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The moment the car door opened, the questions hit like gunfire.
Cameras flashed in a strobing wall of white. Microphones jabbed forward, held by hands that seemed to multiply with every step. Mallika kept her chin level, her expression carved from stone, but the noise pressed in from every side.
"Ms. Kulkarni, why did you marry the man accused of orchestrating your father's murder?"
She didn't flinch. Didn't slow.
"Is it true you're romantically involved with your own client?"
A second voice cut over the first, sharper, hungrier for the reaction it wanted. "Since when have you been sleeping with him?"
Then a third, uglier than the rest. "You're defending a rapist because you're sleeping with him,is that it?"
The words landed like static in her ears, meant to break her stride, to catch her off guard on camera. She had rehearsed for this. She had not rehearsed for this many voices at once.
Beside her, he didn't say a word. He simply stepped half a pace closer, angling his shoulder so the nearest boom mic couldn't drift toward her, so no stray hand or shoulder could brush against her in the crush. He'd slipped his own AirPods into her ears before they'd even left the car,a small, deliberate thing, a wall of silence he'd built for her ahead of time, so the worst of the shouting would reach her only as a distant hum.
To him, the reporters weren't press. They were noise to be managed, obstacles between her and the door.
"No comment," he said finally, voice flat, final, closing the subject like a door slamming shut.
He didn't touch her. He didn't need to. He simply moved, and the crowd parted, and she walked through it like it wasn't there at all.
A reporter leaned in too close, hand rising toward her arm. He was already there,one step, no wasted motion,a wall between her and the crowd before the hand could fall.
"Don't," he said. Just that. Quiet. Final.
The man froze, hand dropping. To him, these people were nothing,insects who didn't get to come near his goddess. No one touched her. No one ever would, not while he stood there.
Rain lashed against the tall windows of their Mumbai penthouse, the city lights blurring into streaks of gold and crimson. Mallika Kulkarni stormed into the bedroom, her heels clicking sharply on the marble before she kicked them off. Her husband trailed behind, carrying her purse in one hand and her discarded heels in the other. He set them down on the low table without a word.
Mallika dropped onto the wide couch, legs spread, shoulders tense. Rainwater still clung to her hair. She glared at the floor, jaw tight.
He stood before her, tall in his black suit, eyes locked on her like she was the only thing that existed. For him, she was everything. The empire he ran, the boardrooms he dominated, the power he wielded, all of it bent to this one woman.
She lifted her gaze. "Today was a very bad day. I'm bored, devastated, and feeling low." Her voice dropped lower.
"So sweetheart... STRIP."
He didn't ask her to repeat herself. His dark eyes traced every line of her face, every curve of her body, committing her to memory again. A slow smirk curved his mouth.
"Anything for my queen," he said, voice low and rough. "I'll strip bare and let you use every inch of me until that boredom drips out of you and all you feel is my c*ck buried deep where it belongs."
He shrugged off the black blazer, letting it fall. The black t-shirt followed, peeled over his head to reveal the hard planes of his chest and the faint scars from years of ruthless ambition. His fingers moved to his belt next, unbuckling it with deliberate slowness while his gaze never left hers.
ยท ยท โ ยทโถยท โ ยท ยท
The rain hadn't stopped yet. Mallika was gathering her files when her gaze drifted toward the window, Reehan stood there, as always, as if he'd never left.
"Tum abhi tak yahin ho?" she asked, a trace of surprise in her voice.
["You're still here?"]
"Tum jab tak nahi nikaltin, main kahin nahi jaata," he said, in that simple tone of his, as if it were nothing at all.
["Until you leave, I'm not going anywhere."]
Mallika picked up her files, but her hands trembled slightly. Today had been heavy,another witness had vanished, and she knew someone was working to stop them.
"Reehan, mujhe darr lag raha hai," she finally admitted, for the first time in years.
["Reehan, I'm scared."]
Something shifted in his face. He took two steps closer, close enough that his scent, a mix of rain and out, wrapped around her.
"Jab tak main hoon," he said, his voice carrying that particular hardness reserved only for her, "koi tumhara baal bhi baanka nahi kar sakta. Yeh mera wada nahi, yeh meri qasam hai."
["As long as I'm here, no one can touch a single hair on your head. This isn't my promise, it's my oath."]
Mallika looked into his eyes. Eyes that appeared cold, indifferent to the rest of the world,but before her, only before her, they held fire. A love that never went out.
"Tum har waqt mere peeche kyun rehte ho?" she asked softly, though there was no complaint in the question.
["Why are you always following behind me?"]
"Kyunki," he took another step toward her, "tum wo jung ho jo main haarna nahi chahta. Duniya mujhe zalim kehti hai, qatil kehti hai,hone do. Lekin tumhare saamne khada hoon toh sirf ek dua ki tarah hoon, jo sirf tumhare naam se shuru hoti hai aur tumhare naam pe khatam. Main sirf... tumhara hoon."
["Because you're the battle I don't want to lose. The world calls me cruel, calls me a murderer, let them. But when I stand before you, I'm only like a prayer, one that begins with your name and ends with your name. I'm only... yours."]
She fell silent. Outside, the rain grew heavier, but inside, in this small space, there was only their breathing.
"Log kehte hain tum khatarnak ho," she said.
["People say you're dangerous."]
"Sirf unke liye jo tumhe nuksaan pahunchane ki soch bhi rakhte hain," his voice held no softness now,only that terrifying calm that comes before destruction. "Tumhare liye, main sirf... ghar hoon."
["Only for those who even think of harming you. For you, I'm only... home."]
Tears filled Mallika's eyes, but she was smiling. For the first time in years, she felt safe,not because of any object, but because of a person who walked beside her like her own shadow, asking for nothing, saying little, only protecting her.
"Chalo," he extended his hand. "Ghar chalte hain."
["Come on. Let's go home."]
T R O P E S
Advocate ร Accused
Partial Enemies to Lovers
Slow Burn
Forbidden Love
Forced Proximity
Legal Drama
Somwhere b/w Dark and soft romance
Murder Mystery
She Fell First, He Fell First and Harder
Let the World Burn
Look at Her and Die, ohh not dying not easily, Face real Reehan singhania
Touch Him and Lose Your Hands
Fake Marriage
Contract Marriage
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