SAANVI'S POV

What. The actual. Fuck.

My jaw nearly hit the goddamn floor when I saw the man standing in front of me.

No. Fucking. Way.

Is he the new MD?

I stared at him in complete disbelief. He rubbed his chest and smiled, smiled at me. I shook my head, trying to process the madness.

Saanvi, Abhiraj wanted to talk to you about something important. Just wait for a few minutes, okay?

Maa, I'm already late. Please, I'll talk to him later.

Of course, that's what maa talking about.

I didn't take my eyes off him as he started walking here. My hand shot out, snatching the tablet from Naina. My fingers tightened around it as I looked down at the screen.

"Mr. Rudra Singhania appointed as the new Managing Director of Aravika Healing Haven - a massive move in the business world."

I froze. My stomach dropped.

"Oh my god."

The words barely made it past my lips, carried more by disbelief than breath.

And then a bouquet of white roses appeared in front of me. I looked up, there he was again, standing inches away, holding those damned flowers with the same infuriating smile.

"One headline," his voice dipped in mock innocence, "and I made an atheist remember God." He tilted his head. "Didn't realize I had that kind of power. Should've listed it under special skills."

"Fucking asshole," I hissed under my breath.

His smile stretched.

"Quite the interesting reaction," Dr. Mishra chuckled, suddenly appearing beside us. "Saanvi should've given you the bouquet to welcome you."

He gave me a look and laughed. "Doesn't really matter, even if we're surrounded by protocol and titles... she's still my wife. Of course I'll look after her. That doesn't stop no matter the place."

Wife? The fucking audacity. I swear, my heart burned like it was on fire.

"Keep this with yourself-" I snapped, reaching to shove the bouquet back at him, but he thrust it forward. Instinctively, I caught it.

Dr. Mishra looked mildly scandalized. "Saanvi, I know he's your husband, but he is the MD now. Did you even greet him properly?"

Sir, I swear if I didn't respect you and admired you as my senior. I would've flung this flower arrangement and your clipboard out of the damn window.

"It's fine, Dr. Mishra," Rudra interjected. "I can greet her instead."

He turned to me, bowing his head slightly.

"Good morning, Pearl."

My fingers curled into a tight fist. That fucking nickname.

"Professionally," I gritted out. "This is a workplace, so let's act like it. Call me what's appropriate."

He raised a brow. "oh is it? Okay let's try that again." He said, with a mock-formal tone,

"Good morning, Mrs. Singhania."

I swear to God, I nearly threw my tablet at his face. My eyes shut tightly for a second.

"Shall I take you to your office, Rudra?" Dr. Mishra asked politely.

Rudra's gaze stayed locked with mine for a second longer. Then he nodded.

"We'll meet soon, Mrs. Singhania," he said, walking away with that cocky little wave and Vedant trailing behind.

Vedant looked back before leaving, and I followed his eyes, straight to Naina, who was staring at the floor.

I groaned, dragging a hand across my face, then stormed into my cabin, Naina right behind me.

Dropping into my chair, I leaned forward, pressing my palms to my temples, already drowning in frustration.

A tap on the desk pulled me out of it.

I looked up Naina stood there, her brows dancing as she threw her hands around in ridiculous gestures.

"What are you doing? Speak up, Naina! You've got a fucking mouth, use it!" I snapped, barely holding back a yell.

She let out an exaggerated sigh, like I was the problem here, then crossed her arms with a scoff.

"You told me you'd cut my pay if I opened my mouth," she said dryly. "So I didn't. Simple. But the news I was trying to tell you before you lost it, is that Mr. Singhania has been appointed as the new Managing Director. Effective today."

"What exactly would've changed if you'd told me? He still would've shown up, wouldn't he? Waltzing in like he owns the goddamn place."

Naina raised a finger, "Well... technically, he does own this goddamn place."

I narrowed my eyes. "And it wasn't just me! Abhiraj sir called, said you had no clue about the whole MD drama so I figured I'd be the responsible one and inform you. Also, honestly, ma'am, your heartbeat is more unstable than my salary cycle. I thought maybe you'd get too stressed or faint or-" She grinned, "-just imagine falling unconscious right on your hus-"

"Don't you fucking dare finish that sentence,"

Her lips clamped shut. "S-sorry, ma'am..." she mumbled nervously.

I took a deep breath, failing to calm the storm twisting inside me.

"Get back to work, seriously, before I lose it more than I already have." My head was already a mess because of that asshole now Naina had decided to add fuel to the fire.

After a while a knock echoed against the door.

I didn't look up, I was flipping through a patient's old medical records, making notes in the margin.

"Come in," I said absently.

