Blood stained love

3

Scene Shift,

The room was bathed in an amber glow from the dimly lit chandelier above, the walls lined with expensive art that no one ever bothered to appreciate. Reyansh leaned back in his chair, his phone still clutched in his hand. The call had ended, but his thoughts hadn’t. His fingers drummed on the edge of his desk, each tap echoing louder than the last in the silence.

The tension in his jaw eased slightly as he exhaled and looked up, only to stiffen again.

Dev was sitting right across from him, his legs crossed, a glass of whiskey untouched on the table beside him. He didn’t say a word, but his piercing gaze was enough to fill the room with an unspoken authority that Reyansh had learned never to underestimate.

Five long years, and Dev Singhaniya still looked like he could command the entire world with a single glance. His sharp jawline, accentuated by a slight stubble, was as chiseled as ever. The black suit he wore fit him like a second skin, tailored to perfection, a stark contrast to the ruthlessness that simmered just beneath the surface. His once-boyish charm had hardened, replaced by an aura of cold, calculated danger.

But it wasn’t just his appearance that demanded attention. It was the way he carried himself—like a predator who never missed a step, never let his guard down.

Dev leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes narrowing as he studied Reyansh.

“Problem?” Dev’s voice was low, smooth, but there was an edge to it that made Reyansh’s pulse quicken.

Reyansh straightened in his seat, clearing his throat. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Dev raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You’re sweating.”

Reyansh cursed silently, grabbing a tissue from the desk and dabbing his forehead. “It’s just…complications. A case we’ve been keeping buried for years. Someone’s trying to dig it up again.”

Dev tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “Who?”

“An advocate,” Reyansh replied, his tone dismissive. “Sharma. She’s new, but sharp. Too sharp for her own good.”

For a moment, Dev said nothing, his fingers tracing the edge of the glass beside him. Then he leaned back, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

“And you’re telling me this because…?”

Reyansh hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “The judge is already handling it. He’s keeping her tangled in legal delays, procedural loopholes. But she’s persistent. If this keeps up, it might catch attention. It could lead back to…”

“To me,” Dev finished for him, his smirk vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. His eyes darkened, the calm exterior cracking just enough to reveal the storm beneath.

Reyansh nodded, his throat dry. “But we’ve got it under control.”

Dev’s gaze bore into him, unrelenting. “Do you?”

Reyansh swallowed hard, suddenly feeling the weight of the man in front of him. “Yes. Absolutely.”

Dev stood up, adjusting his suit jacket with the precision of a man who never left anything to chance. He stepped closer, his presence looming over Reyansh like a shadow.

“Make sure you do,” Dev said quietly, his voice dripping with menace. “Because if this Advocate Sharma becomes a problem, you know what happens to people who create problems for me.”

Reyansh nodded quickly, his head bobbing like a puppet on a string.

Dev turned and walked to the door, pausing for a moment before glancing back over his shoulder. “Five years, Reyansh. I’ve stayed out of the spotlight for five long years. Don’t give me a reason to step back into it.”

With that, he was gone, leaving Reyansh slumped in his chair, the room suddenly feeling colder than it had minutes ago.

Next Day: Kaya’s World Shatters

Kaya drove back home, her fingers tight around the steering wheel, the courtroom’s chaos still replaying in her head. The judge’s cold dismissal, the smirks from the police officers, and the quiet whispers that felt like knives. The whole system was rotten, and she was drowning in it.

Her mother’s call had come unexpectedly, her voice trembling with urgency. "Kaya, come home. Please, just come fast." There had been no explanation, just panic. Her heart raced as she turned into the lane where her childhood memories lived.

But the moment she approached the corner, something was wrong. The faint smell of smoke hit her first, acrid and suffocating. Her foot pressed harder on the accelerator, panic rising like bile in her throat. And then she saw it.

Her house.

The place she had called home for years was now a smoldering ruin, blackened walls standing like skeletons amidst the ash and debris. Firefighters were dousing the last flames, their hoses spraying water over what was left of her life.

Kaya slammed the car door shut and ran towards the house, her heels sinking into the wet, muddy ground. Her chest felt tight, her mind refusing to believe what her eyes were seeing.

“Maa!” she screamed, her voice breaking as she pushed past the growing crowd of neighbors who had gathered to watch. “Maa! Where are you?”

Her mother, wrapped in a shawl smeared with soot, stood near the fire truck, her face pale and her eyes red.

Kaya reached her, grabbing her shoulders. “Maa, are you okay? What happened? How…how did this happen?”

Her mother’s lips quivered as she pointed weakly toward the house. “They came…they came and…” She couldn’t finish.

“They? Who?!” Kaya’s voice rose, her nails digging into her mother’s arm.

A neighbor, an old man with a walking stick, stepped closer. “There were men, beta. In black SUVs. They threw something inside the house. It all happened so fast.”

Kaya’s breath caught in her throat. “Men? What men?”

The old man shook his head. “We didn’t see their faces. But they didn’t care if anyone was watching. They just…they destroyed everything.”

Her hands fell to her sides, trembling. She turned toward the wreckage, her feet moving on their own, her mind blank. The home where she’d spent years laughing, crying, and dreaming was gone. The framed pictures, the old bookshelves, her father’s chair—it was all reduced to ashes.

Her eyes scanned the debris as tears blurred her vision. And then she saw it.

A small, charred photograph lying among the rubble. She picked it up with shaking hands. It was one of her father, holding her as a child. The edges were burned, the colors faded. Kaya collapsed to her knees, clutching the photograph to her chest.

