24. Kanishk.... her boyfriend?

Niharika’s gaze lingered on the rain as it cascaded down the window, painting the world outside in a silvery shimmer. The rhythmic patter of raindrops against the glass seemed to whisper a soothing melody. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the scent of wet earth drift through the air and fill her senses. The corners of her lips lifted in a soft smile, her mind momentarily escaping the heaviness of recent events.

Unable to resist the pull of the serene moment, she picked up her phone and scrolled through her playlist. Her finger paused over a melodious, uplifting tune, and as she hit play, the familiar strains of the song filled the room. The music wrapped around her like a comforting embrace, lifting her spirits.

Her feet moved instinctively to the rhythm, light and carefree. At first, her movements were subtle—a sway of her hips, a gentle twirl of her hands. But soon, she gave herself entirely to the music. Her laughter broke free, mingling with the notes and the rain's symphony outside. Her crimson dupatta fluttered as she spun, the fabric trailing behind her like a ribbon caught in the wind.

The room seemed to transform with her energy, the mundane corners coming alive as she danced through them. Her anklets, though barely audible, added a delicate chime to the music. Every step, every twirl, carried an innocence and a freedom she had been yearning for. The rain, the music, and her joyous movements created a harmony that seemed to erase every worry, every harsh memory lingering from the previous night.

She paused by the window, catching her breath, her smile still bright. The rain continued its relentless dance, and so did her spirit, defying the shadows that had been threatening to dull her light. For a few fleeting moments, Niharika was just herself—free, happy, and untethered.

Niharika leaned her head against the cold glass of the window, letting the soft patter of raindrops against the pane envelop her senses. The earthy aroma of the rain wafted in through the slightly ajar window, mixing with the cool breeze that caressed her face. Her eyes followed the streaks of water cascading down the glass, each one reflecting her scattered thoughts.

For a moment, she allowed herself to smile—a rare, genuine smile that reached her eyes. The rain had always been her sanctuary, a silent witness to her joys and sorrows. It brought back memories of simpler times, moments when her heart had been free, untouched by the chains of responsibility or pain. The rhythmic drumming of the rain seemed to drown out the echoes of last night’s harsh words, offering her a fleeting escape.

As the rain poured heavier, she couldn’t resist the urge to let her spirit dance. She moved to the center of the room, her anklets jingling softly with each step. Grabbing her phone, she scrolled through her playlist and pressed play. A soulful, heartwarming tune filled the air, mingling with the sound of the rain outside. Closing her eyes, she let herself sway to the music, her movements fluid, uninhibited, and free.

Her red suit twirled as she spun lightly on her toes, her dupatta trailing like a ribbon of fire. The soft laughter that escaped her lips was unguarded, as if the rain itself had breathed life back into her weary soul. Her dance was a conversation with the storm—a release of her bottled-up emotions, a silent dialogue between her heart and the world that often misunderstood her.

As the final note of the song lingered in the air, she slowed her steps and stood still, her chest rising and falling with the rhythm of her breaths. The smile on her face lingered as she looked out at the rain again, droplets glistening like pearls on the leaves and the ground outside. She wiped a stray lock of wet hair off her face, her fingers trembling slightly as the heaviness of reality began to creep back in.

The solace she found in the rain was undeniable, but so was the unease that settled in the pit of her stomach. Her gaze drifted beyond the horizon, her thoughts clouded by an inexplicable sense of anticipation. It was as if the storm outside mirrored the one brewing in her life—quietly, yet inevitably.

She leaned against the window frame, her fingers curling into a loose fist as her smile began to fade. "Why does it feel like something is coming?" she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the sound of the rain. The world outside seemed calm in its chaos, but deep down, she knew the calm she was feeling now wouldn’t last.

The rain had given her a brief reprieve, but as much as she tried to hold on to the solace it brought, a part of her knew it was only a pause—a fleeting peace before the storm she could not yet see. Her heart felt heavy, yet determined, as if bracing itself for whatever awaited her. Something was coming, something she could not escape. And though she didn’t know what it was, she silently prayed she would have the strength to face it when it came.

In the quiet intensity of his office, Shivaay sat at his desk, his mind constantly drifting back to the name he had seen on Niharika’s phone that morning—"Love💕💕." The thought gnawed at him, especially after witnessing her soft smile and affectionate tone during the call.

The unsettling feeling in his chest was foreign to him. He didn’t understand why he cared so much, but the idea of someone else occupying even a fraction of her attention sent a surge of frustration through him.

As he wrestled with his thoughts, there was a knock on the door. His assistant, hesitant and visibly nervous, entered with a folder.

"Sir, the information you requested about the name you mentioned earlier," the assistant said, placing the folder on the desk.

Shivaay’s sharp eyes locked onto the folder. He picked it up, flipping through the pages with a growing sense of tension. Then, one name caught his eye: Kanishk Verma.

The words accompanying the name felt like a punch to his gut:

"Kanishk Verma, her ex-boyfriend, popularly known as 'Love' in her close circle. They were deeply involved during her college days before she married into the Ranawat family."

Shivaay’s grip on the papers tightened. He read the lines again, his mind refusing to accept the truth.

"Ex-boyfriend?" he muttered to himself, his voice low but filled with disbelief. His jaw clenched as he processed the information.

