### **Rudra Singh Rathor's Perspective: The Morning After**

The alarm blared at 5:30 AM, but I was already awake. Sleep had been a distant, unwelcome concept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ishita's hurt, pale face and heard the final, damning *thud* of the car door.

*First Ishita. Then Eternity.* Dadi's command echoed clearly.

I pulled on my athletic shorts and a tight black compression shirt. Before I could face her, I needed to burn off the suffocating tension. I headed straight for the mansion's sprawling home gym.

The gym was already alive. Unlike me, who viewed working out as essential maintenance, my cousins and younger brother treated it like a social hour.

As I started my usual intense routine on the weights-ignoring the sharp, self-inflicted pain-I focused solely on the cold metal. I needed that clarity, that numbness, before I drove to her.

**Rudra** (Inner Monologue): *Ishita is not background noise. My life is the background noise. I need to apologize with action, not words. But how do I apologize to a twenty-year-old girl without sounding like a controlling tyrant?*

A loud, overly energetic voice cut through my concentration.

**Jay Singh Rathor:** (My younger brother, **Jay**, walked in, stretching dramatically, already covered in sweat from a pre-gym football session, probably) **"*Bhai! Good morning!* Looking intense! Did the stock market personally offend you, or is this the pre-wedding jitters?"** (Wedding jitters?)

I grunted, not stopping my reps. Jay, my sibling, was the embodiment of mischief and energy-the complete opposite of me, fascinated by football and, to my dread, modeling.

Then my cousin, **Akshat Singh Rathor**, walked in, already looking impeccably put-together despite the early hour. Akshat, **CEO of the Rathor legal division** and my co-CEO at times, was sharp, rational, and surprisingly good at banter.

**Akshat:** (He raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, glancing at me as he adjusted his lawyer-cut hair) **"Jay, *Bhai* is doing the 'I hate myself and the world' workout. Must be a bad night. Did the little designer get angry at you, Rudra?"**

He meant my sponsored fashion designer, **Reet**, who also happened to be the girlfriend of his younger brother, **Vardaan**.

**Vardaan Singh Rathor** (Akshat's younger brother, Vardaan, stepped off the treadmill, a towel around his neck) **"No, no reet us fine* is fine. But *Reet* was on the phone last night, sound little off about some Ishita and some drama "**

My muscles froze. **Ishita.**

Vardaan and Reet's relationship was complicated-Reet worked closely with Ishita, and the connection was direct. Vardaan, focused on his own career path, was usually more chill than the rest.

**Rudra:** (I lowered the weights sharply-the sudden clatter silencing the gym) **"What drama?"**

My voice was cold and commanding, instantly snapping them out of their morning banter. The brothers exchanged a look.

**Akshat:** (He sighed, recognizing the *Rudra, The Obsessed* tone) **"Nothing major, *Bhai*. Reet just said Ishita was unusually quiet and left the set early. Vardaan, tell him. Like you tell me

**Vardaan:** **"*Haan, Bhai.* Reet said Ishita was just silent, *jaise kisi ne uski chuppi chura li ho.* Reet was worried because Ishita didn't even argue about her vegetable *dabba* She just said 'Thank you' and left with a straight face. Very unlike her."** (As if someone stole her silence.)

The confirmation was a gut punch. *I* had stolen her silence. *I* had reduced her vibrant soul to a polite 'Thank you' and a straight face.

**Jay:** (Jay, sensing the seriousness but misunderstanding the source, stepped in) **"*Koi baat nahi, Bhai.* Maybe she was just reading a sad book. You know how those creative people are. *Mera toh mann hai ki main bhi modeling karoon, Bhai. Aapko pata hai, main Ishita ke saath pose...*"** (It's okay, Brother. My heart wants to do modeling too, Brother. You know, me posing with Ishita...)

**Rudra:** (I cut him off, my eyes dark, the anger now fully directed at my inability to fix things) **"Shut up, Jay."**

I picked up my towel. My workout was pointless. I hadn't burned off the stress; I had just confirmed the depth of the injury.

**Rudra:** **"Laksh will handle all morning calls. Tell him I'm out of the office until further notice."**

I walked straight out of the gym. I didn't care about their confused stares. I had a promise to keep, and a shattered piece of my heart to mend.

*No more silence. I am going to make her laugh, or I am going to beg.*

I drove straight to the studio complex, the massive SUV a blur on the morning roads. The formality of my tailored suit felt like an armor I didn't want, but knew I needed. Before leaving, I had tried calling Ishita again. **Rejected. Still.**

The rejection was a physical barrier. Since I couldn't break it with sound, I had to break it with presence.

I walked into the chaotic, brightly lit studio area. The air thrummed with music, shouting, and the constant flash of lights. I ignored the immediate deferential stares from the crew. My eyes scanned the controlled chaos, zeroing in on the one still, perfect point: **Ishita**.

