Vikrant sat calmly in a conference meeting as reporters fired off a series of questions, each of which he addressed with composure.
One reporter asked cleverly,
“Mr. Vikrant, what can you tell us about the watch found at the murder scene? From what I understand, only the top five most influential people in the world own one like it correct?”
Vikrant stood up, adjusted his tie, and slipped one hand into his pocket. With a calm and steady voice, he said,
“As I mentioned earlier, someone is clearly desperate to damage our company’s reputation and they’re trying to frame me in the process.”
He raised his wrist slightly, revealing his watch.
“As for the watch found at the scene. I still have mine, as you can see.”
The room fell silent. Every reporter listened intently, hanging on his every word.
Then, in a cold, measured tone, he added,
“I trust the police will find whoever is truly behind this crime. Thank you.”
With that final statement hanging in the air, Vikrant turned away from the podium.
He adjusted the lapel of his coat with quiet precision, straightened his posture, and began walking towards the exit each step measured, confident, and full of quiet authority.
The room erupted.
“Sir, just one more question!”
“Mr. Vikrant, please can you clarify your statement about...?”
“Sir, wait, wait, please!”
Reporters called out to him in a frenzy, voices overlapping, cameras flashing, pens poised mid-air but Vikrant didn’t look back.
He walked on, unshaken, the echo of his footsteps cutting through the chaos behind him. The message was clear.
He had said all he needed to say.
Vikrant walked down the corridor, eyes on his phone, scrolling through an endless stream of messages and updates.
The chaos of the press conference faded behind him, replaced by the soft echo of his footsteps against the polished floor.
Then came a voice sweet, airy, just loud enough to be noticed.
“Vikrant, sir!”
He didn't look behind him at first and moved from that spot.
Then she called him again.
He turned instinctively and saw her.
She was hurrying towards him, heels clicking briskly, her white skirt hugging her figure with deliberate precision.
A thin gold chain barely visible at her collarbone. Her long, light brown hair bounced in soft waves with every step, and her makeup was carefully done to look effortless: dewy skin, winged eyeliner, and just the right shade of pink on her lips.
She looked like someone who planned every detail of her appearance to look like she didn’t.
Breathless, she stopped just in front of him, clutching a file tightly against her chest.
Her eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and something else. Like she enjoyed being the one who knew more than she should.
“Sir,” she said, catching her breath with a flirty smile.
“I need to tell you something.”
Her voice dipped just enough to sound dangerous.
“I know you killed her,” she whispered.
“And I have all your secrets in this file.”
She gave a playful tilt of her head, biting her lower lip slightly.
“All the details are in here. You can check.”
She said while giving the file to Vikrant.
Then she smiled charming, calculated, like she’d just dropped a bomb and was waiting to watch it go off.
Vikrant didn’t flinch. Without a word, he turned and walked towards the lift, pressing the button with calm precision.
As the doors began to close, she stepped forward and blocked them with the pointed heel of her shoe. The doors jolted open again.
She slipped inside with a smirk, standing beside him like she’d just invited herself into something much bigger than she understood.
Then she spoke without a hint of fear, her voice steady and clear.
“Don’t you think I can expose you?"
Vikrant met her gaze coolly.
“If that was your intention, you would’ve done it a long time ago.”
A sly smile curved her lips.
“Just as I suspected you’re both handsome and intelligent. Now, please take a look, sir.”
She fumen inside.
Her tone was flirty as she slid the file into his hands, her fingers brushing his deliberately.
Vikrant didn't like what she did just now but he tried to control himself. He didn't want to create a scene there.
He opened the file, his eyes scanning the contents quickly but thoroughly.
Inside were photographs - damning and impossible to ignore.
His men were caught dragging a woman’s lifeless body deep into the forest.
Another series showed him emerging from his private basement, shadows falling across his sharp features.
His expression tightened, unreadable yet sharp, like a blade concealed beneath calm waters.
The woman stepped closer, her fingers lightly tracing his lips. In a low, teasing voice, she whispered,
“Sir, I won’t let anyone find out about this, but I want something in return.”
Vikrant’s hand shot out, grabbing a handful of her hair.
With a sharp tug, he pulled her down to the cold, metal floor of the lift. His voice was ice-cold as he leaned closer.
“Do you even know who I am?” he hissed.
“You think you can threaten me, huh?”
A cruel smile crept across his lips.
“A poor little insect, trapped in my web.”
