SAANVI'S POV

All my life, I've operated like a well calibrated machine, precise, efficient, in control. My mind has always been my compass, and I trusted it to lead me through the chaos of life. Even when the world was burning around me, I knew how to stand still, how to think clearly. I never saw the need to guard my heart because it had always been rational in its own way. It chose wisely, it distanced swiftly, it recognized danger before it touched me.

But somewhere along the way, my heart stopped listening to reason. And I didn't notice it soon enough. Now it moves on its own rebellious, irrational making decisions I would've never allowed. Falling for him wasn't just unexpected... it was catastrophic. Like a slow leak in a dam you once thought was indestructible.

"Leave it on. It's cold," I feel his arms wrap around me.

I tilt my head slightly, eyes landing on him as he comes to stand in front of me. "What's going on?"

"Don't do it." I don't mean just now, this moment, I mean all of it. The closeness. The comfort. The illusion that he's safe.

"Do what?"

I don't answer. I can't. Language feels too clumsy for what I'm holding inside.

He gently threads his fingers through mine and starts walking, guiding me. Tears well in my eyes, I glance downward, ashamed. How did I let this happen? How did someone like him, reckless, contradictory, get past my walls? Loving Rudra feels like a betrayal not just to my intellect, but to the woman I've spent years becoming.

"Hey, hey-what's wrong?" he says, made me sit onto the bench. His hands cradle my face gently, brushing away the tears. "Pearl..." he whispers, and for a second, the sound of my name in his voice feels like warmth I didn't ask for.

He lowers himself onto the grass, kneeling in front of me, "Talk to me. Did I do something? Is it because of me? Tell me, please... did I hurt you?" He takes my hands again, rubbing them softly between his palms. He has no idea that this is love. That it's the one thing I swore I'd never allow. That it feels less like falling and more like surrendering to something I can't control.

"You're scaring me, Pearl. If I've hurt you in any way, even unintentionally, I need to know."

I lift my gaze to look at him through the veil of tears, and in that moment, I know. I know.

I love him.

How did this happen?

How did I fall in love with him? With Rudra.

"I hate you, Rudra." Those words pill out not as a weapon but as a shield. My last attempt at self preservation.

"I know that already, Pearl. I never let myself believe you'd love me not even in the quietest corners of my hope, not in this life, maybe not even in the next. I've always known... you're far above everything I've ever been. Far above me."

A sob rises, tightening in my chest, and before I can stop it, I pull my hands away from his, rise quickly, turn, and run. Tears blur the hallway as I wipe them away in frustration, each touch rougher than the last. I hear him call out my name.

I reach my room, fumble with the knob, and finally get the door open. I step in and slam it shut behind me, locking it. I slide down, slowly, back pressed against the wood, legs folding beneath me until I hit the floor. My head leans back, resting against the door as a cry breaks from my lips.

"Pearl..."

Even through the wood, I can feel him like he's kneeling on the other side.

"I'm sorry," he says softly. "I don't know what I did... I don't even know what I can do. But I can't watch you like this. If there's anything, anything at all, I'll do it. Just say the word."

I clench a hand over my chest, right where the ache. My eyes shut tightly, but the tears came anyway.

"I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to let me in. Just... know that I'm here. Right outside."

I feel it, his presence just beyond the door. Two people separated by an inch of wood and a chasm of unsaid truths.

And I want to scream.

Why does it have to be him? Why did love have to wear his face? It isn't fair. It isn't soft. It isn't what the stories promised. This love... it's nothing like the poems or the songs. Because It's not beautiful. It's not delicate.

It's terrifying.

Loving Rudra feels like handing over every weapon I've ever used to protect myself then standing unarmed in front of him, hoping he chooses not to strike.

RUDRA'S POV

"Sir."

I turn my gaze away from the glass doors overlooking the street, pulled back to the present by the shopkeeper's voice.

He holds out the bouquet of white roses. I step forward and take them gently from his hands and hand him the cash.

"Is she still upset?"

I meet his eyes and nod with a smile.

