[Rudra Singh Rathor’s Perspective ]

*Eternity Company | President’s Cabin | The Next Day*

I sit behind my massive mahogany desk, the entire city skyline spread out below me, an empire at my command. The air conditioning is set precisely, the silence is absolute, and I am wearing the three-piece suit that is my corporate armor.

But the moment I lift my hand, the illusion shatters.

**I am looking at my knuckles**, which are **covered by a cute bandage**. Not the clinical, beige kind my doctor would use, but a discreet, colorful one—the kind she must have picked up *just* for me. **She did this morning again**, replacing the practical dressing with this small, soft symbol of her care.

The dull throb in my hand reminds me of the violence, but the bandage reminds me of the healing touch. I trace the edge of the plaster with my thumb, and a ghost of a smile touches my lips. The cold, **ruthless** CEO persona cracks slightly just from the sight of that small, pastel strip.

**Rudra** (Inner Monologue): *This is what she does. She wraps my brutality in silk. She doesn't take the violence out of me, she just gives me a softer reason to control it.*

My phone vibrates with a confirmation text from Laksh.

**Laksh (Text):** *The matter has been handled, Sir. Discreetly and permanently. According to the 'Rudra Singh Rathor type'—they won't be harassing anyone again.*

I nod, satisfied. I had told **Laksh to handle those boys according to rudra singh rathor type**. That meant severe financial and social damage, the kind that makes men disappear without leaving a trace of blood—just fear. Violence is messy; corporate destruction is clean. And effective.

But even as I finalize the ruthlessness, my **desire** is focused entirely on her.

I close my eyes for a moment, letting the memory flood in: the feel of her small body on my lap, her breath in my neck, the innocent, brave look in her eyes as she worried over me.

**Rudra** (Inner Monologue): *I need her here. I need to hold her every moment to remind myself that my heart beats for something other than profit.*

I open my eyes and pick up the twin blue roses i order—the ones that match my **ocean eyes**—one for my pocket, one for her. I gently tuck the perfect, velvet-soft petals into my jacket lapel.

This rose isn't a fashion statement. It's my tether. It's the secret **love** that allows the CEO to function.

The whole world sees a man who owns everything. I feel like a man who only owns two things: a single blue rose and the fierce **love** of one incredible woman. And those two things are the only ones that matter.

I am deep in the details of the Q4 financial projections, the familiar drone of numbers demanding my attention. The blue rose she gave me is tucked neatly into my lapel, its cool petals a constant, subtle presence against the armor of my suit.

Suddenly, a knock. Laksh enters, his usual impeccable composure slightly ruffled.

**Laksh:** **“Sir, there’s an issue. A rather widespread rumor is circulating. It’s on every major news outlet and across social media.”**

I raise an eyebrow, not bothering to look up. **Rudra:** **“Details, Laksh. I don't pay you to manage gossip.”**

**Laksh:** (He places a sleek tablet on my desk. The headline screams in bold font): *RATHOR HEIR FINDS LOVE? Rudra Singh Rathor Spotted Getting Cozy with Business Tycoon’s Daughter, Ms. Anya Sharma.*

I glance down. The grainy photo shows me standing formally next to some heiress—a standard business interaction from a week ago, blown up and distorted with malicious intent.

**Rudra** (Inner Monologue): *This is the price of keeping **Ishi** a secret. The world will fill the empty space with lies.*

**Rudra:** **“This is irrelevant, Laksh. Standard press fodder. Have the legal team send out the customary cease and desist. I will not waste a minute on this.”**

**Laksh:** **“Sir, I understand. But what if … Ishita Ma’am ”**saw it

That hits me. Not the rumor, but the knowledge that she saw it. The casual cruelty of the world, directed at her heart.

**Rudra** (Inner Monologue): *My **Ishi** is hurting. The logic of business means nothing when it comes to her feelings.*

I slam my palm down on the desk, ignoring the sharp protest from my bandaged knuckles.

**Rudra:** **“Call off the next two hours of meetings. Get the car ready. Immediately.”**

**Laksh:** **“Sir, where are we going?”**

I stand up, already peeling the blue rose from my lapel. **Rudra:** **“I’m going to my **Jaana**. I have a rumor to kill and an apology to make.”**

[Ishita Sharma’s Perspective –]

I am staring blankly at my palette, but all I see is the photo on my phone. **The news spread about Rudra and some other business man daughter like dating**.