She was standing near the main set, wearing a stunning, intricate gown-a vision of elegant artistry. Her makeup, flawless and radiant, spoke volumes of her skill. Her long, curly **brown hair** was styled perfectly, catching the light like liquid bronze. She looked ethereal, every inch the national crush of India.

I froze. She was breathtaking. I was instantly, violently *drowning* in the sight of her beauty, struck by the sudden, painful clarity of how much I had missed simply looking at her. *How dare I call this artistry 'background noise'*?

She was listening intently to **Reet**, who was demonstrating some exaggerated poses and expressions.

But Ishita wasn't laughing. She wasn't interjecting with her usual playful critique. She was merely nodding, serious, professional, and terrifyingly *quiet*. The vibrant, chaotic energy I loved was sealed away.

**Reet** saw me instantly. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise-the CEO rarely visited the set unannounced-then she gave me a bright, professional wave and a smile.

I merely gave a curt **nod** in return, refusing to engage, my focus absolute.

Ishita turned her head, following Reet's gaze.

And then, our eyes met.

For a split second, I saw everything-the residual hurt, the disappointment, the recognition-all in the depth of her brown eyes. My heart clenched, hoping, pleading.

But just as quickly as it started, it ended. She broke the contact, her gaze dropping instantly, dismissively, as if I were truly just a piece of the set design. She turned her attention back to Reet, her posture rigid, her interest clearly **not in me**.

The silence in the studio felt like a personal insult. I was here. She knew it. And she chose to ignore me.

I clenched my jaw. I couldn't walk up to her now. It would cause a scene, create suspicion, and embarrass her in front of the entire crew.

I stepped back, melting into the shadows behind a wall of equipment and monitors.

**Rudra** (Inner Monologue): *Fine. I will wait. I will wait until every light is packed, every person is gone. You will not escape this conversation, Ishita. I will fix the damage I created, even if I have to beg for a thousand apologies.*

## **Ishita Sharma's Perspective:

I was listening to Reet explain a high-fashion, "fierce" pose, trying to channel the intense, ruthless expression needed. It was surprisingly easy today; the devastation from last night provided all the necessary coldness.

Reet suddenly beamed and waved over my shoulder.

I turned automatically, and my breath hitched.

He was there. **Rudra Singh Rathor.** Impeccably dressed, radiating power, looking entirely too handsome and out of place in the loud studio.

Our eyes met. In that fraction of a second, the image of him-the man who bought me books and shared tea-fought fiercely with the echo of his words: *"Pretty distraction. Background noise."*

I shut the door instantly. Professionally.

I turned back to Reet, forcing my expression into one of deep concentration. I couldn't look at him. If I looked at him, the tears I had fought back all night would finally fall, and I wouldn't allow that weakness here.

**Ishita** (Inner Monologue): *He doesn't get to disrupt my work. My work is not 'background noise'. It is my reality. I am not a character in his life; I am the heroine of mine. And I don't need the toxic hero who belittles my efforts.*

**Reet:** "...and then turn your head slowly, Ishita. You look too serious today! Where's the sparkle?"

**Ishita:** (My voice was low and steady) **"The look is 'intense longing mixed with zero patience,' Reet. That's the mood today. *Chalo, start karte hain.*"** (Let's start.)

I refused to glance back, focusing my entire being on the camera. I knew he was watching. I wanted him to see the professional, dedicated artist. I wanted him to see that I was not a fragile *distraction*, but a serious force.

But deep down, the professional wall was cracking. I just needed the shoot to end so I could run and hide before his presence entirely dismantled the brittle calm I had constructed.

The moment the director called for a break, I made a beeline for my vanity box. I needed solitude, not company. But fate, or perhaps Reet's cluelessness, intervened.

**Reet:** (Cheerful, grabbing my arm) **"Ishita, come! Rudra Bhaiya is here! I need to discuss the color palette for the next set; you need to weigh in since you're the artist!"**

Before I could protest, Reet had dragged me toward where Rudra stood, radiating an intimidating calm. I kept my head down, focusing on the intricate bracelet Reet was wearing.

**Reet:** **"Rudra Bhaiya, can we go to your cabin? I need your final approval on the concept sketches."**

**Rudra:** (His voice was low, controlled, directed only at me) **"Of course, Reet."**

We walked to his private cabin. As Reet launched into a passionate explanation about 'Eternity's vision mixing with contemporary fabric,' I sat down, maintaining a perfect profile. I could feel his gaze-intense, heavy, burning-but I kept my eyes fixed on a point just past Reet's left ear. **No eye contact. No acknowledgment.**

Then, the inevitable happened.

