RUDRA'S POV

"You're repeating that mistake again."

I sigh at her voice and glance at her. She's standing there with her arms folded, amber eyes fixed on me, eyebrows drawn tight. There's no anger, just quiet disappointment.

I shake my head slowly. "Pearl... you're misunderstanding. It's not that I don't trust you. I do, more than you think, but-"

"Stop." She cuts me off. "I still can't believe it. You say you trust me, but your actions keep saying otherwise. After everything that happened last year, I thought you'd finally believe me. But here we are." Her voice dips, almost like she's talking to herself. "Men never change. No matter how many times we forgive, they find a way to repeat the same patterns."

I rub a hand over my face. "You're blowing this out of proportion."

Her eyes snap to mine. "Blowing it out of proportion?" She runs a hand through her hair, incredulous. "That's what you think this is?"

"For God's sake woman, I'm only asking you to wear elbow and knee guards so you don't get hurt learning the bike. That's it."

She points a finger at me, her eyes searching mine. "And you think that's normal? You don't trust me to handle it. You assume I'll fall because I'm a woman." The last part comes out quietly, almost like a confession.

I take a slow breath and press my thumb to the corner of my brow. "I'm not doubting you. I know you're capable. But you're still learning, and accidents happen. If you fall and break your nose, or worse-"

She tilts her head. "So you wouldn't love me with a broken nose?"

I step closer, closing the space between us until I can smell her perfume. "I'd love you with a broken nose, broken legs, broken hands... even with a broken heart. Don't ever question that." I pause and lift her chin gently with my knuckle. "I've already told you, my love for you wouldn't change, not even in a parallel world."

A soft smile spreads across her lips. "You always know what to say," she murmurs, playing absently with the zipper of my jacket. "Most men fumble when they're put on the spot. But not you. My husband gets it. You're... kind of perfect, Rudra."

I chuckle. "I had to learn. I married a perfectionist."

She laughs and shakes her head. "Okay, stop. You're making me blush. Just help me with these guards." She hands me the elbow and knee guards from the cabinet.

I take them and strap them on for her, careful with each buckle. Then I grab Luca's key, ready to start the bike.

"Wait," she says suddenly. "Why are we taking Luca?"

I shrug. "Why not?"

She plucks the key from my hand and puts it back on the hook. "Because it's your favourite bike. I'm still learning. If something happens, I don't want to be the reason it gets damaged. Let's take another one."

Before she can move away, I catch her wrist lightly. "You're precious too, you know. I'm not worried about the bike."

"Rudra." She looks up at me. "You don't have to prove anything to me by risking what matters to you. I already know how much Luca means to you." Her lips quirk into a small smile. "Maa told me once how protective you are of this bike. That no one sits on it. No one even touches it. And yet, here I am the first person to ride it with you. That's already special enough."

I look at her, and for a moment I'm quiet. She's right. Out of everyone friends, strangers, men, women she's the first to sit behind me on this bike.

"Come on," she says, rolling her eyes playfully. "You have more than thirty bikes sitting here. Just pick one."

She tugs my hand and, with a sigh, I cover Luca carefully before grabbing another key. We stop at the twenty fifth bike, a sleek black one in the corner.

I handed her a helmet and gloves. "Sit."

She climbs on behind me, arms wrapping lightly around my waist. I start the engine and ease us out of the garage.

-----------

"...and this is the gear shifter." I tap my boot against it. "You'll use your left foot for this. First gear is down, the rest go up. Just remember, always release the clutch slowly when you change gears."

She nods, watching my foot with full concentration.

"This here," I point to the right handlebar, "is the throttle. It controls the speed. Twist it gently, don't jerk it. And that-" I gesture to the right lever, "is the front brake. The rear one's near your right foot. Try to use both together, it keeps the balance steady when you stop."

She glances down, muttering, "Left for clutch, right for brake. Both for stop. Got it."