He shrugs,"Well, maybe try different flowers. Switch the white roses. Pink or yellow might work better if you're asking for forgiveness."

I glance down at the bouquet in my hands. The petals are soft, edges slightly curled, fresh.

"I don't bring her flowers to erase her anger," I reply, "These aren't bribes. They're reminders. I give them to her because I love her. And I need her to know that. Every single day. Because I believe love needs to be shown, not once in grand gestures, but in quiet consistency. Every single day."

I pause, fingers tightening slightly around the stems.

"And as for white roses...these white roses, they aren't just flowers to me. They carry a meaning only she can embody. The quiet strength. The honesty in her emotions. That unspoken grace in everything she does. She's not just someone I love, she's someone I see meaning in. And white... She's my white. So I choose white, always."

He chuckles under his breath, "You've got a poet's heart. She's lucky to be loved like that."

A small laugh escapes me as I shake my head, "No, I'm the lucky one. She's the reason I remembered who I used to be. The part of me I thought I'd lost... she brought it back."

I clutch the bouquet a little closer and step outside.

✿✿✿✿✿

I take a deep breath and knock on her cabin door.

"Come in,"

I step inside. She's standing by the lightbox, holding an X ray up against it, the edges glowing faintly around her fingers. She notices me, lowers the film, and turns.

"Flowers," I say, holding out the bouquet.

She walks up to me her gaze dipping to the white roses. My fingers grip the stems a little tighter.

she extends her hand. I hesitate, but place the bouquet in her hand, sighing internally, already preparing myself for the thud of petals hitting plastic. I glance instinctively toward the trash can. But she doesn't move toward it.

She wraps her arms around the bouquet gently, pulls it close to her chest, and looks up at me. "Thank you for the roses."

My brain short-circuits for a second. Did she just accept them? Like, really accept them? Without the dustbin?

Fuck!

Did someone replace her with a better mannered clone while I was out?

Then she speaks again. "That journal?"

My mouth parts. "Oh... y-yeah." I reach inside my blazer, take it out, and hand it over.

"You're... going to read it?"

She smiles. Smiles. "Of course."

Okay. Now I'm certain. Something's off. She's acting like a normal, emotionally available person. Either she had a near death experience or I've somehow walked into a parallel dimension.

"Anything else?"

I clear my throat, awkwardly. "No. I'll just-leave." I gesture vaguely toward the door because I genuinely don't know how to function right now. This, whatever this version of her is, feels far more difficult to take than her anger ever did. I've always known how to respond to her cold remarks, her cold silences, her sharp comebacks. That was familiar. Predictable. But now? She's being... calm. Kind. And I don't know what to do with that.

I reach for the handle.

"Rudra."

I pause immediately and turn back. "Yes?"

"If you're free tomorrow... would you like to go on a date with me?"

A what now? Did she seriously just ask me out?

I blink. "A date? Like... you and me? Alone?"

She clicks her tongue, "It's okay if you're busy. I don't mind-"

"No!" I blurt out. "I'm not busy. I'm completely free. All day. Tomorrow. Entirely available."

She just nods with a small smile, "Okay then."

I give a stunned smile and nod before stepping out of her cabin. I close the door gently behind me.

And then I just stand there for a second. Processing. What the hell just happened?

I pull out my phone and call Vedant.

"Sir?"

"Cancel my appearance at the Royce Estate event tomorrow. I won't be attending."

I hang up without explanation and stare at the phone, lips slowly twitching upward.

She wants to go on a date. With me.

✿✿✿✿✿

I scroll through a few business notifications on my phone, while sitting on the couch in the hallway waiting for her. My eyes lift as I hear the soft click of her door opening.

She steps out. My back straightens on instinct. The phone slips slightly in my hand.

A fitted black strapless top paired with light wash wide leg jeans, black ankle boots hitting the ground in an effortless rhythm. Her dark brown bangs fall slightly across her temples as she walks toward me, brushing gently with each step.

Only if she knew... she could kill with that look alone.

"Rudra."

She touches my shoulder lightly, and I snap out of my trance.

