Manveer

"Bring another," I demanded.

The dim lights of the bar flickered against the haze of alcohol clouding my mind. My vision swam in and out of focus as the world around me grew louder, more chaotic. Two bottles of wine down, yet the numbness I sought still eluded me. I groaned, my patience wearing thin.

A faint voice broke through the noise, hesitant yet firm, as if trying to tread carefully. "Mr. Rajvanshi, that would be too much."

I turned sharply, my irritation bubbling over. My eyes searched for the idiot who dared to advise me.

"Who the hell is that asshole who thinks he can tell me what to do?" I growled.

The waiter froze under my glare, his eyes wide, betraying his fear. "Shut the fuck up and do what I asked for!" I slurred.

Just then, a low, sultry voice purred near my ear. "Mr. Rajvanshi, you don't strike me as someone who enjoys solitude," she said, her words dripping with calculated charm. "But maybe you're just waiting for the right company to change that."

I didn't look at her. I didn't need to. I already knew the game she was playing. They all did it, lean in, smile, let their bodies do the talking. It was a dance of desperation; a move they thought would work on me. Her fingers brushed lightly against my arm, a calculated move to get my attention, but it wasn't the touch of someone seeking connection, it was the touch of someone seeking something far more self-serving.

I swirled the whiskey in my glass, keeping my gaze fixed on the rim. "I'm not interested," I said flatly.

But she didn't back off. She leaned closer, her lips hovering near my ear, her tongue flicked against my earlobe, slow and deliberate, teasing. "Don't be like that." she murmured. "We could have a good time... I could make you forget your troubles. Just let me."

"Do yourself a favor," I said coldly, "and save your breath. I'm not in the mood for your games."

Her lips twitched into a half-hearted laugh as she straightened up. "Well, I didn't think a man like you would be so difficult."

I ignored her and leaned back, my patience dwindling. "What the fuck is taking so long?" I growled. The frustration crept into my voice, low and seething. "Am I invisible, or are you all just too stupid to do your jobs?"

A knot of frustration tightened in my chest, the alcohol blurring my thoughts but not enough to erase the fury bubbling just beneath the surface.

"I've had enough of this shit," I muttered to myself, my pulse quickening with every passing second. "Bring me what I fucking asked for."

My hands clenched into fists, nails digging into the palm, the ache in my head more like a hammering now. I slammed my hand onto the table, causing the glasses to shatter and scatter across the floor, shards glittering like a thousand tiny knives.

"Are jijaji, sambhaliye apne aap ko!" came a familiar voice. "Waiter, bring some lemon soda."

("Hey, brother-in-law, get a hold of yourself!")

I turned, my blurry vision struggling to focus on the man approaching me.

"Rohit?" I groaned, my voice barely audible.

"Haan, jijaji. Aap tension bilkul na lo," Rohit said, taking control of the situation. "Hum hain na aapki seva mein. Ab ghar chaliye pehle."

(Yes, brother. Don't worry about anything, I'm here to take care of you. Now, let's head home first.)

He moved to my side, taking my arm with a steady grip. Despite my protests, he guided me toward the exit, his calm demeanor an anchor against my spiraling rage.

***

"No... no... no! I want to make one of these!" Laksh's voice echoed through the mansion, loud enough to rattle my already heavy head.

I groaned, rubbing my temples as I slowly blinked my eyes open. My thoughts were clouded, fragmented, and it took a moment to piece them together. The last thing I remembered was Rohit helping me get home. Everything after that? Well, it was blank slate.

Dragging myself out of bed, I stepped into the steaming water of the shower, hoping the heat would melt away the haze. I dressed in all black and stepped into the living room, I pulled my phone out and called my PA, instructing them to bring my morning coffee to my room.

Last night had been a victory, though not without its cost. Devraj had dared to smuggle Fentanyl within my territory. He must've thought I wouldn't notice, or worse, that I wouldn't care. But I did. I couldn't let him continue his game of death, trading lives for profit while those motherfuckers declaring overdoses as natural deaths.

As I turned to head back upstairs, I heard rapid footsteps and yelling. Before I could react, Laksh came barreling toward me, his tiny arms flinging around my legs, I looked down at him, "What's all this fuss about?" I asked.