"Ms. Sharma, excuse us for a moment. I'd like a word with Mrs. Singhania."

The moment I heard that voice, my spine went rigid. I looked up and there he was, I pushed back my chair and stood.

Naina glanced between us awkwardly, then quickly gathered her tablet and slipped out without a word. He shut the door behind her and turned to me.

"Out," I snapped.

He tilted his head with that insufferable smirk. "Oh? Is that how you speak to a senior management at work, Mrs. Singhania?"

"Respectfully, get the fuck out of my office, Mr. Singhania."

He chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets, then started walking around the desk closing the distance.

Then he held something out to me. A diary.

I frowned. "What is this?"

He smiled, eyes softening just a little. "There's something I wrote for you. Think of it like a letter. I'll write to you every day, Pearl."

"Not interested," I said flatly.

"Please," he said softly.

That 'please' made me pause. I sighed, snatched it from him, and flipped it open.

A page with neatly written blue ink stared back at me. I glanced at him, he was smiling.

Fuck your smile.

I yanked the page out, crumpled it, and threw it straight to the floor. Then I hurled the diary back at him.

His smile faltered.

I picked up the white rose bouquet and threw it down too, stomping on it with my heel, grinding it to pulp, all while looking him in the eye.

"Done, Mr. Singhania?"

He smiled, completely unfazed. "I love it when you call me that."

My expression faltered for a second. That line again. From Varanasi trip.

"You need to stop calling me Mr. Singhania. It feels like I'm your husband."

"Get out of my office,"

But he stepped closer. I stood my ground.

"No matter how many times you tear the letter," he said softly, "I'll write a new one. Every single day."

He came closer. I stepped back but bumped into my chair.

"I'll keep sending white roses too," he murmured, inching closer again. My knees hit the seat and I dropped onto it, my back leaning against the leather in an effort to distance myself. He leaned in, both hands gripping the armrests on either side of me.

I glared at him. "Back off."

"One day, you'll accept both," he murmured.

I swallowed hard and reached for the desk behind me.

"White roses..." he whispered again.

"Move," I snapped, my hand blindly reaching the desk behind me. I fumbled across scattered files, pens and then felt the cold metal. Scalpel.

"And the letters," he added, just as his hand moved toward my face.

"I said move the fuck away, Mr. Singhania,"

He didn't listen. So I slammed the metal tool straight into his palm.

He hissed, his body jerking in pain, eyes squeezing shut before they slowly reopened. Red pooled from his palm. I stared, breathing heavy, heart racing watching his agony with something dangerously close to satisfaction.

Fucker. Freaking deserves it. I felt good. No guilt.

"You should've stayed the hell away," I said coldly. "You brought this on yourself."

He lifted his injured hand, blood now dripping onto the floor, yet he smiled, smiled like the psycho he was.

"Push it in deeper, Pearl... maybe then your hands will finally stay close to mine."

What the actual fuck.

My eyes widened in disbelief. "You're sick in the fucking head," I spat, leaving the scalpel and shoving him hard. He stumbled back, palm still bleeding, blood now staining his goddamn blazer.

Watching the blood seep from his hand was...satisfying.

I watched him yank the scalpel out of his flesh slowly. His lips pressed into a tight line, blood trailing down his wrist.

"I warned you," I said, standing up now, "Not. My. Fucking. Fault."

And still, he fucking smiled softly.

"Of course it's not your fault, Pearl."

Oh I swear if he calls me Pearl one more time, I'll lose my medical license over a murder charge. But then he did something even crazier.

He slipped my bloodied scalpel into his blazer pocket.

My eyes widened. "That's mine. Give it back."

He clicked his tongue. "Oh come on, Mrs. Singhania," he drawled, "don't be so stingy. It's my hospital now. You can have all the scalpels your heart desires... no need to guard one like it's your last lifeline."

Then he held out his bleeding hand.

"Now come on. Treat it."

I blinked. The audacity of this man.

"There are plenty of doctors here. Go to one of them," I said, sinking into my chair, refusing to look at him.

From the corner of my eye, I caught him moving. Relief surged through me, finally he was leaving.

"I want you." My gaze snapped up.

He had taken the seat across from me, elbows resting on the desk.

"To treat me, of course," he added with a tilt of his head.

Without a word, I picked up the intercom and called Naina. She stepped in a moment later, eyes widening as they fell on his bloodied hand.

"Naina, take Mr. Singhania and direct him to someone who can handle this,"

She gave a quick nod. "Mr. Singhania-"

"No one's free right now," he cut in smoothly, eyes on me.

My brows pinched.

"Isn't that right, Ms. Sharma?"

