawat’s brother—Ansh Shekhawat—has been arrested.”
I leaned back on the cold hospital bench, one leg crossed neatly over the other. “Which case?” I asked flatly, though a low hum of curiosity began building beneath my calm exterior.
“Assaulting a woman, sir,” he answered.
My brows lifted slightly.
Assaulting a woman?
That boy? Ansh? Barely eighteen, barely out of childhood—he had assaulted someone?
There was something off.
“The case is old,” Kabir continued, already anticipating my thoughts. “At least three years ago. It had been closed before—Shekhawat family was cleared due to insufficient evidence. But now, it’s been reopened.”
“Hmm,” I murmured, the gears in my mind turning. “Go deeper,” I commanded before ending the call with a sharp click.
I leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on my knees as I mulled over the new information. “Assaulting a woman?” I repeated under my breath, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. “Interesting…”
The Shekhawat family was full of secrets. Beautifully wrapped in silk and shadows, like delicate lies dressed up in royal couture. And now one of those secrets was clawing its way back into the light. I didn’t believe in coincidences. Not when it came to the powerful. Not when it came to people like Maya Shekhawat.
She had played her move.
She leaked those pictures to the media—me, shirtless and too close to her—in a calculated attempt to marry into my world, forcing a public engagement I didn’t plan for. But I never stopped her. I allowed it. I watched her twist the rules thinking she had won, thinking she had outsmarted me.
But she forgot one thing—she entered my chessboard.
Now it was my turn.
I sat back again, folding my arms across my chest, fingers lightly tapping against my bicep as the smirk on my lips deepened. “Just wait and watch, Miss Shekhawat,” I muttered. “Your life’s about to change.”
So that’s why she had fled the hospital like a storm at midnight. That’s why her steps had trembled, her voice shaken. And that’s why that bastard—her so-called assistant Raghav—had the audacity to place his hand on her back.
Touching her.
Anger coiled in my gut like a snake ready to strike, my jaw tightening as the memory flashed back. His hand. On her.
She was mine.
Whether I hated her or not. Whether this engagement was real or fake. Whether we were enemies or strangers. She was mine.
Mine to command.
Mine to crush.
Mine to control.
Mine to protect—when I chose to.
No one touched what belonged to me. Not without consequences.
Especially not some low-grade assistant with wandering hands and puppy-dog concern. Raghav had no idea who he was dealing with. I let people live when they stayed in line. The second they crossed it—they ceased to breathe.
Possessiveness?
Yes.
Hypocrisy?
Absolutely.
But when did I ever pretend to be righteous?
I wasn’t the hero in this story. I never wore that crown.
Maya was mine. She had stepped into my arena, into my control. I hadn’t forgotten how she tried to force my hand. Now it was time to remind her what it meant to be tangled with a Mehrotra. What it meant to provoke me.
So go ahead, Maya. Fight for your brother. Run through courts, weep through news channels. Gather your army.
Because I’ll be right here, watching.
Waiting.
Planning.
And when the time is right, I’ll take back everything that belongs to me.
You.
This fake relationship?
It’s about to get real.
Game on… Emerald.
Raghav’s hand wasn’t just a gesture—it was a statement.
A challenge. And I don’t take challenges lightly.
Maya might think she’s moving through this world freely, but every step she takes is within my design now.
She doesn’t even realize that the moment she crossed paths with me, her autonomy ended.
I own her chaos. I own her headlines. And soon, I’ll own her silence. Anyone who tries to stand too close will burn—including her loyal assistant.
I don’t need emotions to control people. I need leverage—and Maya’s family just gave me that on a silver platter.
The past never stays buried when someone like me is digging. Let her run for now. Let her believe she’s escaping.
Because when I close this trap, there won’t be any exits.
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"Do let me know your thoughts about this chapter in the comments section. If you liked it, please don't forget to vote. Your single vote is enough to give me the courage to keep writing more.
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Let the story breathe a little before forming opinions. Big twists are coming."
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