"Sahil, get the car ready," Ishaan commanded, his voice firm and composed. Sahil, who had been busy organizing the day's events, immediately responded, nodding sharply as he moved to make the necessary arrangements.

The sleek, black car rolled out of the parking lot, cutting through the busy streets of Luxembourg. It was the day Ishaan had been waiting for - the day his years of hard work, determination, and strategic brilliance would finally be acknowledged. Today, he was going to receive one of the highest honors in his field: the Best Businessman Award. A recognition so rare that only a select few could ever dream of receiving it.

As the car sped toward the venue, the weight of the upcoming award hung in the air. The event was crucial for not just Ishaan but also for his business empire, which spanned continents. His mining business, known for its depth and expertise, wasn't his only venture; he also owned successful gold and diamond operations, high-end malls, and even luxury real estate properties. At such a young age, most would be daunted by the magnitude of overseeing so many operations across the globe, but not Ishaan. His ability to juggle these industries with precision and foresight had earned him the reputation of a genius businessman. A reputation that, at times, made others wary of his power and influence.

Arriving at the venue, the atmosphere was electric with anticipation. Everyone knew that this was the moment of the year. As Ishaan walked into the venue, all eyes immediately turned to him. His presence demanded attention; his confidence exuded from every step he took, and even those who barely knew him could sense the intensity in his gaze. But it wasn't just his business acumen that made people wary; it was the deeper, unspoken truth about his connections. Ishaan was not just a businessman; he was tied to circles that went beyond the law. Underneath the polished exterior and the accolades was a man who held sway over both legitimate and shadowy realms of power.

He stood tall in a perfectly tailored black suit, the fabric catching the light as he adjusted his collar, the slight sheen adding to his already commanding presence. The scent of his cologne lingered in the air as he made his way toward the stage. His sharp, focused eyes scanned the crowd, noticing the hushed whispers that followed him as he walked.

For the past six months, he had been away from his home base, working on a colossal deal that had required his immediate presence. While many had assumed he was simply managing a series of overseas ventures, the truth was much more layered. Only a few knew the real reason for his sudden relocation - he had come here to expand his network, to control what needed to be controlled. Yet, in this world of glittering awards and prestigious recognition, no one could guess the lengths he would go to ensure his dominance. His ties to the underworld, his connections to those who controlled the shadows, were things that most would never dare to speak of, let alone acknowledge.

The moment Ishaan stepped onto the stage, the murmurs turned to silence. There was a sense of awe that followed him, an undeniable aura of power that demanded respect. His name was spoken with reverence, not only because of his accomplishments but because his very presence was a reminder of the fine line between brilliance and danger.

As he received the award, he stood still, his expression unreadable. The applause filled the room, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes. There was no triumph, no visible pride. Just a cold determination. Because Ishaan Mehra knew that no amount of recognition could fill the emptiness inside, nor would it protect him from the inevitable storm that was slowly brewing.

After receiving the award, Ishaan entered a private VIP room, seeking a moment of solitude. The room, dimly lit, offered a sense of calm away from the spotlight. He lit a cigarette, the smoke swirling in the air as he inhaled deeply, the familiar burn offering him a fleeting sense of peace. With each pull, he could feel the tension of the evening slowly unwinding. He needed this quiet space; the chaos of the event had drained him, and now, he needed to think.

After a few minutes, Ishaan stepped out onto the balcony. The cool night air greeted him, and in the distance, the view of the sea stretched out before him, the soft sound of the waves crashing against the shore. On the side, a bridge loomed, adding to the quiet beauty of the scene. But despite the serenity around him, his mind was elsewhere.

Out of nowhere, a memory surfaced. It was so vivid, as if the past six months had never happened.

He saw her in his thoughts

-Naina.

Her face, soft and innocent, her eyes downcast, her figure walking away from his home, disappearing into the car. The image of her lingered, haunting him in a way that nothing else had. He had tried to bury it, tried to focus on his business, on the world he had built. But Naina... she had become a constant in his thoughts.

Her quiet demeanor, the way she always seemed to be lost in her own world, was etched in his mind. Even amidst the high stakes and the power he wielded, Naina was the one thing he couldn't get out of his head. She had become his peace, the calm in the storm of his life.

His gaze fixed on the stars above, his mind drifting back to the day he last saw her. He spoke aloud, his voice barely more than a whisper to the empty night,

"loving you is the most dangerous and beautiful thing I've ever done..

He paused and then said

...pata nhi kis kis ko khatam karna padega tumhe paane ke liye" (I don't know who all I might have to eliminate to get you.)