"Papa, uncles are NOT listening!" Laksh complained, his little voice full of frustration as two of my men followed closely behind him, looking equal parts embarrassed and helpless.

I crossed my arms, fixing them with a sharp glare. "What the hell is going on here?" I demanded. Both men avoided my eyes, staring at the floor as if it held the answers.

Before they could explain themselves, Laksh tugged on my sleeve, thrusting his tablet toward me. "I told them to bring me my mom!" he exclaimed. "I want to make these TikToks. Look! They're fun!"

On the screen was a ridiculous video of a mother and her kids jumping around in matching outfits, all smiles and laughter. The sight grated on my nerves, feeding the frustration I'd been trying to keep in check since the morning.

"Can't you behave and stop yelling?" I snapped at Laksh before I could stop myself. My voice came out harsher than I intended. His expressions shifted in an instant.

Laksh's eyes filled with tears, his little face crumpling in a way that made me want to punch a wall. He took a step back, clutching the tablet to his chest. "Laksh," I called, but he turned and bolted, tears streaming down his cheeks as he ran. "Laksh, come here!" I barked, but he didn't even look back.

I was about to follow when Rohit stepped into the room and scooped Laksh up in his arms. "Jijaji, what's wrong? Why are you yelling at our Laksh babu?" Rohit asked, as he gently stroked Laksh's tear-streaked face.

Laksh buried his face in Rohit's shoulder, his small body shaking with sobs. "Uncle, I just asked Papa about Mom... and he shouted at me!" he cried, his voice muffled.

Rohit's expression darkened as he shot me a look. "Arrey, jijaji, why don't you just tell him?" he said, his tone pointed. He turned back to Laksh, speaking softly. "Laksh babu, your mom is—"

"Rohit!" I interrupted, my voice a low growl. "Stop this nonsense. He's just a toddler. He doesn't need to know about these things yet."

Rohit raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed but smart enough not to argue. "Haan, haan, jijaji. Samajh gaye. Maf kijiye." (Yes, yes, brother-in-law. Got it. My apologies.)

With that, he turned his attention back to Laksh. "Chaliye, Laksh babu. Let's go. I'll give you some chocolates." Laksh sniffled, still clutching the tablet, but he allowed Rohit to carry him away.

I ran my fingers through my hair, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "I'm sorry, Laksh," I whispered to myself, the guilt gnawing at my insides. "I didn't mean to hurt you." But why now? Why did he have to bring up this topic now, when I could barely make sense of my own emotions?

I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have yelled. I'll talk to him later. I headed to my bedroom, hoping a change of focus would steady my thoughts. Sipping my coffee, I opened my laptop, facing the endless stream of emails. The most tedious part of my day, but one that demanded attention nonetheless.

Yet no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't concentrate. Laksh's crying voice was still echoing through my mind that kind of made my headach worse. Somewhere, in the chaos of managing my business and the weight of my responsibilities, I had lost sight of my son. I had overlooked the one person who needed me the most.

I didn't act. I was trapped, caught in a world where every decision felt like a dead end, every step forward sinking me deeper into a pit of doubt. How was I supposed to raise Laksh without her? Without the woman who had once been the glue holding us together?

I had tried, God knows I had tried. I did everything I thought I could, but nothing is working out.

"Laksh deserves better," I murmured, staring blankly at the screen before me. "He deserves a father who's present. Someone who isn't drowning in the past."

But how could I be that man for him? I had built walls to protect myself, but in doing so, I'd isolated the one person who needed me most.

Sighing, I pushed the laptop aside and opened the surveillance app on my phone. It was a habit I had developed not one I was proud of, but one I couldn't let go of either. I had installed cameras in all of Laksh's toys, not just to keep him safe but to feel connected to him when I wasn't physically present.

Scrolling through the footage, I sifted through clips of his day. The mundane moments of him gave me a fleeting sense of relief. But then suddenly the view from her room came into the sight.

How could I forget? Laksh had carelessly given her the toy with the camera inside, and I definitely didn't bother about it either.

She was singing a song.

'लग जा गले कि फिर ये हसीं रात हो न हो ...'

