Maya
"Mom? Mom, don’t worry!"
I rushed toward her the moment I stepped inside the house. The air was thick—oppressive even—like grief had seeped into the walls. My mother was on the couch, her face ashen, her eyes swollen from crying, and her body trembling as though the weight of the world had crushed her from all sides.
"Mom, we’ll save Ansh," I said, kneeling down in front of her, trying to meet her eyes, trying to breathe some hope into her shattered soul. "Don’t worry… we’ll bring him back."
But she didn’t respond.
She looked right through me—her mind frozen in shock, lips quivering, as if words had abandoned her too. Her breathing was shallow, erratic. Panic gripped my chest as I cupped her face gently.
"Mom—look at me—we will save Ansh. I promise."
Her voice, though calm, was soaked in sorrow.
"How, Maya? How will you save him? The case was reopened. Those cops—they came without warning. They took our Ansh… our little Ansh."
Her words hit like daggers to my chest. My baby brother. My innocent Ansh, now caged like a criminal. It wasn’t just an arrest—it was a direct attack. A message. A warning.
"No, Mom," I said firmly, refusing to let the tears burn their way out. "No matter who stands against us, we will save him."
My hands trembled slightly as I turned to Nisha, our house help. She stood frozen near the pillar, pale and anxious.
"Nisha!" I barked, my voice sharp and commanding. "Get Mom’s medicines. Right now."
She nodded frantically and hurried to the kitchen where the first-aid box was kept.
The home that once echoed with warmth and laughter was now filled with silence. A silence that screamed. The kind of silence that settles right before a storm. Papa was pacing in the hallway, phone glued to his ear, trying every possible contact—lawyers, retired officers, even political connections. His shoulders sagged under pressure, but he was fighting. We all were. Even if our hearts were in pieces.
Raghav entered through the main door, looking grim. I turned to him instantly.
"I want a meeting fixed with IPS Ishan—today."
He paused for a moment, reading my face.
"I can try, Ma’am," he said with professional caution.
"I don’t want you to try," I said coldly, rising to my full height. "I want you to get it done. I don’t have the luxury of patience."
He nodded with a tight jaw and moved to make the call.
But my own mind? It was a warzone.
The thought of my brother spending the night in a cell made bile rise in my throat. Ansh—my soft, kind, gentle Ansh—locked in a cold, heartless cell built for criminals. His only fault? Being my blood. Being our weakness.
My fists clenched unconsciously, nails digging so hard into my palms that the sting felt like penance. I welcomed the pain. Anything to drown the helplessness building inside me.
"Maya beta..."
Dad came closer, his voice low, almost defeated.
"The lawyer is doing what he can… but the charges are serious. The officials said if things go wrong, we might—"
"No," I cut him off, holding up a hand. "Don’t say it. We won’t lose this case. Not this time."
My voice cracked slightly, and I swallowed hard, forcing the lump back down. I had to stay strong. I didn’t have the right to collapse. Not today.
"I will do whatever it takes to bring Ansh back. I don’t care how powerful our enemies are. I don’t care how dirty they play," I said, voice trembling with fury. "I know Ansh is innocent. And I swear on everything I love—I will burn down the entire system if I have to. But my brother will not take the fall for a crime he didn’t commit."
Dad looked at me, his expression unreadable—part pride, part fear. His hands were shaking as he sat down beside Mom.
She was still crying, her body leaning forward as if it couldn’t hold itself upright anymore. Her voice broke as she sobbed out,
"I want Ansh back. Please… do something… anything… please..."
My heart shattered right there.
I knelt beside her again, holding her tightly. I took the glass of water Nisha brought and helped her take the medicines.
"Mom, I swear to you, by morning—he will be back. I’ll do whatever it takes. But you need to rest now. Please trust me. Just for tonight."
She looked at me with eyes that no longer saw the world as safe. Her lips trembled again but she nodded faintly. I helped her up, step by step, and guided her to her room.