**Reet:** **"Oh, wait a minute! I got an important call from the supplier about the silk order. I have to take this!"**

**Ishita:** (I sprang up instantly) **"I will go too. I need to check my phone."**

**Reet:** **"No, no! I'll be quick, promise! Just wait here, both of you. Don't go anywhere!"**

She rushed out. A second later, Laksh, who had been standing discreetly by the door, also slipped out, the door clicking softly shut. *He knows Rudra doesn't like a third person.*

I sank back onto the leather couch, pulled out my phone, and pretended to be consumed by social media, scrolling randomly. The cabin was utterly silent, save for the frantic pounding of my heart.

**Rudra:** (His voice was a soft velvet murmur, gentle, tentative-a stark contrast to last night's snarl) **"Ishita..."**

I didn't move. I didn't reply.

**Rudra:** **"Please. Look at me. I know you're upset. I was stressed, and I said things that were... unforgivable."**

I kept scrolling. The screen was a blur.

**Rudra:** **"I am so sorry. Those words-*background noise, distraction*-they were not true. They were the opposite of what I feel."**

He paused. I felt him move closer.

**Rudra:** **"*Tum mere liye background nahi ho, Ishita. Tum mera focus ho. Meri shanti ho. Please, baat karo.*"** (You are not background for me, Ishita. You are my focus. My peace. Please, talk to me.)

His softness nearly broke me. I shut my eyes briefly, forcing the wall back up. I lowered my phone, placing it silently on the table.

I looked at him then. Straight into his ocean-blue eyes. My own eyes were suddenly glistening, but I held the tears captive.

**Ishita:** (My voice was terrifyingly calm, steady, and utterly formal. I used the word I reserved for distant professionals) **"Mr. Rathor."**

He flinched, visibly, at the title.

**Ishita:** **"With all due respect, *aapko yeh sab kehne ka koi adhikaar nahi hai.*"** (You have no right to say all these things.)

The formal tone made my words cut deeper than any scream.

**Ishita:** **"*Main aapki employee nahi hoon. Main aapke business ki shareholder nahi hoon. Main aapki Ahana bhi nahi hoon.* I am a middle-class girl, earning my self-respect, *aur aapko haq nahi hai ki aap mere kaam ko, mere junoon ko, 'colorful background noise' bolein.*"** (I am not your employee. I am not your business shareholder. I am not your Ahana either. And you have no right to call my work, my passion, 'colorful background noise'.)

The single, silent tear finally escaped, tracing a path through my perfect makeup.

**Ishita:** **"*Aap kaun hote hain, Mr. Rathor,* to judge my dreams? You think because you manage billions, my small set is meaningless? *Mera set meri duniya hai. Aur aapko meri duniya ko chota dikhane ka, koi haq nahi hai.*"** (Who are you, Mr. Rathor, to judge my dreams? You have no right to belittle my world.)

I pushed myself up from the couch, keeping my composure intact, despite the tremor in my hands. I didn't wait for his reply.

## **Rudra Singh Rathor's Perspective

The moment she used **Mr. Rathor**, I knew the extent of the damage. It was worse than I thought. She had erected the highest, coldest wall imaginable-a barrier of formal respect that pushed me a million miles away.

I listened to her words, unable to interrupt, unable to breathe. Every measured, respectful sentence was a knife twist. She wasn't yelling; she was stating the immutable law of distance I had imposed.

*"Aapko koi adhikaar nahi hai."* *"Aap kaun hote hain, Mr. Rathor."*

When that single, silent tear finally fell, my heart stopped. She wasn't just hurt; she was insulted at her core.

**Rudra** (Inner Monologue): *She's right. I don't have the right. I am not her boyfriend. I am not her husband. I am just a controlling observer who destroyed her dignity.*

She got up, ready to leave, before I could process the devastation. I had to stop her, but I couldn't use force.

**Rudra:** (My voice was raw, pleading, abandoning all pretense of the CEO) **"Ishita-I mean, **Ishita**-"**

I struggled to even use her name. The distance she created was terrifying.

**Rudra:** **"*Main janta hoon ki maine kya kiya. Main janta hoon ki mere paas koi haq nahi hai.* But I am fighting it! I am trying to change! I told Dadi-I told my grandmother everything! *Maine sirf gusse mein bola. Please, mujhe ek chance de do. Main tumhe prove karunga ki tum meri kya ho.*"** (I know what I did. I know I have no right. I told my grandmother everything! I only spoke in anger. Please, give me one chance. I will prove to you what you are to me.)

I reached out, my hand hovering, desperate to touch her, but knowing I couldn't.

**Rudra:** **"Please, don't use that title. *Sirf Rudra bolo.*"** (Just say Rudra.)

But she was already turning toward the door, her spine straight, her self-respect perfectly intact, despite the tear. She was leaving. Again.

