Continue...

Ishaan tried to focus on his laptop, but his eyes kept drifting back to Aanya.
She sat on the sofa, her face turned toward the wall, quietly wiping her tears with trembling hands.
For five long minutes, the room stayed painfully silent-only the faint glow of his laptop lit the darkness.

Suddenly, Aanya stood up and walked toward the door.

Ishaan's head snapped up.

"Where are you going?"
His voice wasn't cold this time. It sounded... strangely panicked.

Aanya turned slowly toward him. In the dim light, he couldn't see her face clearly.
"To make your dinner," she replied softly.

Ishaan let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding. Relief washed through him, followed immediately by guilt.
He felt like a sinner for yelling at her earlier.
"You're really making it hard for me, Aanya..." he thought.

Aloud, he said gently, "No need. I already had dinner."

Aanya froze mid-step, shocked.
Every time he came home late, even if he'd eaten outside, he made her cook again.
This was the first time he refused.

She huffed, rolled her eyes, and went back to the sofa, sitting down quietly. Ishaan kept watching her.
"This is going to be difficult..." he sighed silently and forced himself to look back at his laptop.

Half an hour passed.

When he looked again, she was still awake-tossing and turning every two minutes.
It was obvious she couldn't sleep on that narrow, uncomfortable sofa.

Ishaan shut his laptop.

He stood up and walked toward her.

"Aanya, get up."

She turned, surprised. "Yes? Do you need anything?" she asked, sitting straight.

"No. Go sleep on the bed. I'll take the couch," he said calmly.

"What?" Aanya's eyes widened.

"You're not comfortable here. Go sleep on the bed. I'll sleep here."

"No, Ishaan... you don't have to do that for me," she whispered.

He raised a brow. "Who said I'm doing it for you? I'm doing it because I'm a gentleman. I can't sleep peacefully there on the bed while a women are struggling here."

"Oh, a gentleman..." she muttered sarcastically.
Then added, "but you won't fit on this couch anyway. You're six feet tall with a... very broad body. How will you adjust here?"

"That's true..." Ishaan admitted.

For two seconds, both pretended to think.

Then, an idea flashed in Aanya's mind.

She suddenly stood up and rushed to the closet. Ishaan watched her curiously as she opened it and pulled out the thickest mattress she could find. It took her some effort, but she dragged it to the empty space near the study table and spread a bedsheet over it.

"There! A perfect bed," she announced proudly, as if she had won a trophy.

Ishaan walked toward her.
"And who is going to sleep here?"

"Of course YOU," she declared happily.

"Me?" Ishaan stared at her in disbelief. "You want me to sleep on the floor?"

"Weren't you the one claiming to be a gentleman a few minutes ago? Should a gentleman let a woman sleep on the floor while he lies comfortably on a bed?" she asked with innocent eyes.

Ishaan looked at her like he was done with life.

Great... I dug my own grave. I could've just slept peacefully on the bed. Why did I try to act noble... he cursed himself silently.

He sighed. "Fine. I'll sleep here."

"Really?" Aanya blinked, shocked.
I was just trying to tease him, but he actually agreed... she thought.

"Okay!" she said quickly and climbed onto the bed, pulling the comforter over herself.

Ishaan exhaled heavily. He walked to the bed, picked up his pillow-Aanya watched curiously-and then he tugged the comforter from her side as well.

Aanya sat up, stunned.
"Why did you take the comforter?!"

"Because it's my comforter. I can't sleep without it," he said simply, walking toward his makeshift bed with both pillow and comforter in hand.

Aanya burst out laughing.

Ishaan turned around. "What's so funny?"

"What are you? A five-year-old child who can't sleep without his blanket?" she said, still laughing.

"Whatever," Ishaan muttered and lay down on the mattress, turning to the other side with the comforter over him.

Aanya shook her head, smiling. She got up, went to the closet again, pulled out another comforter, and looked at him one last time before turning to the opposite side of the bed and lying down.

The room fell quiet.

Two people.
Two hearts hurt in different ways.
Sleeping just a few feet apart...
yet separated by walls they never spoke about.

Sunlight slipped softly through the curtains, filling the room with a warm golden glow.

Aanya was sprawled across the bed like a starfish-arms wide, legs thrown apart, hair scattered all over the pillow like a messy halo. Her lips formed a natural pout.
Half the comforter was on her... and the other half hung helplessly off the bed.

On the floor beside her, Ishaan slept on his makeshift mattress-straight posture even in sleep, one hand resting behind his head, the other calmly over his stomach. His face was peaceful, almost disciplined, as if he slept in "alert mode."

Everything was calm...
Until-

THUDDD!

"AHHHHHHHHH!"
A loud, painful yell exploded from Ishaan.