Suddenly, the lift shuddered and came to an abrupt halt the lights flickered out, swallowed by darkness.
The only sound was the distant hum of the emergency system and their shallow breaths.
Vikrant pulled out his phone, flicking on the flashlight. The narrow beam cut through the blackness, landing on her tear-streaked face.
She trembled on the floor, clutching at his feet.
He tossed the file down beside her.
“Sir… I really like you,” she whispered, voice cracking.
“Please don’t hurt me like this.”
The confined space closed in around them - tense, suffocating, and heavy with unspoken threats.
Vikrant sank to one knee, gripping her cheeks tightly with one hand while holding his phone in the other. His voice was low and dangerous.
“Oh… so this was your plan but sorry I don't like woman like you.”
The woman’s fingers reached up, brushing against his face as she replied softly,
“Sir, I won’t leak the photos. I just wanted to meet you… to see you.”
Vikrant straightened slowly, and said nothing.
She kept on yapping that how much she loved him.
Just then, the lights flickered back on and the lift doors slid open.
Standing silently, his bodyguards kept their heads lowered, eyes fixed on the floor.
Vikrant gave a subtle nod to his body guards. Two of the guards stepped forward, gripping her arms firmly.
Without a word, they dragged her out of the lift and pushed her into the car.
Meanwhile, Saraswati ji was on a phone call with the family priest.
“Ji, Pandit ji. Hum kal subah wahaan aayenge,”
She said warmly.
(“Yes, Pandit ji. We’ll come to the temple tomorrow morning.”)
The priest’s voice crackled softly through the line.
“Bahut achha, Saraswati ji. Waise to shaadi ke liye mahine bhar koi shubh yog nahi hai, lekin ek mahine baad ek bahut hi shubh aur mangalmay din aa raha hai. kisi bhi pavitra kaarya ke liye uttam.”
(“Well, Saraswati ji, for the next month there are no suitable dates for marriage. But exactly one month from now… there is a very auspicious day. A highly sacred time. Perfect for a wedding or any sacred occasion.”)
Saraswati ji smiled, her tone full of quiet grace.
“Thank you, Pandit ji. We’ll discuss the rest in person tomorrow. Namaste.”
With that, the call ended.
It's 12:30 am ~
Vikrant stepped into his villa, the weight of the day still lingering on his shoulders.
He walked to the dining table and poured himself a glass of water from the jug, the soft trickle breaking the silence.
A gentle voice came.
“Vikrant, you’re home?”
He turned around to see his mother, Saraswati ji, coming down the staircase slowly, her saree flowing gracefully with each step.
He walked over and bowed slightly, touching her feet with quiet respect.
“God bless you,” she said, placing her hand gently on his head. Her tone softened, full of care.
“Go freshen up, beta. I will serve the food for you till then.”
Vikrant gave a small nod and headed toward his room.
Vikrant stepped into his room and closed the door behind him, the soft click of the lock echoing in the quiet space.
He stood still for a moment, letting the silence settle over him like a second skin.
Then, slowly, he began to undress.
First, he slipped off his coat, smooth, deliberate, the fabric whispering against his skin as it fell to the chair.
He loosened the top two buttons of his shirt, exposing the firm cut of his collarbone and a glimpse of his chest.
One by one, the rest of the buttons came undone.
He slid the shirt off, revealing a body carved from years of discipline.
His muscles rippled with each movement, broad shoulders, sculpted arms, and a lean waist leading into razor-sharp abs.
Veins traced the surface of his forearms, pulsing slightly under his skin, adding to the raw power in his presence.
His six-pack was a masterpiece - taut, defined, the kind that spoke of quiet control and relentless focus.
He moved into the bathroom, the light bouncing off the cool tiles as steam began to rise.
The water hit his skin, hot, cleansing.
Droplets slid down the ridges of his back, across his shoulders, and down the curve of his spine.
He stood under the stream, eyes closed, hands braced on the wall, letting the pressure wash away the weight of the world he carried outside these walls.
Minutes later, Vikrant emerged - hair damp, jaw sharp, eyes unreadable.
He dressed in a simple black kurta (simple one for night) and walked to the dining room, the soft thud of his footsteps the only sound in the villa.
Saraswati ji was already seated, waiting patiently at the table.
She looked up and smiled when she saw him, warmth softening her face.
“Come, beta. Sit. You must be hungry,” she said gently.
Vikrant nodded once and took his seat beside her, composed, silent, but with a presence that filled the room.
Vikrant glanced up from his plate.