Naina hesitated. "Actually sir, we have enough-"

"You know, Ms. Sharma, unemployment is rising fast. Stability is a luxury nowadays. Once someone's thrown out, it's hard to crawl back up."

"Ma'am, I'm really sorry... but there's no free staff available right now. Could you... please handle this?"

My eyes snapped to her. She looked pale, throat bobbing as she swallowed and silently begged me not to drag her into his games.

"You're threatening people now?" I asked, glaring at him.

He offered a lazy shrug. "Did I, Ms. Sharma?"

"N_No sir," Naina mumbled.

He turned back to me, holding up his bleeding hand. "So, Mrs. Singhania... come on. It hurts. Treat it."

"Naina, the kit."

She rushed to the desk without a word, setting everything down gauze, forceps, suture thread, antiseptic before quietly backing away.

"Wait, Naina."

She froze mid-step.

"I don't have any anesthesia," I said, retrieving the vial from the corner and placing it in her hand right in front of him."So if I do this, I'll do it without it. You won't die, Mr. Singhania, but you might want to. It'll hurt like hell. You still have the option of walking into another doctor's office and getting stitched up painlessly."

I leaned back in the chair, folding one leg over the other, watching him.

"But ma'am-" Naina started, hesitating, "-he needs anesthesia-"

"I still want you."

My hand curled into a tight fist on my lap.

He smiled. "I can take it."

"Leave, Naina." She glanced at Rudra one last time, her expression laced with worry, before stepping out and shutting the door behind her.

I pulled the tray closer, slid on the gloves, uncapped the antiseptic, and picked up the cotton swab. I could feel his gaze anchored on me the entire time.

When I held out my hand, he placed his wrist in it without hesitation. His skin was warm. I placed my other wrist beneath, steadying myself as I glanced at him.

He was smiling. That damn smile like nothing had happened.

I hated it. Hated how effortlessly he pretended the past didn't exist.

I dipped the cotton and began to clean the gash on his arm. The antiseptic stung, his fingers twitched slightly. But in that moment, as I cleaned the blood and held the very hand I'd stabbed, I wasn't thinking about forgiveness.

I was thinking about how badly I wanted to drive the scalpel in again.

And just like that, the words he'd once spat came rushing back...

"You're my wife, Saanvi. But tell me how does it feel to have another man between your legs?"

My jaw clenched. My grip on the cotton hardened as I pressed directly onto the open wound. His breath hitched, and I finally looked at him.

"Is it hurting?"

His eyes were squeezed shut for a second. Then he blinked, composed, and said with a small, almost breathless smile, "No. I'm fine."

Liar.

I tossed the used swab and picked up the needle and suture thread. The cut had deep edges ragged. I sterilized the needle, braced his skin, and inserted it near the wound's edge.

He hissed. The smile on his face faltered for a second but he caught it, bit it back, and smoothed it out again.

But he didn't pull away.

Another memory snapped back...

"At least give me a discount. You were with Saarth, right? How much did he pay to fuck you? Since you're my wife, shouldn't I have had you for free?"

The needle slid through the skin, and I pulled the thread with more force than needed. The tension in his forearm jumped. His free hand gripped the side of the chair.

"Hurting?"

He exhaled, and tried to breathe through it. "No, it's not."

I knew it was. His knuckles had turned white, and sweat shimmered at his temples. But still that fucking smile.

"Careful, Pearl," he murmured finally,

"Why? Is it hurting?"

"No, it's not, but you're applying too much pressure on your hands what if it hurts you?"

For a second, everything inside me boiled over. I shut my eyes, trying to hold it back because I didn't know what burned more. His concern. Or his hypocrisy.

I placed the next stitch, another sharp puncture through tender skin. His body jerked slightly when the needle pierced deeper, but he didn't pull away and my own chest ached the words he left me with haunted everything.

"I regret...regret loving you."

My eyes burned. A tear slipped down my cheek.

He looked at me. The smile had vanished.

"It's hurting," he said softly. "Now it hurts a lot."

He reached toward my face, fingers rising slowly, but I pushed his hand away. "Don't. Don't you dare."

I focused again, tying off the last stitch tightly, more than necessary.

"I hurt you a lot, didn't I?"

I didn't look at him. "Resign from your post and leave me alone."

"I'm sorry, but I can't. I already broke the promise once. Never again."

"So you won't leave?"

"No. I'm here to earn your forgiveness and I want you back. Whatever it takes."

I pulled the thread sharply and cut it. He inhaled through gritted teeth, holding still, he let out a small hiss.

"I never wanted revenge, Rudra. Not even after everything. But now, if you think you can crawl back into my life-"

I met his eyes.

"-then I'll be glad to destroy that illusion. I'll make you regret coming here. I'll make sure you feel pain in ways you never expected."

