Twisted Ties of Life: The Truth Hurts (But Love Stays)

Twisted Ties of Life (The Truth Hurts) – His Love was the kind that tasted like the softest kiss and burned like poison in your bloodstream.

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. Check the below Table of Contents.

The Truth Hurts (But Love Stays)

Gargi

Love was strange like that. It didn’t ask for logic or permission. It didn’t follow rules or timelines. Most days, it felt downright senseless. But when you loved someone like Aaditya, love became something else entirely. Addictive. All-consuming. A beautiful kind of destruction wrapped in silk and shadow. The kind that tasted like the softest kiss and burned like poison in your bloodstream. And I had made up my mind—I needed to detox. Not because it was easy. But because I didn’t know who I was anymore without him.

It wasn’t like I’d lied to him. Everything I felt was painfully, terrifyingly real. The way I melted into his arms. The way my heart skipped at the sound of his voice. The way his gaze alone could disarm me, make me forget the world. It wasn’t some fantasy. It was real in the most dangerous way.

But that illusion snapped like a thread the moment I stepped into my office, laughing as I told my friends about the weekend plans. I didn’t even realize how proud I sounded—how happy. “My boyfriend’s planning a trip,” I had said, eyes glowing. And then Tabassum, sweet and sharp as ever, tilted her head and asked, “Isn’t he married?”

The words hit like a slap.

“Sorry?” I asked, my smile faltering as confusion tangled in my chest.

“Aaditya Verma, right?” she said again, sipping her chai like this was just another harmless piece of gossip.

I nodded, barely. My throat had gone dry.

“He’s on your friends list,” she continued. “I got curious and stalked him a little. His profile says he’s married.”

Everything in me went still. My mind, my heartbeat, my ability to respond. I blinked fast, too fast, like I could shake off the shock if I just moved enough.

She chuckled, not unkindly. “Maybe he just left it like that to keep the vultures away. But… yeah, that explains it. That dreamy look in your eyes whenever you mention him? Classic knight-in-shining-armor situation. You’re completely gone for him.”

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t stay there pretending to laugh it off. So I grabbed my phone—fake urgency in every move—and mumbled something about a call before bolting out of the room. My heels clicked across the marble floor, echoing louder than my thoughts, and by the time I hit the lobby, my hands were shaking.

What the hell had I been doing?

Yes, he was selfish. But that wasn’t new. Aaditya had always taken more than he gave. And I had let him. I was the giver. The one who forgave. The one who made excuses and rationalized it all with love. The more he took, the more I wanted to give. Because he made me feel alive—when he cupped my face and kissed me like I was his whole world, when he leaned over in the dark theater and devoured my mouth without warning, when he scaled the damn pipe at night just to crawl into my bed like some lovesick Romeo.

I was spellbound. Totally, stupidly smitten.

And then my phone lit in my hand. I glanced down—and froze. I’d called him. Somehow, my trembling fingers had dialed him without me even realizing.

His voice poured through the receiver like a shot of warmth I didn’t want but couldn’t resist. “Yes, Shona? What’s wrong?”

I should’ve hung up. Should’ve said something. Anything. But the words stuck.

“I… I can’t go this weekend,” I blurted. “Something’s come up at work.”

A lie. I had nothing. No deadlines. No emergencies. Just the truth clawing at my throat and no courage to say it.

“I’ve already made the bookings,” he said, and I heard the edge in his voice—irritation, frustration, the usual Aaditya storm on the rise.

“I know,” I lied again. “That’s why I called… I’m sorry. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

I didn’t wait for a response. I just ended the call and ran to the restroom. My legs barely carried me to the nearest cubicle before I locked the door and collapsed on the seat. And that’s when it broke. All of it. The dam I’d been holding up with duct tape and denial.

I cried. Hard. Silent sobs that wracked my chest and soaked my sleeves. My phone lit up with his name again and again, but I couldn’t answer. I didn’t want to hear another word from him—not when every word would make it harder to walk away.

Why, Aaditya? Why did you marry? If you loved me, why wasn’t I enough?

I sat there on that cold toilet seat, tears streaming down my face, my heart cracking open in a hundred different places. His social media status screamed “married,” and of course it did. Public image mattered. Appearances mattered. Everything had to be perfect for the world to see.

But what about me? What about my image? My heart?

He didn’t care. Not really. Not the way I needed him to.

And maybe that was the most painful truth of all.

Once I was done drowning in my own mess, I pulled myself together. Or at least pretended to. I stood up, legs a little shaky, like my heart hadn’t just broken into tiny, stupid pieces. The fluorescent bathroom lights made everything look harsher, uglier—my face included. I shuffled over to the sink, turned on the tap, and splashed cold water on my cheeks. The icy sting helped snap me out of my haze, if only for a second. I reached for the stack of tissues nearby and started patting down the damage. My mascara hadn’t bled—thank God—but my eyes were puffy, and the hollowness behind them couldn’t be wiped away.

I dug into my pocket and pulled out the only thing I had on me—my ChapStick. Swiped it over my lips, then dabbed a bit on my cheeks like makeshift blush. The pink tint wasn’t much, but it gave me just enough life to pass as functional. Everything else—concealer, mascara, a better version of myself—was in my bag back at my desk. And right now, I just needed to not look like a ghost.

I stepped out of the washroom, took a breath, and made my way back toward the corridor. Just as I reached the card reader, I walked straight into someone. My entire body jerked back with the impact, and I felt my heart drop into my stomach.

“Sorry!” I blurted out automatically, hands up like I’d been caught stealing.

“Whoa, hey. Careful,” the guy said, steadying his coffee cup like it was a newborn baby. “I had a full mug in my hand, you know.”

Mortified, I winced. “I’m so sorry. Seriously.”

He chuckled and tilted his head, looking at me like he was sizing up whether I was actually sorry or just socially trained to be. “You know what that means, right?”

“What?”

“You have to introduce yourself now.”

I blinked, thrown off by the sudden rule. “Or what? You’ll sue me for emotional coffee trauma?”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting sass in return. His expression flickered—first amused, then slightly apologetic. “Fair enough. No suing. My bad.”

