The night had folded into a velvet sky as the streets blurred past the tinted windows of the jet black G-Wagon. The world outside buzzed with headlights and chaos, but inside the car — it was silent.
Too silent.
The hum of the luxury engine filled the void between two people who didn't know whether to talk or stay locked in their thoughts.
Aarav Singhaniya, dressed in his formal three-piece, with his sleeves rolled up just enough to show the tattoo on his wrist, sat in the driver's seat. The sharpness of his jaw could slice through silence. And maybe tonight, it would.
Beside him sat Janvi, her face turned toward the window, her long earrings slightly swinging as the car took each smooth turn. Her expression was unreadable — calm, too calm.
She wasn't ignoring him.She just wasn't entertaining him either.
Aarav exhaled a soft, exaggerated breath.
"Mr. Sharma always this quiet, Miss Janvi?" he asked, his voice a smooth mix of mockery and curiosity.
Janvi blinked, still looking out.
Aarav continued, one brow raised, eyes on the road.
"Ya phir yeh bas mere aas-paas aake hi apko moun vrat lag jaata hai?"("Or does this silent vow hit you only when you're around me?")
A soft laugh escaped her lips, barely audible.
But Aarav caught it.
"Ah, finally. She breathes." he muttered dramatically, shaking his head with a smirk.
Janvi turned slightly, one brow arched.Her tone was low, polite, with just a pinch of sarcasm.
"You talk enough for both of us, Aarav. I figured someone should be quiet."
He snorted. "Oof. Sharp. You've been waiting to say that, haven't you?"
"Not really," she replied, still calm, still unreadable. "I say things when they matter."
That hit somewhere.
Not hard. But enough to make his jaw flex.
They reached a red light. The glow painted his face in crimson hues. He turned toward her, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting near the gear.
His voice dropped a notch.
"You matter, Janvi."
Her eyes snapped to his.
He held her gaze.
No games this time. No sarcasm.
Just truth, dressed in that typical Singhaniya boldness.
She looked away first. "Don't say things you don't mean."
"Tumhare liye toh jhooth bhi sacch ban jaata hai, Janvi."("Even my lies feel like truth when they're about you, Janvi.")
She didn't respond.
The light turned green.
The car rolled forward.
Aarav sighed dramatically. "This feels like one of those serious scenes in your favorite emotional serials."
"You watch those?" she asked, clearly surprised.
He grinned. "No. But I know how to act in them."
Janvi chuckled softly. "Of course, Mr. Drama Singhaniya."
There was a pause. A rare, comfortable one.
Then she whispered, more to herself than to him:
"Why do you always act like everything is a joke?"
He didn't look at her.
His voice came softer now. Controlled.
"Because when I don't… I say things that I shouldn't."
The car slowed down in front of her apartment.
He didn't say anything.
Janvi reached for the door handle.
"Janvi," he said, stopping her hand with his own, fingers grazing hers.
She looked at him.
His expression was unreadable this time.
But his words?
Unforgettable.
"You think I'm a joke, fine. But one day, you'll realise — this joke was the only truth around you."
.______..______..______.📑.______..______.📑.______.
The G-Wagon came to a slow stop in front of her apartment building, where the glow from the porch light painted the driveway in amber. The world outside was still—quiet buildings, sleeping homes, and the occasional distant bark of a dog.
Aarav exhaled. "Well, here we are."
Janvi nodded, pushing the car door open. "Thanks, Mr. Singhaniya."
He made a face. "Uhh—uh, no. No 'Mr.' I already told you. Just Aarav."
She paused, hand on the door. "Right. Aarav. Got it. Now go, you're getting late too."
She stepped out, her heels clicking softly on the pavement.
As she walked toward the gate of her building, he called after her.
"You're impossible to understand, you know?"
Janvi glanced over her shoulder, a smile tugging at her lips. "So I've been told."
"What does that even mean?" he called again. "Ms. Sharma, I demand clarification!"
She just waved a hand in the air without turning back and disappeared inside the building.
Inside the car, Aarav shook his head and chuckled, starting the engine again.
"Good man, Singhaniya," he muttered to himself. "She's hard to talk to. But damn, she's interesting."
The G-Wagon merged back into the flow of night traffic, heading toward the family estate. The road shimmered under the yellow lights, and Aarav's thoughts hummed louder than the engine.
He didn't know when it happened—but there was something about Janvi Sharma that had started to feel like a puzzle he wanted to solve.
And Aarav Singhaniya was never one to walk away from a challenge.
(As Aarav Singhaniya didn't do crushes. He didn't believe in fragile feelings.)