I know, logically, it’s just a photo, just business. I know he is entirely faithful and doesn’t even spare a second glance for women like Ms. Anya Sharma. But **it hurts**. Deeply. It’s a sharp, cold jab of insecurity—a reminder that I am his **secret**, and she is his public option.

**Ishita** (Inner Monologue): *I know Rudra didn't do this. I know he is with me. But seeing them together, seeing the world easily accept her as his partner… it makes our beautiful, sacred **secret** feel like a painful liability.*

A tear tracks down my cheek, blurring the bright pigments on my hand. I quickly wipe it away. I try to focus on my work, but the **hurt** is a heavy weight in my chest. *If he truly loves me, why keep me a secret?*

Suddenly, the door to my private studio swings open—not a knock, not a careful entrance—but a forceful push.

I look up, my eyes wide and startled.

**He is standing in the doorway**, looking absolutely undone, even in his impeccable suit. His **ocean blue eyes** are blazing, filled with a mixture of anger at the world and profound distress for me.

**Rudra:** (His voice is rough, almost breathless.) **“**Ishi**.”**

He strides across the room in three steps, covering the distance like a predator seeking his prey—but the prey is the pain on my face.

**Ishita:** (I try to mask my tears, turning away.) **“Rudra, you shouldn’t be here. You have meetings.”**

He doesn't listen. He gently turns my face back to him, his thumb catching the tear on my cheek.

**Rudra:** **“Don’t you dare cry over that garbage, **baacha**. I am here. Look at me. Only me.”**

He opens his hand, and there it is: **The blue rose**. He holds it out to me—the one meant for his coat pocket.

**Rudra:** **“This is the only truth, **love**. Not that manufactured lie. This rose belongs in my armor, but right now, it belongs to you. To remind you that even when the world is lying about me, I am only thinking of you. I belong only to you.”**

He presses the soft petals into my hand, then cups my face with his bandaged hand.

**Rudra:** **“I’m sorry, **Jaana**. I’m sorry I haven’t made you public yet. But give me time. I love you. Do you believe me?”**

The raw distress in his eyes and the sight of the **blue rose**, the one meant for his corporate armor, being offered to me, shattered the last of my resolve. The pain of the rumor vanished, replaced by the warmth of his undeniable presence.

He had asked if I believed him.

**Ishita:** (I leaned into his bandaged hand, my voice choked with sudden relief and affection.) **“I love you more, **Ru**. That’s it. I believe you. I know you.”**

The words were barely out before he reacted. He pulled me close, fiercely, possessively. **We hug tightly**, a desperate, beautiful embrace that spoke volumes. He **literally pick her up while hugging**, lifting my feet off the ground, spinning me slightly so I was pressed completely against the hard, safe expanse of his chest.

I tightened my arms around his neck, burying my face into the silk of his suit. I felt his lips move across my skin—he was **kissing my shoulder**, soft, fervent kisses that moved up my neck until he reached my hair. He paused, then pressed a deep, lingering **kiss on my forehead**—a sacred promise, as always.

**Ishita:** (Hanging onto him, my voice was a fragile whisper against his ear, the fear momentarily resurfacing.) **“*Kabhi chodh ke nhi jaoge na* (You will never leave me, right)?”**

I needed the assurance. I needed the man who could conquer the world to promise he wouldn't conquer my heart just to let it break.

**Rudra:** (His voice was heavy, vibrating deep in his chest as he settled me back down, but kept me locked against him.) **“Never, **Ishi**. Never. That woman, Anya, she is a business deal. You… you are my entire existence. My life. How can I leave the air I breathe, **baacha**? This,”** (he nudges the blue rose lying in my hand) **“is the only woman I want beside me. Forever.”**

**Ishita:** (I pull back just enough to look at his eyes, placing the rose carefully in my pocket.) **“Good. Because I am not letting you go. You are stuck with my small business and my bad rhythm forever, Mr. Ruthless.”**

**Rudra:** (He smiles, a deep, genuine smile that makes my heart soar.) **“It’s the only rhythm I want to dance to, **Jaana**. Now, let’s get you out of here before Laksh sends the SWAT team in thinking I’ve been kidnapped by my favorite makeup artist.”**

[Rudra Singh Rathor’s Perspective –]

The moment she looked at me and said, **“I love you more, Ru,”** the pressure of the rumor, the stress of the secret, and the ache in my hand vanished. Her belief was my only truth.

**I literally pick her up while hugging**, needing the physical reality of her small, precious body against mine. I spun her, grounding myself in her scent, her laughter. I sealed the moment with devotion: **kissing her shoulder**, her neck, then planting a solemn, long **kiss on her forehead**.