"Good." I smile. "The key rule is smoothness, no sudden movements. Think of it like handling a heartbeat, steady pressure, not panic."

Her lips twitch. "You make it sound like surgery."

I shrug. "You're a neurosurgeon. I figured analogies work better for you."

She laughs under her breath, shaking her head. "Fair enough."

"Okay," I say, stepping back. "Now sit. We'll start slow."

She climbs onto the seat, adjusts the mirrors, and straightens her back. I get on behind her, close enough to reach the handles if needed but giving her space.

"Shall I start?" she asks, looking a little tense.

"Calm down, I'm here." I lean in and kiss her shoulder. "Now, turn the key first." She does. "Now press the clutch all the way in. Good. Shift into first gear."

The bike rumbles beneath us as she follows my instructions.

"Slowly release the clutch," I guide her. "And add just a little throttle-like that. Perfect."

The bike rolls forward. Her body stiffens for a second, then relaxes. I hover my hand near hers on the throttle in case she slips. "Yes... keep going. You're doing so well, Pearl. Don't stop."

She brakes abruptly, harder than needed, and I nearly stumble forward against her back. "What happened?" I steady us, my hand instinctively brushing her shoulder.

She turns her head slightly, and I catch a glimpse of her flushed cheeks beneath the helmet.

"You alright?" I ask, frowning a little.

"You shouldn't say things like that when we're riding," she blurts. Then quickly adds, "No-I mean... you just shouldn't." Her tone wavers somewhere between awkward and defensive.

I stare at the back of her helmet, lost. "I was just praising you. You're doing well. That's all."

She lets out a frustrated sigh and removes the helmet, running a hand through her hair.

"Rudra," she mutters under her breath. "You have absolutely no idea what you sound like sometimes."

"What do I sound like?" I ask, genuinely lost. "I said you're doing well. That's it."

"Exactly," she says under her breath, shaking her head. "Just... don't praise me like that. Not in that tone."

"What tone?"

She exhales hard, putting the helmet back on like she's trying to hide her face. "Never mind. Just— let's keep riding before I overthink this."

I stare at her for a second, still not understanding what exactly I said wrong. Then I sigh. "Alright. Start again."

She starts the bike, the sound fills the silence between us as we begin moving again. I rest my hands lightly around her waist, careful not to distract her.

"What if I fall?"

I smile against the back of her shoulder. "Then I'll hold you before you hit the ground."

She lets out a small breath, one that sounds like both relief and belief. "I know," she says. "You always do. You always find a way to catch me."

And I always will. No matter how hard the fall is.

-------------------

I glance at the clock. It's already past eleven-thirty. I close the files, set the iPad aside, and stand, my back aches slightly from sitting too long. I switch off the light and walk toward the bedroom.

"You aren't asleep yet?" I ask when I step inside.

She stiffens, almost imperceptibly, before pushing something quickly into the cupboard and shutting it. "No. I was waiting for you," she says, shrugging lightly.

I nod and walk into the bathroom and start my nightly routine.

Steam fills the space as I step out of the shower, a towel wrapped around my waist. My skin feels warm, the water easing the knots in my shoulders. I reach for the lotion on the counter and start rubbing it across my chest, my reflection watching me from the mirror.

The scars catch my eye. Faint lines across my chest and ribs, some older, some still refusing to fade. They're reminders of everything I've lived through and still haven't managed to leave behind. My fingers pause on one near my chest. It's strange how skin heals, but memory doesn't.

Then my gaze drifts to the blade resting beside the counter. For a moment, my mind goes quiet. It's a silence I know too well, the kind that creeps in when I'm alone long enough to think. My hand lifts slightly, hovering above it.

Not again.

"Rudra! I'm waiting!"

I exhale sharply, lowering my hand. My throat feels tight as I force out, "Yeah... just five minutes."

I look back at my reflection.

How long am I going to hide this? She'll find out one day, no matter how careful I am and I don't know if I'm ready for that aftermath, for the questions, the pity, or worse, the way she might look at me differently.