But as the car raced through the quiet highway, he knew something was shifting. Not loudly. Not obviously. Just like Janvi—quietly, powerfully, and maybe permanently.
As the highway lights blurred into streaks of gold, Aarav exhaled.
"Yeh ladki... trouble hai," he said aloud.
And for the first time in weeks, he smirked.
.______..______..______.📑.______..______..______..______.(●'◡'●)(●'◡'●)
Thenight air had begun to cool, brushing lightly against skin like velvet as Delhi's streets glowed beneath a mesh of amber streetlights. Outside the upscale Emporio Mall, the reflection of neon lights glimmered on the glossy surface of Rudra Singhaniya's black Mercedes. He stood with one hand lazily tucked into his pant pocket, the other reaching out to help his wife step out of the car.
Anaya adjusted the collar of her tailored beige office suit as she took his hand. Her heels clicked softly against the pavement, blending with the ambient hum of city life. The day had been long at the tech firm, yet there was a gleam in her eyes — not from the tiredness, but something far more uncertain.
"Why are we here?" she asked, glancing at the mall entrance suspiciously.
Rudra shut the car door and came to her side, his hand naturally finding its place at the small of her back. "Just a little shopping. Didn't we agree it was long overdue?"
Before she could respond, his fingers brushed back a loose strand of her hair. "You look good tonight, Mrs. Singhaniya," he said in that signature husky baritone of his — the one that made her forget the logic behind her resistance. "But we've never had a proper shopping date, have we?"
He didn't wait for her reply. Instead, he guided her toward the entrance with his hand firmly on her waist, his touch both possessive and oddly comforting.
They walked in as a couple that turned heads. He in a charcoal black suit, crisp and dominant in every stride. She in elegance — poised, reserved, and exuding warmth. The floor staff inside recognized him instantly.
"Good evening, sir," a female attendant stepped forward. "What can we assist you with today?"
Rudra tilted his head toward Anaya. "For my wife. Show her the latest collection."
The staff's smile widened. "Of course. Ma'am, if you'll come with me."
Anaya hesitated, but Rudra leaned closer and whispered into her ear, low and deliberate. "Go on. You'll look breathtaking in every piece. And besides… I'm picking the final one."
Anaya rolled her eyes softly but obeyed, following the woman toward the changing section. The display of outfits ranged from sleek modern dresses to hand-embroidered Indo-western blends.
As she browsed the racks, a chill ran down her spine. Familiar eyes. A shadow in the reflection of the mirror across the hall.
Her breath caught.
Kunal Rajawat.
She turned sharply and hurried back toward Rudra, her body tensing. Reaching his side, she instinctively pressed herself close, her hands gripping his arm as if anchoring herself.
"Shit… Iss bhi pure Delhi mein yahi aana tha," she mumbled under her breath.
Rudra looked down at her, mildly amused. "Good to know, but why are you hiding behind me like a child?"
"Kunal yahi hai. Rudra, we can't be seen right now. Not like this," she whispered.
His eyes sharpened. "Are you scared of him?"
"No," she snapped. "It's just… it'll be messy. I don't want unnecessary drama in public. Can we just leave? Please."
Rudra paused, then smirked — the devilish one she both hated and secretly loved. "Alright, we'll leave. But what do I get in return?"
"Seriously, Rudra? This is not the time—"
"It's our little secret, right? Not in front of the public, hmm? So give me something for keeping your secret safe."
Anaya groaned, but her eyes softened. She knew that look on his face too well.
"Fine. Whatever you want. Just please, let's go before he spots us."
Rudra raised a brow. "Anything?"
She hesitated. Then nodded. "Yes. Anything. Whatever you want. Now chalo.. na...., ghar chalte hain. Please!"
His smirk grew deeper. He offered his hand, and she took it, letting him pull her close again. They walked out the side exit, choosing the quieter corridor.
Outside, the city buzzed louder — honking, chaos, the occasional scream of a chai vendor. But Rudra's grip stayed steady.
As they reached the car, he opened the passenger door for her. "We'll settle your debt later, Mrs. Singhaniya. And I plan to collect."
She rolled her eyes, climbing in. "You're impossible."
"But loyal," he added with a wink, before closing the door.
Back in the driver's seat, Rudra stole a glance at her as he started the engine. She had turned to look out the window, but the corner of her lips was twitching upward — a smile she was trying hard to hide.
He leaned slightly toward her.
"By the way," he murmured, "If Kunal ever comes close, just remember something."
She turned to him, questioning.
Rudra's tone turned serious. "I don't share."
And just like that, the air thickened between them again. Protective. Possessive. Undeniably his.
And she didn't mind — not one bit.