### **Ishita Sharma's Perspective:

His plea-*"Sirf Rudra bolo"*-was the final key. It unlocked the dam. The tears I had fought so hard to contain broke free, streaming down my cheeks, washing away the perfect makeup. I didn't care anymore.

I spun back to face him, my voice still low, but choked with the deepest hurt.

**Ishita:** (Tears streaming, but my spine straight) **"*Pata hai mujhe, Mr. Rathor.* Mujhe koi shauk nahi hai aapke saath hansi mazak karne ka. Koi zaroorat nahi hai."** (I know, Mr. Rathor. I have no interest in joking around with you. There's no need.)

I stepped forward, the raw truth pouring out of me.

**Ishita:** **"Main bas isliye karti hoon, *taaki aapko left out feel na ho!* Kyunki sab darte hain aapse yahan! *Aapki company mein, aapke ghar mein, har jagah!*"** (I only do it so you don't feel left out! Because everyone is scared of you here! In your company, in your home, everywhere!)

My voice cracked.

**Ishita:** **"Maine socha, you deserve at least one person who looks at you differently! Who doesn't treat you like a cold, heartless boss! *Jo aapko insaan ki tarah dekhe!*"** (I thought, you deserve at least one person who looks at you differently! Who sees you like a human!) **"But *aapne toh mujhe hi left out feel kara dia!* By saying my world is too small for yours!"** (But you made *me* feel left out!)

I gestured wildly towards the novel on the side table.

**Ishita:** **"Aur haan! Main novels isliye padhti hoon kyunki mujhe sukoon milta hai, khushi milti hai unse! *Woh khushi jo mujhe kabhi bhi real life mein nahi mili!*"** (And yes! I read novels because I get peace, I get happiness from them! That happiness which I never got in real life!)

I composed myself, the formal respect returning, laced with steel.

**Ishita:** **"Main jaanti hoon aap mujhse bade hain. *Aapne duniya dekhi hai. Aap bahut experienced hain. Aap do-do company chalaate hain.* You are the great Mr. Rathor."** (I know you are older than me. You've seen the world. You are very experienced. You run two companies.)

**Ishita:** **"But still, *aap kisi aur ke kaam ko chhota nahi bata sakte!* Aapko uska haq nahi hai! *Bohot mehnat lagti hai, Mr. Rathor!*"** (But still, you cannot belittle someone else's work! You don't have the right! It takes a lot of hard work, Mr. Rathor!)

I gestured to my face, my dress, the elaborate set outside.

**Ishita:** **"*24 ghante make-up laga kar, camera ke aage khade rehna, ek hi pose 10 baar dena-easy nahi hota!* I am proud of my work! *Main yeh sab aapke liye nahi karti!*"** (Staying in makeup 24 hours, standing in front of the camera, giving the same pose 10 times-it's not easy! I don't do all this for you!)

The final truth, the one he needed to hear, escaped as a devastating whisper.

**Ishita:** **"*Agar aapko meri baatein nahi pasand aayi, toh bol dete aaram se ki 'Ishita, I am tired. I don't want to talk right now.' Main chup ho jaati!*"** (If you didn't like my talking, you could have just told me gently that 'Ishita, I am tired. I don't want to talk right now.' I would have been quiet!)

**Ishita:** **"Par meri disrespect kyun kari? Kyunki main immature hoon? Toh haan, hoon main! *Aapki 30+ wali duniya ke liye toh hoon!*"** (But why did you disrespect me? Because I am immature? Then yes, I am! For your 30+ world, I am!)

My eyes burned with the accusation.

**Ishita:** **"Isliye is behavior ki wajah se sab aapse darte hain. Koi aapke paas nahi aata. *Kyunki sabko lagta hai pata nahi kab aap un par chilla do ya unki ijjat tod do!*"** (That's why everyone is scared of you because of this behavior. No one comes near you. Because everyone thinks you might yell at them or break their dignity at any moment!)

I finished, breathless, shaking, standing in the middle of his opulent cabin, having stripped both of us bare.

## **Rudra Singh Rathor's Perspective:

I stood motionless, absorbing every word. Her tears were my undoing. Her voice, usually so light, was the sound of my kingdom crumbling. She didn't use the word 'Hate,' but her truth was far more destructive.

*"Maine socha, you deserve at least one person who looks at you differently!"*

*"Aapne toh mujhe hi left out feel kara dia!"*

*"Isliye is behavior ki wajah se sab aapse darte hain!"*

She had seen me. She had seen the cold, isolated tyrant everyone else saw, but she had stayed anyway, out of **pity**-not love, not friendship. And I had destroyed her charity.

The truth about the novels-that they were her escape, her only source of unconditional joy-hit me with brutal force. I had mocked her sanctuary.

