Chapter 1

Maya

Age Twenty three

You can't do anything. You're a failure. You need to study harder. This industry isn't for you—or for our culture. One day, you'll fail, and only then will you understand the importance of time."

Blah, blah.

I grew up listening to these judgmental lines my whole life. It wasn't that I was terrible at studies, but I wasn’t exceptional either. I was an average student with dreams far bigger than the expectations placed upon me. I wanted to do something different, something out of the ordinary—beyond the limits set by my family's traditions.

My family loved me, no doubt. But their love came wrapped in concerns about my future. That’s why they said those things. And I didn’t mind—because today, I proved them wrong.

A voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

"Yes, I believe in luck," I heard myself say, "but I refuse to give all the credit to it. I worked hard for this moment. Those sleepless nights, the sacrifices—it was all worth it."

The media reporter nodded, her pen poised over her notepad. Bright flashes of cameras flickered in the room as I sat before them, the center of attention at the press conference for my new song.

Today, I am proud of myself.

Today, I am an official singer in Bollywood, with a successful, high-rated album to my name.

And this is just the beginning.

."Girl, you did it!"

A voice rang through the studio, cutting through the melody of the piano beneath my fingers. I stopped playing and turned around, spotting a woman standing in the doorway. She was about my age—perhaps a year older—dressed in a sleek black turtleneck from Prada that hugged her figure perfectly, paired with loose, effortlessly stylish baggy jeans from Balenciaga. A pair of oversized Chanel sunglasses perched on her nose, glinting under the studio lights, and on her feet, unmistakable red-bottomed Christian Louboutin heels.

Duh, she was rich. And stunning.

With her slim, modelesque frame, every girl’s dream physique, and her dark brown hair twisted into a messy yet chic bun, she looked every bit the fashion icon she was known to be. In her hands, she held two Starbucks coffee cups.

My best friend—Ishanvi Arora.

One thing I absolutely admired about her was her impeccable fashion sense. But then again, what else would you expect from one of Bollywood’s top fashion designers?

"Thanks, Ish," I said, a smile tugging at my lips. "I know I did it, and I’m proud. Today, I proved to myself that I can achieve anything."

I walked toward her as she extended a coffee cup in my direction. Taking it from her, I felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the drink in my hands.

Because in this moment, success had never tasted sweeter.

"So? What's the plan now? Do you want to tease your rival, Aryan Mehra?"

Ishanvi’s voice dripped with amusement as she took a sip of her coffee.

I rolled my eyes at the mention of his name. Ugh, Aryan Mehra. I hated that man with every fiber of my being. Thinking about him on the biggest day of my life—when I had finally achieved success—was an absolute mood killer. Still, the idea of getting under his skin was… tempting.

"Perhaps… or perhaps not," I said, a smirk playing on my lips. "Today is my big day, and I refuse to let that asswipe ruin it. But I’m sure he was burning with jealousy watching me shine today."

And I meant it. Aryan Mehra—a massively successful music director—had once offered me a shortcut to success. He promised to launch my career, make me a star, but on one disgusting condition: I had to sleep with him or date him. The audacity of that man.

Rascal.

Ishanvi simply nodded, her gaze wandering around my studio. Her eyes swept over the instruments, the soundproofed walls, and the aesthetic decor. Was she actually admiring my studio? Please.

She was a princess of Jaipur—literally. Apart from being a renowned fashion designer, she came from royalty. She could have a hundred studios like this if she wanted, ones far grander than mine.

Still, the thought that she might actually appreciate my space made me feel just a little proud. "Let’s not ruin your mood by thinking about that bastard," Ishanvi said, waving a dismissive hand. "It’s your big day, sweetie! So, how about we celebrate? Let’s go out—maybe a bar or a club. We’ll invite the girls too—Aditi and Shravni. You know Aditi is getting married in a week, and who knows when we’ll get another chance to party with her?"

