The boy seated across from Devansh on the chair, sprawled carelessly and without a hint of decorum, was staring at him with unwavering focus.
His full name was Shiv Rode.
The only, albeit compulsory, friend of Devansh Kapoor…
And also, the ruthless monopolist of the global film and music industry.
If Devansh reigned as the most powerful and merciless king of the global corporate world, then Shiv Rode was the wicked sovereign of the film and music domain.
Shiv was globally renowned for his sharp tongue, arrogance, and notorious penchant for wickedness.
His infamy was no less striking than his fame.
To the world, Shiv was the kind of man who, for his own amusement, had destroyed the careers of countless talented actors and singers.
Yet, amidst all his flaws, Shiv possessed one unique trait.
He was the only person in the world privy to all of Devansh's secrets—everything except for the current workings of Devansh's enigmatic mind and his future plans.
Shiv knew everything—Devansh's past and present, laid bare before him.
After a brief, intense gaze at Devansh, a wicked smirk curled on Shiv's lips.
Spinning his chair lazily, he asked, "By the way, did you meet the cute cat yesterday?"
"Cute cat? And who might that be?" Devansh inquired, his tone as expressionless as his face, his eyes fixed on Shiv.
Hearing this, Shiv stopped spinning his chair abruptly.
Narrowing his eyes at Devansh, a mischievous glint in his gaze, he leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "Your cool and adorable ex-wife, of course—our cute cat! Were you not with her last night… in the master bedroom of your private presidential suite at Hotel Ring Star? Come on, spill it—weren't you two behaving like a pair of lovebirds last night? Didn't you spend the night together?"
"Yes, we did. So…?" Devansh replied, his tone calm and unperturbed.
Shiv's face lit up with the gleeful curiosity of a meddlesome aunt. Blushing slightly, he bit the edge of his sleeve and shyly ventured, "And? Did something… happen between you two last night?"
"No. Not much," Devansh answered with the same impassive demeanor.
Shiv was internally dying of embarrassment as he asked such questions.
His face flushed deep red like that of a bashful maiden, yet his tongue refused to relent, firing question after question at Devansh.
In contrast, Devansh… remained utterly devoid of emotion.
Like a perfectly programmed machine, he answered Shiv's inquiries without hesitation or discomfort.
Unable to detect any cracks in his friend's composure, Shiv reached into his overcoat, retrieved a pair of binoculars, and carefully examined Devansh's face.
Even after zooming in, again and again, Shiv found no trace of emotion—not a flicker.
Defeated, he sighed, lowering the binoculars and letting his shoulders slump.
Devansh Kapoor was a man whose face only revealed emotion, and that too rarely, in the presence of one person—his strikingly beautiful ex-wife, Anisha.
Expecting to find a shred of sentiment on Devansh's face in Anisha's absence…
Would be as futile as imagining someone surviving more than three days without water in the blistering expanse of the Lut Desert.
(In short, impossible.)
After a moment of silence, Shiv straightened up and asked in a more serious tone, "Have you given any thought to how the cute cat might feel when she learns about your engagement?"
"No."
Shiv groaned, burying his face in his hands.
"Damn it! He's not just a perfectly programmed machine—he's a dead one."
"Oh, for heaven's sake! What am I supposed to do with this emotionless, heartless man? What will become of his love life?" Shiv muttered to himself, rubbing his temples in exasperation.
Here's the refined version of the chapter with a more polished tone, keeping the emotions and flow intact, while replacing "Aneisha" with "Anesha":
Inside the Cottage:
Anesha clung to his feet, her tears streaming uncontrollably, as she cried,
"Ronnie! My brother…? Look at him! He's bleeding so much!"
The man she addressed was none other than Raunak, her teacher and confidant, often called "Guru Dev(Master)" by Anesha, though today she was calling him Ronnie with desperation.
Raunak was a striking figure—tall and handsome, with sharp features and a lean build. His appearance gave no hint of his sexual orientation; to the world, he was simply a charismatic, dashing young man.
Seated beside her, Raunak gently tried to console Anesha, but her grief was unrelenting.
Softly wiping her tears, Raunak murmured,
"Little Girl, look at me. Stop crying. Your brother is fine. Just look over there once…"
"No!" she sobbed, her voice trembling with pain. "I can't. He's bleeding so much…!"
Raunak sighed deeply and made one last attempt.
"LittleGirl, listen to me. If you don't stop crying, I swear, I'll start crying too."
