Continue.....

"What's going on here?"

Aanya turned around quickly. Standing a few steps away was Ishaan, his expression unreadable, his tone ice-cold.

Karan immediately let go of Aanya and turned to him.
A wide smile spread on his face.

"Bhai! How are you?" he said cheerfully, walking forward to hug Ishaan.

Ishaan's eyes lingered on Aanya for a second longer - her pale face, her trembling hands - before he forced a polite smile and hugged his younger brother.
"I'm good," he said flatly. "How are you?"

"Me?" Karan grinned. "Perfect - as always."

Aanya stood frozen, watching the two brothers - the man she once loved, and the man she was now married to - standing together. Her breath caught in her throat.

Before anyone could notice the storm in her eyes, she quietly turned and walked away.

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Aanya shut the door behind her and leaned against it, her chest heaving.

Her mind was spinning.
Karan.
Ishaan's brother.
Her past and her present - under the same roof.

"Oh my God..." she whispered, pressing her hand over her mouth. "What am I going to do?"

Her heart raced. She could still feel Karan's hand where he had caught her, could still hear his voice asking what she was doing in his home.

"What will I tell him if he asks again?" she whispered. "How do I tell him that I'm... his brother's wife?"

She sat on the edge of her bed, tears stinging her eyes.
"Why, God... why me?"

She had never imagined this day would come.
The man she once loved - the man she'd left without explanation - was now her brother-in-law.

Flashback: Three Years Ago - America

A bright university campus under the soft autumn sun. Aanya Verma, a focused third-year student, was running late for class - her files clutched to her chest as she hurried through the corridor.

She turned a corner - and collided straight into someone.
Her papers scattered everywhere.

"Oh, I'm so sorry-" she began, bending down - but then she looked up and froze.

Standing before her, helping her pick up the papers, was Karan Mehra - tall, confident, and effortlessly charming, his smile warm enough to disarm anyone.

"That's okay," he said with a laugh. "I think we just made a dramatic first impression."

Aanya smiled shyly. "Seems like it."

From that day on, their paths kept crossing - at the library, at the café near campus, at random places around the city - until friendship naturally blossomed.

They studied together, laughed together, shared dreams of the future. And then, one evening beneath the golden lights of a riverside street, Karan had looked at her and said softly,
"Aanya, I think I've fallen for you."

Her heart had skipped a beat - and she said yes.

Their relationship lasted two beautiful years - filled with love, laughter, and stolen moments between Karan's busy schedule and Aanya's studies.

But everything changed after graduation.

Karan took over his father's company as CEO - long hours, endless meetings, no time for her. Aanya stayed in America, looking for a job, waiting for his calls that rarely came.

"I'm new in the company, Aanya," he would say. "I'll try to give us time, I promise."

But days turned into weeks, and weeks into months.

Then one day, her father called - asking her to return to India and join the family's tech division. She refused at first. But when her brother, Aransh, came to convince her, his words made sense.

"You've finished your studies, Aanya. Dad wants you to lead something of your own. Why waste your talent here working for someone else?"

She finally agreed - on one condition.
"One year," she told Aransh. "Let me work for one year as a employe. Get experience. Then I'll join the company."

The night before her flight, she tried to call Karan again and again. He didn't pick up - too caught up in meetings. When he finally saw her calls and messages, she was already at the airport.

"I'm going back to India," she said softly when he called. "Take care of yourself."

And just like that - the line went silent.

Days passed. Weeks. Aanya tried to call him, to message him - but the replies came late, cold, distant.

Until one day, she couldn't take it anymore.
She blocked him.

And that was the end of them.

Or so she thought.

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Present

The house was glowing softly under the warm chandelier light. The dining table buzzed with conversation and laughter -except one person.

Karan.

Sitting beside Ishaan, he laughed and talked, but his mind wasn't there. Every time he glanced toward the empty hallway, that same image replayed in his head - Aanya's shocked eyes meeting his, the tremor in her voice when he'd asked what she was doing there.