**Rudra** (Inner Monologue): *Dadi was right. I am a mouse. A pathetic, wounded mouse who hurt the one person trying to heal him.*

I watched her body shake, her dignity fighting the tears. She was right. She was right about the fear, about my isolation, and about my complete lack of right to comment on her work.

I took a step forward, my hands instinctively reaching for her, but I checked myself. I didn't deserve to touch her.

**Rudra:** (My voice was barely a whisper, thick with regret, abandoning the formal facade completely) **"Ishita. *Stop.* Please. *Ekdum theek keh rahi ho.* You are absolutely right."** (You are speaking the absolute truth.)

I didn't try to defend myself. I couldn't.

**Rudra:** **"*Main robot hoon. Main heartless hoon. Aur main tumhe us waqt hurt kiya jab tum mujhe sabse zyada insaan banane ki koshish kar rahi thi.*"** (I am a robot. I am heartless. And I hurt you at the time when you were trying the hardest to make me human.)

**Rudra:** **"*Tum background noise nahi ho.* You are the only *music* in my life, Ishita. I swear to you. I swear on everything I own, *ki maine woh baatein sirf us gusse mein bol di jo mujhe khud par aa raha tha.*"** (You are not background noise. You are the only music in my life. I only spoke those words out of the anger I was feeling towards myself.)

I looked at her, my eyes pleading for a crumb of understanding.

**Rudra:** **"I am not asking you to forgive me. *Sirf itna bata do... ki tum mera number block karogi ya nahi?*"** (Just tell me this much... will you block my number or not?)

The fear of losing her completely was more terrifying than any hostile takeover bid.

### **Ishita Sharma's Perspective:

He asked if I would block his number. That was the most ridiculous thing he could have said. It made the immense, professional CEO sound utterly pathetic and human.

**Ishita:** (I wiped my cheek furiously, a choked laugh escaping through my tears) **"*Aap na, bilkul pagal ho! Seriously!*"** (You are completely crazy! Seriously!)

That was all I could manage. The emotional overload was too much. I spun on my heel, grabbed the door handle, and walked out of the cabin, leaving the great Rudra Singh Rathor utterly defeated behind me.

I didn't look back. I just needed space.

---

*Time Skip: Later that afternoon*

I tried to focus, but the lens of the camera felt heavy, the lights too hot. My mind kept replaying the scene: *"Colorful background noise."*

The director's voice eventually snapped me out of a deep haze.

**Director:** **"Ishita! What is this? Zoned out again! We are done for today. Pack up! *Kal karte hain.*"** (We will continue tomorrow.)

**Reet** was instantly by my side, trying to console me as we walked out.

**Reet:** **"*Yaar, kya hua hai tujhe?* You were perfect yesterday. Is it the pressure? *Chill kar, yaar.*"** (Man, what happened to you? Chill, buddy.)

I just managed a tired smile. I couldn't tell Reet anything. I mumbled an excuse about needing to check on my **make-up studio, 'Blush & Brush,'** and quickly drove away. I needed my other anchor-my own business.

### **Rudra Singh Rathor's Perspective: Fury and Pursuit**

I stayed in the cabin for a long time after she left. I didn't chase her; she needed to process the space I had given her.

But when Laksh nervously entered later, his face was pale.

**Laksh:** **"Sir, I need to inform you... the shoot was called off early. The director yelled at Ishita ma'am for being distracted. She... she left for her studio, 'Blush & Brush.'"**

My blood went cold. **Yelled?** The stress that had triggered my own outburst instantly returned, magnified tenfold, now directed outwards.

**Rudra:** (My voice was low, terrifyingly calm) **"What is the director's name, Laksh?"**

**Laksh:** **"Uhh... Mr. Khanna, sir."**

**Rudra:** **"Call the board. Tell them Mr. Khanna's contract with any Rathor-funded project is terminated immediately. Inform the industry that he is difficult to work with and highly unprofessional. *Uski agli subah studio mein nahi hogi, Laksh.*"** (His next morning won't be in a studio, Laksh.)

Laksh didn't argue. He just nodded and scurried out. *No one hurts my girl.*

I immediately grabbed my keys and drove to her studio. I walked in, ignoring the hushed silence. A tall, beautiful blonde woman-her American assistant, **Charlotte Sinclair**-approached me cautiously.

**Charlotte:** **"Mr. Rathor? Can I help you? Ishita is not here."**

**Rudra:** **"Where is she, Charlotte?"**

**Charlotte:** **"She was here for five minutes, then she looked sad and went to the society garden. She said she needed air."**

I nodded curtly and left. The **society garden**. A quiet, secluded spot. Perfect.