But even as I helped her lie down, my mind was already elsewhere—running through every possibility, every name, every hidden agenda.
Aditi was in a coma.
The case was reopened from nowhere.
The media hadn’t even been tipped yet—it was too clean, too quick.
This wasn’t a coincidence.
It was a setup.
Every thread pointed toward a grander scheme. A larger hand pulling the strings from the shadows.
To bring me down?
Or was this… Utsav’s war too?
I sat on the edge of my bed that night, fists clenched, rage building in layers inside me like a volcano ready to explode. And I made a promise to myself.
Whoever dared to hurt my family… whoever dragged Ansh into this…
I don’t care who it is.
I don’t care how high they sit or how untouchable they think they are.
I will find them.
And I will destroy them.
Even if I have to burn them alive.
Even if I have to become the monster the world fears.
My Ansh won’t suffer.
Not while I’m still breathing.
“Ma’am?”
Raghav’s voice cut through the fog of my spiraling thoughts. I looked up slowly, my eyes meeting his calm but alert expression.
“Rudra Sir wants to meet you,” he said carefully.
The very mention of that name made my stomach churn. A wave of nausea gripped my chest, and a filthy disgust crept over my skin like crawling insects. Rudra. The man I had once foolishly trusted. The man who had crossed every limit.
My lips curled with disdain. “Throw him out,” I snapped without a second thought.
Raghav gave a curt nod and turned on his heel, but I stopped him.
“Wait,” I said, my voice steadier now. Something shifted in my mind. A suspicion, a gut instinct. What if Rudra was involved in this mess? What if this new storm in my life had his fingerprints all over it?
After all, his last threat still echoed in my memory like a cursed prophecy:
“I’ll destroy your brother’s life if you don’t take me back as your boyfriend.”
My jaw clenched so hard I could hear the faint grind of my teeth. That threat… It hadn’t been a bluff. It had been a declaration of war.
“Tell him to wait in the living room,” I said coldly. “I’ll be there in a moment.”
Raghav nodded once more and disappeared down the hallway. I remained rooted for a few seconds, breathing through the fury boiling inside me. If he had something to do with this case—this sick, twisted game—I needed to know. I needed to look into his eyes and confirm the devil behind the curtain.
When I walked into the living room, I found him seated casually on the couch, his legs crossed, his body relaxed, like he owned the place. Dressed in a fitted black T-shirt and grey trousers, his posture was drenched in arrogance. One arm lazily draped across the backrest, and the other resting on his thigh as if this was some kind of casual reunion.
A disgusting smirk curved on his lips the moment his eyes found mine.
“Aww, baby,” he crooned mockingly, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “You look like a mess.”
He stood up then, his hands slipping into his pockets with that same signature swagger that used to charm me once. But now? It made my skin crawl.
“My poor Maya,” he said, his tone patronizing, condescending. “You look absolutely devastated… tch tch tch… I’m so sorry to see you like this.” His voice was a twisted symphony of mock concern.
“Get to the point, bastard,” I hissed, my voice sharp enough to cut glass.
His brows lifted, amused by my venom. “Arey thamba, thamba… meri Marathi mulgi,” he said with a mocking chuckle, leaning in slightly, as if intimacy still existed between us. “Jaan, I just came to see you. To check how my baby is coping with grief.”
Every word from his mouth was designed to torment me. To strip me down, emotionally, piece by piece.
“You did this?” I demanded, my tone low and lethal.
He shrugged, lips twitching in a smile that never reached his eyes. “With due sadness… it wasn’t me,” he said, eyes glinting with cruel pleasure. “But whoever is behind this mess—whoever made you look like this—I’d happily be friends with him.”
He took a step closer, eyes studying my face. “I don’t know who’s playing with your peace, Maya, but I’m enjoying the results. You look so… pathetic. So broken. And that gives me joy.”
Then he dropped back onto the couch with a relaxed sigh, like he’d delivered a poetic monologue. “You know, if I had the chance,” he said, tilting his head, “I’d have loved to break you myself. But alas, someone else beat me to it. Still… I’m enjoying the aftermath.”
