Twisted Ties of Life: Second Chance at Love

Twisted Ties of Life (Second Chance at Love) – I’d rather bleed with you than breathe without you!

Hello everyone. This was supposed to be a short Holi story, but it will now be a full-fledged novel. I hope you like the second part. This book is FREE and available to read on my website.

Don’t forget to read the previous parts.

Second Chance at Love (Borrowed Time, Borrowed Life with my Love)

“Hey, Ma,” I called out as I dropped my duffle bag to the floor with a thud and collapsed onto the sofa, every bone in my body screaming from the journey.

She appeared almost instantly, like she’d been waiting behind the curtain the whole time. Her familiar, soothing presence was a balm. She handed me a chilled glass of water, then, with that motherly tenderness only she could pull off, dabbed the sweat off my forehead with the edge of her saree pallu. I took a long swig of the water and leaned back, letting out a sigh that came straight from my soul.

“You’re back for good now, Aadi,” she said with a smile that reached her tired eyes.

“I am.” I nodded, half-smiling. “But no clue how college’s going to work out. With my rank and preferences, it should be Mumbai. Let’s wait and see where I get in.”

“At least you’ll be close to home,” she said, her voice filled with quiet hope. “Finally.”

“Maybe. IIT won’t go easy on me. I might need to stay in the hostel during the week. I can’t do distractions.”

She waved it off like it was no big deal. “As long as you’re not a flight away. Your father says you’re too hard on yourself.”

“Ma, I need to study hard, get a job of my dreams. IIT was my dream and now that has fulfilled. But it’s just a start. I need more. And hard work is the only way.”

“You stay close, that’s all we are asking. Now, sit here, I’ll get you something to eat.”

I nodded because there was nothing else I could do. My mom just wanted me close to home. She disappeared into the kitchen like she always did—her way of saying I missed you without actually saying it.

Food was her love language, and I spoke it fluently. I just closed my eyes because my bus ride wasn’t so comfortable.

Thirty minutes later I woke from a quick nap just as Ma returned like a magician unveiling her masterpiece, holding a plate of golden, perfectly crisp pakoras and coriander-mint chutney that could slap your taste buds awake. The kind of stuff that made you forget hostel food ever existed.

I didn’t even wait for her to set it down. Just grabbed the plate like a man possessed, grinning like an idiot. She laughed that warm, familiar laugh and poured a little extra chutney onto the side of my plate, muttering something about how thin I’d gotten. I didn’t argue—I just ate like my life depended on it, licking my fingers clean when I was done.

The oil, the spice, the love—it all hit different when it came from Ma’s hands.

She vanished again—probably making something else. I wouldn’t put it past her. I’d been away for two years, only showing up during vacations, and she’d made it her mission to feed me enough to last the next two. I’d told her she didn’t need to come pick me up. I was eighteen now, practically a grown man. But in her eyes, I was still the little boy with scraped knees and wild hair. She returned with paneer pakoras. Soft, spicy, and still sizzling. I didn’t even thank her—I just devoured them too.

I was chewing the last bite, eyes half-closed, when I heard it. Giggly whispers. Familiar ones. I turned my head toward the hallway, and there she was—my baby sister.

She spotted me and froze like a cartoon character caught red-handed. Her eyes bulged, and I saw the exact second she decided to run. Too slow. I was off the couch and on her in seconds, grabbing her by the arm as she tried to flee.

Gotcha.

With a wicked grin, I twisted her ear—not hard, just enough to make her yelp. It was tradition. She wailed like I’d torn her limb off. Drama queen.

“What was that you told me on the phone?” I teased, still holding her. “Not scared of me anymore, right?”

“Bhai, pleaaaase! I was joking!” she squealed. “You’re hurting me!”

“Barely,” I snorted. “You should be on TV, honestly.”

“Pleaase…”

“Apologize. Loudly,” I said, twisting just a tiny bit more for the effect.

“I’m sorry! I swear! Stoppp!”

I made her say it a few more times just for fun before finally letting her go. She rubbed her ear like I’d committed war crimes and glared at me like she’d plot my murder in my sleep.

“What are you even doing these days?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Screw you,” she snapped, eyes narrowed.

“Want me to twist the other one?” I flexed my fingers in the air, inching closer.

Her resistance didn’t last long. It never really did. “Vacation!” she yelped, eyes darting between me and the safety of the hallway. “We’re just chilling till school starts. Eighth grade’s coming up.” She sounded like she was announcing her promotion to the UN, not just another year of school.

“We?” I asked, frowning.

“My best friend, Gargi,” she said, her voice gaining confidence now that the ear-twisting session had ended. “Remember I told you about her the last time you came? You couldn’t meet her—she was off celebrating Diwali at her grandparents’ place.” She paused for dramatic effect. “This time, she stayed here and we’re having so much fun. She’s staying with us for the vacation.”

I turned around, expecting some ponytailed teenager with too much energy like my little sister who couldn’t stop babbling. The kind you roll your eyes at and hope to not get a headache.

My eyes found her and it hit me like someone had yanked the air out of the room.

The girl wasn’t anything like my sister. She was like breeze… so different… and so enticing, simply mesmerizing. It was as if she was captivating me without even doing anything. I wasn’t stupid. I knew she was young yet the attraction I felt for her was unnerving.

She wasn’t bouncing or chattering, not showing any attitude or style. Just standing there, still and silent, like she didn’t want to be caught in this. My little healthy tiff with my sister was getting to her. Her hair was long—too long for a girl her age, and open—falling all around her shoulders in messy, artless waves. It wasn’t styled, it wasn’t trying hard… and somehow, that made it worse.