"You look beautiful," I say, the words slipping out before I can shape them properly. I want to say more, but my throat tightens. My tongue forgets how to work.

She smiles. "You're looking handsome too."

I quickly look away, eyes shut for a second, swallowing hard. "Let's go," I mumble, standing up.

It's already dark outside. As we step out, I turn to her. "Wait here. I'll bring the car around."

"Wait."

I stop and glance back.

"Let's go on Luca," she says.

I stare at her, surprised. "You want to go on Luca?"

She nods. "Yes."

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. "As you say."

I head to the garage, adjust my leather jacket, run a hand through my hair in the mirror, and slip on my helmet. When I brought the bike around, she was already waiting. I stop in front of her and hand her the spare helmet.

"Help me." she says, lifting it slightly.

I smile beneath mine and gently fit it on her head, adjusting the strap. Her eyes stay on mine the whole time. Something about the way she watches me makes my breath slow. I meet her gaze briefly, just for a second, before lowering the visor.

She swings a leg over and settles behind me, arms sliding around my waist. Her fingers lock softly, and I stare down at her hands for a moment before starting the bike.

"You okay?" I ask as we ride through the dim, empty streets.

I feel her head rest gently against my back. "I'm okay,"

I want to ask why she cried a few days ago. The question sits at the edge of my throat, but I swallow it. I don't want to press. I don't want to touch that wound unless she's ready to offer it. Not when she's finally letting me close again.

"You're surprised, aren't you?"

I sigh softly, not knowing how to respond.

"This... the way I'm acting," she continues, "I know it feels different. Honestly, even I don't understand it fully." Her arms tighten around my waist.

"But when it comes to you, I've stopped thinking logically. I don't know how to protect myself from this anymore. And maybe... maybe I don't want to."

I gently slide my hand over hers, brushing my thumb over her fingers, grounding her to me.

A few minutes later, I pull up in front a quiet Italian restaurant. I get off and remove my helmet, watching her fix her hair in the mirror.

"Let's go," she says, holding out her hand. I take her hand, her fingers cold as always against mine, as we walk toward the entrance.

The waiter greets us and guides us upstairs to the reserved floor. We stepped into a softly lit space that opened up into a room of warm elegance, floor to ceiling arched windows lined with sheer ivory curtains, golden sconces casting gentle pools of light, and muted instrumental music playing somewhere in the background. On the walls hung intricate paintings, strokes delicate and expressive, paired with handwritten phrases in cursive calligraphy, all framed with quiet sophistication. A delicate scent of lavender and oak hung in the air.

Her eyes traced over the artwork, then the intimate table setting beneath a sculpted chandelier.

"Why is it empty?" she asks, brows slightly lifted.

I shrug lightly. "You don't like crowds. So I booked the place for tonight."

Her lips part slightly. "This must've cost a lot." she asks, eyes scanning the quiet space.

"Not more than your comfort." I keep watching her, because honestly, I can't not.

I pull out the chair for her. She gives me a look before sitting. I take the seat across from her just as another waiter approaches with a polite smile.

"Good evening. May I take your order?"

I glance at her. "Do you have anything in mind?"

She shakes her head softly. "No, I'll have whatever you order."

The waiter chimes in, "Our Boeuf Bourguignon is a house specialty, rich, slow cooked, very well loved."

I close the menu and meet his gaze. "She's vegetarian, so we'll have the roasted vegetable lasagna. A glass of red wine each. And for dessert, cheesecake."

"Certainly, sir," he nods with a small smile. "Your order will be ready shortly."

He steps away quietly, leaving us in the soft hush of the private dining room.

She sits quietly. I realize I should probably start a conversation. But what conversation? Ask about her favorite color? No. Too generic. She'll roast me alive.

"Eh... why are you vegetarian?"

Shit. What kind of idiotic question is that.

She looks at me calmly. "Because I love animals."

"Dogs, right? That's why you had Taffy. And now Brownie," I say, leaning on the table, chin resting on my palm as I look at her.