His gaze didn't waver. "I'm here for redemption, Pearl. You're my home and I'll take you back. That's a promise."

"And I'm here for vengeance," I said coldly. "For every wound you gave me, I'll return one. And I'll go to any extent for that."

He didn't speak. Just watched me as I unrolled the bandage, wrapped it neatly around the stitched wound, and secured it in place.

"Remove your shirt." I walked to the cabinet. I prepped the syringe, turned and found him watching me warily.

He whistled low under his breath raising his brow.

"That was a scalpel wound. You need the damn injection. And it goes in your upper arm, so remove your shirt," I said, holding the syringe between my fingers.

He hesitated. Then his lips twitched, and he licked them. "Umm... that's okay. I'll get it done somewhere else."

"What?"

"I... I have a meeting. Important one. Catch you later."

He stood suddenly, grabbing his diary from the table.

"Are you seriously scared of a damn injection? After sitting through stitches without anesthesia?" I stared in disbelief.

"I wasn't scared of the stitches," he said, smirking. "But you're holding that syringe like you want to impale me."

Before I could respond, he stepped back, gave me one last look, and walked out.

I stood there, still holding the syringe, baffled.

A scalpel wound, stitched without anesthesia, he sat through it like a damn statue but scared of a needle?

Unbelievable.

Anyway, not my problem.

RUDRA'S POV

I walked into my cabin and shut the door behind me. The stab wound on my palm burned like it was on fire sharp, hot, and deep. Every tiny movement sent a jolt up my arm, and with each heartbeat, it throbbed harder like it was alive on its own. I sat down, trying to move my fingers, but even the slightest twitch felt like someone was slicing it open all over again.

But all I could focus on was that one spot. The place where her fingers had brushed against mine. That single touch. It still lingered on my skin like warmth refusing to fade.

She touched me. And God, I was still feeling it.

I found myself smiling as my thumb grazed the spot she'd held.

A shrill ring jolted me from that thought. I glanced at the phone lying on the desk.

Kabir.

I picked it up with my uninjured hand. "Yeah?"

"You're alive?"

I leaned back in my chair, wincing slightly. "yeah."

He let out a low chuckle. "Honestly thought your wife would've already slit your throat in the OT."

Well, she did perform something close.

My eyes drifted to my palm,

"So... how was it?"

I smiled. "She spoke to me, Kabir."

He sounded surprised. "Spoke? As in... actual words?"

"She called me a fucking asshole. In front of everyone." I smiled.

Kabir whistled. "That's progress. I was convinced she'd taken a lifelong oath not to speak or even look at you."

"She also touched me," I said quietly.

"What?"

"We held hands." I looked down again, the gauze beginning to soak at the edges.

"Rudra," he said flatly, "you might need help. That sounds more like your imagination than reality."

Before I could answer, there was a knock on the door. Vedant stepped in. I gave him a nod, and he entered, carrying his iPad.

"Kabir, I'll call you later," I said, ending the call.

I looked up at Vedant. "The paperwork?"

He glanced at the bandage on my hand, frowned slightly, then nodded. "All done."

"Good. Start coordinating with senior staff tomorrow. I want operations running smoothly from day one."

He noted everything without a word, sitting down on the couch across from me.

Something clicked in my head. I watched him for a moment. "By the way, I heard you're getting married. And it's... not Ms. Sharma?"

He stilled for a moment. His hand paused mid-swipe on the screen.

His voice was neutral when he spoke. "Why would I marry her?"

I shrugged. "Isn't it obvious? You two had something going on."

"There's nothing," he said, setting the iPad down. "I don't love her. And she doesn't love me."

I frowned slightly. "How do you know? Did she say that to you?"

He shook his head. "No. But she's with someone else. Her friend. I've seen them. She looks... happy. It's enough."

I watched him quietly. There was a tension in the way he said it like he wanted to believe it, more than he actually did.

"So you decided to marry someone else based on what you think you saw?"

"Mr. Singhania, with all due respect, that's not the point-"

"Vedant, you should've spoken to her instead of assuming. How could you not trust her-" I stopped myself. The irony hit hard. I wasn't in a position to lecture anyone about trust.

I leaned back, exhaling. "Look, just...don't make impulsive decisions. Talk to her. That's all I'm saying."

He stared at me for a moment.

I clicked my tongue. "Coming from someone who knows what it's like to screw things up... do it. Or you'll end up with a hell of a regret."

My gaze dropped to my bandaged palm. A smile pulled at my lips.

And maybe earn a love bite like this too.

Vedant didn't respond. Just kept looking at me like he was trying to decide whether to argue or listen.

"It's your life," I said finally, turning my chair. "Do whatever you want."

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