His voice wavered as his eyes glistened with genuine tears.
Yet, even these words—which normally softened Anesha's heart—failed to console her this time.
Curling into herself like a fragile child, she wept uncontrollably, as though the weight of her struggles had finally crushed her. The scars of her childhood, her countless battles, and the resilience she'd clung to all these years seemed to shatter in an instant.
Suddenly, a voice interrupted her grief.
"Didi…!(Sister) Oh, come on! It was just a prank! Stop crying, please. I hate seeing you like this."
Anesha's tear-filled eyes darted toward the sound and landed on Manan, standing sheepishly by the couch.
Raunak, who had been sitting silently with guilt etched on his face, looked at Anesha with innocent, apologetic eyes.
In his hand was the very knife Anesha had seen plunged into her brother's neck just moments ago—now twisted harmlessly in his grip.
Seeing Manan safe and unharmed, Anesha burst into tears once more. This time, however, her grief was accompanied by relief.
She dashed toward him, slapped him hard across the face, and then pulled him into a fierce embrace. Her voice cracked as she sobbed,
"How could you be so reckless, Manan? Do you have any idea what I went through when I thought you were bleeding to death? Do you know how terrified I was?"
Manan, guilt-ridden, held her close and whispered,
"I'm sorry, Didi… I'm really sorry. It was stupid. I won't ever do anything like this again. Please… don't cry."
As he stroked her hair soothingly, he glanced over Anesha's shoulder and cheekily gave Raunak a thumbs-up and a playful wink.
Raunak smiled faintly, though his eyes flickered with a shadow of unease as he glanced toward the backyard gate.
After scolding and lecturing Manan at length, Anesha finally excused herself to clean up, the "blood" smearing her clothes making her uneasy.
What she believed to be red paint was, in fact, something far more sinister. Unaware of the truth, she disappeared into the washroom.
The moment she left, Raunak turned to Manan and said firmly,
"She was really scared, Manan. That prank was too much."
Manan shrugged, unbothered.
"If she was this scared because of a prank, imagine what would have happened if she'd seen that man's actual bloodied corpse."
Raunak glared at him, his frustration simmering beneath his calm demeanor.
The Manan who appeared sweet and innocent in front of Anesha had now shifted into someone mature and commanding.
"Go clean yourself up. There's still blood on you," Raunak instructed.
Manan nodded curtly, brushing dust off his sleeves. "Fine. But you'd better clean up the mess inside while I'm gone."
Raunak clenched his jaw as Manan left, muttering under his breath,
"You little tyrant! Just because I saved you doesn't mean you can boss me around."
Last night, when a masked intruder had attacked Manan, Raunak had arrived just in time, saving him with swift and precise combat skills. Neither of them escaped entirely unscathed, though, as the fight had left the living area drenched in the attacker's blood.
Despite working tirelessly through the night, they hadn't managed to clean it all before dawn. With Anesha approaching the cottage, there had been no time to come up with an elaborate explanation. Thus, Manan's impulsive idea of staging a prank was put into action.
What neither of them had anticipated was the depth of Anesha's fear—her aversion to blood and violence rooted in scars far deeper than anyone could guess.
Once the cottage was cleaned and quiet, Anesha busied herself in the kitchen, preparing a Chinese meal for Devansh.
By then, Raunak and Manan had left for the bookstore to get study materials for Manan, as his board exams loomed just two months away.
In the Kitchen:
Anesha hummed softly as she washed boiled noodles under cold water, the melody of her favorite Spanish song filling the air.
"A ella le gusta la gasolina
(Dame más gasolina)
Cómo le encanta la gasolina
(Dame más gasolina)..."
Her delicate waist swayed gently to the rhythm, her voice carrying the flawless accent of a native Spaniard.
She was lost in her own world, entirely unaware of the pair of burning eyes fixed on her from a distance.
The moment froze when large, firm hands suddenly gripped her waist, pulling her back into the warmth of a solid chest.
A gasp escaped her lips as she tried to turn around, but the strong hold on her waist left her immobilized.
A deep, familiar voice murmured against her ear, sending shivers down her spine,
"My love… I've missed this voice so much. I've missed you more than words can ever express…"
Devansh's baritone filled her ears, leaving her stunned and breathless.
______________________________
Will Anesha uncover the truth of the previous night?
Why has Devansh appeared at the cottage?
And will Manan discover their secret encounter?
To know…
To be continued…