Something wasn't right..

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Aanya stood by the window, staring blankly at the dark sky. Her hands were trembling as she tried to calm herself.

She could still hear Karan's voice echoing in her ears - "What are you doing here in my home?"

She shut her eyes tightly.
Her heart ached with old memories - those soft smiles, his laughter, their shared dreams.

Why did it have to be him?

Her world had already turned upside down once when she was forced into this marriage - and now fate had thrown her past right into her present.

Aanya heard a soft knock at the door. Her heart skipped a beat.

Before she could answer, the door slowly creaked open.

It was Karan.

He stood there, half in shadow, hands in his pockets - the easy smile from before replaced by confusion.

"Aanya," he said softly, stepping inside. "You didn't come for dinner. Are you okay?"

Aanya turned away, pretending to fix her dupatta. "I'm fine... just tired."

Karan took another step closer, studying her.
"You didn't answer my question earlier."

Her throat went dry.
"Which question?" she whispered.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing.
"What are you doing here - in my house? You live here?"

Aanya swallowed hard. "Yes... I do."

Karan frowned, taking a step closer.
"Why, Aanya? Why are you living in the Mehra Mansion?"

Aanya's throat felt dry. Her fingers twisted the edge of her dupatta as she forced the words out.
"Because I have to," she said softly.

He raised his voice slightly.
"And I'm asking you - why?"

She hesitated, lowering her eyes.
"Because I'm... working here," she replied.

For a second, Karan just blinked - as if her words didn't make sense. Then his frown deepened.
"Working here?" he repeated, his tone sharp. "Working as what?"

Aanya's lips trembled. "As a helper."

Karan let out a short, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head.

"You're joking, right?" he said, his voice half incredulous, half bitter. "You - Aanya Verma - topper of MIT University, who could easily earn in lakhs anywhere in the world... you're telling me you're working here, in the Mehra Mansion, as a helper?"

"Yes," Aanya said quietly, her voice almost breaking. "I'm not joking."

Karan's smile faded. His tone grew colder, harsher.
"You want me to believe this?" he asked, his jaw tightening. "You expect me to believe that's the truth, Aanya?"

Her heart clenched. She wanted to scream that it wasn't the truth - that she was forced into this, trapped in this house as Ishaan's wife.

But how could she?
Her husband had never accepted her.
And how could she tell Karan that his own brother had married her for revenge - that he had turned her life into a gilded cage?

No. She couldn't.
So she said what she had to.
The lie that hurt less than the truth.

"I'm not in a condition to tell you anything, Karan," she said softly. "Please... go from here. If Ishaan sir sees you talking to me, he'll misunderstand."

Karan stepped closer, his eyes darkening.
"I'm not going anywhere until I get answers," he said firmly. "First you disappeared from America without a word - and then, out of nowhere, you broke up with me.

No explanation, no goodbye. I tried to contact you for eight months, Aanya. Eight months. Every message, every call - nothing. You blocked me everywhere. It's like you vanished from the world."

His voice cracked as he spoke, anger and pain tangled together.
"What happened, Aanya? Is there something wrong? You know you can tell me, right?"

Aanya couldn't look at him. She turned her face away, tears spilling silently down her cheeks.

Karan's tone softened, raw and desperate.
"I know I was busy," he said quietly. "I know I didn't give you time, and sometimes I got cold with you... but I never stopped caring. I loved you then, Aanya. And I still do."

The words pierced through her chest like a blade.
Her breath hitched, and tears finally escaped - glistening under the light.

But still, she said nothing.

After a long silence, Aanya finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Karan... there's nothing left between us now. It's over. We broke up."

Karan stared at her, stunned.

"And whatever's happening in my life... I can't tell you that," she continued, her voice trembling. "But one day, when the time is right... you'll know the truth yourself."

She took a shaky breath, looking at him one last time.
"I'm sorry, Karan. Truly."

And with that, she turned away, walking out of her own room - leaving him standing there, motionless, her apology echoing in his chest like a wound that wouldn't heal.