I sighed, rubbing a hand over my forehead. “Gargi. Gargi Guglani.”

He gave a small nod, then stuck out a hand. “Sai. Sai Shetty. From India?”

I shook his hand briefly. “Yeah.”

“Same. I’m from Hyderabad.”

Another nod. I didn’t have the energy for small talk, especially not with a stranger who smelled like freshly brewed coffee and curiosity. I tried to sidestep him, but he didn’t budge. He just stood there like a human wall that didn’t get the memo.

“Excuse me,” I mumbled, hoping he’d take the hint.

Instead, he tilted his head like he was genuinely curious. “I’ve been working here for years now. How come I haven’t seen you before?”

“Because I don’t spend my time loitering in hallways,” I said, keeping my tone flat.

“Except today,” he replied smoothly.

I frowned. “Sorry?”

“I saw you earlier. You were in the lobby, looking… distracted. Now you’re here, still not quite yourself. Something tells me this isn’t your usual routine.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Wow. Observant.”

“Comes with the job,” he said with a shrug. “I’m the creative director. I write emotions for a living. Reading them just… happens.”

“Oh great,” I muttered. “A professional people-reader. Just what I needed today.”

“You were crying,” he added, matter-of-fact.

I stiffened. “Excuse me?”

He pointed toward my eyes, not unkindly. “They’re still a little red. Not in a ‘just yawned’ way. More like ‘I need to scream into the void’ way.”

I bristled. “Stop reading me.”

He grinned. “Then stop being so readable.”

“Stop staring at me like a creep,” I muttered under my breath, feeling cornered.

Right then, my phone rang—sharp, insistent, and completely unwelcome. Without thinking, my eyes flicked down to the screen, and I immediately felt the heat creep up my neck. Of course, Sai noticed. His gaze shifted to the name flashing across the display, and then he looked back at me. I could practically feel the curiosity radiating off of him, all too eager to pry into my mess.

I tried to swallow the lump forming in my throat. My cheeks burned, and I could only hope my face wasn’t as transparent as it felt. This was exactly what I didn’t need—a random guy who barely knew me suddenly given the front-row seat to my emotional train wreck.

I didn’t pick up. Instead, I locked my phone, forcing a grin as a shield. Anything to distract from the uncomfortable silence that hung between us.

“So…” Sai’s voice was lighter, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “This Aadi is the reason you were crying.”

My lips pressed into a tight line, but I snapped back before I could stop myself. “None of your business.”

Sai raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting me to fire back like that. He took a slow sip from his coffee mug, his eyes never leaving mine. “Hmm… I make a mean cup of coffee, though,” he offered, his tone casual but still too knowing.

I stared at him, tempted, not by the coffee—though, honestly, a distraction from my spiraling thoughts sounded perfect—but by the simple act of doing something normal for once. Something that didn’t involve tangled emotions and messy relationships or following Aaditya blindly.

But instead of saying something that made sense, I found myself blurting out, “Are you married?”

It was Sai’s turn to be caught off guard. Both of his eyebrows shot up as he looked at me, as if my question had come out of left field. “Whoa. Are you sure you want to go that personal? Because if I answer, that means you’ve got to answer mine.”

I leaned back, folding my arms across my chest, a silent dare hanging in the air between us.

His grin spread wider, clearly enjoying the challenge. “Not married. Not taken.” He gave a mock bow, like his singleness was some grand achievement.

I fought to keep my face serious, but the corners of my lips twitched. “Legally single?” I pressed, leaning forward just a little, because somehow, Aaditya’s messy situation had made me question everything.

“Legally, emotionally, heartily single,” Sai announced with a flourish, and I quickly pinched my lips shut to keep the smile in check.

“Now, my turn.” Sai leaned back, looking pleased with himself. I squared my shoulders to prepare myself for his question. But then, instead of asking me another question, he motioned toward the elevator. “But let’s head to the cafeteria. After you, princess.”

“Princess?” I frowned, not sure whether to be amused or offended.

He shrugged, no explanation coming. I sighed but turned toward the elevator. At this point, I wasn’t sure whether I was going to end up regretting this entire interaction, but I also knew I wasn’t ready to go back to my desk and drown in my thoughts. The cafeteria was two floors down, and by the time we reached it, I found myself suddenly feeling… calmer. The buzz of voices, the clink of coffee mugs, the normalcy of it all was a small reprieve from the mess that had been my life lately.

And… I wasn’t alone with a stranger—Sai Shetty.

Sai ordered my coffee—something decadent. Not the usual boring cup I’d get on autopilot. No, this one came with whipped cream, a sprinkle of dark chocolate, and a piece of brownie on the side. I wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be a peace offering or just a way to distract me, but either way, it worked.

He handed it to me with a small smile, then wandered over to the quieter corner of the cafeteria. The table by the window. It wasn’t crowded here, and it was oddly peaceful. Sai pulled the chair back for me with one hand while holding his own coffee mug in the other, and I took a seat, grateful for the gesture.

The coffee was… delicious. I took a sip and sighed in contentment as I licked my lips

“So…” he began, settling across from me, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he looked at me like he was about to ask something monumental. “What do I ask you?”

I couldn’t help but feel the tension shift. “One question, and then I’m out,” I said, trying to set some boundaries, even though I wasn’t entirely sure why.

“Why just one?” Sai asked, leaning in as if my answer was the key to some riddle he was trying to solve.

“Because I asked you one,” I said, shrugging, feeling slightly defensive.

Sai smirked, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “No, no. You asked me two questions. But I answered you thrice, so technically, I get to ask you three.”

I took another sip of my coffee to hide my smile, but of course, he caught it. He grinned, like he’d just won some minor victory.

God, I felt so… out of practice. I’d never been good at this kind of casual flirting. In school, Aaditya was my world, and he didn’t exactly encourage me to talk to any other guys. Then, in the first year of university, when he’d taken me out on our first date, he’d casually told me that I couldn’t date anyone else now. He had dibs on me, and apparently that was the law.

Last week, I thought Aakash had flirted with me but maybe he didn’t. Because the guy hadn’t spoken a word to me after Aaditya intervened our little adventure to go to the supermarket together.

