RUDRA SINGH RATHORE - Perspective

Two weeks later

Location: Eternity HQ, Rathore Mansion, and Everywhere in Between

Life has a strange way of pretending to move forward...

Meetings stack.

Presentations happen.

Deals are signed.

Papers are printed.

People speak.

But I don't hear them anymore.

I haven't slept properly in fourteen nights.

Fourteen.

Not because of work.

Not because of deadlines.

Not even because of market pressure or investors...

But because of her.

The girl I met once.

The girl I don't even know.

The girl I saved - or maybe... she saved me.

Her voice still echoes in my ears.

That soft, breathless "Thank you... sorry... thank you."

It replays in my head in an infinite loop.

I tried.

I tried forgetting her.

I even convinced myself the next day that it was just a random moment. Just one girl. Just one stair.

But my mind refuses logic.

I've been to that mandir road three times in two weeks.

I told myself it was a shortcut.

Then I told myself it was coincidence.

Now?

I don't bother making excuses anymore.

Because truth is, I'm hoping to see her again.

Once.

Even if just from afar.

Akshat noticed the change.

Jay, too.

Ahana asked me if I was sick - twice.

I've started saying "Haan" and "Nahi" without even listening to full questions.

I've turned down two important interviews.

My focus is shattered.

This has never happened to me before.

Not once in twenty-five years.

Not even when Tara died.

Not even when I built "Eternity" from scratch.

Not when I took over Rathore Enterprises.

But this one moment?

This one girl?

She's etched into me.

Like a scar.

A beautiful, dangerous scar I don't want to heal from.

This morning, I stood in front of the mirror after gym.

Wiping the sweat.

Staring at my reflection.

And for the first time, I noticed...

My eyes looked different.

Haunted.

Hungry.

Lost.

Not for power.

Not for money.

But for a face.

A girl with trembling hands and the smell of jasmine oil in her hair.

Her soft dupatta brushing against my suit.

Her smile full of shyness and grace.

God... what's happening to me?

I don't know her name.

But I know how she made me feel.

And that's more dangerous than anything.

Because Rudra Singh Rathore has never been weak.

Never been soft.

Never let his heart take the lead.

And now?

He's already too far gone.

"Find her," I said today.

Laksh looked up from his screen. "Huh?"

I stood, buttoning my coat. "The girl from Shivratri. Outside the mandir."

He narrowed his eyes.

"You serious sir ?"

I met his gaze with a calm I didn't feel. "Use media, local CCTV, find photographers, anything. Just... find her."

He sat back, slowly smirking. "So it is love."

I didn't answer.

Because I'm not sure if it's love.

Or something more dangerous.

But I know this:

I can't sleep.

I can't work.

I can't breathe right.

Until I see her again.

Even if it destroys the man I used

Next day

I had just returned to my cabin after a brutal three-hour strategy session.

Tie loosened.

Collar slightly open.

Jaw clenched in irritation.

I hated wasting time.

I dropped into my chair, leaned back, and rubbed my temples.

And just then-a knock.

"Sir," came Laksh's voice. My personal manager. On my payroll for five years. Efficient. Smart. Never disturbs unless it's urgent.

"What?" I muttered, eyes still closed.

"I found her."

...

My heart stopped for a second.

Her.

I opened my eyes. Sat straight. "Say it again."

"I found her, sir. The girl from Shivratri."

He stepped in, tablet in hand.

"She's Ishita Sharma."

My world tilted.

"Ishita," I repeated softly, letting her name fall from my lips for the first time.

It fit.

It felt right.

Like honey melting over a fire.

Sweet. Soft. Warm.

I stood, took the tablet, and stared at the screen.

There she was - smiling in a candid shot outside her studio in Noida.

Hair tied in a lazy braid.

No makeup. No filters.

Still the most heartbreakingly beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

"She's a makeup artist," Laksh continued. "Owns a small studio - Rouge Blend - in Sector 15, Noida. She also does freelance projects, bridal shoots, even some fashion photoshoots as a part-time model. Just turned twenty. Currently pursuing her degree from DU. Lives with her family in North Delhi."

He paused. "Very grounded background. Not much social media presence. She's... real."

I don't know why, but that word hit me hard.

Real.

In a world of fake smiles and photoshopped masks, she was untouched. Unpolished. Raw.

I kept scrolling.

Every photo pulled me deeper into a storm I could no longer ignore.

"Do you want us to reach out?" Laksh asked carefully.

"No."

He blinked. "No?"

I looked out the glass wall of my office. Sunset burning the skyline.

"I don't want her to think I bought my way into her life."

Laksh nodded slowly. "So what's the plan?"

I turned back to the tablet. Zoomed into her eyes.

"I'll go there," I said simply. "To her world. Quietly. Without the name. Without the weight."

His eyebrows shot up. "Sir, with all due respect... you? At a local makeup studio?"

"Why not?"

"You're... Rudra Singh Rathore. People will notice."

"I'll make sure they don't."

"Disguise?"

"Distance," I replied. "I won't go as a client. Or a tycoon. Just... as a man who wants to see her smile again."

Laksh exhaled deeply, but nodded. "Okay. I'll have someone track her routine-"

"No stalking," I interrupted sharply.

He froze.

My tone softened slightly. "Just... stay updated. Don't interfere. If she's ever in trouble... then you move."

Laksh gave me a small smile. "You've really changed, sir."

No.

I haven't changed.

I've just felt... for the first time in my life.

That night, I lay in bed for hours.

Staring at the ceiling.

Her name on my lips.

Her face in my mind.

Ishita Sharma.

A girl I didn't know.

But somehow already felt like home.