I found her near a small fountain, sitting alone on a wooden bench, her shoulders hunched. She was no longer the fierce artist; she was just my broken, hurt girl. Her head was bowed, and I could see the soft tremor of her shoulders.

I walked softly, stopping a few feet away.

**Rudra:** (My voice was barely audible, a careful blend of softness and defeat) **"*Abhi bhi gussa ho, Ishita?*"** (Are you still angry, Ishita?)

She lifted her head slightly, enough for me to see the glistening tracks on her cheeks. She **nodded** once, stiffly.

**Rudra:** **"*Baat nahi karogi?*"** (You won't talk?)

She slowly **shook her head**.

**Rudra:** **"*Dekho gi bhi nahi mujhe?*"** (You won't even look at me?)

She **shook her head** again, her focus fixed on the water fountain. Her refusal, combined with the redness around her eyes and the adorable sniffle, was devastatingly heartbreaking. I melted. All my King of Rajasthan demeanor dissolved.

I walked around the bench and sat down **behind her**, putting my back to the armrest, giving her space but covering her back.

**Rudra:** (My voice was utterly soft, the intensity reserved only for love) **"*Theek hai. Gussa ho jao. Baat mat karo.* But please, *roo matt.* It hurts me."** (It's okay. Be angry. Don't talk. But please, don't cry.)

She finally spoke, her voice thick and small.

**Ishita:** **"Why? *Woh toh mere aansu hain.*"** (Why? They are my tears.)

**Rudra:** (A genuine, soft chuckle escaped me, deep and loving) **"*Hmm, sahi keh rahi ho.* But still, it hurts."** (Hmm, you're right.)

I leaned in, my breath warm near her ear.

**Rudra:** **"You know, *jab koi ladki roti hai, toh uske dil ka ek taar toot jaata hai.* And I don't want my girl to cry and break her strings over useless people."** (When a girl cries, a string in her heart breaks.)

I paused, letting the implication sink in.

**Rudra:** **"*Including me.*"**

She finally turned her head, slowly, hesitantly, and looked at me. Her **nose was red**, her **cheeks flushed** from crying. Her eyes, magnified by the tears, were still brimming.

**Ishita:** **"*Right.* They don't deserve my tears."**

**Rudra:** (I nodded, a gentle affirmation) **"*Of course, we don't deserve them.* No one does, not if it makes you look like this. So please, stop crying."**

I reached out, my thumb, rough from the weights, gently brushing away the tears tracing her cheekbone. She didn't flinch. Instead, she leaned **into my touch**, the soft skin of her cheek resting momentarily against the pad of my thumb.

The contact was electric. It was forgiveness without words.

**Rudra:** **"*Bas. Ab chup.*"** (That's it. Now quiet.) **"*Aapki aankhein ab sirf wohi dekhengi jo unhe khushi de.*"** (Your eyes will now only see what gives them happiness.)

### **Ishita Sharma's Perspective:

His touch, warm and steady against my tear-streaked cheek, was the apology I truly needed. I leaned into it instinctively, feeling the tension slowly drain away. He didn't use his power or his intensity; he used gentle care.

I pulled back slightly, looking fully at him, still seated behind me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body.

**Ishita:** (My voice was shaky but calmer) **"*Aapko mere aansuon ki itni fikr kyun hai, Mr. Rathor?*"** (Why are you so worried about my tears, Mr. Rathor?)

**Rudra:** (He smiled softly, a genuine, heartbreakingly handsome expression) **"*Kyunki tumhara rona... mere dil mein wahi dard deta hai jo tumhare taar tootne se hota hai.*"** (Because your crying... gives my heart the same pain that happens when your strings break.)

He shifted, resting his elbow on the back of the bench, turning his body towards me completely.

**Rudra:** **"Look, Ishita. I know *sorry* is a small word for what I did. I didn't just insult your work; *maine tumhari ijjat pe waar kiya.* Aur woh main kabhi wapas nahi le sakta."** (I attacked your dignity. And I can never take that back.)

**Rudra:** **"But I swear to you-I was angry at myself. At my robotic life. At my failure to be normal for you. And I took that failure and threw it at the one person who deserved it the least. *Meri zubaan mere control mein nahi thi.*"** (My tongue wasn't in my control.)

His gaze was sincere, vulnerable. He wasn't giving excuses; he was confessing his internal battle.

**Rudra:** **"I told my Dadi everything last night. She scolded me. She told me what you said-that I'm a scared mouse, not a lion. And she was right. *Main darta hoon, Ishita.* I am terrified that my world is too small to hold your happiness."**

He reached out and gently took my hand, his thumb stroking my wrist.

**Rudra:** **"I know you see me as cold, as the boss everyone fears. But you were right to point out my flaw. *Aapko pura haq hai.* I need you to keep showing me how to be human. *Mujhe mat chhodo.*"** (You have every right. Don't leave me.)