So, now here I was, sitting across from Sai Shetty, who was very much flirting with me—and I wasn’t sure how to handle it.

Sai leaned in, his voice quieter now. “So, tell me… is Aadi the reason you’re crying?”

I couldn’t look him in the eye as I nodded, the words feeling heavier than I expected. “Aaditya. I… I shouldn’t be with him. He’s—” I paused, unsure if I should even say the words. Could I tell him the truth? That Aaditya was married? That would just make me sound like a fool. “He’s bad for me,” I finished lamely.

Sai nodded, his expression softening, but his gaze never left me. We both took another sip of our coffee, and the silence stretched between us. But it wasn’t comfortable. I could feel him watching me, like he was trying to piece me together, and it made my skin itch.

I opened my mouth to say something—anything—that could dissolve the growing awkwardness between us, but the words clung to the back of my throat. My mind was spinning, tangled in a hundred thoughts, like vines wrapping tighter with every second. I was trapped. Trapped in a mess I’d made, with no idea how to claw my way out.

Sai was still watching me. That quiet, observant gaze that made me feel like he was peeling back the layers I kept so carefully stitched together.

“I need to book a hotel for the weekend,” I blurted. It came out before I could stop it. Too fast. Too personal. I winced inwardly. What was I doing, throwing my mess into the middle of our awkward, half-flirty, half-therapy session? But I couldn’t take it back. It was the truth. I couldn’t go home. Not with Aaditya waiting, lurking like a shadow in every room. Once I was with him, I’d lose my grip again—logic would vanish, and he’d pull me under. And then he’d touch me, and just like that, I’d stop thinking altogether. It was like he knew the exact moment I’d start slipping and leaned in just enough to make me fall.

I shook my head, brushing the thought away like an annoying strand of hair. “Sorry… I just… it’s complicated. This whole situation is…”

“Stay with me.”

My head snapped toward him. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious. Come.”

He stood before I could respond, like he’d made up his mind for both of us. I stared at him for a second, trying to decide if he was joking. He wasn’t. Against better judgment—or maybe out of sheer emotional exhaustion—I followed him. We stepped into the elevator, rode up in silence, the air between us thick with something I couldn’t name. When the doors opened, he stepped out first, swiped his access card, and gestured for me to enter. I hesitated for a heartbeat before walking in.

He didn’t say anything as we moved past rows of cubicles and into a cabin. His, I assumed. He placed his mug on the desk, unzipped his bag, and pulled out his passport like it was some kind of proof. Then a family photo—him with his parents and a girl who looked like his sister. Next, his phone. He opened his chat app and handed it to me. “Browse through it. It’ll confirm I’m not a creep.”

I didn’t scroll. I didn’t need to. I handed it back with a sigh. “Even if you’re genuinely a good guy, I can’t stay with you. It’s not about money. I can afford a hotel. I mean, I don’t have a cabin like yours yet,” I teased, and he grinned, clearly not offended. “But I’m not broke.”

His smile faded just a little, replaced by something softer. “But you’d be alone. And loneliness… well, that’s when people do the stupid thing and call the one person they shouldn’t.”

He had a point. A dangerously accurate one. But if I said yes to his offer, what did that make me? Someone who needed saving? Someone who was running from one man and stumbling into another’s safety net?

I shook my head and turned around. “No,” I said quietly, walking away. He didn’t stop me. Of course he didn’t. If he was half as decent as he appeared to be, he wouldn’t try to convince me. That alone earned him a point.

Back at my desk, Tabassum shot me a confused look as I sank into the chair next to her.

“Did I say something that bad?”

“No, no. I just wasn’t feeling well.”

She leaned a little closer. “I wanted to follow you, but Nick came by and hijacked me with questions.”

Nick, our manager. Of course. “It’s fine,” I murmured.

My phone buzzed again. Without looking at it, I slid it into the drawer and slammed it shut like I was locking away temptation itself. Two hours passed in a fog. My head buzzed with thoughts of escape, but I hadn’t even figured out where I’d go. I hadn’t booked anything. I just knew I couldn’t be here.

I grabbed my bag.

“I have to leave. If Nick asks, just tell him I felt unwell.”

Tabassum’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t push. “Take care, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

I walked toward the elevator with one goal: disappear before Aaditya showed up. I’d hail a cab, tell the driver to take me anywhere—just anywhere that wasn’t here. But halfway down, panic hit. My phone. Still in the drawer. But maybe that was a blessing. No phone meant no calls, no texts, no weakness. No Aaditya.

I got in the elevator, hit the ground floor button, and sighed. I had never been without my phone. I could already feel the strange loss of not holding my phone. I had a habit to keep checking my phone and right now it was really not in my hands.

The elevator doors slid open. I stepped out—and froze. His car. Sleek, black, too familiar. Parked right outside the entrance like a warning. My heart thundered. Shit.

What the hell!

I spun around and darted back inside. The elevator was about to close, but I squeezed through just in time. I jabbed the button for the parking level, desperate to disappear. Hide. Somewhere, anywhere, for just an hour or two. Long enough for him to give up and leave.

This was madness. But so was going back to him.

Because Aaditya Verma wasn’t just bad for me—he was the kind of bad that left scars. And this time, I was going to try not to let him mark me again.

Aaditya Verma was bad news—the kind that didn’t just leave a scar but burrowed deep, made a home in your bloodstream, rewrote your idea of right and wrong. And I couldn’t let him break me again. Not now. Not when I was trying so damn hard to hold myself together with duct tape and delusion.

I was crouched behind a car, knees tucked to my chest, my cheek pressed to my jeans, soaked from the steady stream of tears that wouldn’t stop. It had been over an hour, maybe more. I’d lost track. I just didn’t have it in me to stand, to walk out, to breathe like a normal person. What if he was still out there? What if he was looking for me? That familiar panic coiled around my ribs again.

And now Tabassum knew. She knew he was married. Eventually, the entire office would piece it together—my stupid smiles, the unexplained leaves, the drop in performance. They’d know. They’d judge. And I’d deserve it. Who was I? Just another cliché. The other woman. I wanted to scream at myself.

