[Ishita Sharma’s Perspective –]

**One day out of chaos.**

One day of being *us*, without deadlines, shoot lights, wedding functions, board meetings, or manager Laksh’s constant reminders.

Just *me* and *him*, on a road that had no destination—only freedom.

He came to pick me up, parked right outside my studio like always. I stepped out in my soft peachy knee-length dress, my long curly hair brushing past my shoulders. Soft heels clicked as I walked, my winged liner on point and nails done—because *I am still a professional*, even when I’m choosing to escape with the most dangerous man in the country.

And him? T-shirt. Jeans. Watch. That smirk. Casual but still looking like a walking magazine cover.

**Rudra:** **“You look beautiful,”** he said the moment I sat down, and pulled the seatbelt across for me himself—always so gentle. Always so him.

**Ishita:** **“And you look… edible,”** I smirked, as he raised one brow at me.

**Rudra:** **“Behave,”** he warned lightly, but he was smiling. **“Or I might just pull over and verify that statement.”**

And then… we drove.

No bodyguards. No penthouse. No tension.

Just open roads, the windows rolled down, wind tangling my hair while my **fingers tangled with his**.

He **held my hand while driving**, eyes on the road but thumb brushing against my knuckles like he needed the contact to believe I was really here.

And then came the surprise.

From the backseat, he pulled out a cloth bag and dropped it in my lap.

**Ishita:** **“What’s this?”** I asked, grinning like a child.

**Rudra:** **“Survival kit,”** he said, pretending to be serious. **“Road trip essential. You can’t conquer the world on an empty stomach, **Jaan**.”**

I opened it.

Lay’s. Peri peri Makhana. Dairy Milk Silk. Masala Maggi (yes, uncooked). Cold coffee bottle. A packet of **hajmola** just because I once said I love it.

**Ishita:** **“You actually remembered everything I like?”** I blinked, genuine emotion flooding my voice. **“Even the *hajmola*?”**

**Rudra:** **“Of course,”** he said with a low laugh, eyes still on the road. **“You're impossible to forget. Especially the demands of your tiny sweet tooth.”**

I looked at him.

This ruthless, commanding, terrifying-to-the-world man who remembered my favourite brand of **hajmola**.

**Ishita** (Inner Monologue): *How do I not fall in love with him again and again?*

[Rudra Singh Rathor’s Perspective –]

One day of peace was a luxury I rarely allowed myself. But for her? I’d skip ten boardroom meetings and wouldn’t regret it.

When I saw her walking toward the car, her dress fluttering, hair open, heels clicking like music—I forgot what stress even was. She looked like spring, poetry, rebellion… and she was *mine*.

**Ishita:** **“And you look… edible,”** she teased.

**Rudra:** **“Behave. Or I might just pull over and verify that statement.”**

I held her hand while driving. It felt right. Like the steering wheel in one hand and her fingers in the other was how my life should *always* be.

And when I saw her reaction to the snacks bag, the genuine shock and joy in her voice—it made every second I spent putting it together worth it.

**Rudra:** **“You're impossible to forget. Especially the demands of your tiny sweet tooth.”**

We played old Bollywood love songs, sang them off-key together.

**Rudra:** **“Your sense of rhythm is just as chaotic as your family, **Jaan**.”** I grinned, knowing she’d hit me.

**Ishita:** **“Hey! My rhythm is perfect! It’s your Greek God status that messes up the harmony!”** she argued, gently hitting my shoulder.

At one point, she **unbuckled for a moment** to kiss my cheek mid-song, whispering—

**Ishita:** **“My perfect escape.”**

I kept my eyes on the road, but my heart paused.

**Rudra:** (My voice was low, almost husky.) **“And you, **Jaana**... you are my perfect reality. The one I finally stopped running from.”**

She didn't even realise the kind of power she had over me. How just that one sentence could destroy every wall I ever built around my heart.

But I’d let her. She was the only one I’d ever let in.