Karan's eyes glistened, his fists clenched. His expression hardened - a mix of heartbreak and unanswered questions.
He watched her disappear down the hallway, whispering under his breath -

"What happened to you, Aanya?"

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Aanya's steps echoed softly against the marble floor as she hurried toward the kitchen, wiping her tears with trembling hands.

She wanted to vanish before anyone could see her like this - fragile, broken, guilty.

But fate had other plans.

As she turned the corner, she froze.
Ishaan stood there.

His posture was sharp, commanding - hands in pockets, eyes dark and unreadable. The sunlight streaming through the tall windows cast long shadows across his face, sharpening his jawline, making his gaze even colder.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Only silence - heavy, suffocating silence.

Then Ishaan's voice broke it - calm, low, and dangerous.
"So..." he said, stepping closer, 'you' except yourself as a maid, huh?"

"And here I was thinking..." he said, his voice low and sharp,
"...that maybe it's time to give you your real place."

"Real place?" she asked, confused.

"Yes," he stepped closer, his eyes dark and unreadable.
"Your real place - as Mrs. Mehra."

He paused, his eyes darkening before adding bitterly -
"But instead, you're here... meeting your lover." except yourself as a maid he chuckled.

Aanya's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't realized he had seen them - her and Karan - standing in that open room.

"I- I was just-" she stammered.

But Ishaan cut her off, his tone sharp as a blade.
"Just what? Talking to my brother? Laughing with him? Falling back into your old habits, Mrs. Mehra?"

His voice dripped with mockery at that last word - Mrs. Mehra - the title that was hers only in name.

Aanya flinched, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
"It's not what you think, Ishaan sir. i am not laughing. He didn't know-"

"I don't care what he knows," Ishaan snapped, taking another step forward. The air between them thickened, charged with anger and something darker - jealousy, guilt, confusion. "What I care about is that you were standing there, looking at him like-"

He stopped mid-sentence, his jaw tightening.
He didn't even know how to finish. What was he accusing her of? Love? Betrayal? Or reminding her where she truly belongs - with him.

But on what basis? He never even accepted her as his."

Aanya looked down, her voice shaking.
"He was just asking me questions. I didn't even know he was- your brother."

Ishaan's breath hitched - just slightly.
He wanted to believe her.
But that image - of her in Karan's arms when he walked in - burned behind his eyes like fire.

"Really?" he said coldly. "You didn't know?"

She nodded weakly.

He let out a bitter chuckle and turned away, running a hand through his hair, trying to keep his temper in check. But the jealousy, the fury, the guilt - it was too much.

"Then maybe," he said in a low voice, "you should remember your place before things get... complicated."

Her heart clenched.
"My place?" she whispered.

He turned to her again, his eyes colder than before.
"Yes," he said, almost whispering now, but each word cut like glass. "The one you chose for yourself in this house." A Maid' mrs mehra.

And with that, he walked past her, brushing her shoulder slightly as he went - the scent of his cologne lingering, the weight of his words heavier than stone.

Aanya stood there, frozen.
Her chest ached, tears threatening again. She wanted to scream - to tell him the truth, that she didn't choose any of this, that she was trapped between two worlds - one of love, one of hate.

But her voice betrayed her.

She turned away, leaning against the wall, whispering softly to herself -

"How much longer do I have to live like this?"

Meanwhile, Ishaan kept walking - each step echoing his turmoil.
By the time he reached the end of the corridor, the warmth in his eyes was gone.
The mask of Dante had returned - cold, emotionless, cruel.

He took out his phone and made a call, his tone icy.
"Keep an eye on Karan," he ordered. "And don't let Aanya leave the mansion. Not even for a second."

He ended the call, looking out the window - his reflection split by the glass.
Ishaan Mehra on one side.
Dante, the mafia king, on the other.

Two men.
One war - both inside and out.
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Thank you for reading, my sweet readers.
Bye-bye, take care! 💖