Flashes of the morning returned—her gentle laugh on the phone, the way her face had lit up, the way she had said, "Love you, miss you." All of it now had a name, a face, a story he wasn’t part of.

His temper rose like wildfire. His thoughts were a chaotic storm of anger, jealousy, and confusion.

"How dare she?" he growled under his breath. "How dare she still have him in her life?"

He slammed the folder shut and stood up, pacing across the room. Each step was heavy with frustration.

"After everything that happened yesterday, after everything I’ve done for her, she still has the audacity to think about someone else?"

But deep down, he knew this wasn’t just about audacity. There was something else—a sharp, unfamiliar ache that tugged at him. The very idea of her sharing her smiles, her attention, her words with another man—it was unbearable.

Shivaay sat back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts. But the name—**Kanishk Verma—**echoed in his mind like a haunting refrain.

He picked up his phone, his thumb hovering over the call button. He wanted answers. But more than that, he wanted to confront her. He wanted to hear from her own lips why she still clung to the past.

Yet, something stopped him. A strange hesitation, a flicker of doubt. Was he ready to face the truth?

For the first time in a long time, Shivaay Singh Ranawat felt uncertain—about his actions, his emotions, and most of all, about what Niharika truly meant to him.

In the dimly lit, opulent suite of a luxurious hotel, a mid-aged woman, draped in an elegant silk saree, stood by the large glass window. The city lights sparkled in the distance, their glow reflected faintly on her sharp features. Her eyes were cold, calculating, and her demeanor exuded an unsettling authority. In her hand, she held a cigarette, the faint smoke curling lazily upwards as she took another drag.

On the plush king-sized bed, her daughter, Natasha, lounged in a casual, almost carefree manner. Her head rested on her hand, supported by her elbow, as she scrolled through her phone with a smirk playing on her lips. The room was silent except for the occasional flicker of the cigarette and the soft tap of Natasha's manicured fingers against her phone screen.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, breaking the eerie calm of the room. Natasha glanced up, her smirk widening. She slid off the bed gracefully, her long hair cascading down her shoulders, and walked toward the door. Opening it, she was greeted by the sight of a man who appeared visibly shaken—Mr. Mehra, the secretary of Shivaay Singh Ranawat.

The man’s face was pale, beads of sweat lining his forehead despite the cool air-conditioned room. He hesitated at the threshold, wringing his hands nervously, before stepping in. His voice trembled as he spoke, desperation dripping from every word.

"Ma’am, I’ve done everything you asked of me," he stammered, his eyes darting nervously between Natasha and the woman by the window. "I told Shivaay Singh Ranawat everything you wanted me to say. Now, please... I beg you... release my wife and child."

The woman by the window turned slowly, her sharp gaze piercing through the man. She took a deliberate drag of her cigarette, exhaling the smoke in a calculated manner that only added to the tension in the room.

A smirk spread across her crimson lips as she studied him, her expression devoid of empathy. Her aura was one of dominance, and the power she wielded over the terrified man seemed to amuse her.

With a voice that was both chilling and mocking, she finally spoke, "Swaha."

Her tone was soft, yet it carried a weight that made Mr. Mehra flinch. The word echoed in the room like a sinister chant.

Natasha, standing by the door, mirrored her mother’s expression. Her eyes sparkled with a mischievous glee as she stepped closer to Mr. Mehra, her lips curling into a devilish smile.

The mid-aged woman flicked the ashes of her cigarette into the crystal ashtray on the table beside her and took one last drag before extinguishing it. She moved toward Mr. Mehra with calculated steps, the sound of her heels clicking against the marble floor adding to the tension.

Leaning in slightly, she whispered, her voice dripping with menace, "Do you know what happens to those who fail me?"

Mr. Mehra’s breath hitched, and he shook his head frantically. "Please, ma’am... I’ve done everything. Please don’t hurt them..."

Natasha laughed softly, the sound both sweet and sinister. She leaned casually against the wall, watching the scene unfold like it was a source of entertainment.

The woman straightened, brushing off an invisible speck of dust from her saree. "Relax," she said, her tone suddenly light and casual. "I always keep my word. Your family is safe... for now."

The subtle threat in her words didn’t go unnoticed. Mr. Mehra swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he clutched his briefcase.

"Now go," she ordered, her voice sharp and commanding once more. "And don’t forget... you belong to me now. If you even think of betraying me, not even God will be able to save you."

The terrified man nodded vigorously and stumbled out of the room, his legs barely carrying him as he fled.

As the door clicked shut, Natasha burst into a soft, mocking laugh. "Swaha," she repeated, mimicking her mother’s tone with a playful smirk.

The woman smiled coldly, lighting another cigarette as she turned back toward the window. "Men like him are mere pawns in this game, Natasha. And pawns... are meant to be sacrificed."

Natasha tilted her head, watching her mother with admiration. "You’re incredible, Mama. Shivaay Singh Ranawat won’t even know what hit him."

The woman’s smile widened, her eyes narrowing as she gazed out at the city. "Let him think he’s in control. By the time he realizes the truth, it’ll be too late."

The room was once again filled with silence, but this time, it was charged with a dark and sinister energy. The game had begun, and the players were ready.

_________________________________________

That was it for this chapter....

A spoiler that this lady is a villain in the story of Shivaay and Niharika

Please comment how you like my new character....

Also

Vote, please because per episode I am getting only 1 and 2 so please