And as the sun set over the hills, and the road stretched ahead endlessly…

**Rudra:** **“I’m not dropping you back tonight, Ishita. I don’t think I can.”**

[Ishita Sharma’s Perspective – ]

We finally reached this quiet picnic spot he picked—hidden behind rows of eucalyptus trees, with soft grass, distant hills, and a view that could beat any city skyline. The moment I stepped out of the car and looked around, I turned to him—

**Ishita:** **“You brought me to a literal dreamscape. It’s perfect, Ru.”**

He smirked, **Rudra:** **“That’s what I do. Steal hearts and find secret places. Two birds, one stone.”**

I rolled my eyes and grabbed his hand, **lacing my fingers through his** as we walked toward the open field. The air was fresher than I’d breathed in weeks, and my heels slightly sunk into the grass—but I didn’t care. Not when he was holding my hand like that.

**Ishita:** **“You know, if you keep picking places like these, I’ll start thinking you’re secretly a romantic,”** I teased, bumping my shoulder with his.

**Rudra:** **“I’m not secretive about anything,”** he said with a wicked smile. **“Except you.”**

That one **hit my heart**.

I looked down, my cheeks instantly **flushing**. God, he *knows* what he does to me. I nudged him with my elbow, trying to play it off, but he stopped walking and pulled me closer by the waist.

**Rudra:** **“You’re blushing,”** he whispered, his face close to mine.

**Ishita:** **“No I’m not,”** I lied, hiding my face in his chest.

**Rudra:** **“You always do when I flirt,”** he chuckled, brushing his fingers under my chin so I’d look up. **“Every time. Still so innocent, **sunshine**.”**

I swatted his chest. **Ishita:** **“Stop calling me that.”**

**Rudra:** **“Then what should I call you?”** he asked, his **ocean eyes glinting** with pure mischief. **“Princess? Angel? **Jaan**? My future?”**

I was **dying inside**. I couldn’t stop laughing and blushing all at once. **Ishita:** **“You’re ridiculous! Stop being a walking Wattpad hero!”**

**Rudra:** **“You’re mine,”** he corrected gently, pulling me against his hard chest, and that… well, that **silenced me**.

We found a perfect little spot under a tree, and he spread out the blanket he somehow packed. We both sat down, me **curling up beside him** as he leaned against the tree trunk.

I tilted my head up to look at him, the burning question bubbling up.

**Ishita:** **“You ever flirt like this with anyone else?”**

**Rudra:** **“No,”** he said without a blink, his expression instantly serious. **“No one else ever made me forget who I am. You do that without even trying. You turn the ruthless CEO into a lovesick idiot.”**

I bit my lip, hiding my face again on his shoulder.

And just like that—we weren’t at some picnic spot. We were in **our own little world**.

[Rudra Singh Rathor’s Perspective –]

I chose this spot because I knew she’d smile the moment she saw the wildflowers and the view of the hills. **Ishita** was my only audience, and her genuine joy was the only applause I ever needed.

**Ishita:** **“You brought me to a literal dreamscape.”**

That glow... it makes me forget I’m the same man the world fears.

When I stopped and pulled her close, watching the pink creep up her neck, it was a victory more satisfying than any multi-million dollar acquisition.

**Rudra:** **“You’re blushing. Every time. Still so innocent, **sunshine**.”**

She challenged me about flirting, and I answered truthfully. Because the man she sees—the one who laughs, who packs *hajmola*, who calls her *Jaan*—that man was created by her.

**Rudra:** **“No one else ever made me forget who I am. You do that without even trying.”**

She rested her head on my shoulder after that, her presence a heavy, beautiful weight. I didn’t want to talk anymore. I just wanted to feel her.

I brought her hand up and **kissed her knuckles**, pressing my lips against her skin, imbuing the feeling into the moment.