It was one of my favorite songs, and the soft, sultry notes from her lips pulled me in like a magnet. I hadn't expected it. The song wrapped around me, unleashing the painful memories from my past. I clenched my fists as the past clawed its way back to the surface.

Frustration bubbled within me, and I grabbed the violin and slammed it down on the stand, brushing off the dust my grip tightened around the bow, and before I knew it, I had lifted it to play. As if she was singing this just for me!

The first note was raw, sharp, and uneven times of neglect evident in the strained sound. But I didn't care. My fingers dug into the strings, dragging them across the bow with fierce, each stroke was a release of different feeling.

Her voice flowed with a softness I couldn't match. My bow dragged harshly across the strings, my fingers moving with a hunger that felt almost animalistic.

Her voice made my blood run hot and made my pulse quicken.

The worn-out strings, unable to bear the force, snapped one by one, breaking with sharp twangs that echoed in the room like a gunshot. I stood there, my breath ragged. My ears felt like burning.

I paused, staring at the broken strings, the silence around me thick and heavy. Slowly, a smirk tugged at my lips not of amusement, but of something darker, more complicated. Frustration, yes, but also a strange sense of calm, as though her voice had soothed something I hadn't realized was aching.

"She has no idea what she's doing to me," I whispered into the empty room.

I set the violin aside, broken but somehow unburdened. I stared at her moving figure which shifted smoothly across her room. My gaze lingered as she turned, brushing her hair from her face, it caused something to arise in me.

My fingers trembled but I couldn't tear my eyes away. And then suddenly she lifted the toy to her chest, holding it close giving me a clear view of collarbone. For a split second, the air felt like choking my breath. So exposed! She spoke with that light-hearted joy I wasn't prepared for.

"You know what, Chiku? Main aaj bahut khush hoon!" she spoke.

(I am so happy today.)

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"The hell!" My muscles were tensed and I was losing control to her silliness. She was more intoxicating than any whiskey, sweeter than the sugar she was so carelessly tossing around.

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"Chiku, aap toh kuchh bolte hi nahi ho?" She spoke again. Who the hell calls toy with nickname? But yeah, I felt it cute. Cute? What the hell was wrong with me?

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"Hey, Chiku," she said nervously, you know the strange thing? I live on the third floor, so how is it possible for someone to watch me through the window?"

I knew it, she felt it too. Her shiver. That unease. Her mind fighting with something she couldn't quite place, but her body reacting to the pull. My eyes tracked every motion, from the way her lips parted in shock to the way her hand trembled.

I smirked darkly, even if she didn't realize it yet. Her every action was like an invitation, a whisper that beckoned me closer. No, she was playing the game, pretending like she wasn't affected. But I knew better. She couldn't deny it.

The thought of her, innocent and unaware of how deeply I was watching her, how much I wanted to break through her façade, made me restless. I could feel my dominance rising, the desire to take control physically, emotionally, in every way.

The next second, she hugged the bear, her soft embrace making it feel as if it were me, she was holding onto. My breath hitched as a dangerous warmth spread through my abdomen.

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"Chalo, aaj aapko mere saath baking karna sikhati hoon." With that, she carried it into the kitchen, setting him carefully on the counter, where I could watch her work.

(Let's go, I will teach you how to bake today.)

And God, I had never thought watching someone bake could be the sexiest thing I'd ever experience. The way her delicate fingers kneaded the dough, her apron clinging to her in all the right ways, it was intoxicating. I was drowned, lost and couldn't shake off the thought of touching myself while watching her.

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"This is ridiculous," she muttered. "Main teesre floor pe hoon."

(I live on the third floor.)

"Tum bhi pagal hi ho, Diya, khud ke hi reflection se dar rahi ho."

(You are stupid, Diya. Scared of your own refelction.)

I swear, I had never thought watching someone scared can arouse me so much.

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जी-भर के देख लीजिए हमको क़रीब से ...

The soft melody escaped through her lips. "Hann meri jaan, dekh hi toh raha hu, ab tum kya chahti ho meri sansein tham jaye?"

(Yes, my dear, I am already watching you. Do you want to take my breath away?)

*****