I looked at his face. The man who destroyed a director's career for me, who came here instead of going to his multi-billion dollar office, was sitting here, humbled, admitting his fear.

**Ishita:** (I squeezed his hand slightly, my voice still quiet) **"*Main jaanti hoon, Rudra. Mujhe pata hai aap badalne ki koshish kar rahe hain.* And that's why I didn't block your number."** (I know, Rudra. I know you are trying to change.)

**Ishita:** **"But *please.* Next time, *agar gussa aata hai, toh mujhse keh dena ki 'go away' ya 'I need silence.'* Don't talk about my work. That's my dream. *Mujhe us dream se pyaar hai.*"** (If you get angry, please tell me to 'go away' or 'I need silence.' Don't talk about my work. That's my dream. I love that dream.)

**Rudra:** (His eyes lit up with overwhelming relief and gratitude) **"*Wada. Pakka wada, Ishita.* I will never, ever disrespect your dreams again. You are the dream, not the background. *Meri poori duniya tumhare set se chalti hai.*"** (Promise. Solid promise, Ishita. My entire world runs on your set.)

He brought my hand up to his lips and pressed a soft, warm kiss onto my knuckles.

**Rudra:** **"*Toh... hum theek hain?* Forgiven? Slowly?"** (So... are we okay? Forgiven? Slowly?)

**Ishita:** (A soft, genuine smile finally returned, illuminating my tear-stained face) **"*Dheere dheere, Mr. Rathor. Dheere dheere.*"** (Slowly, Mr. Rathor. Slowly.)

I let the formality slip into playfulness, knowing the title now held no power. It was just *our* word.

**Rudra:** **"*Theek hai.* Slowly it is. Now, tell me. *Aapko woh director kitna pasand nahi tha?* I heard he yelled at you."** (Okay. Now tell me. How much did you dislike that director?)

My eyes widened, a mischievous glint returning. **"Why? What happened to him?"**

He just smiled, a devastatingly charming, ruthless smile that said, *'I took care of it.'*

**Rudra:** **"Just tell me the full story. And then, we are going for dinner. Somewhere with *gulab jamuns.*"**

I instinctively leaned into his warmth, the earlier tears drying quickly under the heat of my blush. He was still holding my hand, his thumb gently drawing circles on my wrist. I couldn't believe I was sharing workplace gossip-especially the bits about the director-with the formidable Rudra Singh Rathor.

**Ishita:** (My voice was soft, slightly breathless) **"*Achha, toh suniye.* He was fine until the morning, but after the break, *pata nahi kya ho gaya.*"** (Okay, so listen. I don't know what happened.)

I told him about the director, Mr. Khanna's notorious temper, and his loud, humiliating shouting sessions.

**Ishita:** **"...And today, *jab main actually sad thi, aur distraction ho rahi thi,* he just yelled! So loudly that everyone froze! *Woh toh har choti galti pe chillaate hain.* He shouts every time, even on silly mistakes. I don't like him. He makes the set feel heavy."** (When I was actually sad and getting distracted.)

I glanced at Rudra, expecting the cold analysis. Instead, I saw a familiar, dangerous hardening in his eyes, a shadow of the *Rudra Singh Rathor* who destroyed careers.

**Rudra:** (His jaw tightened, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low rumble) **"He yelled at you? *Woh aapko  sabke saamne chilla kar baat karta hai?*"**

His intensity was back, but this time, it was aimed *at* my protector, not *at* me.

**Ishita:** (I squeezed his hand, instantly worried) **"*Shh! Rudra!* It's fine. *Ho gaya na.* Just ignore him. Don't worry."** (It's done now.)

### **Rudra Singh Rathor's Perspective

Her small hand squeezing mine was the only thing that stopped me from calling Laksh immediately and delivering the director's final, crushing blow. *He yelled at her.* He had dared to wound the one precious thing I cherished.

I fought the instinctive rage, remembering my promise to her-to change, to be soft, to control the storm for *her*.

**Rudra** (Inner Monologue): *Patience. Control. She doesn't need the tyrant; she needs the gentle protector.*

I forced the muscles in my face to relax, transforming the grimace into a softer, amused expression.

**Rudra:** (I leaned closer, my voice becoming lighter, almost teasing, but with an underlying current of deep care) **"*Theek hai, theek hai.* No more anger. I promise."**

I reached up, my fingers brushing the soft curl near her temple, tucking it behind her ear. My touch was light, feather-soft, tracing the delicate curve of her jaw where the tears had just been. Her skin was still warm.

**Rudra:** **"*Par suno.* Don't worry about that man. *Uski awaaz ab tum tak nahi aayegi.* Your focus is on your dreams, Ishita. Not on the noise."** (But listen. His voice won't reach you now.)