**Rudra:** (Whispering, low and deep.) **“You’ll never know how much I love you. The day I get to tell the world about us, **Jaan**, is the day I truly start living.”**

She shifted, snuggling deeper into my side, her fingers playing with the buttons on tshirt.

**Ishita:** **“I’m not rushing you, Ru. I like our secret world. It makes this feeling... sacred.”**

I closed my eyes, tilting my head back against the tree. Her words were a balm to my guarded soul.

**Rudra** (Inner Monologue): *Sacred. Yes. She is absolutely right. I will protect this sacred secret until the very last moment.*

The sky outside our little bubble shifted from **golden to lavender to dark blue**, and the silence between us was the sound of perfect, unbroken love.

[Ishita Sharma’s Perspective – ]

We were still under the tree when he took out his phone. I was adjusting my hair and giggling at something stupid he said, and he just angled the camera toward me. I narrowed my eyes immediately.

**Ishita:** **“Are you taking a video of me?!”**

**Rudra:** **“Yes,”** he grinned smugly. **“You’re blushing. This moment? Mine.”**

I tried to cover my face but kept laughing. **Ishita:** **“Rudraaa stop it, you’ll make me redder than a tomato!”**

**Rudra:** **“Good,”** he said lowly, his voice a delicious rumble. **“I like you red.”**

I swore he whispered that just to fluster me more.

Then I saw them—beautiful wild rose bushes just ahead. Fresh red ones, blooming so perfectly I couldn’t resist.

**Ishita:** **“Look at those!”** I squealed and jumped up. **“Wait right here, I’m going to get some.”**

**Rudra:** **“Be careful—”** he started, but I was already halfway there.

I bent down, reaching for one of the roses carefully. I was humming softly to myself, still smiling from earlier when I heard it.

A *loud* thud. Followed by shouting.

**Rudra (Shouting):** **“How dare you say that about her?!”**

My entire body **froze**. That was *Rudra’s voice*. Sharp. **Dangerous. Terrifying.**

I stood up and turned around, **heart dropping**.

He was punching someone. **Brutally**. Fists flying, one after another, and the man under him was screaming in pain.

**Rudra (Yelling):** **“SHE’S MINE! YOU HEAR ME?! I LOVE HER! WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO OPEN YOUR FILTHY MOUTH?!”**

My stomach twisted—I didn’t need to ask what happened. That guy… he *definitely* said something filthy about me. But Rudra? He **snapped**. He *heard* it.

I **ran**.

**Ishita:** **“Rudra! Stop—stop it! Please, listen to me!”**

He didn’t even hear. Eyes **blazing**. Breathing wild. Back in his **ruthless** avatar—**heartless, dangerous, terrifying.**

I tried to wrap my arms around his arm, tugging at his huge bicep.

**Ishita:** **“Rudra… look at me! Please! **Ru**, please!”**

He paused mid-punch. His fist hovered in the air.

**Ishita:** **“Love, please…”** I whispered, my voice trembling.

Finally, his breathing slowed. I cupped his cheek. **Ishita:** **“I’m okay. He’s not worth it. I’m right here. With you.”**

[Rudra Singh Rathor’s Perspective]

I took a video of her laughing and blushing just for myself. Just to keep this softness—the only softness I allow in my world.

Then the words hit me. Filthy, disgusting, disrespectful. About *my* **Ishi**.

My ears rang. My blood turned black.

I didn’t wait. I saw nothing but red.

**Rudra (Screaming):** **“SHE’S MINE! I LOVE HER!”**

I felt hands on me. Soft, small hands.

**Ishita:** **“Rudra… please. Look at me…”**

Her voice. Her scent. Her trembling grip. It was the only thing that could ever pull me back from the brink.

I turned, still heaving, still fuming—but then I saw her eyes. Big, watery, **scared**.

*Scared of me.* That killed me instantly.

**Ishita:** **“I’m okay. He’s not worth it. I’m right here. With you.”**

I calmed down, slowly. Jaw tight. Still breathing hard, but my fists lowered. I took one step back, staring at the groaning man who dared taint her name.