I nodded, a bittersweet realization settling in. Our little friend circle was at that stage in life where marriages were starting to happen. And now, our sweet, shy Aditi was about to marry the love of her life—Aditya Mehrotra.

I’d seen him. Tall, muscular, and effortlessly handsome, with a tattoo etched across his chest. And before you get any ideas—I didn’t see it because he was shirtless or anything! The guy just had this habit of leaving the top two buttons of his shirt undone, flashing just enough ink to be intriguing.

He was… kind of hot.

Not that it mattered. He was my best friend’s fiancé, for God’s sake! Ugh, Maya, get a grip. Your thoughts will be the death of you.

Shaking off the distraction, I flashed Ishanvi a grin. "Yes! Invite everyone. We’re going out tonight for a girls’ night at the club. And tonight’s treat is on me—it’s my success party, after all!"

Ishanvi smirked, raising her coffee cup in a toast. "Now that’s the spirit."

Tonight was going to be fun.

Ugh! Why is it that every time I have to go somewhere, my clothes magically disappear?" I muttered in frustration, rummaging through my overflowing closet.

It wasn’t like I didn’t have anything to wear. My wardrobe was packed with Dior and Gucci, yet somehow, nothing ever felt right when I needed it. Sometimes, my obsession with luxury brands made me feel like I’d end up broke one day.

After what felt like an eternity, my fingers landed on a black silk bodycon dress. It shimmered under the light, dusted with fine glitter, and was daringly backless—just the kind of outfit that suited my taste.

Perfect.

Wasting no time, I slipped into it, letting the silky fabric hug my curves. A few strokes of eyeliner, a swipe of red lipstick, and suddenly, I felt invincible—like I could touch the sky if I wanted to. I let my hair cascade down in soft waves, adding a spritz of glitter shine for that extra glow. A final touch of my signature perfume, and I was ready.

Tonight, I wasn’t just stepping out—I was making an entrance.

Just as I admired my reflection, my phone buzzed with a notification from our group chat. I grabbed it and tapped open the message.

Ishanvi: Where is our icon for tonight? The star of the show?

Aditi: We’re all ready, just waiting for our queen, Maya!

Shravni: I bet she’s getting ready like royalty, as always.

I smirked, their words fueling my confidence. These girls had a way of spoiling me, and honestly? I loved every second of it.

With a quick reply, I typed:"On my way, ladies. Just be patient."

Tonight was going to be unforgettable!

As I stepped out of the car and approached the club, my eyes instantly found my girls, all dressed to impress.

Aditi looked stunning in a black, short, body-hugging dress that showed just enough cleavage to turn heads. Her hair was styled in a messy yet aesthetic bun, and despite her simple makeup, she looked extra hot tonight. I couldn’t help but smirk—if her fiancé, Aditya, saw her like this, he’d probably lock her in a room just to keep other men from looking at her.

Ishanvi, our ever-glamorous fashion icon, shimmered under the club lights in a dazzling gold dress, cut just right to accentuate her curves. She clutched an expensive luxury handbag in one hand, effortlessly exuding wealth and style. My gaze instinctively swept around, searching for her ever-present bodyguard, Jay. Being the princess of Jaipur, she was rarely left alone. But tonight, he was nowhere to be seen. No doubt she had sneaked out of the mansion again.

Shravni, always effortlessly cool, rocked a grey tank top paired with a matching skirt and black tights. Her hair was left open, giving her a soft yet sultry look.

Just as I was about to walk up to them, my gaze landed on a sleek, familiar car pulling up near us. My jaw clenched.

Rudra.

My ex.

The last person I wanted to see tonight.

A wave of irritation washed over me, but I refused to let him ruin my mood. Without sparing him another glance, I straightened my posture, lifted my chin, and walked confidently toward my friends.

As soon as they saw me, their faces lit up with smiles.

"There she is!" Aditi grinned. "Our queen has arrived!"

"Finally!" Ishanvi smirked, eyeing me from head to toe. "And looking like a total knockout, as expected."