Because yes-Mrs. Mehra had fallen straight off the bed.
And not just anywhere...
Right on top of Mr. Mehra.

Both jerked awake-Aanya horrified, Ishaan in pain, still holding his head.

"I-I'm so sorry! I'm so, so sorry! Are you hurt? Did you get injured?" Aanya panicked, trying to look at his forehead.

"What the hell, Aanya!" Ishaan groaned. "Were you fighting a war in your sleep? You landed on me like a bomb!"

"I didn't know-i-i was just- I wasn't even aware-I'm sorry, just show me where it hurts-"

Before she could touch him, Ishaan's phone rang loudly beside the pillow.

He ignored Aanya completely and grabbed the phone.

"Sunny, why are you calling so early?" he snapped.

The moment he heard Sunny's words, Ishaan's face changed-worry mixed with burning anger.

"What?! Who the fuck did this?" he growled into the phone. His sudden anger made Aanya flinch.

"I'm coming," he said sharply and stood up.

He got to his feet with difficulty, grabbed a suit from the closet, and rushed into the bathroom without looking at Aanya.

She sat on the floor, stunned.
What just happened? she thought.

Ten minutes later, he came out fully dressed-watch on, tie perfectly knotted. He picked up his phone and headed toward the door.

"Ishaan, what happe-"
Before she could finish, he was gone.

Aanya sighed and started fixing the messy bed.

MEHRA CO. -

Ishaan's car screeched to a halt in front of Mehra Co., stopping so abruptly the security guards jumped.
He didn't bother parking properly-he just stepped out and strode inside with the force of a man ready for war.

Employees froze as he passed, sensing the storm around him.

Inside his cabin, Sunny waited, looking tense.

Ishaan slammed the door shut.
"Talk."

Sunny swallowed hard. "Sir... the foreign investors from yesterday-the ones ready to sign the contract-"

"What about them?" Ishaan's voice was ice.

"They've refused to sign."

Ishaan's jaw tightened. "And why is that?"

Sunny hesitated, then said, "Someone... informed them about the scandal Mehra Co. faced four months ago."

A deadly silence filled the room.

Ishaan's eyes darkened, anger vibrating off him like heat.
The investors he had convinced with so much effort...
The project Nisha dreamt of...
Everything was being threatened again.

"Who told them?" Ishaan said in a dangerously low voice.

Sunny shook his head. "We don't know yet, sir. But someone deliberately leaked it."

Ishaan clenched his fists. His breathing hardened.

"So they are reusing to sign the contact ?" he asked.

Sunny nodded. "Yes, sir. They said they don't want to invest in a company with a 'shaken reputation.' They want to talk to you befor taking any acction."

For a second, Ishaan didn't move.

Then he exploded.

"Unbelievable!" he shouted, slamming his fist on the table. "We fixed everything! We rebuilt everything! Who the hell is trying to destroy us again?"

Sunny flinched but stayed silent.

Ishaan walked to the glass wall, staring out at the city with a fury that could break glass.

"Nisha's dream..." he whispered harshly. "I won't let anyone ruin it again."

Ishaan didn't waste a second.

Within minutes, he was inside the luxury hotel where the foreign investors were staying. The hotel staff greeted him, but he barely acknowledged them. His jaw was tight, shoulders stiff, and anger simmered beneath his calm exterior.

The investors sat in the conference room-three men, one women all looking cold and guarded.

"Mr. Mehra," the lead investor said, "have a seat."

Ishaan didn't sit.
He stood tall, sharp, and commanding.

"Before you make any final decision," he said steadily, "I need to clarify one thing-the scandal that happened four months ago."

The men exchanged looks.

Ishaan continued, voice low but firm:

"We were framed."

Their brows lifted.

"Mehra Co. had nothing to do with that fraud. we didnt do anything like that, we didnt export or import drugs. Every document, every piece of evidence was falsified by our competitors. We proved it in court. We cleared every report-public, internal, and legal." someone framed us that time. my team still working to finding the real culprits.

He slid a folder across the table-crisp papers, stamped and authenticated.

"This is the complete investigation report," he said. "Signed by the authorities. We were victims, not culprits."

The investors slowly flipped the pages.

But Ishaan wasn't done.

"And I give you my word-what happened back then will never happen again. I've rebuilt every system, every layer, every safety measure. And I'm willing to let your team inspect everything-transparency at every step."

Silence stretched.

One of the investors leaned back. "Mr. Mehra... rebuilding trust is not easy."

"I agree," Ishaan said. "But Mehra Tech-this project-was someone's dream. And I don't walk away from dreams."

The room went quiet.

After a long, tense moment... the lead investor exhaled.

"Fine, Mr. Mehra. We'll sign."