“Have you eaten, Maa?”
His mother smiled gently and nodded as she served him one more paratha.
She settled beside him, her voice soft but firm.
“We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”
Vikrant hummed in acknowledgment.
“I have to go to Switzerland as well.”
Saraswati ji looked at him, curious.
“Why? And when will you be back?”
(a curious 🧐 mother.)
He took a bite, chewing slowly before replying.
“Some bank work, Maa. I’ll be back in fifteen days.”
She nodded, satisfied.
“Hmm..that’s good… especially since your wedding is just a month away.”
Vikrant didn’t say anything. He kept eating, the weight of those words lingering in the air between them.
His mother stood up and stretched lightly.
“I’m going to sleep now. I have to wake up early tomorrow. You should get some rest too. Don’t work late into the night, okay?”
Vikrant nodded quietly.
“Hmm...”
She smiled softly, then headed toward her room.
Next Morning ~
Vikrant’s parents left early the next morning, their departure marked by quiet farewells and the soft rustling of luggage being loaded into the car.
The villa felt emptier, the silence heavier without their presence.
As evening descended, Vikrant prepared to leave for Switzerland.
The city lights flickered outside his window as he stepped into the sleek black car waiting for him, his mind already shifting to the tasks that awaited abroad.
Ishita ~
After the Malhotra's left, I gathered all the gifts they had brought and carefully placed them in my room.
With trembling hands, I locked them away in the drawer. Not because I feared theft, but because I was scared someone might damage them.
I changed out of the heavy saree, slipping into my comfortable clothes.
The softness against my skin was a small comfort amid the storm of thoughts swirling inside me.
I sat down at my desk, opening my diary. The only place where my silent voice could speak freely.
I was thinking 🤔 why a rich person like Mr.Vikrant agreed to marry a mute woman like me?
For the next fifteen minutes, I poured my heart out in neat handwriting, each word a release of the bottled-up emotions.
Then, my phone buzzed with a notification. It was a message from my sister, Saanvi.
Saanvi: “Hello!! Di. Sorry 😔 I was busy with my exams and couldn’t talk to you earlier!”
Ishita: “No problem, dear. How are you?”
Saanvi: “I’m good. What about you? I heard the Malhotra's came to see you. Mom told me.”
Ishita: “I am good. Yeah, that’s true.”
Saanvi: “WOW 😳! You’re getting married and you didn’t even tell about it to your cutipie?😔.”
Ishita: “Ahh... I just found out this morning 😔.”
Saanvi: “What didn't you know about it earlier?”
Ishita: “No, dear.”
Saanvi: “Oh! I see 👀.”
Ishita: “Hmm...”
Saanvi: “Have you told Sia about it?”
Ishita: “No, not yet.”
(Sia is Ishita’s childhood friend and she knows sign language.)
Saanvi: “Tell her as soon as you can.”
Ishita: “I will tell her right now.”
Saanvi: “Okay, Di. Bye, I have to go now.”
Ishita: “Okay, bye!”
After the chat with Saanvi, Ishita messaged Sia about her wedding and promised to update her once the date was decided.
On the other hand, Saraswati ji decided that the wedding would be held in Delhi with many ceremonies and informed Vikrant about it.
Vikrant frowned, “Ma, I don’t have time to waste on all these extra ceremonies. Cut them down, or else I’m not going to go through with this marriage.”
His mother responded firmly, “But these ceremonies are important, beta. And stop threatening us that you don’t want to marry. You will get married, understood? I’ll try to cut down on the unnecessary things, but the haldi and engagement ceremonies are essential you know very well. Then it’s just your wedding day left. So, is that fine now?”
Vikrant sat focused, typing away on his laptop. A low, thoughtful “Hmm” escaped his lips as he reviewed the screen.
His mother said firmly, “Finish your work quickly. And one more thing, all the functions will be held in Delhi. That’s the final decision, whether you like it or not.”
Vikrant sighed, “Okay, I don’t really have any other options.”
His mother said, “I want to tell you one more important thing”
But before she could reveal Ishita’s condition, Vikrant interrupted,
“Ma, I’ll call you later. I have some urgent work.”
Then he ended the call.
His mother muttered in frustration, “Aree, ye ladka bhi na!”
(“Oh, this boy!)
Vikrant will be able to know the truth or not? What happens next? 👀
To be continued. ~
Thanks for reading!
I hope you liked this chapter. Show your support by following me.
Naina.writz ~
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