I rubbed at my face, as if scrubbing the shame off would fix anything. But nothing would undo what I’d done—or who I’d let him turn me into. He crashed into my life like a storm every damn time, and all I ever did was open the windows wider.

“Hey,” a voice startled me, snapping my head up so fast I almost gave myself whiplash. My heart jumped, already preparing to bolt or scream or both, but then I saw the face. Familiar. Kind. Sai. His hands were up, like he knew I was on the edge of a meltdown. I blinked through the blur of tears, silent but grateful.

“What happened?” he asked, crouching beside me like he wasn’t judging, like he was in no rush. And that did something to me. That stillness. That quiet presence. I shook my head when he asked what happened, and the words stayed lodged in my throat, too big and bitter to spit out. But I leaned into him anyway, because even though I didn’t have the words, my body knew what it needed. Comfort. Something solid. Something human.

Sai took my bag gently, set it aside, and wrapped his arms around me. Not in a romantic way. Not in the way Aaditya used to hold me after he wrecked me. No, Sai’s touch was like… grounding. Reassuring. The kind you didn’t realize you needed until you were too far gone.

Aaditya had already threatened me what he would do if I ever tried to stay away from him but why would his life, his destiny be on my shoulders. I was… was so tired with everything happening around me.

“You should take my offer,” he said softly, almost like he didn’t expect me to respond.

I nodded.

His eyebrows twitched in surprise, but he didn’t call it out. Just stood, offered me a hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, and led me to his car. I got in without resistance, letting the silence fill the space between us as he drove. I didn’t ask where we were going. Didn’t care. Movement felt like progress. Stillness had started to feel like drowning.

“You can message your friend, tell them you’re with me. I’ll even let you take a picture if that helps,” he offered, glancing at me.

“I left my phone at the office,” I murmured.

“Oh.” The surprise on his face was kind of hilarious. I chuckled silently. Score one for rendering Mr. Cool speechless.

He stopped at a food truck a little while later. “We need dinner,” he said like it was the most important thing in the world.

I gave a half-shrug and sank deeper into the seat. Hunger had long since turned into a dull ache, but I didn’t have the energy to decide between biryani or burgers. He took that as his cue and stepped out, placing an order while I stayed inside like some unspoken truce had been formed.

Ten minutes later, we pulled into a posh high-rise. Fancier than the one Aaditya and I shared. Cleaner too. Less haunted by lies.

He opened the gates with a remote, like a man who belonged. Parked the car and looked at me. “Want to step out?”

I shook my head. Honestly? The car felt safer. Cold air, soft seats, the kind of quiet that didn’t ask anything of me. I could sleep right here and pretend today hadn’t happened.

But Sai leaned in, voice light. “You should come up. I’ve got a jacuzzi, a pool on the terrace, and a game center where I can destroy you at pool.”

“I don’t know how to play pool.”

“Perfect. I get to show off.”

I laughed—a real one, short and surprised. It felt like stretching a muscle I hadn’t used in years.

“You don’t cook,” I said, and immediately regretted it. Aaditya cooked. He used to make pasta better than most Italian places. It was the one thing that made me forget he was poison.

“I do make a mean Maggi,” Sai said, grinning.

And that was enough. I got out.

Inside his apartment, it was exactly what I expected—a bachelor pad dressed in black and white, minimal but neat. Nothing out of place. Nothing screaming comfort. Definitely no touch of a woman’s hand. Unlike mine. Mine was colorful, loud, full of memories we created last week. Built with Aaditya. Torn down by him too.

I curled up on the couch while he vanished into another room. He returned with clothes and a towel, setting them down gently beside me.

“Tee and track pants. Guest room’s that way. Take a shower, breathe a little. I’ll freshen up too. We’ll meet back here in half an hour?”

I nodded, wordless again. But this time, not from fear or shame. Just… fatigue. A quieter kind. The kind that hinted maybe, just maybe, I had a safe place to land. Even if it was only for tonight.

∞

A whole day had gone by, and Sai still hadn’t managed to talk me into doing anything remotely productive—or even remotely cheerful. We were sprawled on the couch, side by side, some movie flickering on the screen, though neither of us was really watching it. He’d tried coaxing me with food, music, even bad jokes. Now, he was working on getting me to come up to the terrace.

“Come on,” he said, nudging me lightly with his shoulder, “you have to see the view. When I got this place, the terrace was the selling point. I imagined impressing someone on a date with it—maybe you can give me your honest opinion. You know, professional critique from someone who clearly isn’t impressed by anything.”

I turned my head slowly from the screen to look at him, my lips twitching despite myself. “Okay, fine. But before that…” My voice dropped a little. “We have another office in Dubai, right?”

He paused, reading my tone, his brow furrowing slightly as he nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

“Can I get a transfer?” I asked, already bracing for either disappointment or questions.

“To Downtown?” he clarified, turning his full attention to me now. “Which team are you with?”

“Analytics.”

He nodded slowly, thinking. “Alright. I didn’t mention it yesterday, but I actually float between both locations. I lead the creative teams for both branches. I have a spot open for a researcher in Downtown Dubai—my team. I could make it happen… if you’re okay with that.”

I blinked, the question hanging between us longer than necessary. “Working under you?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He grinned, totally unbothered. “Hey, it’s the only way I can get you out. Who’s your current manager again?”

“Nick,” I muttered, already exasperated.

Sai gave a sympathetic wince. “Hard ass.”

“Tell me about it.”

The silence that followed was loaded. Not awkward, just thick with the weight of everything unspoken. I could feel it pressing on my chest, but I had to get this out. No more hiding.

“Okay,” I said finally, voice firmer this time. “Do it. Make the transfer. But can you arrange it so I don’t have to go back there? Not even for a day?”

He looked at me, quietly serious now. “Because of him?”

I nodded, swallowing hard. “The moment I stepped out of the elevator yesterday… I saw his car. Right there. Waiting. That’s why I ran and hid in the basement. He must have caused a scene.”

Sai hesitated, then sighed. “He did.”