She looked like a dream that hadn’t realized it was dangerous yet. Too hot for a word that felt juvenile. Too… something I couldn’t name without sounding like a creep.

Step away before it was too late. But maybe it was already late. Maybe the bus I could get into had already passed. Now, I was stuck here with her. Gladly.

She stood a little behind my sister, barely making a sound, as if trying to fold herself into the background. And she had. I hadn’t even noticed her until now—until those eyes locked with mine.

Gargi. The name rang a faint bell, something my sister had rambled about a few times. But this? This wasn’t what I’d pictured. Not even close. I should have seen the pictures Shama kept sending on the family chat group but I never downloaded them.

I should have. I didn’t get smitten often. I had a few flings in school but it never meant much. More of it was just for seeing what was the fuzz about.

Her eyes… they were light brown and big, almost too big for her face—held something wild and unsure, like she didn’t know what to do with herself. And those lips. Full. Pink. The kind that whispered sin even when they weren’t moving.

My gaze dropped—foolishly—and I regretted it instantly.

Her shorts. Fuck!

They were barely there. Denim cut-offs, frayed and folded in places they shouldn’t be, hugging legs that went on too long and looked too smooth. She was wearing white sneakers but it just made her look sexier if that was possible. You know like someone who wasn’t trying too hard.

Why didn’t she look like a normal teenager? Why there was something in her that pulled me in? But she was too young. Way too young. Back off, I told myself.

My stomach coiled. She was the same age as my sister—five years younger than me. Eighth grade, for God’s sake. It should’ve ended there. It should’ve stopped me. But my thoughts didn’t listen, and neither did my eyes as I kept staring at her.

I exhaled hard, tried to reset my brain, remind myself who I was. This was wrong. So fucking wrong. But her lips trembled just slightly—like she was nervous or shy or maybe just too unsure of how to exist under my gaze—and then she bit her lower lip.

That tiny motion? It was like lighting a match inside me. I swallowed hard, controlling the urge to touch her. She was also afraid of me and I liked it. I liked that I intimidated her. Damn a little too much.

I should’ve stepped back. My gut was screaming at me to do just that. But instead, I stepped forward, ignoring the internal alarms and stretched out my hand. “Hey.”

She froze. Didn’t move a muscle. Just stared, wide-eyed and tense, like a rabbit stuck in the middle of a road, waiting for headlights to either hit or pass. I tilted my head slightly, a silent gesture asking her to meet me halfway.

After what felt like an entire minute, she lifted her hand—hesitant, slow—and placed it in mine. Her palm was cool and damp, her fingers shaking against mine. I closed my hand gently around hers. Not tight, but firm. A reminder that I’d seen her now. That I was paying attention.

She winced. It was quick—barely a twitch—but I caught it. I pulled on a smile I didn’t feel. “Vacation looks good on you, Shona,” I said, keeping my voice light.

Her eyes widened at my name calling but it just came out. It actually just slipped. But it was done so I moved ahead, not making a big deal out of it. She was staring at me, eyes still wide.

I got serious, my eyes narrowing just a little to make my point.

“When I call, you answer,” I started. “When I ask for a handshake, you give it. Got it? And if you’re staying in this house, I need to know where you’re going, when you’re stepping out, and with whom. Understood?”

She didn’t blink. Just nodded once. The kind of nod that looked like it hurt more than agreeing should.

“You have phone?”

She nodded. I pulled out mine. “Number?”

She rattled the digits and I dialed her. Her phone rang. I pointed to the screen. “Save my number and call me whenever you are leaving the house for permission.”

Her lips parted. My sister muttered something behind me—a sarcastic curse, probably—but a quick glance shut her up. Arms up, palms out, she backed away like I was about to ground her for breathing.

I looked back at Gargi.

Her mouth parted slightly, like she had something to say but couldn’t quite push it past her lips. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was uncertainty. Maybe she didn’t know what to say to a guy who’d just grabbed her attention and her wrist in the same breath.

Finally, she nodded.

Then I didn’t wait. I couldn’t. I was already drowning in guilt and want and a dozen thoughts I didn’t want to name.

“Stop wearing these shorts,” I said—quietly, firmly—and turned around before I did something I’d regret for the rest of my life.

I walked away fast, without looking back, leaving her there—still as ever, with my sister fuming beside her.

I didn’t need that kind of temptation.

Not now. Not ever.

I woke up with a lazy smile tugging at my lips, the kind that comes uninvited when life suddenly feels… just right. The first thing I saw was her—still asleep, the morning light slipping past the curtains and casting soft patterns across her face.

She was sprawled beside me, one arm draped lazily across my neck, clinging even in sleep. I carefully slid it off, slow and gentle, so I didn’t wake her. I sat up and turned to look at her.

That memory. It was the best memory of my life. It wasn’t just a moment. It was the moment. It was when Gargi entered my life. It was when everything changed in my life. I was hooked. Plain as simple.

It’s funny now, looking back—how scared she probably was of me. Not in an obvious way, but in the way girls get nervous when someone’s eyes linger too long, too often. After that day, she never skipped messaging me whenever they went out. Every time her group planned something, a text from her would pop up on my phone—short, casual, but constant.

I never interfered but I loved getting her messages, I basically lived for them. Then when the vacation got over and she went home, she stopped messaging and my little stint got over.