She shakes her head. "Not just dogs. I love all animals. Cows, chickens, goats, birds every life matters to me. And that's exactly why I'm vegetarian."

I stay quiet, listening.

"Loving one animal while turning another into food never sat right with me, it's not real love if it comes with conditions. Either you believe all lives deserve kindness, or you don't."

I press my lips, suddenly feeling a little guilty. "I'm sorry. I also-"

"You don't need to be sorry for what you eat. That's your choice, and I respect that, but I don't believe in selective empathy. I've met people who call themselves animal lovers just because they adore their pets but then go and eat other animals without thinking twice."

She looks up at me, "We protect what's close to us and ignore the rest. I just... don't want to live like that. I'm not trying to preach. I know everyone comes from different backgrounds, different values. But for me... not eating animals is the least I can do if I claim to love them."

She speaks, and I just nod slowly, a soft smile tugging at my lips, still resting my chin on my palm, watching her.

Sochti hui bhi kitni pyaari lagti hai.

(She looks so lovely even when she's thinking.)

I mean seriously, her brain? Full marks. Her voice? Background music to my life. Her face while talking? Illegal levels of cute. And here I am, pretending to follow the conversation while my mind is off writing poetry about her blinking.

And in that moment, I remember how oddly I started behaving after realising I was married to her like someone hit a switch in my brain. I stopped eating non veg altogether, not because someone told me to or because it suddenly felt wrong, but just this absurd little thought that crept into my head one evening. What if one day, without planning it, we end up close... maybe even kiss? And what if I had just eaten something she'd never touch because she's vegetarian? That idea of her pulling away because of something so small bothered me more than I ever expected.

So I stopped. Just like that. The chicken, the mutton, everything. Yeah, I'm dumb. Dumb enough to give up chicken for an imaginary kiss and closeness.

"Rudra."

Her voice snaps me back. I jerk upright, quickly lifting my face from my hand.

"Sir, your order," the waiter says politely, placing the food in front of us.

I clear my throat, sitting straighter and adjusting my jacket.

"Enjoy your meal."

Thank you," I mumble, as he walks away.

She glances at me, and I offer a small smile. "Let's eat,"

She nods once, then quietly picks up her fork and begins to eat. I start eating too, though I keep stealing glances at her between bites.

✿✿✿✿✿

Whatever is happening today feels surreal.

We walk side by side on the quiet road, her hand occasionally brushing against mine and for some reason, it feels deeply intimate. I tilt my head up toward the moon. I never expected her to let me in like this. But here she is, talking to me softly, staying close. It's overwhelming in the best way.

Suddenly, her hand reaches for mine, fingers intertwining with ease. I look down, startled for a moment, then shift my gaze back to her. She glances up and gives me a small smile. I smile back, instinctively tightening my hold.

We walk into our usual spot, the place that somehow became ours, and head straight to the railing. The city lights shimmer below us in the quiet night. I watch them for a second, but mostly I'm watching her.

"Pearl," I say softly.

"Hmm?"

"Are you... giving me a chance?" I hate how unsure I sound, but that's the truth I'm scared.

She turns to me, "What do you think?"

I shake my head, "I don't want to assume anything, that's why I'm asking."

She chuckles and steps closer, gently taking both of my palms in hers. "I've carried anger for too long. But I don't want to live guarded anymore. I forgive you. I want to move forward, with you. So yes... I'm giving you a chance. Let's start again."

I just stare at her as she smiles even wider.

"What happened?"

I shake my head and smile, "Just overwhelmed. I didn't think I'd get this far with you."

She looks at me for a long moment. "You won't disappear again, right?"

"I won't. Ever again."

She tilts her head. "Good. Because I don't have the energy to forgive the same person twice. Let's stay together forever."

She steps forward and hugs me, I wrap my arms around her carefully, holding her tighter. And in that moment, I know I want her to know everything about me.

So I gently pull back. "There's something I want to share, about my past."

She holds my gaze. "Go ahead."

"It's about... my previous relationship."

"Anvika?"

I nod, a little hesitant. "Yeah. We were together for four years. And in the end, she cheated on me... with Mahir. Her best friend."