"Now let’s get inside before we waste another second," Shravni added, already pulling me toward the entrance.

With that, we stepped into the club, ready for an unforgettable!

The night was electric—music pulsed through the club, the bass vibrating beneath my feet as I danced with my friends, drink in hand, lost in the moment. Laughter, flashing lights, the rush of adrenaline—it was perfect.

Until I felt a firm grip on my waist.

A shiver of discomfort ran down my spine. I turned sharply, and there he was.

Rudra.

I hated this man.

"Maya, please… I'm sorry. Forgive me," he said, his voice steady, almost casual—like he wasn’t the same man who had shattered my trust. "I swear, I’ll never touch another woman again. I promise."

No guilt. No regret. Just arrogance, as if he had the right to waltz back into my life and expect me to forget everything.

My hands clenched into fists.

My friends hated him just as much as I did. He had cheated on me—publicly, shamelessly. I had walked into my own studio, only to find him screwing some random woman in the bathroom. God knows how he even managed to sneak her in. That image had burned itself into my mind, and no amount of pleading would ever erase it.

I shoved him away. "Get off me," I snapped.

People around us turned to watch, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t about to let this man ruin my night.

But Rudra wasn’t done. Instead of stepping back, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me closer. His jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with irritation.

"I said get off me, Rudra!" My voice was sharp, cutting through the music. "I don’t want to waste another second fighting with a spineless cheater."

His gaze hardened, the muscles in his jaw twitching. He was stronger than me—physically, sure—but he lacked the one thing I had: the courage to walk away from a toxic past.

"I just want a second chance, Maya. For God’s sake," he muttered, his tone dripping with frustration. Then, in a move I recognized too well, he reached out again—trying to wrap me in a manipulative embrace, hoping I’d crumble like before.

Not this time.

My palm connected with his cheek in a sharp, resounding slap. Gasps echoed around us.

I stepped closer, my voice cold and unwavering. "Dare to touch me again, and I swear I’ll break your dck right here. You’ll be sterile for life, Mr. Rudra Fucking Idiot."*

His ego was shattered. His pride, bruised beyond repair in front of hundreds of people.

I felt Ishanvi’s hand wrap around mine, pulling me toward the bar. "Come on, babe. He’s not worth your energy."

I let her drag me away, my pulse still racing. Rudra stood frozen in place, humiliation painted all over his face. He had lost, and we both knew it.

Had I messed up? Maybe.

Did I care? Not one bit.

It took me four damn glasses of whiskey to clear my head.

Four.

And yet, Rudra still managed to crawl under my skin like a parasite.

I exhaled sharply, scanning the club for any sign of him, but he was gone. Probably slithered out of here, dragging his bruised ego behind him. Serves him right. The bastard really thought he could waltz in and ruin my night? Not a damn chance.

I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Babe, calm down," Ishanvi said, her voice soothing yet firm. "He’s gone now. Let’s not waste another second thinking about that loser."

"She’s right, sweetie," Aditi chimed in, her eyes warm with concern. "This night is about you, about us. Let’s enjoy our girlhood while we can."

"Of course," Shravni added, her expression still fierce. "We’ll enjoy the night, but just so you know—every bone in my body is screaming to snap that idiot’s neck for daring to show his face again."

I let out a breath, a slow smirk tugging at my lips. These girls knew exactly how to pull me back.

They were right. Rudra wasn’t worth a second more of my energy.

I straightened up, tilting my chin. "You know what? You’re right. This night isn’t about him. It’s about us. It’s about me. My success. So let’s drink, dance, and celebrate!"

A chorus of cheers erupted from my girls as we clinked our glasses together before heading back to the dance floor.

The music pulsed through the air, wrapping around us like a hypnotic wave. We let go of everything—every frustration, every distraction. Under the flashing lights, we became untouchable.

Tonight, we were fierce.

We were free.

And nothing—not even the ghost of a mistake—could take that away from us.

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