IIT kept my hands full, but it couldn’t keep my mind off her. I didn’t understand what was happening to me. I wasn’t some Romeo dreaming under the moon. I was a guy. Guys liked kissing. Touching. Sex. But with her? I just wanted to see her. That’s it. Just watch her laugh. Watch her walk. Watch her being, well… her. I had this secret folder on my drive—filled with her pictures. And whenever I had a few stolen minutes, I’d go through them like they held the answers to questions I hadn’t even learned to ask yet.

Time moved like it always does—too fast and too slow at the same time. She passed her tenth grade, and with that, something shifted in me. She still had that childlike innocence, but I saw the edges blurring. I knew I could start making my move, softly. I began taking her out to movies. She loved them. It gave us time, space, comfort. Nothing too serious, but every second with her was gold. It was enough.

She never got in the way of my studies—never demanded anything. In fact, she was proud of me, always nudging me forward. Seeing me chase my degree like a man possessed must’ve done something to her too. Because eventually, she picked herself up, pursued a master’s, landed a job that paid well. I was so proud of her.

And then life did what it does best—it flipped the table. Changed everything. Left us scrambling for the pieces. But I wasn’t going to fold. I wasn’t going to let time or fate decide what we got to keep. I didn’t know what the future held, didn’t even pretend to. All I knew was—I was holding on. No matter what.

The room was still dim, the first hints of dawn sneaking through the curtains. I crawled on top of her like I’d done a hundred times before—only this time, slower, more aware of the weight pressing against my chest. The clock blinked six. Fifteen minutes. That’s all I had before the day swallowed me whole. She was fast asleep, lips parted slightly, lashes brushing her cheeks like she was dreaming something soft. Her skin was still bare from the night before, warm under the covers.

My fingers moved on their own, peeling the blanket back, my mouth trailing kisses across her collarbone, her shoulder, the dip of her neck. She sighed in her sleep, murmured something unintelligible—and then gasped when my fingers slipped between her legs.

She was still sensitive from last night. Her body reacted before her mind could catch up, hips tilting, breath hitching. I kept going, slowly, deliberately, coaxing her awake with the way I knew she loved. Her moan cracked through the silence, and her eyes fluttered open.

“Aaditya…”

“Shhh… we’ve got time.”

She blinked at me, still groggy. “Um…”

Whatever protest she was about to raise died the moment I positioned myself and slid inside her. Her back arched. Her hands gripped the sheets.

“Condom, Aadi…”

“Forgot. Next time,” I murmured against her lips, already lost in the way she felt around me.

She frowned, just for a second. But then her head fell back and I moved my hips, slow at first, then deeper, rougher—exactly the way that made her lose control. I watched her come undone, inch by inch, loved her through it, held her through every shiver.

She was my life, and she had no fucking clue how much I had waited for her. Waited for her to grow up, waited for her to accept my first date, waited for her to hold my hand while walking. I wasn’t insane. I knew I had married. But… I just loved her so much. Too much to care about right or wrong.

I pushed deeper and her moans became music to my ears. She was always loud and even that made me crazy for her. You know like when someone hypnotizes you, cripples you completely, she had me in her clutches. She just didn’t understand that, the gravity of my feelings for her.

“Aadi… I’m close…”

I grabbed her hips, held tight, and thrust with everything I had left. She shattered around me, calling my name, and I followed seconds later, the high so intense it left me dizzy. We lay there, hearts racing, tangled up in each other like we were still afraid of losing the moment. I kissed her all over—her cheek, her forehead, her nose, the corner of her lips—unable to stop. I didn’t want to stop.

Finally, I pulled out and dropped beside her, chest still heaving.

“God, I could do this every day. I’m so damn glad you moved to Dubai.”

She rolled her eyes, that usual don’t-start look flashing across her face. But the sigh that followed softened everything. She scooted closer, her body finding that perfect spot against mine like muscle memory. I wrapped my arms around her and held her like the world might end any second.

One last kiss and I slipped out of bed, heading for the bathroom. When I came out, toweling my hair, she was up—barefoot and beautiful, wearing my tee from last night, walking straight into my arms like she belonged there.

I pulled her close and kissed the top of her head, breathing her in. It still felt like a dream, her presence. Just a week ago, she’d looked me in the eye and said the ugliest things she could think of—trying to push me away.

She wanted me gone but only if I would. She knew how stubborn I was of things I wanted in my life. I got them, by hook or crook. Nothing ever stopped me, nothing ever would.

“You’re sick,” she spat, eyes wild. “What if I tell you I don’t want you anymore?” “Say it…”

I met her gaze calmly. “Say it.”

She blinked, caught in the middle of fury and fear. “Aaditya… please. Let me move on.”

I stepped forward, slowly, like I was approaching something fragile. “You already did, remember? You moved here. Changed countries. Changed everything. And I followed. That’s how we ended up in this goddamn half-empty apartment in Dubai. That’s what moving on looks like.”

“Like this?” she barked, throwing her arms wide. Her eyes swept the bare walls, the open suitcases, the cardboard boxes we hadn’t touched in weeks. “Is this what you wanted? Chaos? No plan? Just you barging back in, pretending like everything’s fine? I don’t want a half life.”

“What do you want me to do, Gargi?” I asked, voice rising. “Tell me. For once, just tell me.”

“I just want to be away from you!” she screamed, the sound raw, guttural—like it cost her something to admit.

I didn’t flinch. “You can’t.”

She froze. Turned toward me slowly, like she hadn’t heard me right. “What the hell do you mean, I can’t?”

I took a breath, the kind that didn’t go down easy. “I mean I won’t let you.” My voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It carried the kind of weight that silence can’t compete with. “Whatever this is—however fucked up or messy or painfully unfinished—it’s still us. You don’t get to pretend we never happened. I’m not walking away. Not this time.”