A firefighter approached cautiously. “Ma’am, we found this.”

He handed her a blackened box. She opened it to find a small, melted gold bracelet—her father’s last gift to her mother.

Her sorrow was quickly replaced by rage. She stood up abruptly, the photograph and bracelet still in her hands. Her tears dried as her jaw tightened.

This wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t random. This was a message.

Kaya’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and saw a text from an unknown number.

“This is your last warning. Drop the case.”

Her fingers tightened around the phone as her teeth clenched. Whoever they were, they’d made a mistake. A big one.

She turned to her mother, her voice firm despite the storm inside her. “Maa, I promise you. I’ll find out who did this. And I’ll make them pay.”

Her mother sobbed quietly, but Kaya wasn’t listening anymore. She wasn’t just a daughter mourning her home now. She was Advocate Sharma, and she would fight back—no matter the cost.

In the shadows of a nearby alley, a black SUV with tinted windows waited. Inside, Reyansh’s men watched as Kaya stood amidst the ruins. One of them pulled out a phone, typing a quick message.

“She’s seen the aftermath. What’s the next move?”

Far away, in a dimly lit room, Reyansh read the message and smiled. But sitting across from him, Dev didn’t smile. His face was impassive, his fingers lightly tapping the edge of his chair.

“She’s tougher than I thought,” Reyansh said, leaning back.

At Arjun’s Place

Arjun’s apartment was a small, cozy space in the middle of the chaos that was Mumbai. It had mismatched furniture, peeling paint on the walls, and a pile of unwashed dishes in the sink that threatened to topple over. But it felt alive. Like him.

Kaya sat on the couch, her fists clenched so tight her knuckles had turned white. Her jaw was set, her eyes fixed on the floor. The anger in her chest was simmering, threatening to boil over at any moment. Vasundhara sat beside her, gently rubbing her back, her own eyes puffy from crying,

Arjun, standing near the tiny kitchen counter, observed them both. He scratched his head, trying to think of something, anything, to make the tension in the room a little less suffocating. “So, uh,” he began, clearing his throat. “How about I make tea?”

“Not now, Arjun,” Kaya snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.

He flinched, but didn’t give up. “Okay, no tea. How about coffee? Or hot chocolate? Or, uh... Maggi?”

“Arjun!” she barked, finally looking up, her eyes blazing.

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay! No snacks. Got it. Angry lawyer energy needs to recharge differently, clearly.”

Vasundhara smiled faintly, though she quickly covered it with her pallu when Kaya turned to glare at her.

“I can’t believe this,” Kaya muttered, running a hand through her hair. “They burned my house. My house, Arjun! And you think Maggi will fix it?”

Arjun walked over to her, sat on the armrest of the couch, and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “No, I don’t think Maggi will fix it,” he said softly. “But I do think you need to eat something before you punch a hole in my wall.”

Her lips twitched, almost betraying a smile, but she quickly looked away.

Arjun stood up dramatically, clapping his hands together. “Right! Since both of you look like you’ve come straight out of a tragic Bollywood movie, I’m going to do what I do best.”

“Annoy us?” Kaya asked dryly.

“Cook for you,” he replied, unfazed.

“You can cook?” Vasundhara asked, genuinely surprised.

Arjun put a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Aunty, please. Orphan boy here. If I didn’t know how to cook, I’d have starved by now.”

Kaya rolled her eyes. “Oh, here we go with the orphan card again.”

“Don’t mock my tragic backstory, woman,” he shot back, wagging a finger at her as he walked into the kitchen. “It’s all I have!”

Vasundhara chuckled, shaking her head. “This boy, Kaya. I don’t know how he puts up with you.”

Kaya’s glare softened for a moment as she watched Arjun rummage through the kitchen. “He doesn’t,” she muttered under her breath.

“Found it!” Arjun exclaimed, pulling out a packet of dal and some rice. “Dal-chawal it is! Comfort food for the soul.”

“Please tell me you know how to cook it,” Kaya said, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t just know how to cook it,” he said, tying an apron around his waist. “I mastered it. Prepare to be amazed.”

An hour later, the smell of turmeric and garlic filled the tiny apartment. Arjun worked with exaggerated flair, narrating every step of the cooking process as if he were hosting a cooking show.

“And now, the secret ingredient,” he announced, holding up a single green chili. “For just the right amount of spice. Much like Kaya’s personality.”

Vasundhara burst out laughing, and even Kaya couldn’t suppress a smile this time.

When the food was finally ready, Arjun placed three plates on the dining table with a flourish. “Dal-chawal à la Arjun,” he said, bowing dramatically. “Enjoy, my lovely ladies.”

Kaya took a bite, her expression guarded. But as the warm, familiar flavors hit her tongue, she let out a small sigh. “It’s... not bad,” she admitted reluctantly.

“Not bad?” Arjun repeated, clutching his chest. “Aunty, did you hear that? She said it’s not bad! That’s the closest thing to a compliment I’ve ever gotten from her!”

Vasundhara laughed again, her heart warming at the sight of her daughter relaxing, even if just a little. She looked at Arjun, her eyes softening. “You’re a good boy, Arjun. You take care of her.”

Arjun gave her a lopsided grin. “Always, aunty. It’s my full-time job now.”

Kaya rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. For the first time in days, she felt a little less like the world was collapsing around her. The fight wasn’t over—not by a long shot—but at least for now, she wasn’t alone. And in Arjun’s tiny, chaotic apartment, that was enough.