Then back at her.

**Rudra:** (I murmured, my voice shaking with lingering rage.) **“I’m sorry, **Ishi**. I couldn’t control it. No one gets to say things like that about you. Ever. Not even me **baacha**.”**

She took both my hands. Her own shaking.

**Ishita:** **“I know… but promise me… when you get angry like that, come to me. Look at me. Let me be your calm.”**

My heart broke with the sincerity in her voice. I pulled her into my arms then, burying my face in her neck, holding her so tight she was fused to me.

**Rudra:** **“You *are* my calm, **Jaana**,”** I confessed, my voice raw. **“You’re the only anchor that stops the storm. I’m sorry I scared you, *love*. I swear I will never hurt you. Never.”**

**Rudra:** (I kissed the top of her head softly.) **“Don’t look at that scumbag again. Look at me. Only me. Okay, **baacha**?”**

[Ishita Sharma’s Perspective –]

He was breathing hard, still reeling from the rage that had consumed him. I didn't waste a second on the pathetic man groaning on the ground; my only priority was Rudra. His face was pale, his knuckles were a mess, and his eyes—his beautiful ocean eyes—still held that frightening red tint.

**Ishita** (Inner Monologue): *He scared me, yes. But seeing him hurt, seeing him so exposed and raw, my worry overrides everything.*

I kept my arm around his waist, guiding his massive frame away from the scene. **I took him towards the car**, opening the passenger door quickly.

**Ishita:** **“Get in, Ru. Now.”** My voice was firm, brooking no argument. He slid inside, thankfully compliant.

I hurried around, **got in myself**, and immediately reached for the emergency first-aid kit I always keep tucked under the seat—a habit from my erratic shoot schedules.

I grabbed his hand, inspecting the damage. His **knuckles were bleeding** freely, one was already swelling, scraped raw where they had connected with the guy’s jaw.

**Ishita:** (My voice was shaky, laced with worry and a sharp tone of scolding.) **“Rudra Singh Rathor, what did I tell you? You could have broken your hand! What if they had a weapon? Who raises their fist like that, huh? You’re a billionaire CEO, not a street fighter!”**

He didn't pull away. He simply watched me, his gaze softening as I started dabbing the antiseptic wipe on the wounds.

**Rudra:** (Muttering, his voice rough.) **“Doesn't matter who I am, **Ishi**. He hurt you. He disrespected you. That's unforgivable.”**

**Ishita:** **“And getting arrested for assault is forgivable?”** I shot back, trying to be tough, but my eyes were welling up. **“Look at this! It’s bleeding everywhere, **love**!”**

I brought his hand up to my mouth and **blew softly** on the stinging antiseptic. The gesture was pure instinct—a mother calming a scraped knee.

**Ishita:** **“You promised me you would look at me. You promised, **Ru**. You promised to let me be your calm. Don’t do that to yourself again, please. Not for someone so worthless.”**

**Rudra:** (He turned his hand, pressing my fingers to his lips.) **“Okay, **baacha**. I promise. I am sorry, I lost control. But you look too beautiful worrying about me. I won’t fight, but I will defend. Always.”**

[Rudra Singh Rathor’s Perspective –]**

The rage was receding, leaving behind a cold, hard ache in my chest and a throbbing pain in my hands. I felt exposed, having shown her the darkest part of my nature. But the fear in her eyes was what hurt the most.

She didn’t let me walk alone. She took charge, her small hand firm on my arm, leading me to the car. Her tone was sharp, commanding me to sit—a welcome change from the compliance I usually received.

I watched her frantic movements, the way her brows knitted together in **dam worried** concentration as she pulled out the kit.

When she grabbed my hand, the rough texture of my skin contrasted sharply with her delicate fingers. Her scolding was intense, laced with genuine terror for my safety.