**Rudra:** (My thumb gently stroked her cheekbone, lingering near her red, puffy nose) **"Your face... it was made for smiles, not for tears. Look at you. *Kitni achhi lag rahi ho jab tum roti nahi ho.*"** (How beautiful you look when you aren't crying.)

She blushed fiercely, her eyes widening, her sadness completely eclipsed by the sudden rush of adoration.

**Ishita:** (She looked down, shy and adorable) **"*Aap bhi na!*"** (You too!)

I smiled, a genuine, warm smile that settled all the anxiety in the garden.

**Rudra:** **"*Haan, main.* The one who is deeply, deeply sorry. And the one who will ensure that nobody, absolutely nobody, makes you feel like background noise ever again."**

I stood up, pulling her hand gently, bringing her to her feet.

**Rudra:** **"*Chalo, meri pretty distraction.* Now let's go and get those *gulab jamuns.* Your tears have earned you a very large serving."**

He kept her hand firmly, possessively, in his as we walked out of the garden. The anger was banked, but the promise-**silent, unwavering, and lethal**-was made. No director would ever yell at his girl again.

### **Ishita Sharma's Perspective:

His hand was warm, firm, and comforting wrapped around mine as he led me towards the parking area. The promise of **gulab jamuns** and his company was incredibly tempting, but the image of my mother alone at home tugged at my conscience.

We were almost at the sleek black SUV when the practical, middle-class guilt hit me.

**Ishita:** (I pulled gently on his hand, making him stop in mid-stride) **"*Aree suniye! Ruko!*"** (Hey, listen! Stop!)

He turned, the gentle, soft expression still etched on his face, a beautiful contrast to his usual CEO sternness.

**Rudra:** (His eyebrows raised slightly, patient and amused) **"*Ab kya hua, meri pretty distraction?*"** (Now what happened, my pretty distraction?)

I blushed again at the reclaimed phrase.

**Ishita:** **"*Aaj nahi, Rudra.* Phir kabhi aur chalenge. *Aaj ghar jaldi jaana hai.*"** (Not today, Rudra. We'll go some other time. I have to go home early today.)

The slight disappointment in his eyes was instant, quickly masked by confusion.

**Rudra:** **"Why? *Hamesha toh aap 10 baje hi jaati hain.* Phir aaj 8 baje hi kyun? *Gulab jamuns are waiting.*"** (You always go at 10 PM. Then why is it 8 PM today?)

**Ishita:** (I sighed, explaining the logistics of my simpler life) **"Actually, Mummy ghar par akeli hain. Papa aur Bhaiya kaam par hain. *Humari family mein, ek member toh hamesha ghar pe chahiye na.* So I need to go. Please."** (My mom is alone at home. Dad and brother are at work. In our family, one member always needs to be home, right?)

I looked up at him, putting all the pleading sincerity I could muster into my eyes.

**Ishita:** **"*Aapke saath dinner phir kabhi.* Promise! *Kal chalenge, theek hai? Please?*"** (Dinner with you some other time. We'll go tomorrow, okay?)

### **Rudra Singh Rathor's Perspective:

The middle-class logic of needing someone at home-a concept entirely alien to the Rathor mansion, where servants outnumbered family-hit me with a peculiar charm. She wasn't prioritizing a party or a friend; she was prioritizing her mother's solitude. It was profoundly endearing.

The disappointment still stung, but I couldn't deny her. Especially not today, when my entire mission was to rebuild her trust and prove I respected her life.

I gently brought her hand up to my lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles again.

**Rudra:** (His voice was warm, yielding instantly) **"*Fine.* You and your family logic always win, Ishita. *Tumhare aage toh mera CEO wala dimag kaam hi nahi karta.*"** (My CEO brain doesn't work in front of you.)

**Rudra:** **"But I will drop you. No arguments. *Come on.*"**

He tightened his grip on her hand, leading her toward the car again.

**Rudra:** **"And for the record, *aapki family ki fikr karna* is one of the ten thousand things I adore about you. *Aap bilkul... alag ho.*"** (Worrying about your family... You are completely... different.)

He paused at the passenger door, opening it with the practiced ease of a man accustomed to service, but doing this service only for her.

**Rudra:** **"*Lekin kal.* Tomorrow, Mr. Khanna is gone, and you and I will have those *gulab jamuns.* And you owe me a two-hour conversation about your new fictional hero. Deal?"**

**Ishita:** (She smiled radiantly, climbing into the seat) **"Deal! *Par ab chalo, jaldi!*"** (But now go, quickly!)

He shut the door, the soft, firm sound sealing the promise of a peaceful journey home. He was driving her back to her small, real world, and for the first time, he felt genuinely at peace with the difference.