She pulled back just enough to ask the question that held her deepest fear.

**Ishita:** **“*Kabhi chodh ke nhi jaoge na* (You will never leave me, right)?”**

The vulnerability in her voice crushed me. She deserved a public, grand assurance, not this frantic, whispered exchange in a makeup studio.

**Rudra:** (My voice was low, absolutely earnest.) **“Never, **Ishi**. Never. That woman, Anya, she is a business deal. You… you are my entire existence. My life. How can I leave the air I breathe, **baacha**? This is not just love, **love**; this is destiny. You are woven into my soul.”**

I eased her feet back to the ground, keeping her close.

**Rudra:** **“The only place I’m going is to buy you that island I promised. Painted blue, just like my eyes. Because I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure you never doubt this **love** again.”**

I pull her into a tight, final embrace, resting my chin on her head. **Rudra:** **“Now, let’s go. I’m canceling everything. We’re going to my penthouse, and you are going to treat my knuckles and feed me comfort food, **Jaan**. No more talking about rumors.”**

[Ishita Sharma’s Perspective – ]

We went to his **penthouse**, and the hours flowed seamlessly. We ate the Maggi from the "survival kit," watched a movie, and he finished bandaging my hand with meticulous care. He talked about our future, and I simply listened, soaking in the security of his presence. Later, **he dropped me back at my  home**, kissing my forehead like a protective shield against the world.

**Everything is going good**. Better than good. I fell asleep feeling safe, loved, and utterly certain of our future.

But then came the darkness.

**I am sleeping peacefully** when the dream starts. It’s violent, loud, filled with harsh voices and the devastating sound of Rudra walking away. He is cold, his face masked in the terror I saw the day we first met. He tells me I was a mistake. He disappears, and I am left standing alone in a vast, empty hall, the blue rose crumbling in my hand.

**I woke up with a panic attack**. My breath is ragged, my chest is tight, and the room spins. My heart hammers against my ribs like a trapped bird.

**That day my mummy papa was not at home**. They had gone out of town for a religious ceremony. And **my brother is sleeping** in the room next door, but I can’t wake him. I **don't want to tell my brother** about Rudra, or about the kind of anxiety that strikes me when the world feels too fragile.

I throw off my blanket and stumble out of the room. I don't turn on the lights. **I walk somewhere alone in house**—the dark living room feels vast and empty.

My fingers shake as I unlock my phone. I check the time: 3:15 AM. But I don't care. I need to hear his voice, his steady presence to anchor me back to reality.

I hit 'Call.' It rings once, twice… then he answers, his voice thick with sleep.

**Rudra (On Phone):** **“**Jaan**? What is it? Is everything alright? Why are you awake?”**

I try to speak, but only harsh, shallow breaths escape my lips.

**Ishita (Whispering, breathless):** **“Ru… Rudra… I… I can’t breathe.”**

**Rudra (On Phone, instantly alert):** **“**Ishi**, listen to me. Breathe. Slowly. Count with me, **baacha**. In… one, two, three. Out… one, two, three. Where are you?”**

I manage to steady my voice just enough to ask the only question that matters, the one the nightmare forced into my mouth.

**Ishita (Voice trembling):** **“Rudra… tell me the truth. Do you love me? Really? Say it. Promise me you won’t leave. Ever. You won’t tell me I was a mistake, right?”**

[Rudra Singh Rathor’s Perspective –]

*A Hotel Room | Out of City | Late Night*

I am **out of city** for an emergency acquisition meeting, sleeping in a sterile hotel room two states away from my **Ishi**.

The phone jolts me awake at 3:15 AM. It’s her.

**Rudra (On Phone):** **“**Jaan**? What is it? Is everything alright? Why are you awake?”**

The only sound I hear is the terrifying sound of **hard, frantic breathing**. Panic claws at my own chest.

**Rudra (On Phone, instantly alert):** **“**Ishi**, listen to me. Breathe. Slowly. Count with me, **baacha**. In… one, two, three. Out… one, two, three. Where are you? Tell me what you see.”**

My heart is pounding. I am two states away, and I am useless. I want to jump in the car and drive a thousand miles just to hold her.

**Rudra** (Inner Monologue): *If I were there, I could just hold her. I hate this distance.*

Then I hear her voice, fragile and full of the fear the world shouldn't touch.

**Ishita (Voice trembling):** **“Rudra… tell me the truth. Do you love me? Really? Say it. Promise me you won’t leave. Ever. You won’t tell me I was a mistake, right?”**

My chest tightens with fierce protectiveness. The nightmare has grabbed her.