**Ishita:** **“Rudra Singh Rathor, what did I tell you? You could have broken your hand! What if they had a weapon? Who raises their fist like that, huh? You’re a billionaire CEO, not a street fighter!”**

I knew she was right, but the words were necessary.

**Rudra:** **“Doesn't matter who I am, **Ishi**. He hurt you. He disrespected you. That's unforgivable.”**

Then she accused me of breaking my promise, and the accusation cut deep.

**Ishita:** **“You promised me you would look at me. You promised, **Ru**. You promised to let me be your calm. Don’t do that to yourself again, please. Not for someone so worthless.”**

The moment she brought my damaged hand to her lips and **blew softly** on the sting, I nearly broke. That **soft touch** was more powerful than any weapon I owned.

**Rudra:** (I turned her hand, pressing her fingers to my lips.) **“Okay, **baacha**. I promise. I am sorry, I lost control.”** I looked into her worried brown eyes. **“But the moment you touched me, I saw red turn back into you. You are my clarity. Just… please, **Jaan**, don’t look so worried. I can’t stand seeing you scared, especially because of me.”**

I managed a faint, reassuring smile despite the pain. **Rudra:** **“You are doing a much better job than my personal physician, you know. I think I’ll keep you for all my injuries.”**

[Ishita Sharma’s Perspective –]

The cold antiseptic stung, but the pain in his eyes—the fear that he had scared me—was worse. I needed to fix that, to reassure him that he hadn’t destroyed the fragile trust we shared.

I dropped the antiseptic bottle, my concern for the wound momentarily forgotten. **i cup his face in my small hands**, forcing him to look directly at me, my eyes wide and earnest.

**Ishita:** **“I am not scared of you, **Ru**.”** My voice was soft but firm. **“Never. You were protecting me. I am scared *for* you. For us. Okay? If something had happened… *Kuch ho jata to* (What if something had happened)?”** My voice cracked slightly on the last part, imagining him hurt or facing legal consequences.

The severity of his anger melted away, replaced by pure vulnerability. **He melt** instantly.

He leaned in, and I didn't resist. He **kiss my palm**, a deep, warm press of his lips against the center of my hand. Then, **we both lean and join forehead**, the contact steadying both our racing hearts.

**Rudra:** (His voice was quiet, a confession against my skin.) **“Nothing will happen to me, **Jaan**. Not as long as I have you. I am always safe when you are near. But I understand, **love**. I’m sorry I exposed you to that. I hate that I can’t control the instinct to protect you.”**

**Ishita:** **“It’s okay. Just promise me to choose peace next time,”** I murmured, sighing contentedly as I felt his rough cheek against mine. **I am caressing his face**, my thumb tracing the sharp line of his brow, trying to smooth away the tension.

I tilted my head, pressing a warm **kiss on his nose**. Then I moved slightly, placing another **kiss on his cheek**, and a reverent one on his **forehead**, right where his beautiful mind rested. I finished with a soft peck on his **chin**, avoiding his lips—the final, forbidden boundary.

He couldn't hold back anymore. He gently lifted me, **he pull me on his lap**, positioning me sideways against his chest. I settled in naturally, wrapping my arms loosely around his neck.

He **snuggled into to my neck**, breathing deeply, the frantic rhythm of his heart finally slowing against my chest.

**Ishita:** (I closed my eyes, feeling completely safe, and **i caressed his hair**, running my fingers through the thick strands.) **“You are my favorite view, **Ru**. Even when you’re messy and bruised.”**

**Rudra:** **“You are my only sanctuary, **baacha**. I don’t know how I existed before you. Thank you for staying. Thank you for fixing me.”**

[Rudra Singh Rathor’s Perspective –]

Her words were the final nail in my coffin of control. She wasn't scared of the storm; she was scared of the *damage* the storm could cause. *For us.*

When she **cup my face in her small hands**, the heat of her touch instantly soothed the throbbing in my knuckles.