I rub a hand down my face and let out a slow breath. There's no good answer. Just the quiet understanding that love doesn't erase everything, it only makes you want to protect the person from the things you can't fix inside yourself.

I pull on my night clothes, and step out.

She's lying on her stomach, reading a book, her feet swaying lazily in the air. The sight makes me smile despite everything. I walk over and lie down beside her. She closes the book and sets it aside before curling into me, her arms wrapping around my torso. I pull her closer, breathing her in.

"You smell like vanilla," she murmurs, her breath brushing my neck as her fingers slip through my hair.

I close my eyes. "Do I?"

"Mhm," she hums. "You reminded me of a boy I met when I was a kid."

I open my eyes and look at her. "I'm not sure I like you bringing up another boy while I'm lying right next to you."

She laughs softly. "Oh, please."

Her laughter makes me smile, but her words bring back a memory of my own. I hesitate before admitting it, even in my head. She reminds me of someone too, that one lunatic witch I met when I was around ten. One day, one encounter, and she earned a permanent spot on my list of people to avoid. She marched up to my table, plucked the biggest slice of my cheesecake like it was her birthright, and walked off with a grin like she'd conquered a kingdom and declared she was going to marry me someday, calling me some stupid prince. I swear I spent the rest of that evening plotting revenge and crying over cream cheese.

If I ran into her today I'd probably glare hard enough to scare her into remembering her manners, or at least make her apologize for stealing a dairy product that wasn't hers. I'll definitely make her life hell.

"I also don't appreciate another woman living rent free in your mind, Rudra," she says suddenly, breaking my train of thought.

She catches my jaw and turns my face toward hers, eyes narrowing playfully.

I can't help but smile. "Fair enough."

Her fingers relax on my skin, and I lean in, pressing my forehead lightly against hers.

She's right, though. Whoever that cheesecake thief was, she can stay buried in the past. I've already found the one person who feels like home, my chaos and calm in one breath.

My eyes drift to her neck, catching the faint glint of the pearl pendant resting against her skin.

She follows my gaze, her fingers instinctively touching the pendant.

"That's the pendant you gave me on our wedding day."

"You're wearing it again?" The question leaves my mouth before I can mask the surprise in it. She had worn it only once, on that day. I was sure she had tossed it aside after.

Her eyes flick up to mine. "Of course I have it, Rudra," she murmurs. "I started wearing it again because I wanted to... because I started loving it."

I smile. "My honor then, that my wife finally accepted my gift."

She studies my face for a moment, then brushes her thumb beneath my bottom lip. "I really care, Rudra. I really do," she whispers. "When we were apart... I missed you. More than I thought I would. I used to go to our night view spot often."

I know. I saw her that night. That night she was dressed for someone else, she was supposed to go out with that piece of shit Neil but she ended up crying into one of my old shirts.

"One day," she murmurs, "I'll show you how much you mean to me." She presses her lips to the corner of my mouth, staying just long enough to make my pulse stumble. Then she pulls back.

"I'll read to you tonight," she says, reaching for the book she'd left earlier. "It's been so long. Remember when we lived in the penthouse? You'd lie back and just listen while I read."

I shift slightly, pulling her head against my arm. Her hair brushes my skin. "Alright," I say. "So, what's the trope this time?"

"Enemies to lovers." She answers without looking up, eyes skimming the first page.

She nods, settling closer. "It always has been."

"Then tell me about it," I say, watching her eyes dance with the kind of comfort I once thought we had lost.

She hums softly. "Okay, so basically they're real enemies. Not the usual obsessive or secretly in love type. They actually hate each other. The MMC literally ruins her engagement by manipulating her fiancé and even-" she pauses dramatically, "drowns her into a pool."

I blink. "What? Are you sure this is a romance novel? Because that sounds like the start of a true crime documentary."

"He did that because she burned down his entire dream project. The building he spent years building." She laughs.

I stare at her. "She what?"