My eyes snapped to his. “What?”

“I didn’t want to tell you unless you asked. He tried to get into the office. How he got the guest pass and could come on our floor is a mystery but he got on our floor. Obviously, he doesn’t have access, so he couldn’t get past security. But then… he ran into your friend. Tabassum.”

I felt all the blood drain from my face. “Oh my God. What did he say to her?”

“He knows you weren’t feeling well. That’s all. As far as I know, Tabassum didn’t give him much more.”

I sat there, frozen, the room suddenly too quiet. My heart was thudding so hard it was like I could hear it echoing off the walls. I wasn’t ready for this—any of this. I’d barely caught my breath and now he was out there, turning my world into his playground again. I hated that I was still scared. Hated that even after everything, the thought of him still made my stomach knot and my hands go cold. But most of all, I hated how much I just wanted to disappear.

Sai didn’t press. He didn’t need to. I could tell from the way he gave me space that he’d already made up his mind. And just knowing that—knowing he’d take care of the transfer without needing a detailed explanation—was enough to let me finally breathe a little easier. The kind of breath that fills your lungs after days of keeping them half-empty.

After a while, he spoke again, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “Can I ask you something?”

I gave him a small nod.

“How bad is he?”

The question hit harder than I expected. My instinct was to deflect. “Why do you say that?”

Sai didn’t soften the blow. “He tried to break down the office door. The only reason security didn’t call the cops was because Tabassum told them he was your boyfriend. That he was worried about you.”

I sank back against the couch, mortified. Perfect. Now I was officially the office scandal. I’d always kept my private messes exactly that—private. But he’d dragged it all into the light. People who never even looked twice at me before probably knew my name now. I wasn’t invisible anymore. I was infamous.

“He’s… persistent,” I managed, choosing my words like I was walking a tightrope. I couldn’t tell Sai just how unhinged Aaditya could get. Not yet. “He’s the kind of person who doesn’t hear ‘no.’ And he always, always gets what he wants. At least, until now.”

Sai didn’t push. He just watched me with this steady kind of calm that I hadn’t realized I needed.

“Want to be on my team?” he asked after a moment. “I can sort out everything. Your phone, your transfer, your paperwork. I’ve been back and forth from Dubai for years. I’ve got roots in both places. Creative Director perks—I can make some noise when needed.”

Relief trickled through me like warm tea on a cold day. “Yes, please. But I’ll need to find a place to stay.”

He nodded like he’d already anticipated that. “We drove for over an hour to get here because this place is closer to the other office. You can literally walk to work from here.”

“Oh,” I said, surprised. That sounded like a dream.

“Stay here for now. Until you find something else.”

I looked around. The apartment was way out of my league. “I doubt I can afford anything in this building, Sai.”

He grinned. “Then board with me. We can split it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Split? I doubt I can even afford half.”

“Boarding means you pay twenty percent. Or we can say ten, depending on how charming your company is.”

I let out a laugh, the first real one in days. “I need a place of my own. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course,” he said immediately, no hesitation in his voice. “Just don’t rush. Wait until you find something that feels right. Until then, this is your home too.”

We headed up to the terrace then, which turned out to have its own game room attached. For the next two hours, we fooled around with the pool table. I tried to learn, really, I did—but either my coordination had taken the day off or I just didn’t care enough to retain anything. Sai finally dropped his cue and groaned.

“I give up. I officially cannot teach you how to play pool.”

“Good,” I smirked. “I’m better at chess anyway…”

I didn’t mention that Aaditya had taught me. That part of my brain still shut down when his name crept too close.

An hour later, I was bouncing on the balls of my feet, grinning from ear to ear. “Wow, you actually won fair and square. Gargi, you’re amazing.”

I gave him a dramatic bow. “Let’s go out. My treat.”

He looked amused. “Not saying no to that.”

We headed back to the apartment and got changed. I slipped into my yesterday’s dress—the one I’d washed and left to dry—and he pulled on a pair of jeans and a tee. We ended up at this cozy little Indian restaurant not far from his place. The food was good, the lighting was warm, and even though I didn’t have my phone, I didn’t miss it. Not even a little. Being unreachable felt like rebellion. Like freedom.

I borrowed Sai’s phone to call Mom. Told her just enough to keep her calm but not enough to make her worry. I asked her not to tell Aaditya where I was if he came asking. She understood. She always did. She told me to be strong, to be right, to look in the mirror and ask myself if I was proud of the choices I was making. I told her I was trying. That I was trying really, really hard.

She said that was enough. That trying mattered.

As I hung up, I realized how much I needed this clean slate. I didn’t know how to build an Aaditya-free life yet, but I was starting to believe it was possible. And right now, that hope felt like the beginning of everything.

∞

One Month Later

Aaditya

The moment I stepped into the house, the silence hit me like a punch. I flung the car keys across the room—they clattered against the wall and dropped somewhere behind the couch, but I didn’t care. The door slammed shut behind me with a thud that made the windows tremble. Another damn day. Another dead end.

Where the hell had she gone? How had she just disappeared like that? It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense anymore. Her phone—still off. Still unreachable. How was that even possible in this day and age? Was she really cutting me out this cleanly? This permanently?

“Bhai…”

The sound of Shama’s voice barely registered, but something in her tone made my stomach clench. Not with anger, not even with frustration—but with something deeper. Something I didn’t like to admit I could feel.

Fear.

Not the kind that comes from danger, but the kind that wraps around your bones when you realize you’re losing something… someone… and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. I looked up, and there she was, standing a few feet away from me like she didn’t know if I was going to combust or collapse. Her eyes were wide, cautious. I blinked. Still there. So was the pressure in my chest—crushing, breath-stealing.

I opened my mouth, but the only thing that came out was a scream. A raw, guttural sound that didn’t even feel like mine. I barely noticed Shama rush toward me until I felt her hand pushing me down onto the couch.

“Please, calm down,” she said, her voice a mix of exasperation and concern. “You’re falling apart. She left because of you. I lost my best friend because of you. What’s the point of staying here anymore? Just come back to India.”