**Rudra (On Phone, my voice deep, firm, absolute):** **“Listen to me, **love**. Look at your left hand. Do you see the blue rose I gave you yesterday?”**

I wait for a soft sniffle and a shaky, **“Yes.”**

**Rudra (On Phone):** **“That rose is the color of my eyes, **Ishi**. And my eyes will *never* stop seeing you. I love you. Truly. Fiercely. You are not a mistake; you are my *destiny*. My only one. I will never leave you. I swear it on the only thing I believe in—you. Do you hear me, **Jaana**? You are safe. I am yours.”**

I keep my voice steady, pouring every ounce of my love into the phone line. **Rudra:** **“Now, tell me one thing you see in that room. Focus on that, **baacha**. Don't look at the dark. Look at what you see right now.”**

[Ishita Sharma’s Perspective –]

His strong, steady voice through the phone is the only thing tethering me. I can feel the cool ceramic of the table where I set down the small blue rose from yesterday—the one I had put in my hair.

**Ishita:** (My breathing is still heavy, but slightly more controlled.) **“Y-your gift.”** I manage to focus on the object, the small blue flower.

My control snaps again, overwhelmed by the memory of the nightmare. The fear is a physical ache.

**Ishita:** **“**Ru**, I love you. I really love you. I am scared. I saw a dream… you left me. I am sorry… did I do anything wrong? Plz don’t leave me, ever.”**

I **keep taking heavy breath**, punctuated by sharp gasps, the tightness in my chest refusing to release. I hate how vulnerable I sound, how completely dependent I am on his voice right now.

**Rudra (On Phone):** **“**Ishi**, listen to me. Breathe with me, **love**. You did *nothing* wrong. You are perfect. That dream was a lie. A nightmare, **baacha**. It means nothing.”**

**Ishita:** **“But it felt real! It felt so cold, and you were angry, and you said… you said I was a mistake,”** I whisper, tears finally flowing freely down my cheeks.

**Rudra (On Phone):** **“I am looking at your gift right now, **Jaan**. The second blue rose, the one I carry with me. It’s right here in my hand. You are *not* a mistake. You are the only correct thing that has ever happened in my life. I am telling you the truth. Say after me: 'Rudra is here.' Say it, **Ishi**.”**

**Ishita:** (I close my eyes, trying to visualize his face instead of the darkness.) **“R-Rudra is here.”**

**Rudra (On Phone):** **“Good. And where is Rudra?”**

**Ishita:** **“With me.”**

**Rudra (On Phone, soft and strong):** **“Always. Now, I want you to walk slowly back to your room. Take the blue rose with you. Hold it. It’s a piece of me, **love**. I am right there with you. I am not leaving the phone until you are back in bed. And then I’m going to spend the next hour telling you every single reason I fell in love with you.”**

He **is calming me with all soft love**, his voice a slow, steady balm against my panic. It works. The sheer force of his love pushes the terror back.

**Ishita:** **“Okay, **Ru**. I’m walking. Don’t hang up. Please.”**

[Rudra Singh Rathor’s Perspective –]

Her terrified voice is the worst sound I have ever heard. I clench the blue rose in my hand, its thorns pressing into my skin—a welcome distraction from the agonizing distance.

**Ishita:** **“**Ru**, I love you. I really love you. I am scared. I saw a dream… you left me. I am sorry… did I do anything wrong? Plz don’t leave me, ever.”**

She **keeps taking heavy breath**, and my heart is ripping in two. She's asking if she's the problem.

**Rudra (On Phone, my voice is low, deep, and utterly certain):** **“**Ishi**, listen to me. Breathe with me, **love**. You did *nothing* wrong. You are perfect. That dream was a lie. A nightmare, **baacha**. It means nothing. I am only worried about *your* health. Never about our relationship.”**

I need her to ground herself in reality, not the nightmare’s cold logic.

**Rudra (On Phone):** **“I am looking at your gift right now, **Jaan**. The second blue rose, the one I carry with me. It’s right here in my hand. You are *not* a mistake. You are the only correct thing that has ever happened in my life. I am telling you the truth. Say after me: 'Rudra is here.' Say it, **Ishi**.”**

She repeats it, and the sound is music to my ears. I am **calming her with all soft love**, using every ounce of emotional strength I have to project safety through the phone.