She nods quickly. "With him still inside."

My jaw drops. "Inside? As in he was literally burning?" I stare at the ceiling for a second, trying to process it. "You're joking. So, they try to kill each other and somehow end up falling in love?"

She shakes her head with a grin that makes me question her moral compass. "Later, when his hand was badly burned, she showed up with burn ointment and a calm little smile."

I stare at her, deadpan. "What a generous arsonist. Let me guess, she wanted him to know she was the one who almost fried him alive?"

She laughs harder. "Exactly."

"Right. Because saying 'Hey, I tried to murder you' isn't romantic enough." I shake my head, plucking the book gently from her hand and shutting it. "Unbelievable. Who even writes this kind of psychotic love story?"

"People with taste." she mutters under her breath.

"Uh-huh," I murmur, sliding the book aside and pulling her closer by her waist. "Well, I can't let that pretty brain rot from reading about homicidal romance. Sleep, before you start getting ideas."

She giggles against my chest before curling into me.

After a while, I glance down at her. She's already asleep, her hair brushing against my shirt, her face peaceful. A smile tugs at my lips before I brush my thumb over her cheek, then kiss the tip of her nose.

"M... Mumma."

My smile fades instantly. She's murmuring again. Every night, it's the same, her half conscious apologies to a woman who's no longer here to hear them.

I lean closer, close enough to feel her breath brush against my lips.

"M... Mumma, sorry."

I need to talk to her therapist again. Something's not working. Or maybe she just hides too much when she's awake.

She apologizes in her sleep because she can't do it when her eyes are open. And somehow, that thought hurts more than the silence she keeps during the day.

• NEXT MORNING •

I'll try to be back soon," I say, fastening my wristwatch before turning toward her. She's sitting on the bed with her hair loosely tied, still looking a little pale. She looks up at me and smiles before standing, walking closer.

"You don't need to," she says, brushing my sleeve. "It's just exhaustion, Rudra. The last few days have been rough with all those late night surgeries, that's all. I just need a proper day of rest and I'll be fine tomorrow. So, please don't worry. Go to work, I promise I'll take it easy."

I sigh, my eyes tracing the light dark circles beneath hers. She won't admit it, but she's drained. Even after everything that's been happening with the Yashwant situation, she still wakes up and shows up to work like nothing can touch her. That kind of strength... it amazes me, but sometimes I wish she'd let herself slow down.

I take her hands in mine and press a light kiss over her knuckles. "Breakfast is ready. Your medicines are on the dining table. Don't forget them, and please-rest today. No laptop, no phone calls, no hospital updates. Just... rest."

Her lips curve slightly. "You sound like my doctor now."

"Maybe because you don't listen to yours," I reply quietly, brushing my thumb across her knuckles. "Oh, and Khalid is outside," I add. "And I've added more guards to the rotation. The security's sealed tighter than before, so you don't have to worry about anything. Just focus on resting, not overthinking."

SAANVI'S POV

Hein? Ye aadmi pagal hai kya? Security aur badha di bewakoof ne? (What? Is this man out of his mind? He actually increased the security? Has he completely lost it?)

Are par ab mein yaha se nikalungi kaise? (How am I supposed to escape now?)

"What's wrong?" he asks.

My patience thins, and I finally say, "You didn't have to tighten the security, Rudra. It feels like I'm living in a cage. Just make it like before, please."

He shakes his head slowly. "It's not a cage, pearl. It's protection," he says softly, cupping my cheek with one hand. "Yashwant and his men won't come close now."

I exhale sharply. "And what if it's me who just wants to step out-"

A sharp gasp left my lips as his hand wraps around my throat. My breath hitches as his thumb presses against my jaw, tilting my face up toward him. His eyes have lost that softness, they're darker now.