I swallowed hard, every word of hers cutting deeper than I wanted to admit. “And she hasn’t contacted you?”

Her face twisted. “God, how many times do I have to say this? No, Aaditya. She hasn’t. Gargi—my best friend—hasn’t called, messaged, or sent even a damn emoji in a month. You know how we were. We couldn’t go a single day without texting each other, sending silly memes, or checking in. Now? Nothing.”

I snatched her phone before she could stop me, scrolling through her messages like a man possessed. I checked every thread, every recent call. Empty. The silence on that screen screamed louder than anything else in the room.

It wasn’t just that she’d left me. She’d cut everyone off. Even Shama. That realization gutted me more than I expected.

“I can’t live without her,” I muttered, barely realizing I’d spoken aloud.

Shama let out a bitter laugh, tired and heavy. “Then why the hell did you marry someone else, Bhai?”

I looked at her, and for once, I had no defense ready. I didn’t even try.

“You know why I did it,” I murmured, though the words felt hollow now.

She shook her head. “Mom said it was okay to disappoint Dadi if her expectations were outdated and unfair. But you didn’t disappoint Dadi. You destroyed Gargi instead. And for what? To make a point? You cheated on your wife before your marriage was even real. You made Gargi the other woman. You never treated her like an equal. She was always under your thumb, always giving in, always putting you first—even when it hurt her. But when she finally asked for something for herself—just one thing, just a little more time after her father died—you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t give her that.”

Her voice was trembling now, filled with all the hurt she’d probably held back for years. “She needed to be there for her mother. She was grieving. But you? You just expected her to fall in line again. And when she didn’t, you treated it like betrayal. She had to choose between two people who needed her… and she chose her mother. And you never forgave her for it.”

I heard every word. Every accusation. They weren’t new—Shama had said all this before. But this time… something was different. Maybe it was the silence in my phone, maybe the ache in my chest, or maybe the empty space where Gargi used to live in my life.

But this time, it didn’t just sound like blame.

It sounded like truth.

And I didn’t know how to live with it.

“I want you to get married,” Dadi said, her fingers warm and firm as they moved through my hair, the coconut oil working its way into my scalp like some old, comforting ritual. We were in my room, the late afternoon light spilling across the floor, the fan whirring lazily above us. I was sitting on the floor, my head in her lap, letting her give me one of her trademark head massages. It used to be my favorite thing. Today, not so much.

“I know, Dadi,” I said, closing my eyes, “but Gargi’s father just passed away. It’s only been two months. We have to wait… at least a year. That’s the least we can do.”

She paused, her hands stilling for just a second. “I never ask you for anything, Aadi. And I’m getting old. Who knows if I’ll even be around to see your wedding next year?”

The guilt landed exactly where she aimed it—low in my chest, right above my heart. I sighed, opened my eyes. “But I can’t force Gargi into this right now, Dadi. Her whole world has flipped. She’s barely even functioning.”

“You can,” she said gently, resuming the massage, like her fingers could knead the resistance out of me. “And I have a plan. Tell her you’re getting married. The girl I mentioned—Prerna—her father is on board. Tell Gargi it’s happening. I know her. She won’t let you go. You just have to push her a little.”

My gut twisted. “Dadi… I don’t think that’s the right thing to do.”

“It is,” she said, firm this time. “Believe me.”

And for some reason, I did.

Later that week, I met Gargi at the garden near her house. It was the only place she agreed to see me. She looked tired. The kind of tired that doesn’t come from lack of sleep but from emotional exhaustion—the bags under her eyes weren’t just dark; they were heavy with grief. She hugged her arms around herself even though it wasn’t cold.

“I’m being pressured,” I said, my voice low, almost unsure of itself.

Her brows knit. “What?”

“We have to get married,” I said, trying to keep my tone neutral, matter-of-fact, like I wasn’t twisting myself in knots inside.

“Aadi… I can’t.” Her voice cracked, just slightly. “You know I can’t right now.”

“My Dadi,” I started, “she’s saying she doesn’t have much time left. She wants to see me married. It’s all she talks about anymore. It’s either now or…”

“Or what?” Gargi asked, eyes narrowing.

I hesitated. Then blurted it out. “Or she’s already found someone for me.”

She froze for a second, like I’d slapped her. Then she stood up, jaw tight, shoulders stiff. “I can’t talk to you right now,” she said, her voice cold with restraint. “My mother needs me. I love you, Aadi, you know that. But I need time. Just one year. That’s all I’m asking.”

“If I can’t wait… then…” The words tumbled out, half-formed, already regretted.

She stared at me, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“Forget it,” I said, the guilt already gnawing at the inside of my throat. “Bye.”

I turned and walked away before I could look back. Before I could crumble. Before she could see how badly I didn’t mean it.

That day… it flipped my whole world without warning. I didn’t even realize it then, how deeply I’d messed things up. My ego, my damn ego, got in the way, and the days slipped by like sand through my fingers. And then, Prerna came to Mumbai. Just like that. A neatly scheduled “first meeting” with the family, as if we were ticking boxes on a checklist. All arranged, all polite. The kind of setup I’d always rolled my eyes at. But I was in some twisted headspace where logic had packed up and left. Dadi’s voice echoed in my brain on a loop—Gargi will come around. Just push her a little.

So, I did what I thought would get her to snap out of it. What I wanted to believe would work. I ignored my mom when she tried to talk sense into me. I shrugged off Dad when he cornered me with questions I didn’t want to answer. I shut everyone out and dialed Gargi again and again. She stopped picking up.

And then… I got engaged.

Even then, I kept thinking she’d call. Show up. Stop me.

But she didn’t.

Until two days before the wedding.

I still remember the smell of her house that day—sandalwood and something faintly sweet, maybe incense. I didn’t knock. Just walked in like a man possessed. She was in the living room. One look at me and she crumbled. The way her face fell, the tears she couldn’t hold back… it gutted me. She begged. Literally begged me not to go through with it. I told her to marry me instead. And she wanted to—God, I saw it in her eyes. That ache. That love. That helpless, choking hope. But then her mother stepped into the room.