"So those articles on the internet... they're real."

I nod again. "Yeah. They're real." I meet her eyes. "But I'm over her, Pearl. Completely. It took time, and it wasn't easy, but I processed it. And when I started chasing you... it was never to fill a void. It was always about you. I know I was messy. The way I entered your life, how I behaved none of it was fair. And I'm not going to stand here pretending to be someone I'm not. I'm not a great man. I've slept around. I've made mistakes. And I don't have any justifications for that. I won't even try to give you one. But from the moment I started feeling something for you... I haven't looked at anyone else. I didn't do it to prove anything, not to earn points or appear noble. I did it because I couldn't want anyone else. And I'm not saying this to make it sound like a favour, because it isn't. You're not someone I sacrificed for. You're someone I changed for, without even realising it." I sigh staring at her amber eyes.

"And yeah, I'll admit it, I couldn't stand you in the beginning. You were always in control. Always sharp. Always ready to put me in my place. I judged you. Thought you were too sharp, rude, ill-mannered, too blunt. You had no filter. You talked back, held your ground, and for someone like me who was used to being obeyed it irritated the hell out of me. That bruised my ego more than I'd like to admit. I know how that sounds... misogynistic, maybe even arrogant. And it was. But somewhere along the line, the very things I thought I hated your fire, your fight, your refusal to bend, they became the things I admired most.

"It's weird. I don't think my misbehaviour could ever attract anyone." She frowns.

How do I even explain this?

That once, love was a transaction. That I've been in a relationship where I was more of a thing than a person, where what I gave mattered more than who I was. Where control was dressed as affection, and being wanted meant being used, flattered, then dismissed and discarded the moment I wasn't exciting anymore.

But she, even at her coldest, even with that fire in her eyes and that sharp tongue, she never made me feel like I was just a body. Never once made me feel small or disposable. Even when she was mad at me, she argued with me like I was someone worth the effort.

She treated me like a human being.

And it sounds ridiculous, maybe too soft for someone like me, but that's what I never got before. Not the tenderness. Not the space to exist without being measured.

With her, even her anger feels safer than the intimacy I've known.

I don't know what that says about me, but I know this, whatever it is she brings into my life... I don't want to lose it.

"Your PTSD," she says suddenly, "is it because of Anvika?"

I freeze. My throat feels dry. But I nod slightly.

I want to tell her everything. I really do. But something inside me hesitates. A tightness in my chest, a voice whispering that if I say too much, she'll misunderstand. Think I'm playing the victim. And the last thing I want is for her to see me as weak.

"Is there something else?" she asks softly, almost sensing it.

My heart starts hammering in my chest, dragging memories I had locked up deep, where even I rarely went.

"Uh... after the breakup... I was diagnosed with PTSD."

Her eyebrows lift, surprised. "What was the reason?"

I inhale slowly. The air feels heavier now, thick in my lungs. "The reason... was I-"

But then her phone rings. She pulls her hand away. "Wait," she murmurs taking her phone out of her pocket and stepping aside to answer.

I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding.

What the hell was I thinking?

I was about to lay myself bare, about to open up the ugliest part of me.

Why? What for? Those wounds are humiliating, and I don't even know if she needs to see that version of me, the one who stayed far too long in a relationship that had nothing to do with love by the end. I wasn't really a boyfriend anymore, I was just someone available, someone easy to touch when it suited and easier to dismiss when it didn't. I wasn't a person, I was just someone to use. And the worst part is, I let it happen. I stayed. I kept convincing myself that maybe that's all I was good for, that maybe this is just how relationships work.

What if she doesn't understand? Or worse what if she thinks I'm using it as leverage? That I'm throwing my trauma at her feet like it's some kind of excuse, or worse, a trap to win her sympathy? I don't want to be that man. I don't want to be pitied. I've already been used and discarded once, I can't go through that again, not with her. Not when she's the first person who actually made me feel... human again. So I'll keep this one. Because if she looks at me differently after hearing it... I don't think I'll survive that twice.