"I think that little stunt of yours might land you in some... very dangerous territory." My throat worked around the heat of it. "And no, it is not Yashwant I am talking about. The danger you're about to meet... comes from me." He leaned closer until his breath ghosted my cheek. "If you want to call it a cage, call it that. I'll call it common sense. But even think about walking out that door, just entertain the idea for a second, and I will make leaving feel worse than any mistake you've ever made." He tilts his head. "Do you understand? Or do I need to make it more... memorable?" He raised a brow as if offering a bargain and a threat at the same time. "Hmm?"

I release a shaky breath and nod slightly.

"I'd rather hear you say it, pearl."

"I... understood," I whisper, closing my eyes.

His hand slides back to my cheek and I open my eyes to meet his. His lips curl into that crooked, dangerous smile. "Good." He presses a brief, firm kiss to my cheek. "Stay. Be safe. Let me handle the rest."

What a psychopath he is. One second he's practically choking me with his words, and the next he's brushing his lips against my cheek like nothing happened. I won't lie, those few seconds of his low, controlled voice sent shivers down my spine, and I can feel my knees threatening to give out.

He steps back and smooths his blazer in the mirror, the lipstick mark near his collarbone peeking out. I want to bite it off brutally because he just ruined my plan to slip out and see his psychotherapist.

He tucks his phone into his pocket, picks up his journal, and walks toward me. "I'll pick up flowers on my way back."

I hug the journal to my chest. He watches the movement, then lets his gaze drop. "Thinking something dirty, aren't you?" I say, because I know that look.

His lips curve as he looks up. "Very dirty."

I scoff and roll my eyes. "You're disgusting."

He tilts his head. "I prefer 'delightfully inappropriate.'" he says and I can't help the small, exasperated smile that slips out.

"Rudra, go," I say, forcing firmness into my voice.

He steps closer, presses a quick kiss to my forehead. "Take care."

For a beat we just look at each other then I nod. "Yeah."

"I'll be back soon," he says and finally leaves the room.

I exhale slowly, walking up to the window. The entire perimeter is lined with guards. There's no way I can sneak out like this. It's impossible. I need to come up with a plan, something smart, something he won't see coming.

Outside, Rudra stops near Khalid, says something quietly, and then dismisses him. He walks toward his car, but before getting in, he pauses. His hand rests on the handle, his eyes scanning the area like he's sensing something. Then he looks up, straight at me. For a moment, our eyes meet. He smiles and waves.

I force a small smile back, lifting my hand. He gets into the car, and a second later, it pulls away through the gates.

There's something about Rudra that keeps gnawing at me. Something buried so deep he refuses to even acknowledge it. I've tried to make him talk, to get him to open up, but he always brushes it off with a smile or a careless remark.

But I see it. The way his eyes go distant sometimes. The nights he doesn't sleep. Whatever he's hiding isn't small it's something that still controls him.

I've even thought about asking his friends. Maybe they know something, maybe they've seen what I haven't. But then again, who am I kidding? Those three are practically his shadows. They'd rather burn their tongues off than betray him. If I even hinted at asking, Rudra would know before I finished the question.

The only person who might tell me anything is Isharv Prabhakar, Rudra's psychotherapist. He knows things Rudra won't say.

Last night, I found his medical file in his cupboard. Now I have Dr. Prabhakar's address. All I need to do is get there.

A knot tightens in my stomach. It's not safe for me to step out alone, not with Yashwant still out there, waiting for a chance. But I can't just sit here and wait for the police to fix everything. If I wait too long, Rudra will keep burying whatever is breaking him, and maybe himself with it.

After everything it took to find him again, I can't lose him to his own demons. Not when he's already drowning and pretending to breathe.

------------------

The clock reads 6:30 P.M. I click my watch closed and breathe, checking my reflection once more in the hall mirror. Rudra won't be back until nine, maybe ten. That gives me time just enough to find Dr. Prabhakar and ask the questions Rudra won't answer. I swallow, tuck my hair, grab my purse, and walk out to the car.

As I pull out of the garage, the guards' heads swivel in sync. One of them comes over and taps my window. I wind it down.