Something inside me snapped.
I moved faster than he could react. My knee collided hard into his abdomen, knocking the breath out of him as he dropped to his knees with a choked gasp.
“You?” he managed to grunt, but before he could say another word, I pressed the sharp point of my pencil heel onto his right foot, twisting cruelly.
“What happened, baby?” I said, my voice now the one dipped in mockery. “Didn’t you say you love fierce girlfriends? Well… now you got one.”
I pressed down harder. “Next time you think of mocking me, think twice before messing with Maya shekhawat, you motherfucker"
He winced in agony, and I gave one last firm twist before pulling my heel away and walking off without sparing him another glance. I didn’t care how much pain he was in. He deserved every bit of it.
“You messed with the wrong person, Maya!” he yelled behind me, fury replacing his pain. “I swear—you’ll beg for mercy when I’m done with you!”
But I didn’t even flinch. I didn’t turn back.
“Throw him out,” I instructed coldly as I passed the guards near the entrance. My voice held no emotion—just finality.
They stepped forward, but Rudra raised a hand and shoved past them himself, limping but still trying to maintain that pathetic pride.
I climbed the stairs back toward my room, heart still thudding in my chest, but my face emotionless.
Maybe I had stirred the hornet’s nest. Maybe I had provoked him into a deeper war.
But I didn’t care.
I had no space for fear anymore.
Only rage—and revenge.
“But Miss Shekhawat—”
“There’s no room for buts, Mr. Ishan.”
I cut him off with a voice so calm, it could have been mistaken for serenity, but it carried the kind of edge that warned of storms brewing underneath. I leaned back in my chair, my gaze fixed sharply on the senior IPS officer sitting before me. My hands rested in my lap, clenched so tightly the tips of my fingers were white.
“I want my brother out of prison before sunrise.”
The air between us went tense.
He exhaled slowly and tried to maintain his composure. “I understand your concern, Miss Shekhawat,” he said, straightening in his seat, his tone clipped and diplomatic. “But this isn’t just any case. You’re a public figure—an actress, a bestselling author. The media is going to milk every second of this scandal.”
I said nothing, just stared.
He continued, as if my silence was an invitation. “Your brother has been accused of assaulting a woman. This is serious. Even if you weren’t a celebrity, the allegations would still be treated with gravity. We are doing everything in our power to investigate—”
“How much did you get paid to shut it down?”
He stopped mid-sentence.
“What?” he said, startled, eyebrows furrowing.
“You heard me,” I said, every word deliberate, every syllable dipped in ice. “How much did you get? How many zeroes were enough to buy your silence?”
His face darkened. “You’re crossing a line, Miss Shekhawat.”
I stood up slowly, took a step toward him. “If you were truly clean, if your conscience was clear, why the anger? Why the theatrics? You should’ve laughed at my accusation. But instead, you flinched. Because the truth, Mr. Ishan, has a nasty way of stinging when it’s true.”
His mouth snapped shut, his nostrils flaring.
“So the rival party gave you what—ten crores? Twenty? Enough to make you forget your oath, your badge, and your spine? Enough to watch an innocent boy rot in jail because it suited your balance sheet?”
His fist hit the table. “Get the hell out of my office, Miss Shekhawat!” he barked, voice echoing through the room. “Or I swear, I’ll have you dragged out!”
I didn’t flinch. Not even a blink.
“GUARDS!” he screamed. “Throw her out! I don’t care who she is—star, writer, princess. She accused an on-duty IPS officer of taking bribes. She and her entire family should rot behind bars for this slander!”
Two guards by the door stepped forward, hesitant. One of them reached for my arm—
“Touch her again, and I’ll personally detach your hand from your body.”
The voice was low. Cold. And lethal.
Everyone turned.
And there he stood—Utsav Mehrotra.