And just like that, the light in Gargi’s eyes dimmed. She didn’t say a word—just shook her head. A silent no that hit harder than any scream.

Everything that mattered changed in that moment.

But the worst part? It didn’t stop there.

A week after I was married, Gargi came to our house. I don’t even remember why—some excuse, maybe something to return. All I remember is seeing her and losing control. I cornered her in a room, touched her like I’d never let her go again. It wasn’t tender. It was desperate. Messy. And then I did the unthinkable—I kept her from leaving. Took her top, left her no choice but to stay in that bed with me. And she did.

Not because she wanted to.

Because I didn’t let her leave.

I told myself it was love. That I needed her. That we belonged together. But the truth? I was selfish. I was spiraling. And I pulled her down with me.

That’s how it began—our affair. Secret, broken, and anything but romantic. She didn’t want it. Not truly. But she didn’t know how to say no to me. She never had. Except that once—when she chose her mother. That was the only time she’d drawn a line. Every other time… she tried to resist, tried to explain why it was wrong, but I didn’t care. I wanted her, and I took what I wanted.

Now?

She was gone.

Like truly gone.

She vanished. Just like that. Wiped herself off the face of the earth—no calls, no texts, no late-night voice notes with her half-asleep giggle. Silence. Heavy, choking silence.

I’d even tracked down Akash—the guy she was with when I landed in Dubai. He sounded as lost as I felt. Said she hadn’t shown up at work for weeks. Didn’t know where she was, hadn’t heard from her either. That didn’t make sense. Gargi lived for that job. It wasn’t just work to her—it was structure, escape, control. Her way of keeping sane. So where the hell had she gone?

I kept turning it over in my head, obsessively, like a broken record. Something wasn’t adding up. There had to be something I was missing. But whatever it was, it was buried deep and out of reach, and it was eating away at me like acid. Not that it mattered—I was already dead inside. Existing, breathing, but not alive.

God, I needed her. Still. Even now. Even after everything. I needed her voice, her presence, her stubborn refusal to let go. Stupid, impulsive choices had cost me everything, and now she was gone. And I had no one to blame but myself.

She never said no to me. Not once. Until the day that mattered most. And when she finally did, when she finally chose herself—or maybe her mother—I lost my mind. I didn’t know how to handle it. I couldn’t. And now? Now I was married. But nothing about my life felt like mine.

“I need you, Gargi,” I whispered to the ceiling of the apartment we used to sneak into, where echoes of her laughter still haunted me. “I want you. I’m losing it without you.”

“Bhai…”

I turned to see my sister watching me from the doorway, her expression soft but tired. She looked like she’d been holding back tears for days.

“Come to Mumbai with me. Please. I don’t know where Gargi is, but I promise, the moment she calls or messages me, you’ll be the first person I tell. Mom and Dad are worried sick. Even Bhabhi—she’s been crying. Prerna doesn’t know what’s going on, but she senses something’s wrong. She knows you’re slipping away.”

I didn’t answer immediately. Just stared at the cold floor tiles, feeling the emptiness stretch wide around me.

“I’ve already lost my job,” I muttered. “So there’s nothing holding me back now.”

My sister gave a small, relieved smile. “Okay. I’ll book the tickets.”

I sat there for a long moment, hands limp on my knees, voice barely above a whisper. “I never loved anyone else. It was only her. Always her.”

“I know,” she said, gently. “She loved you, too. Gargi was completely dependent on you, Bhai. Emotionally, mentally—you were her safe space, her compass. She used to say—I don’t need to worry, Aadi will decide. He always does. And she said it with pride, not shame. She didn’t want control, she just wanted love. That was it. Pure, undemanding love.”

“Then why did she leave?” My voice cracked. A single tear slipped down my cheek before I could catch it. “Why didn’t she fight for us?”

My sister walked over, knelt beside me, placed a hand on my shoulder. “Because you were asking her to do something she couldn’t live with. She was a good person. And you were asking her to destroy that.”

I looked away. The truth stung. “I already spoke to the lawyer about a divorce.”

She hesitated. “Do you really want to go through with that?”

I frowned. “What do you mean? I can’t stay in a dead marriage.”

She exhaled, then dropped the bomb. “Prerna Bhabhi is pregnant.”

I stared at her, completely thrown. “What?”

“Mom sent me here to talk sense into you. Your life is moving forward, Bhai, whether you want it to or not. Your wife is carrying your child. She needs you. And you need to accept the life you chose. Whatever happened with Gargi… it’s over. There’s nothing you can do now.”

Pregnant. That one word detonated inside my chest.

After… after Gargi left India, I had gone crazy, and I remember drinking a lot. Then a few mornings, I saw myself naked and knew I had sex with my wife.

Oh God… she was pregnant now.

Life wasn’t just mocking me—it was dragging me by the collar and laughing in my face. Pregnant. The word wrapped around my ankles like chains, heavy and final. There was no out from this. Not now.

Not ever.

In Indian families, divorce didn’t happen easily. And definitely not when a child was involved. I’d seen it—people living entire lifetimes in cold, hollow marriages just for the sake of the child. And now… I was one of them.

There was no way out.

Not anymore.

Two Months Later

Gargi

I laughed, playfully nudging Sai’s shoulder as I held up the printed report like it was a trophy. “Excuse me, I did the deep dive on this one. I deserve the medal. And maybe a little extra credit too?”

Sai gave me that signature grin of his—the kind that made people instantly trust him. “Fair enough. This new contract? It belongs to the new girl, as everyone here fondly calls her. Gargi joined us three months ago and has already made waves. She’s made us proud.” He clapped his hands dramatically. “Now, let’s head to the mall. Games and food on me!”

The team erupted in cheers, and I just shook my head with a smile that came too easily. “You really have a treat addiction, don’t you?”

He shrugged like it was a character flaw he had long accepted. “What can I say? I reward greatness. And yes, I know we were supposed to do groceries today. But we’ll go tomorrow morning, yeah?”

I nodded, feeling a strange warmth settle in my chest. “That works.”

As the others began gathering their things, someone chimed in behind me, “Gargi, I had no idea you worked this hard. Seriously, amazing job.”