"Good evening, ma'am," he says, politely. "Mr. Singhania strictly asked us not to let you leave the premises without his permission. I need to confirm with Mr. Singhania before you can go."

I force a smile. "Right. Rudra asked me to come to him, I am leaving to meet him."

He frowns. "Is that-okay? I'll ask Mr. Singhania to confirm." He already has his phone out.

Panic spikes hot and stupid at the back of my throat. "No. Do you think I'm lying?" I look at him. "Does my face look like someone who lies about leaving her own house?"

He holds up his hands. "Ma'am, you're misunderstanding-this is for your safet-"

"Don't." I cut him off. "Is this how you treat your boss's wife? You're going to call Rudra to check whether I'm telling the truth? How disrespectful is that?"

His mouth opens and closes. He looks embarrassed. "Okay. I'm sorry. I won't call Mr. Singhania."

Relief softens me into a small, brittle smile. "Good."

"But I'll let Khalid know," he says.

My smile disappears. "No."

He frowns slightly. "Why not? He's your bodyguard. He should accompany you."

I take a slow breath, keeping my composure. These men...

"Actually, Rudra already told Khalid he'll pick me up. It's only a very short distance. He'll be waiting," I explain.

The guard raises an eyebrow, skeptical. "Mr. Singhania doesn't want Khalid with you?"

I fight the urge to throttle him. Instead I fold my arms and say, "Call Rudra then. Go on call him."

No, no please don't call him!

The guard's thumb hovers over his phone. He is unlocking it. Fuck. If Rudra gets to know-no, I can't imagine that, it's terrifying.

"Yeah, go on," I snap. He startles and looks up at me like I have shoved him. "But if it turns out I was right you'll be on my worst person list."

"Excuse me?" His surprise is almost comical.

I let a slow smirk. "You really think I'll let disrespect slide? Doubt me and I'll get Rudra to see you 'unemployed.' You know how persuasive my husband can be."

He exhales. "He won't, because I'm doing this for your safety, Ma'am."

"Don't worry. I'll make up something better." I shrug and he swallows. "So go on. Call him, or tell Khalid. I'm not stopping you. Because I know I'm not lying."

He tucks his phone away and I feel something unclench inside me.

"You may go," he says finally.

"Good decision." I pull the car into gear. Halfway to the gate another guard steps up to my window, face folded in a frown. I raise my hand and give the universal thumb back, the kind of gesture that says I was cleared. The guard glances at his colleague, the other man gives a curt nod.

"Open the gate," I say, and the man hesitates only a second before obeying. The gates slides aside and I drive through.

I do feel terrible, more than a flicker of regret, a real, slow sinking shame. That guard was doing his job, he was following orders, not deciding policy. I used Rudra's name like a hammer to get what I wanted, and that's ugly no matter how justified I try to make it in my head.

-----------------

"What?!" I snap, incredulous, looking at the receptionist. She startles and fumbles a polite nod.

"Yes, ma'am. Dr. Prabhakar is on leave. You can't meet him today."

The words slide off the counter and land heavy in my chest. I rub my face, the heat of frustration rising behind my eyes. "Do you know when he'll be back?" I force my voice to stay polite because losing my temper at a receptionist will fix nothing.

She glances at her screen. "A few days, ma'am. I can take your number and inform you."

I give it to her mechanically, then turn and leave. It's already past seven thirty. I walk out to the parking area and plant my palm on one of the rows of bikes and let out a sound that's half laugh, half strangled curse. Of all the brilliant, strategically stupid moves I could make tonight, I pick the one that lands me at an empty clinic and a parking lot full of witnesses. Fuck my luck. I kick the bike three times because anger needs volume and movement, it doesn't fix anything but it makes the blood in my ears work for me.

My forehead stings where I rubbed it I glance down at the bike, frowning at the dent I might have caused but then my chest drops like someone has shoved the floor out from under me. "Luca..."

"Owner is here too, Pearl."

______________________________________________________________________________