Maybe some things are better left unsaid. Too much honesty too soon can ruin something real.

She returns after ending the call and gives me a small apologetic smile. "It's an emergency, Rudra. Can we talk later?"

I force a small smile and nod. "Of course."

She looks at me for a second longer, then steps forward and gently cups my face in her palms. Her thumb brushes my cheek as she whispers, "What you've shared with me tonight is more than enough to understand you better." Then she leans in and places a soft kiss on my forehead.

I swear, something twists tightly in my stomach. My throat stings. She has no idea what that one gesture means to me. I feel safe with her.

"Let's go before my patient gives up on me."

I smile and nod.

She laces her arm through mine, and together, we walk out into the night.

✿✿✿✿✿

N E X T  D A Y

"Going to get flowers?"

I stop the car near the hospital and glance at her sitting beside me in the passenger seat. I nod.

"I'll come with you,"

I smile, "What if you get late?"

She presses her lips together, glances at her watch, then looks at me again. "I still have time. Let's go."

I nod and start the car. We drive in a calm silence, reaching the flower shop not long after. As we step inside, the familiar bell above the door jingles.

"Good morning, sir-" the shopkeeper begins, but stops the moment he spots her scanning the shop, her gaze moving over the colors and textures of different blooms. He raises his brows at me, a knowing look on his face. I just chuckle softly and nod.

"Good morning, Mrs. White," he greets her with a smile.

She looks up, frowning. "I'm not Mrs. White."

He only shrugs, already reaching for the bouquet of white roses I usually get. "Your poetic husband always mentions you."

She glances at me, a mix of confusion and curiosity in her eyes. I take the bouquet from the man and hand it to her without saying much. She accepts it wordlessly. I pay, thank him, and turn toward the exit.

"Let's go," I say, already pulling out my phone as I push open the door. Stepping out, I pause near the car, finish typing my message to Vedant, then slip the phone into my pocket. I turn to find her, but she's not behind me.

I frown, look around again, "Where the hell..."

A soft tap lands on my shoulder. I turn again and see her standing there, hands hidden behind her back. I exhale, relief settling into my chest. Then she brings her hands forward and extends a bouquet of red roses toward me.

I freeze for a second, lips parting slightly. "What's this?"

"This is for you, Mr. Red." she smiles.

A laugh escapes me as I take the flowers from her hand. "You bought this... for me?"

"Of course," she says with a shrug.

"Thank you," I murmur.

"Let's go now,"

We get into the car. I start the engine with one hand, the bouquet resting gently in my lap.

I glance at the clock-11:18 PM. The hospital wing had quieted down, leaving only the soft hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional muffled page over the intercom. I stare at my phone, scrolling aimlessly, waiting for her to finish her schedule.

A knock breaks the silence. "Come in," I say without looking up.

The door creaks open, and there she is, stepping in and closing it behind her without a word.

I pocket my phone and grab my keys. "Shall we leave?" I ask, circling around the desk toward her.

She doesn't answer right away. Just watches me. "You seem very eager to go home,"

She takes a step closer. Then another.

I instinctively take a step back, surprised by the shift in her energy.

"Uh... I thought you might be tired," I offer. But I stop as the edge of the desk presses into my back. I curl my fingers around its edge. She stops in front of me, close. Too close.

"You okay?" I ask, "Are you hungry or-"

"Do you trust me?" she cuts in, tilting her head.

"Yes, I do. A lot."

"So if I kiss you... would you mind?"

My heartbeat stutters. My mouth opens but no words come out. She studies my face for half a second. Then leans in and kisses me.

Oh fuck!

My breath catches. My eyes flutter shut as her mouth meets mine. I grip the edge of the desk harder, anchoring myself, soon I reached for her waist, my hands hesitant at first, then sure, returning the kiss.

But then I felt the sharp sting of her teeth against my bottom lip, unexpected and a little too rough, making me flinch. I pulled back with a quiet hiss, my hand automatically rising to touch my mouth. When I looked down, a thin line of blood had smeared across my fingertip.

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