She blinked like I’d struck her, and for a second, I saw everything she was trying not to feel—grief curling around her mouth, disbelief pooling in her lashes, and something dangerously close to surrender flickering in her eyes. “So that’s it?” she whispered, like she couldn’t believe she was asking. “I have no way out?”

“No.” The word landed like a verdict. Final. Absolute. But I wasn’t done. I stepped closer, my voice low, threading into her space like a whisper meant to stay. “We’re forever. You know it. I know it. And nothing—no marriage, no city, not even God himself—can take you away from me.”

Her eyes shimmered, filling fast with something hotter than tears. “You’re killing me,” she choked, her voice fraying at the edges, breaking apart in her throat.

“I’m killing us both,” I said, my heart thudding like a warning drum I couldn’t shut off. “But I’d rather bleed with you than breathe without you.”

She shook her head like she was trying to wake up from something. Her voice softened, dipped in something heartbreakingly rational. “If we stay apart… maybe we’ll forget. Maybe we’ll find a way to move on. You’re married, Aaditya. It’s done. You can’t undo that. And I—” her voice caught “—I can’t keep dangling like this. Half in, half out.”

“Sorry,” I said, and I meant it. But not enough to let go. “You left India. You started over in Dubai. And guess what? I followed. You want to run again? I’ll find you there too. New country, new name—I don’t care. Try to date someone, I’ll tear it apart. Try to erase me, and I’ll make sure the void left behind screams louder than any silence you’ll ever know.”

“Aadi…” she pleaded.

“And if you walk away—” I swallowed, that familiar knot rising in my throat “—if you really walk away, I’ll vanish. For good. I’ll disappear off the face of this earth, no forwarding address, no goodbyes. You’ll be the reason my parents lose their son. You’ll carry that weight. Every. Single. Day. Because this life… you have to be part of it, however possible, but you have to.”

Her knees faltered, just slightly, but enough for her hand to shoot out and clutch the edge of the table like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Her face—usually so guarded, so practiced in restraint—crumbled in a slow, heartbreaking unraveling. It wasn’t just anger breaking down; it was everything she’d buried beneath it. Love that had been aching in silence, guilt that had eaten through her resolve, fear that had no name. It spilled across her features all at once, silent and raw, like a dam that didn’t burst so much as it quietly gave up.

And in that thick, airless pause, in the heaviness of a moment that felt like the entire universe had just stopped spinning, we both knew. No one had to say it. No dramatic declarations. Just the quiet, crushing certainty that she could change everything—her city, her job, her hairstyle, her last name. Hell, she could move to another continent and build a brand-new life brick by brick. But I’d still be there. Somewhere in the shadow of her thoughts, waiting like gravity. Chasing like a curse. Belonging in places no one else could touch.

This wasn’t love, not the kind they write poems about. This was messier, more brutal. It was war disguised as devotion. It was obsession twisted with loyalty, the kind that doesn’t let go even when it knows it should. We weren’t a fairytale—we were a wildfire. Relentless. Reckless. Destructive. And no matter how badly it burned, neither of us ever really tried to put it out.

That—right there—that was when she stopped fighting. Her arms hung by her sides, her shoulders slumped like she’d been holding up the sky and had finally decided to let it fall. Her eyes fluttered closed, lashes brushing cheeks damp with the emotion she couldn’t hide anymore. No more clever comebacks. No more logical defenses. Just silence. Heavy. Honest.

She didn’t nod. Didn’t whisper a yes. Didn’t move toward me or away. And yet, I felt the shift—like something sacred had cracked open between us. She didn’t need to say the words.

Her silence was everything.

It was her laying down her weapons. It was her finally surrendering.

And I took it. Not with grace. Not like a hero in a love story. I took it like a man who’d waited too long to breathe. I made love to her right there, on the same damn table where she’d once slammed her fist in rage.

Then again on the kitchen counter, like we had something to prove to the world—or maybe just to ourselves. Then in the bedroom. And when her body grew sore and tender from all the ways I worshipped her, I didn’t stop.

I just shifted. I let my hands do what words couldn’t. Ran her a shower and followed her in. Washed every inch of her like she was mine and mine alone.

When she was too tired to move, I curled up with her on the couch, tucked her into my lap like she belonged there. We watched a movie she didn’t really care about while I fed her each bite, like she was fragile and precious and everything I’d ever wanted. I didn’t just touch her body—I chipped away at her walls. Brick by brick. Quietly. Persistently. And when morning came, I did it all over again. Until the last shard of resistance melted away.

She smiled at me. A real one. The kind I hadn’t seen in years. That was the moment I knew—I’d won. But not with grand gestures or ultimatums. I’d won with breakfast and soft jokes and the kind of small, ordinary moments that scream permanence.

I took her grocery shopping that afternoon. Something so absurdly mundane it felt revolutionary. Pushing a cart side by side, arguing about cereal brands, laughing over mangoes—it felt like everything I’d ever wanted. A slice of normal, with her beside me. No drama. No rules. Just us, like we should’ve been all along.

And yeah, I was shrewd. I knew it. I owned it. I didn’t just love her—I strategized my way back into her heart. I cooked for her every day, made her sit on the kitchen counter and talk nonsense while I sautéed and stirred like some domestic dream. I cracked stupid jokes. Brought back the version of Aaditya she’d fallen for—before the chaos, before the marriage, before everything went to hell.

And she laughed. God, she laughed. That easy, carefree kind of laugh I hadn’t heard in forever. My marriage? It didn’t even stand a chance in that space. It wasn’t even part of the room anymore.