Relief washed through Ishaan's eyes for a split second... before his usual composed mask returned.

The papers were signed.
The deal was final.

He had won.
But the anger inside him still burned like fire.

BLACK CROWN -

From the hotel, Ishaan drove straight to Black Crown, the underground empire headquarters.

He didn't speak to anyone.
He didn't look at anyone.

He went directly to the gym, yanked off his coat, and walked to the punching bag.

Then-

THUD.
THUD.
THUD-THUD-THUD.

Each punch was raw fury.
Each hit echoed through the gym like a thunderstorm.

Sweat dripped.
His knuckles reddened.
His breathing turned heavy, almost ragged.

Behind him stood Grace, Matteo, and Vitale-all watching with tense expressions.

Not one of them dared interrupt.

Minutes passed.

The punches slowed.

Finally... Ishaan stopped, chest rising and falling sharply.

A long silence stretched.

Then he spoke-voice low, shaking with restrained fury.

"Tell me, Matteo..."
He didn't turn around.
"...didn't we clean everything about that scandal?"

Matteo swallowed. "Yes, Dante. We removed every post, every report. Nothing is left. No traces online, no post on social media-nowhere."

Ishaan closed his eyes.

"Then who the hell told them?"
His voice rose-
"WHO wants to destroy my reputation that badly?!"

The punching bag swung behind him as his shout echoed.

Vitale hesitated.
He looked at Grace... at Matteo... then finally spoke, voice cautious.

"Maybe... the Vermas," he said.

Ishaan slowly turned toward them, eyes blazing-almost feral.

"The Vermas?" he repeated in a whisper.

His expression wasn't anger anymore.
It was something colder.
Darker.

Something deadly.

He muttered under his breath, like a warning to the universe itself:

"Vermas..."

The storm had a name now.

He didn't wait.
He didn't think.
He didn't breathe.

He stormed straight into Verma Corporation, rage burning through his veins like fire.

Security didn't dare stop him.

Employees moved aside instantly-everyone knew that look on his face. The look of a man who had already decided war.

He marched through the glass corridor and reached Aransh Verma's office.

Before the receptionist could announce him-

BANG!
Ishaan slammed the office door open.

Aransh, who had been reading a file, looked up-shocked.

But Ishaan didn't give him a second.

He stepped forward and slammed both hands on the table so hard the pens jumped.

"What the hell do you want from me?" Ishaan roared.
"Why are you doing this?"

Aransh instantly stood up, tense and startled.

"Ishaan, what are you even talking about? What did I do?"

"Oh please," Ishaan spat. "Don't act innocent. You told the investors about the Mehra scandal."

Aransh's brows furrowed. "What? I didn't tell-"

"Oh, now you're playing dumb?" Ishaan cut him off, voice sharp as a knife.
"You escaped from my cage and suddenly think you can do anything? That I'll sit quietly and watch?"

He stepped closer, eyes burning.

" Don't forget, Aransh Verma-"
his voice deepened dangerously
"-your sister is still living in my house."

Aransh froze.

His hands curled into fists.

"What are you saying, Ishaan?" Aransh shot back.
"I didn't tell anyone about any scandal! Why the hell would I? I know you're working on Mehra Tech-Nisha's dream project!"

His voice cracked with emotion.

"Why would I ever try to stop that?"

"Oh shut up," Ishaan snapped. "Don't pretend you care."

"I DO care!" Aransh shouted, stepping closer.
"Because I LOVED her!"

Silence.
A deadly one.

Ishaan's eyes widened-rage igniting.

"SHUT UP!" he shouted back, voice echoing off the glass.
"If you loved her, you wouldn't have cheated on her!"

"I DIDN'T cheat on her!" Aransh yelled and suddenly grabbed Ishaan by the collar, dragging him closer.

Their faces were inches apart.

"Do you hear me, Ishaan?" he growled, eyes burning red.
"I DID. NOT. CHEAT. ON. HER."

The air turned electric.
Ishaan grabbed his collar back, both men glaring like they wanted to kill each other.

That's when-

THUD!

The office door burst open.

Mr. Verma rushed inside, fury in his eyes.

"What the hell are you two doing?!" he shouted and physically pulled them apart.

Both men stepped back, chests heaving, anger still boiling.

Mr. Verma turned to Ishaan, voice sharp but tired:

"What is wrong with you, Ishaan? Why don't you try to understand?"

Ishaan opened his mouth to argue, but Mr. Verma didn't let him.

"What will we gain by ruining Mehra's reputation? Tell me."
He stepped closer, calm but firm.
"And even if-IF-we wanted to harm your company... do you really think we would?"

Ishaan clenched his jaw.

Mr. Verma's voice softened-not with weakness, but truth.