**Rudra (On Phone):** **“Good. And where is Rudra?”**

**Ishita:** **“With me.”**

**Rudra (On Phone):** **“Always. Now, I want you to walk slowly back to your room. Take the blue rose with you. Hold it. It’s a piece of me, **love**. I am right there with you. I am not leaving the phone until you are back in bed. And then I’m going to spend the next hour telling you every single reason I fell in love with you—starting with the way you scolded me for fighting yesterday.”**

**Rudra (On Phone):** **“Go slowly, **Jaan**. I’m right here. You are safe. I will fix this, I promise. Just walk to your bed, **my brave little baacha

[Ishita Sharma’s Perspective – ]

I walk slowly, the phone pressed against my ear, the silence of the large house less frightening now. I find my bed, the haven the nightmare had violated.

**I go there, lay on bed**, and pull the covers up to my chin. In my other hand, **I hold the rose, pressing it close to my chest**, over my frantically beating heart.

**I close my eyes**, letting the darkness recede, replaced by the steady comfort of his voice.

**I am just hearing him saying how much he loves me—not with grand statements, but with small, specific details that only he notices.

**Rudra (On Phone):** **“I love the mole right behind your left ear, **Ishi**. It’s small, but it’s mine. I love the way your eyes crinkle when you genuinely laugh, the way you try to be professional even when you’re dying to eat street food. I love that you keep a packet of *hajmola* in your bag, **baacha**. It’s the perfect, unexpected chaos that defines you.”**

His voice is deep, soothing, painting pictures that chase the shadows away. He is detaile all my features, everything he like about me.

**Rudra (On Phone):** **“I love the way your fingers smell faintly of foundation and setting spray, even when you try to wash them. I love that you still believe in simple things, **Jaan**. I love the fierce honesty in your brown eyes when you’re arguing with me about corporate strategy. That fire? It keeps my cold heart warm.”**

I exhale a long, shaky breath, the first truly deep breath since I woke up. The tightness in my chest is finally easing.

**Rudra (On Phone):**“I love the small, shy kiss you press on my cheek right before I leave, like you’re marking me as yours. I love that you’re the only person who can make me laugh so hard I can’t breathe, and then two minutes later, I’m scared to death that I’ve upset you.”**

**Ishita** (Inner Monologue): *He notices everything. He loves everything. The dream was a lie.*

**Rudra (On Phone):** **“You are my reality, **love**. My safe place. And you are right where you belong. Sleep now. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”**

I press the phone harder against my ear, the blue rose against my heart. I feel a small, genuine smile bloom on my face as I drift back toward sleep, anchored by the love of the man who is everything I never knew I needed.

**Ishita:** (I murmur, already half-asleep.) **“I love you too, **Ru**. My anchor.”**

[Rudra Singh Rathor’s Perspective ]

I hear the shift in her breathing. She is back in bed, the fear still lingering, but retreating. This is my job now: to rebuild the walls the nightmare broke down.

**I am just hearing her** murmur softly, confirming she is holding the rose. I launch into the confession, stripping away every layer of my carefully constructed reserve.

**Rudra (On Phone):** **“I love the mole right behind your left ear, **Ishi**. It’s small, but it’s mine. I love the way your eyes crinkle when you genuinely laugh, the way you try to be professional even when you’re dying to eat street food. I love that you keep a packet of *hajmola* in your bag, **baacha**. It’s the perfect, unexpected chaos that defines you.”**

I trace the petals of the blue rose I hold, letting the details fuel my words.

**Rudra (On Phone):** **“I love the way your fingers smell faintly of foundation and setting spray, even when you try to wash them. I love that you still believe in simple things, **Jaan**. I love the fierce honesty in your brown eyes when you’re arguing with me about corporate strategy. That fire? It keeps my cold heart warm.”**

I need her to feel the specific, devoted nature of my **love**. It’s not generic; it’s *for her*.

**Rudra (On Phone):** **“I love the small, shy kiss you press on my cheek right before I leave, like you’re marking me as yours. I love that you’re the only person who can make me laugh so hard I can’t breathe, and then two minutes later, I’m scared to death that I’ve upset you.”**

I hear her deep, even breaths now. The panic is gone.

**Rudra (On Phone):** **“You are my reality, **love**. My safe place. And you are right where you belong. Sleep now. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll call you the second I wake up, **my brave little baacha**. Dream only of blue roses and endless roads.”**

I stay silent, listening to the soft, rhythmic sound of her sleeping breath, my own heart finally calming. I hold the line, holding her with the only thing I have right now—my voice and my absolute, unwavering devotion.