So yeah. That was my win.

And I took it with a goddamn bow.

“Shona, get ready.” I told her, squeezing her for one last time before pulling away. She rubbed her eyes and padded to the bathroom while I got ready for work and then walked in the kitchen.

My fingers moved on autopilot as I pressed the power and the coffee machine sputtered to life. The smell of brewing coffee was comforting, grounding. I cracked a few eggs, grabbed some onions and tomatoes from the fridge, and started chopping. Side by side, I toasted two breads for the side.

Our new apartment—twenty-ninth floor, sleek glass windows, sunlight for days—was a stretch. Way over my company-allocated rent, but the moment Gargi had walked in and her eyes sparkled like she’d stepped into a Pinterest dream… I knew I had to get it. I didn’t even think twice. Signed the lease that very day.

The last one week was blissful after the confrontation. We got things for the house, played husband and wife, bickered, and it was everything I had imagined.

By the time I flipped the last omelet onto a plate, I heard her soft footsteps padding in from the bedroom. She was dressed to kill in a red kurta with white pants, hair tied in a low bun. She dropped onto the barstool and browsed through her phone as if she was at the restaurant. But I didn’t mind that, I loved that she was so at ease with me.

When was the last time we got this kind of privacy? Never actually. Before Prerna happened, we used to steal hours in my room here and there, but never like this.

Staying with her was altogether a new experience.

Gargi didn’t say anything, just waited—like she was getting used to the idea of waking up to breakfast made and coffee poured.

I placed a plate in front of her, slid the coffee mug across, and took the seat beside her with my own. She barely acknowledged the spread, scarfed down the omelet, and gulped the coffee like it was some energy potion. I sighed, watching her rush through what I’d put together with actual effort.

“Shona,” I muttered, shaking my head. “Slow down. At least pretend to enjoy breakfast.”

“Can’t,” she replied with that half-whine, half-laugh she used when she knew I wasn’t really mad. “I have a meeting. And you don’t let me sleep at night. I’m exhausted.”

I raised a brow, smirking. “I’m making weekend plans.”

“Cool,” she said, way too breezy, grabbing her bag. She paused by the door, turned with a frown. “Well? You coming or not?”

I leaned back. “Oh, you need me?”

“Yes,” she said, exasperated, but her eyes were soft. “I need you. Please… I don’t want to be late.”

“Fine. Just because you begged.”

She rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at me, the most childish gesture ever, but it made me laugh anyway. I locked the apartment behind us, and she immediately dove into details about her upcoming meeting, her voice bouncing with that sharp, fast energy she carried into every room.

“Aadi, are you even listening?”

I grinned. “Loud and clear. But FYI—we’re leaving this evening for a weekend getaway. Details later.”

She nodded like she didn’t want to admit she was already looking forward to it. I dropped her off outside her office, and just as she reached for the handle, I hit the lock.

She paused, turned with a dramatic groan. I raised an eyebrow. She knew the rules.

Gargi sighed but leaned in. Fast. Pressed her lips to mine. It was quick, but I caught her waist, pulled her close, kissed her back—deeper this time. I didn’t want to let go. But I did. Kissing in public, especially here in Dubai, wasn’t exactly smart.

“Work well,” I murmured, brushing her hair back, tucking a strand behind her ear like I had every right to.

She smiled that soft, cocky smile of hers. “I always do. Bye.”

And just like that, she was gone, striding into her world while I stayed behind, already counting down the hours to the weekend.

The moment I reached my office and dumped my bag on the chair, I opened my laptop and went straight to the bookings. Yas Island. Just an hour’s drive, but it felt like a whole different world—sun, sea, and silence. A reset button. I picked a resort that I knew she’d love, clicked through the payments, and shut the tab before I could overthink the cost or the consequences.

Work swallowed me whole after that. Lines of code blinked on my screen while I tweaked algorithms, chasing that sweet spot where logic meets elegance. The hours blurred. I didn’t realize it was lunch until my stomach growled and my phone buzzed.

It was a message from Gargi—a picture of her lunch plate, beautifully arranged and captioned with a tiny heart. She did this often. She wanted me in the little things. Every bite, every outfit, every thought she had—like we weren’t two people in a relationship, but one soul trying to stay connected in every way possible.

I sighed. I had missed it. So much. This was a half life, I knew that, but something better than nothing. I replied her with a yummy emoji and she sent hearts and kisses right back, as if we were teenagers and this was our first love, which was true.

She was my first love and I was her first in everything. In fact, I had dictated her life since she was in school. It might sound unhealthy but it was the way it was, and I didn’t feel a bit guilty about it. I never stopped her from dreaming, I just made sure I was part of them.

I grinned as I stared at my profile image of her, but it slipped the moment another message came in. It was from my wife.

I sighed and opened her text. No emojis. No warmth. Just plain words asking how I was doing. I typed back quickly.

All going well.

Before I could switch back to my screen, another message from her popped up. Can we talk for a minute?

I frowned but stood, phone in hand. I walked out of the room, past the cubicles and into the hallway where I could breathe without feeling watched. I hit call.

“Hey,” she answered, her voice soft and unsure.

I frowned. “Hey back. Everything okay?”

“I just… I need to ask you something. I know you’re probably busy. Sorry.”

“Just tell me, Prerna.”

There was a pause. Then, barely a whisper. “Can I go home?”

I blinked. “Aren’t you home?”

“No. I meant… to my parents’ place. Mom’s not doing well. Papa can’t manage everything on his own.”