"Becuse you're tight Our daughter... Aanya... is still in your house, living under your roof."
He looked Ishaan directly in the eyes.
"You think we would risk her safety? You think we would start a war that would fall back on her?"

Ishaan's chest tightened.

Mr. Verma continued:

"We are silent because we're trying to find the truth-real proof-to show you that the hate, the revenge you're carrying... it's all built on misunderstandings."
He sighed deeply.
"Ishaan... you're wrong about us."

For the first time, Ishaan didn't shout back.

Because Mr. Verma was right.

Why would they risk Aanya?

So who leaked the scandal?

Who was trying to destroy Mehra?

Ishaan's thoughts twisted dangerously.

He looked once at Aransh-still angry, still breathing hard-
then at Mr. Verma.

Without another word...
he turned around and walked out, slamming the door so hard the glass rattled.

His footsteps echoed down the hall-
heavy, furious, and confused.

The mansion was unusually quiet.

Ishaan pushed the door open and walked inside his room, shoulders heavy, jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. He didn't go to the office after the Verma incident-he couldn't. His mind was burning, his chest felt tight, and every breath carried the echo of Aransh's words.

I didn't cheat on her, Ishaan...

His fists clenched again.

He needed silence... solitude... something to drown the chaos.

But as he stepped into the room, he froze.

Aanya was there.

She was sitting on the sofa with a book in her lap, but she wasn't reading it. She was staring at the door he had just walked through, as if she had been waiting for him much longer than she wanted to admit.

Her eyes widened slightly-relief, worry, fear all mixing at once.

"Ishaan."
Her voice was soft, hesitant.

Ishaan didn't look at her. He removed his watch, tossed it on the table a little harder than necessary, and loosened the button of his shirt.

Aanya stood up slowly.
"You're home early, did something happened?"

Ishaan let out a breath that sounded dangerously close to a growl.
"I needed a break."

His tone was cold, sharp enough to cut.

Aanya swallowed.

Something was wrong. Very wrong. She could feel it in the way his shoulders were stiff, the way he didn't meet her eyes, the way a storm clung to his silence.

She took a step closer.
"Is everything okay?"

"I said I needed a break, Aanya."
He didn't raise his voice, but the irritation was clear.

She flinched slightly.

He noticed it. And it only made his anger turn inward-he hated that even his tone scared her.

Aanya tried again, softer.
"You look... upset. Did something happen?"

Ishaan finally turned.

His eyes were dark-exhausted, angry, and underneath all of it... hurt.
The kind of hurt he wasn't ready to show anyone.

For a second, they just stared at each other.

Aanya saw it.
The ache.
The confusion.
The exhaustion.

And her heart tightened painfully.

She whispered, "You can tell me... if something bothered you."

Ishaan's throat worked, as if he wanted to speak-wanted to pour everything out-but the words got stuck.

Instead, he said sharply,
"Not everything needs to be discussed, Aanya. Just... let it go."

She blinked, hurt flickering in her eyes.

He walked past her, heading toward bathroom.

But Aanya-quiet, gentle Aanya-did something she had never done before.

She reached out and grabbed his hand.

Ishaan stopped.
His breath froze.

"Aanya-" he said, warning in his tone.

But she didn't let go.

Her voice trembled, "You always carry everything alone. You keep breaking from inside and pretend you're fine. I... I just want to help."

Ishaan closed his eyes.

Her hand was warm. Too warm.
And his walls, reinforced for months, cracked painfully under that softness.

But the anger inside him hadn't faded; it only twisted deeper.

He pulled his hand back-not harshly, but firmly.
"Not today," he said quietly.

Aanya's eyes shimmered with something close to disappointment.
Not because he rejected her.
But because he sounded... defeated.

She whispered, "Okay... but at least eat something. You haven't had breakfast-"

"I'm not hungry," he muttered.

She looked at him, searching his face.
"You need strength, Ishaan."

And something in him snapped.

"I said I'm not hungry!"
The words thundered through the room.

Aanya stepped back as if he had struck her.

Instant regret flashed in Ishaan's eyes.

He raked a hand through his hair, frustrated at himself-not her.

"Aanya... pleas leave me alone-"

" okay," she whispered quickly, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I'll... I'll leave you alone."

She turned away before he could see the hurt in her expression.

Ishaan stood there, chest heaving, watching her walk away slowly-like someone carrying a weight she didn't deserve.

And suddenly, the silence he had been craving felt suffocating.

He whispered to himself,
"...Why do I always push her away?"

But Aanya, from the hallway, wiped a tear and thought,
Why does his pain feel heavier than mine?

That's it for today's update.
Ishaan is standing at a breaking point, Aanya is carrying silent wounds, and the truth is getting closer than ever.

Thank you for reading.
Please vote and comment.
Bye bye take care.