I smiled, a little surprised by how good it felt to hear it. “Thanks. It feels nice… being seen.”

“Not just seen,” Sai added from across the room, “rewarded too. You’ve got a fat bonus coming your way.”

I blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yep. But if you’re feeling generous, you can give it to me.”

I laughed. “Honestly, maybe I should. You’ve let me crash at your place for free. I mean, that’s rent, and then some.”

He paused, gaze softening. “You being there isn’t a burden, Gargi. You cook, you keep the fridge stocked, you even label the masalas like a lunatic. You call that rent? I call that luxury living.”

I laughed again but quietly, not the kind that bubbles up from joy but the kind that masks something else. “I guess… I just don’t like staying alone. Not anymore.”

Sai’s face shifted slightly, not judgmental, just… knowing. “You think Aaditya might show up?”

My mouth went dry. “I don’t know what I think. I just… get scared. That’s all I know.”

He gave a small nod, the kind that didn’t demand more. “Then feed me good food. That’s your rent. Deal?”

He disappeared back into his office, leaving me standing there with my thoughts. I returned to my desk, letting the clutter of research papers drown me in its quiet comfort. Research had always been my escape—linear, focused, endless. It didn’t let your mind wander.

My fingers drifted to the thin bracelet on my wrist, the one Shama had given me before I left. My best friend. God, I missed her. Her warm, protective energy. Her ability to call me out and still hold me together. And… her brother.

I missed him too.

Aaditya didn’t just exist—he lived. Fierce, unfiltered, messy living. Being with him felt like standing in the eye of a storm—terrifying but impossible to leave. And yeah, I missed it. The cuddles, the teasing, the way his hand fit around my waist like it had been molded for me. The hunger. The heat. The absolute chaos of loving him.

But I could look in the mirror now without flinching. That had to count for something, right? I wasn’t ashamed anymore. And yet, it didn’t come with pride—it came with an ache. A strange sort of emptiness that no promotion, no bonus, no kind roommate could fill.

Because being with someone like Sai—kind, decent, respectful to a fault—meant safety. It meant boundaries. It meant dull, unshakeable peace. And somehow, that felt… boring. I hated myself for thinking it, but there it was.

Don’t go there, Gargi. My own voice echoed in my head like a teacher’s warning. You can’t cheat. You can’t be the girl who pines for a married man.

Conscience was supposed to be the rewarding, right? A healthy thing. And mine had started yelling the day I left. I clung to it like a lifeboat. Because over the years, love evaporated. And all that remained was the truth. The truth of who you were when no one was looking.

And the truth was—Prerna didn’t deserve this. She never did.

But another truth, quieter and harder to face, was that I had never stopped loving Aaditya. Not for a second. Five years into his marriage and my heart still beat to the rhythm of his name. Before that? We had been us for over a decade. A lifetime.

And somehow, impossibly, my love for him had only grown. Evolved. Deepened into something bone-deep, unshakable. No matter how hard I tried to scrub him out of my soul, he was carved in.

No one could replace him.

No one ever would.

Sai showed up just as everyone began winding down, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder like we were heading out for a weekend trip rather than wrapping a regular workday. He clapped his hands, rallying the room. “Alright, troops. Pack up. Let’s head out before traffic kills the vibe.”

Then, as if it had been timed with cinematic precision, he walked over to my desk and leaned in slightly, dropping his voice to something just above a whisper. “Any answer for that date thing?”

My stomach clenched like it had heard a threat. Or maybe it was guilt. Or dread. Or all of it rolled into one sickening twist. I could date him. Of course, I could. He was nice. Steady. A man who remembered to carry an umbrella when it looked cloudy and double-knotted his shoelaces. But I couldn’t love him. Not the way I had loved Aaditya. Not the way my heart still whispered his name in quiet moments.

Then my phone buzzed. Just one ping. I flipped it over. A message from my mother. Three words.

Prerna is pregnant.

That was it. No build-up. No cushioning. Just a fact so heavy it cracked something in me. The air felt thinner, like someone had punched the oxygen out of the room. My vision swam slightly, and I had to blink to stay rooted.

He was going to be a father.

My thoughts spiraled. That meant… what did that mean? He was sleeping with her. Of course, he was. She was his wife. But I had always imagined—selfishly, stupidly—that maybe they were still distant. Maybe he couldn’t bring himself to touch her. Maybe I still lived in some corner of his body the way he lived in mine.

Stupid. So incredibly stupid.

“Hey… where did you go?” Sai asked, and his voice pulled me back with a jolt. I locked my phone quickly, my hands suddenly trembling. My lips moved before my brain could catch up.

“Yes.”

He blinked. “Sorry?”

“I’ll go out with you,” I repeated, forcing a smile that hurt more than it should.

“You’re sure? You’ve been rejecting me for three months straight. What changed?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, tasting bitterness. “I woke up, I guess. Will you take me on a date?”

His grin was instant, bright, and so undeserved. “Of course, I will. Tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” I said softly, my voice close to cracking. “Tomorrow sounds perfect.”

Before he could say anything else, I pushed my chair back and stood. “Excuse me. I need to use the washroom.”

I walked fast—too fast—trying to hold it in until I made it behind the stall door. The second the lock clicked, I collapsed onto the toilet seat, my body folding in on itself. And then it came. The wave. The kind of crying that wasn’t just about heartbreak but about humiliation, about self-betrayal, about hoping against hope for something that was never mine to begin with.

Pregnant.

He was having a child. With her.

And all this time… all this time, he’d been in my arms too. Whispering things. Touching me like I was the only one. How was that even possible? Had he been playing both sides? Or had I just been too deep in denial to see the truth staring me in the face?

The sobs kept coming, sharp and ugly and loud in the echo of the bathroom. I didn’t even try to muffle them. There was no point in pretending I was okay. Not here. Not anymore.

And somewhere in the blur of it all, I realized—tomorrow wasn’t going to be a date. It was going to be damage control. A distraction from a love story that had already ended. I was stepping into something safe because the dangerous thing I loved had destroyed me.

Again.

I hope you enjoyed this part (The Truth Hurts); 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.