“Okay,” I said, already opening the cab app. “I’ll book a car.”

She hesitated. “I can go by train…”

“No.” My thumb moved across the screen. “When do you want to leave?”

“But a car would be expensive—”

“I know what I’m doing, Prerna.”

She went quiet. Just for a second. Then in that same small voice, “Sorry. Tomorrow morning. And… can I stay till next weekend?”

“Two weeks? Why?”

“Yes. I need to be here until ”

“Fine. Anything else?”

“No. Just… miss you.”

I paused. Not because I didn’t know what to say, but because I couldn’t say what she wanted to hear. “I’ve got work. The car will be there at eight.”

“Okay,” she said softly, and the call ended with a click that echoed a little too loudly in my ears.

I sighed as I clutched my phone. It was just a normal phone call. Nothing had gone wrong. She hadn’t suspected anything yet it felt too strange.

I had killed my conscience to be with Gargi but Prerna… something had to happen about it. Only if I hadn’t been forced to… but had to go now. Living with Gargi was exactly how I had dreamed my life to be. She was exactly as I imagined. Perfect. Life felt like breeze with her.

I went to my contacts and hovered on the name I had saved long back. A divorce lawyer. But before I could call him, my phone rang. It was Gargi.

“Yes, Shona, what happened?”

“Um… I can’t go anywhere this weekend. I have work.”

“I have already made the bookings.”

“I know which is why I called. Sorry. Okay, something has come up… talk to you later, bye.”

What the fuck! How could she end the call without letting me speak? She knew I hated that kind of stuff.

I called her back but she didn’t answer.

I passed the rest of the day fuming. I tried her phone again but it just rang. She didn’t pick up. What the hell was wrong with her? Why wasn’t she at least talking to me?

She had a habit of putting her phone in the drawer. Had she done that and forgotten? She had done it once before. And I had made sure she never did that again.

“Where’s your phone?” I asked, trying not to let my irritation show—but failing miserably.

Gargi’s eyes snapped up in surprise, then darted around as if someone might overhear us. Without a word, she turned on her heel and rushed to a deserted corner near an old tree, like I’d just proposed her marriage in front of her parents.

The idea wasn’t bad, but maybe a few years later.

She spun around, her brows furrowed and jaw set. “What is wrong with you?” she hissed, the sharpness in her tone cutting deeper than she probably realized.

I folded my arms across my chest, trying not to let her attitude tick me off more than it already had. “What’s wrong with me?” I echoed, arching a brow. “You’re the one dodging my calls. And now you’re in college, you can talk to boys without having a heart attack. Wait, only me.”

That earned me a dramatic eye roll and a sigh like I was the most exhausting thing in her life. “My exams are going on, Aaditya,” she said, dragging my name out like it was a curse. “Obviously, I couldn’t answer your call. My phone was in the locker.”

“Okay,” I said, trying to stay calm. “But when the exam ended… why didn’t you call me back?”

She blinked, like she hadn’t expected a follow-up. “Because my phone was still in the locker,” she said flatly. “I forgot.”

I let that sink in. “Yeah, don’t do that again.”

Another eye roll—God, she was on a roll today. This attitude of hers had to be taken care of. Who did she think I was? Before she could open her mouth and throw another casual excuse my way, I grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her close. Her breath hitched, and before she could protest, my lips crashed onto hers.

She gasped, that sweet sound of shock parting her lips just enough for me to slide my tongue in. It wasn’t supposed to be like this—this wasn’t how I imagined her first kiss. I’d wanted it soft, slow, maybe even under stars. Not outside the college, hidden behind a tree with her pissed off at me. But damn, she was pushing every wrong button, and I’d had enough.

I felt her hands on my chest, pushing—really pushing—but she couldn’t move me. My gym sessions had taken care of that. I tilted her head gently, deepening the kiss, tasting the anger, the chaos, the connection.

“Oh my God… stop now…” she breathed but I ate it away, kissing her endlessly. And enjoying it. Every moment of it.

My lips found her lower one and bit down—hard enough to make her gasp again. A drop of blood, a spark of fire. And then—just like that—magic.

Her resistance faltered.

Her tongue brushed mine and something electric exploded between us. It wasn’t just a kiss anymore—it was a storm, raw and messy and unforgettable. I slowed, softened, licking the sting I’d left behind like an apology. Then I stepped back.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and she glanced around in panic, scanning the area to see if anyone had seen us. I stood still, hands stuffed in my pockets, watching her.

When she finally looked back at me, her glare could’ve burned holes through steel. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

I shrugged. “Go get your phone. We’re leaving.”

She stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “Where?”

“Movie,” I said simply, already turning to walk.

“Aaditya, I have an exam on Monday!” she argued, clearly hoping that’d be enough to stop me.

I glanced over my shoulder, not bothering to slow down. “Yeah? Study later. Weekends are mine.”

She gave me that look—the one where her nose scrunched up just a little, her brows dipped, and she acted like she wasn’t going to cave. But she didn’t argue further. Instead, she turned and walked off with a muttered groan, her footsteps brisk but hesitant.

I caught the briefest moment when her fingers brushed across her lips, her thumb lingering near the corner like she was trying to make sense of the kiss I’d stolen. My lips curved instinctively, pride and mischief bubbling up in my chest. That was new.

Kissing her didn’t feel like when I kissed Jenna.

Jenna had been a chapter from a different life—a careless weekend in Pune, my friend’s older sister, and a kiss that felt more like an experiment than a spark. It had been neat, practiced, forgettable. She was older, more confident, and at the time, I thought kissing her would give me some kind of edge. It didn’t. It felt like mimicking something I’d seen in a movie, not feeling it.

