RUDRA SINGH RATHORE - Perspective

Location: Rathor Mansion, South Delhi | Time: 9:00 PM

I sat at the dining table, swirling the bland soup on my plate with the silver spoon. My mind wasn't here. Not in this chair. Not in this house. Not even in this world.

It was still standing on those mandir stairs.

Right where she stood.

Where she looked at me like no one ever had

Not with lust. Not with awe. But with purity.

Her name kept echoing in my chest like a silent mantra-Ishita.

"Rudra."

I blinked. Came back to the room.

My father, Ram Singh Rathor, sat across from me with that sharp gaze he wore in every boardroom. "Where are you these days?"

I met his eyes. Cold. Flat. "Work."

He narrowed his eyes, unconvinced. "I spoke to Laksh. You've been in your cabin for hours doing nothing but opening and closing the same folder."

That damn Laksh.

"I'm strategizing," I lied smoothly.

But my father didn't push. He was like me in many ways. Didn't ask questions unless he really needed answers.

Then came Akshat-smirking like the fool he always was when he knew something was off.

"Bhai," he said, leaning forward, "You just zoned out while I was pitching our new client acquisition plan."

I didn't respond.

Akshat chuckled and elbowed Vardaan beside him. "You know, this happened to me too-first time I saw Drishti. I forgot where I was, what I was doing. My entire brain just... crashed."

He said it playfully, grinning. "It's okay, bhai. Love does that to us mortals."

I simply raised one brow. "You're not mortal. You're a moron."

They laughed.

Except me.

Because even though he was joking, he wasn't wrong.

My world had crashed.

Just not in the way he imagined.

I got up silently from the table, ignoring the teasing and questions.

My mother called behind me, "Beta, you didn't finish dinner!"

"I'm not hungry."

"Why, bhai?" Ahana whined. "You haven't eaten properly in three days. Are you sick?"

Yes.

Sick in the heart.

But I didn't say it. I didn't say a word. I walked to the balcony of my room, overlooking the quiet streets of our rivate estate.

I pulled out my phone. Opened the image again-her photo outside that tiny makeup studio. The way her hair blew in the breeze. The small kajal smudge near her left eye.

She wasn't perfect.

But she was. For me.

My fingers hovered over her name.

Ishita Sharma.

A stranger.

And yet... the only person who's ever made my heartbeat feel like it belonged to someone else.

I didn't tell anyone.

Not even Akshat.

Not even Laksh.

Because love is dangerous.

Love is weakness.

Love is loss.

And I had already lost once-Tara.

That name still burned.

So no.

They didn't need to know.

This storm in my chest?

This fire in my veins?

It was mine to burn in.

Ishita Sharma - My Perspective

Location: Bangla Sahib Gurudwara | 8:10 AM

It's been two week.

A whole seven days since that day at the mandir.

And yet, I still feel it-him.

His ocean-blue eyes... the way they locked on mine like they already knew me, like they weren't surprised to find me standing there.

As if we were meant to meet.

Like Radha meeting Krishna in the middle of a crowd and everything else blurring.

I don't even know his name.

Or why his silence spoke louder than any word ever has.

But I still remember.

This morning, I decided to stop by Bangla Sahib before my studio opened.

My mind's been all over the place lately... too dreamy, too distracted. I needed peace.

I wore a soft yellow suit, hair in a low braid, dupatta covering my head properly.

The golden dome of the gurudwara glowed under the morning sun. The sound of shabads and the smell of ghee and incense floated in the air-peaceful, grounding.

I pulled into the parking area slowly, scanning for a spot.

And then...

My breath stopped.

I saw him.

No... not just saw him.

Felt him.

He stood there, outside his luxury black SUV. Helping a small, elegant old lady out-must be his dadi.

He looked different today. Less ruthless, maybe. He had ditched his blazer, wore just a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up, veins showing on his forearms. Hair slicked back. Still untouchable. Still impossibly beautiful.

I panicked.

Quickly turned my face away.

Lowered my eyes.

Why was he here?

And why did I feel like my whole body recognized his presence before my eyes did?

I got out, adjusted my dupatta over my head and walked briskly toward the gurudwara gate.

Not once did I look back.

Because I knew he was looking.

Rudra Singh Rathore - His Perspective

Location: Outside Bangla Sahib Gurudwara | 8:11 AM

I didn't want to come here.

But Dadi insisted-something about praying for the well-being of the family, and she wanted me to bring her personally.

Everyone else was busy. Akshat had gone to meet Drishti. Jay and Ahana were God knows where. So it had to be me.

Fine.

I didn't argue.

But I didn't plan to go in either.

I never do.

I parked the SUV and stepped out, going around to open the door for her. She smiled sweetly at me as she grabbed my hand.

"I knew you'd come, puttar. Even if you don't believe, I believe that Babaji sent you with me today."

I just gave her a silent nod, guiding her gently by the elbow.

And then...

My chest clenched.

Her.

She walked in through the gate.

Yellow suit.

Dupatta on her head.

Head slightly bowed in respect.

And that grace-like she belonged to everything sacred.

Ishita.

I froze.

She saw me too.

Only for a second.

Then she turned away like she hadn't.

But I knew.

She saw me.

And still... she didn't stop.

She walked past with that same gentle elegance, disappearing into the gurudwara.

Dadi tugged my hand. "Rudra, come inside for five minutes. Just five."

"I'll wait outside, Dadi," I said quietly. "You go."

She didn't argue.

She knew. Everyone knew.

I didn't step into mandirs.

Or mosques.

Or gurudwaras.

Anywhere.

Because God had taken my sister from me, and I never forgave Him.

But as I stood outside the gate... and watched her disappear into the holy place...

For the first time in years,

I felt something tug at me.

Two hearts. One silent pull.

And yet... no words.

Not yet.