**Ishita:** **“I am not scared of you, **Ru**. Never. I am scared *for* you. For us. Okay? If something had happened…”**

**I melt**. All the ruthlessness, the carefully cultivated coldness, dissolved. I kissed her palm, then **both lean and join forehead**, breathing her in. This close, I could only speak the truth.

**Rudra:** **“Nothing will happen to me, **Jaan**. Not as long as I have you. You are my protection. I’m sorry I exposed you to that, **love**.”**

She was **caressing my face**, her touch light and healing. I closed my eyes, savoring the simple, profound peace of her proximity.

Then came the beautiful cascade of gentle **kisses**: on my **nose**, my **cheek**, my **forehead**, my **chin**. Each touch a non-verbal affirmation of her love and trust, respecting the boundary we held, yet flooding me with devotion.

I couldn't stand the distance a second longer. **i pull her on my lap**, adjusting my grip until she was nestled against me. **i snuggled into to her neck**, inhaling her scent—my home.

**Ishita:** **“You are my favorite view, **Ru**. Even when you’re messy and bruised.”**

**Rudra:** (I held her tighter, resting my head against her soft shoulder as she **caressed his hair**.) **“You are my only sanctuary, **baacha**. I don’t know how I existed before you. You fix everything, **Ishi**. Every mess, every scar, every brutal instinct. Never leave my side.”**

**Rudra:** **“Let’s forget the fight. Tell me what color rose you wanted. I will buy you a thousand.”**

[Ishita Sharma’s Perspective –]

His question about the roses snapped me out of the intense moment, pulling us back to the gentle reality of our private conversation. I still felt safe, curled on his lap, his heartbeat a steady rhythm against my ear.

**Ishita:** (I tilt my head back, looking up at his face, my lips curving into a soft **smile**.) **“Blue. Like your eyes. And not a thousand, **Ru**. Just two.”**

**Rudra:** (He frowns slightly, his thumb brushing my waist.) **“Why two, **Jaan**? That makes no sense. I can buy an entire greenhouse of blue roses right now.”**

**Ishita:** **“Because,”** I explain softly, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. **“One is for you. To put in your coat pocket, right here,”** (I tap the lapel of his shirt) **“whenever you go somewhere important. So when you’re standing tall and being Mr. Ruthless CEO, you remember that a soft color belongs to you, and that I’m thinking of you.”**

I pause, my eyes holding his.

**Ishita:** **“And the other one? The other is for my hair. To keep my favorite blue color close to me, too.”**

[Rudra Singh Rathor’s Perspective –]

She asks for two blue roses—the color of my eyes—instead of the extravagance I offered. Her request is so small, so simple, and yet so deeply meaningful.

**Rudra:** (I frown slightly, my thumb brushing my waist.) **“Why two, **Jaan**? That makes no sense. I can buy an entire greenhouse of blue roses right now.”**

I watch her as she explains, the tenderness in her voice catching in my throat.

**Ishita:** **“One is for you. To put in your coat pocket, right here, whenever you go somewhere important. So when you’re standing tall and being Mr. Ruthless CEO, you remember that a soft color belongs to you, and that I’m thinking of you.”**

The idea of her choosing a piece of *me*—my eye color—as a shared secret symbol, melts the last of the day’s tension. I see the quiet brilliance in her demand for two roses; she wants to be a tangible part of my public life, even in secret.

**Rudra:** (I kiss her forehead, a slow, solemn press.) **“Done, **Ishi**. Two blue roses it is. One for the armor, and one for the angel who makes me strong.”**

I hold her close, breathing in her scent.

**Rudra:** **“But next time you ask for a gift, **baacha**, I’m going to buy you a whole island. And it will be shaped like a heart, and painted blue.”**

**Ishita:** (She giggles, hitting my chest softly.) **“You’re hopeless, **Ru**.”**

**Rudra:** **“Only for you, **love**. Only for you.”**