After that, there were a few scattered kisses over the years—moments that didn’t linger, touches that didn’t imprint. And then came Gargi. And just like that, I stopped. Something in me knew she was different. I didn’t even try with anyone else after that. I turned into a hermit, counting days until she wasn’t too young anymore.

I wanted to wait. I really did. But fate didn’t play by the rules, and clearly, neither did she. I grinned to myself. I wasn’t complaining. Now, I could kiss her—and kiss her again. The first kiss was meant to be special, slow, something to remember. But she hadn’t picked up my calls. She’d triggered the storm. Now she had to live in it.

When she came back, her eyes darted around, checking for lingering stares, but the moment she reached me, I took her hand without a word. She curled her other hand around my bicep, her fingers settling into that space like they belonged there. My chest lifted a little, involuntarily. That tiny gesture—simple, wordless—felt like acceptance.

The drive to the theatre took an hour, just like always. Gargi refused to go anywhere nearby, terrified someone we knew might see us. I didn’t mind. I’d bought a second-hand car just before things got serious with her, and if I was being honest, these long drives had become my favorite part of the day. Her hand resting on the gear shift, her laughter floating through the car, the occasional silence that didn’t feel awkward—it all felt…right.

When we finally reached the theatre and she reached for the door handle, I stopped her. Pulled her back, gently but firmly. One swift tug and she was against me again. I kissed her—this time slower, wanting her to feel it, not just react. But she resisted again, her hands flat against my chest.

I broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes, a frown cutting through the calm I’d carefully built. “What the fuck is this?”

“What?” she blinked, confused and breathless.

“Why are you pushing me away?”

“Because…” she looked around, as if the answer were somewhere outside the car. “Anyone can see us.”

“So?” I challenged, jaw tightening.

“Aadi…” she said softly, trying that sweet tone on me.

I wasn’t in the mood to be charmed. Not when something that raw, that intimate, had just been interrupted because she got spooked. She needed to understand that there were boundaries in place for me too—hard lines I didn’t like being crossed. I rested a hand against her cheek, letting it slide down to her neck, firm but not cruel.

“Let me make one thing very clear, Shona.” My voice dropped an octave, the kind that made her still. “You ever feel overwhelmed? Say it. You want me to stop? Say it. I’ll listen. But don’t ever—” I paused, eyes locking on hers, “—don’t ever push me away with your hands. I don’t like that. I won’t ever force you, you know that. But next time you do that—next time you try to stop me like that—I’ll take it as a challenge. And believe me, I will do more. A lot more. I’m being patient here, I know you’re not ready for everything. I’m okay waiting. But don’t test me like that again. Understood?”

“Aadi…” she started, trying to act cute. I liked her cute but not right now.

She had to understand what I wouldn’t ever accept. And her trying to push me away topped the list. “Understood?” I pressed.

She let out a sigh, then nodded. “Yes.”

“Good. Now, get here. On my lap.”

She hesitated, but I gave her one look and that was enough. She climbed over the gear console awkwardly, trying to maneuver her way without stepping on anything important. I pushed the seat back to give her room, her breath quickening with every inch that brought her closer.

We were in the parking lot, the windows slightly fogged. She sat gingerly, unsure of where to put her hands, how to balance herself. I didn’t help her—not because I didn’t want to—but because I wanted her to choose. To want it.

“Now,” I said, voice gentle again, “kiss me.”

Her lips trembled. “You do it.”

“No,” I replied, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “You do it.”

“I…” she hesitated again.

“Just do what feels natural to you, Shona,” I coaxed, brushing her hair away from her face.

She swallowed hard, then leaned in, her breath warm on my cheek before it ghosted over my lips. My heart thudded, but I stayed still. Her lips brushed mine—shy at first, like she was testing the temperature of water she’d never stepped into. And then something shifted. She kissed me again, bolder this time, like she was remembering how I kissed her earlier and trying to mirror it.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t polished. But it was hers. And it was everything.

It was consuming, intoxicating, and addictive as hell. Dating someone five years younger had its perks and her rawness stole my heart.

She had never pushed me away after that night. Not really. And on the rare occasions she did try, I’d always take it a step further—just enough to remind her I wasn’t bluffing. She knew the rules. She knew I meant every damn word I said.

That memory—it wasn’t just a snapshot. It was one of a thousand others tucked away in the back of my mind. Us. Her. All of it tangled up in a mess of heat, rebellion, and something terrifyingly close to love.

But then life happened. Or maybe we let it happen. And the life I wanted with her? It just… slipped through the cracks. Like it never stood a chance.

It was five now, just one an hour left for my work day. I headed for the cafeteria and ordered a coffee while I tapped her number again. Still no answer. That was the sixth call to her. I stared at the screen like it would somehow guilt her into picking up.

Nothing. No reply, no message.

Just silence. That kind of silence? It starts to crawl under your skin. Makes you restless. Makes you reckless.

Screw it.

If I was going to go down today, I was going down swinging. I finished my coffee, plan forming in my head.

I marched back to my desk, not even pretending to hide the storm brewing inside me. Rehan was hunched over his laptop, sipping cold coffee and typing like his life depended on it. I tapped his shoulder, maybe a little too hard.

“Hey, Rehan. I need a favor. Cover for me—I’ve got to check something. Urgent.”

He barely looked up but nodded. “Yeah, sure. All good?”

“Yeah,” I lied, already halfway out the door.

I called her again on the way to my car, thumb hovering over the redial button like I was stuck on some masochistic loop. By the fifteenth call, I wasn’t even surprised she didn’t answer.