His presence filled the room like a thunderstorm rolling in. Hands tucked casually into the pockets of his tailored coat, sleeves slightly rolled up, jaw clenched. His eyes—dark, unreadable, and commanding—locked onto Ishan with such force that the officer visibly stiffened.
“Mr. Mehrotra,” Ishan began, standing quickly as if remembering his rank, “She accused a serving IPS officer of corruption. This is not acceptable—”
Utsav took two calm, powerful strides into the office.
“And that gives you the right to lay hands on her?” he said, voice low but thunderous. “To yell at her like a street thug? To manhandle a civilian—my fiancée—inside a government office?”
Dead silence followed.
My eyes widened slightly. Fiancée?
Utsav turned toward the guards, his jaw ticking. “She’s mine. And if even a strand of her hair is harmed, I won’t just bring the department down—I’ll burn the building to the ground.”
The guards stepped back immediately, their gazes dropping to the floor. Ishan seemed speechless for a moment, trying to figure out whether to defend himself or backtrack.
“You can’t threaten us like this,” he said finally, his tone sharp, clinging to the last shred of official pride. “You may be a rich businessman, but we’re government officials. We’re not afraid of you.”
Utsav paused at the door and turned slightly, his tone so casual it was terrifying.
“Twenty crores were transferred to your bank account this morning. From an unnamed authority. Need I continue?”
Ishan froze.
Utsav raised an eyebrow. “Shall I have that information leaked to the press? Or better yet—should I personally submit it to the Anti-Corruption Bureau? I’m sure they’d love a new headline.”
Ishan looked like someone had just slapped him. He said nothing.
With deliberate calm, Utsav walked to my side, his palm curling around my wrist with a quiet possessiveness that startled me. He didn’t drag me—he simply led, as if daring anyone to stop him. I followed, stunned silent.
The moment we stepped outside the office, I inhaled like I had been holding my breath the entire time. The corridor felt less suffocating than that room. I glanced sideways at Utsav, his grip still firm but not painful.
He had appeared out of nowhere. Again. Just like he always did.
Every time I was falling, he showed up.
And every time I tried to reach for him, he vanished like smoke.
I didn’t understand him. I never had. He was a contradiction wrapped in a riddle—possessive and cold, absent and yet always there when it mattered most. He had pushed me away a hundred times, built walls so thick I stopped trying to climb them. But when I was drowning, somehow, he always dived in to save me.
Why? I wanted to scream the question at him.
Why show up now, when I needed to be strong—on my own?
Why act like I mattered, when he never stayed long enough to prove it?
My heart was already a battlefield—and now with my brother behind bars, my mother sick with grief, and the system rigged against me—I couldn’t afford to be weak. I couldn’t afford him.
And yet... there he was.
Standing between me and the world like a storm waiting to be unleashed.
As we walked away from the chaos, something inside me cracked quietly. It wasn’t defeat. It wasn’t hope either.
It was the realization that I was becoming someone else.
Someone colder. Sharper. Louder.
Pain was reshaping me like fire refines metal. It wasn’t just grief anymore—it was war. And I wasn’t going to lose.
But even as my rage built shields around my soul, a single thought haunted me:
What if I let him in? What if, just this once, I let myself fall?
Then I remembered Ansh. I remembered my mother’s trembling voice. I remembered the cell where my innocent brother was locked away.
No. I wasn’t allowed to fall.
Not now. Not for Utsav. Not for anyone.
Because this wasn't about love. This was about justice. About vengeance.
And I would burn the world to bring my brother home.
-----------------------------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------------------
Apologies for late update ❤🎀
"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.
And please, don't judge the characters solely based on the starting chapters. There's so much yet to unfold. Especially Utsav - I know his personality might seem negative at times, but trust me, he's about to go through a powerful journey of transformation.
Let the story breathe a little before forming opinions. Big twists are coming."
---
Your thoughts mean the world to me, even a short 'I liked it' comment makes my day.
Follow me on Instagram .. atishukla__
.
Till then take care 🎀🥀
Write a comment ...