What the hell was happening to me? Ever since I had got married and she had started resisting, everything got to me. Maybe she had just forgotten her phone somewhere or it was on silent, yet I had the urge to do something reckless, something stupid.

Possibly career-ending. But right now, nothing mattered more than seeing her.

I just wanted her to tell me she had forgotten her phone in the drawer, I would get angry at her, but that was okay. It wouldn’t be something drastic. I was even okay if I had to cancel Yas Island. Only if she talked to me once, told me she was okay, we were okay, please… just do that.

But anything else… that wasn’t okay. Her again resisting me wasn’t okay. I wouldn’t have it. And somehow the uneasiness that crawled up my spine told me it was something else. I knew deep down she loved me, but I also knew she didn’t want to be with a married guy. I hadn’t given her an option, used her love against her, but if she had tried something stupid to get away from me, I was going to teach her a lesson.

The drive was a blur of honking cars and red lights I forced myself to not pass. Dubai wasn’t a country you wanted to get caught up in legal troubles. My mind raced faster than my wheels. She shouldn’t have ignored my calls. Not after the way she ended that last one—abrupt, cold, like I was just another notification she didn’t want to deal with.

I pulled into the parking lot, engine still humming as I sat there for a second, gripping the wheel like it could calm me down. It didn’t. I unbuckled, jaw tight, pulse pounding in my ears.

I’m sorry, Shona. But you brought this on yourself.

Security wouldn’t let me in without a visitor pass, and I wasn’t about to create a scene—yet. I remembered one of my college friends worked in the same building. I shot him a quick message. He called back within a minute, and just like that, I had a pass waiting at the front desk. People say networking is for jobs and promotions—I say it’s for moments like these when your ego is bruised, your heart is on fire, and all you want is answers.

The ride up in the elevator felt like it took forever, even though it barely lasted thirty seconds. My reflection in the mirror panel looked tired, pissed off, borderline unhinged.

And underneath all that rage? A sliver of hurt I didn’t want to admit was still bleeding.

I had told her I was making plans. She said yes and then cancelled out of nowhere… and now this? Ignoring me like I was some goddamn guy she had gone on one date with? No. She didn’t get to do that. I wasn’t some guy. I was the guy.

The elevator dinged.

Fifteenth floor.

Game on.

Gargi, here I come.

I hope you enjoyed this part (Second Chance at Love); wait for the next one. Coming soon. Thank you!

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Author Payal Dedhia independently publishes books on Amazon Kindle. You can check her collection by clicking here.

If you like Dark Romance Fiction, do read my Sctintilla Series. Click here to read.

Aayansh Ahluwalia isn’t just a billionaire business tycoon—he’s the kind of man who haunts people’s nightmares. The world may recognize Scintilla Corporations as a legitimate empire, but Aayansh isn’t confined to the light. In the shadows, he commands an empire of fear, power, and blood. He rules over the underdogs, the darkness that terrifies everyone else.
Ruthless and untouchable, they call him a devil for a reason—he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t blink when it comes to taking lives.
His existence is fearless. His power, unmatched. Yet beneath the wealth and carnage lies a void—a darkness so complete it consumes him. There’s no light, no hope. Just emptiness stretching endlessly, leaving him hollow.
Then, one night, everything changed.
He saw her—a woman so radiant, so full of life, she made his chaos stand still. She erupted into his world like a dream, settling in his heart and claiming it as her own.
Tisha Chopra.
Aayansh hadn’t been searching for her, hadn’t asked for her. But the moment he saw her, he knew—she would be his.
She didn’t belong in his world, and that only made him want her more. Her laughter, her light—it wasn’t meant to survive the darkness he thrived in, yet it pulled him in, unrelenting. Like a predator to prey, he followed. He didn’t want her to save him. No. He wanted to ruin her, piece by piece, until she belonged to him completely. He would drag her down, crown her queen in his Devil’s Paradise, and make her sit beside him on the devil’s throne while he ruled the world.

What unfolds is a story steeped in obsession, control, and desire—a dangerous game where love is a battlefield, and submission comes at the cost of a soul.
Scintilla isn’t just the name of Aayansh’s empire; it’s the pulse of this saga—a place where power thrives and morality dies.

The series is divided into four phases:

🔥 The Chase – Where the predator finds his prey. Click here to read.

The Beginning – A collision of worlds. A spark ignited.
Unveiling Paradise – Her light tempts the darkness.
The Masked Guy – Secrets wear masks. So do devils.
Unleashing the Demons – Once awakened, there’s no turning back.
The Winner – Victory tastes sweeter when claimed by force.

🔥 The Possession – Where obsession takes root. Click here to read.

New Beginning – The chase ends. The real game begins.
The Rules – Boundaries are set, only to be broken.
Gilded Cage – Possession doesn’t feel like freedom.
Unleashed Fury – When control falters, chaos reigns.
Ensnared Hearts – Hearts trapped, souls scarred.

🔥 The Submission – Where surrender is demanded, not given. Click here to read.

Her Resistance – Light fights back. Darkness pushes harder.
Her Confession – Truths whispered in the dark.
The Good Times – A fleeting calm before the storm.
The Devil Struck – The predator strikes. The angel shatters.
Angel’s Judgement – When love turns to reckoning.

🔥 The Reward – Where love and darkness collide, leaving nothing unscarred. Click here to read.

The Storm – Chaos erupts, tearing apart the fragile ties of love and power.
The Punishment – Sins are judged, debts are paid, and vengeance claims its due.