The words hung in the air, a promise he had made to himself, one he wasn't willing to break. ~~~×~~~

Ishaan's phone buzzed, the name "Mom" flashing on the screen. He picked up, his voice softening slightly, "Hello, Mom."

Savitri's voice was warm and filled with anticipation. "Beta, (son)when will you come back from Luxembourg? You know Holi is just around the corner. I want you home this time."

Ishaan replied calmly "I'll try, Mom. There are a few important meetings lined up. After that, I'll see what I can do."

"Alright, but try to come soon," Savitri said gently before hanging up.

As the call ended, Ishaan's demeanor shifted back to its usual composed intensity. With a sigh, he picked up his phone again and dialed Faris.

"Faris, meet me at the usual spot," Ishaan instructed curtly, his voice now steely and resolute.

The car wound through the darker alleys of the city, heading toward a location known only to a select few. It was an unassuming warehouse, but beyond its doors lay the heart of a powerful underworld network. Ishaan stepped out, his polished shoes hitting the gravel with a subtle crunch. The air here was thick, with tension and the weight of secrets.

Inside, the dimly lit space was filled with the low hum of conversation. Men sat around tables, discussing deals that would never see the light of day. As Ishaan walked in, the room fell silent, each person acknowledging his authority with a subtle nod or averted gaze. Faris approached, a slight smirk on his face.

"Boss, everything is set," Faris informed, his tone respectful yet familiar.

"Good," Ishaan replied, his eyes scanning the room, calculating his next moves. He had built this empire with the same precision and ruthlessness that made his legitimate business thrive. Here, he was more than just a businessman; he was a king in a realm where power was the only currency that mattered.

The room was heavy with tension as Ishaan's cold, steely gaze bore into the trembling man before him. The man, dragged mercilessly into Ishaan's presence, was visibly shaking, his pleas echoing through the dimly lit space. "Please, leave me... please," he begged, desperation etched across his face.

Faris stepped forward, his voice calm but menacing. "Sir, this is the man who ordered the fire in your mines."

Ishaan's jaw tightened, his fury barely contained. He stood, his presence dominating the room, as he asked, "Why?" His voice was a dangerous whisper, low and filled with the promise of retribution.

The man, barely able to meet Ishaan's gaze, stammered, "Sir, someone ordered me. I didn't know what I was doing... I'm just a pawn. Please, let me go. I have a wife and children."

Ishaan's anger was palpable, his eyes narrowing. "Do you know what happened to the families of those trapped in that mine?" he hissed, his voice sharp as a blade. "You went there to kill them all, didn't you?"

The man's eyes widened with fear. "Please, sir, let me go. I beg you," he pleaded, his voice cracking.

Ishaan's hand moved to his side, pulling out his gun with a deliberate slowness. He placed it on the table in front of him, the cold metal gleaming under the dim light. "You have two options," Ishaan said, his tone icy. "Tell me your boss's name... or die."

The man's breath hitched, his eyes darting between the gun and Ishaan's unforgiving expression. His mind raced, the weight of the decision crushing him. In that moment, the reality of Ishaan's world became clear. There was no mercy, no leniency, only the cold, hard truth that Ishaan Mehra was not a man to be crossed.

The man swallowed hard, his fear evident as he stammered, "Sir... it was Nikolai Volkov." His voice trembled with each word, the weight of the name hanging heavily in the air.

Ishaan's eyes darkened at the mention of the notorious foreign mafia don, known for his ruthless tactics and extensive underground empire. "Nikolai Volkov," Ishaan repeated slowly, the name rolling off his tongue with a mix of disdain and determination. He leaned forward slightly, his gaze never leaving the man before him. "You've made your choice."

The man flinched, unsure of what fate awaited him, as Ishaan's expression remained unreadable, the room thick with tension.

The man pleaded desperately, "Sir, give me any job. I'll do anything. Please don't kill me."

Ishaan smirked, his expression cold and unyielding. "If you're not loyal to your own boss, why would you be loyal to me?"

Before the man could utter another word, Ishaan pulled the trigger, firing three or four bullets into his chest.

The room fell into a stunned silence, the air thick with fear. Everyone present understood one thing clearly: crossing Ishaan Mehra was not just a mistake-it was a death sentence.

Ishaan's reputation was well-known. His ruthlessness toward anyone who betrayed him or even hinted at disloyalty was legendary. His enemies knew that deceit was a death sentence when dealing with him.

After Two Weeks

Ishaan sat in his private jet, the luxurious cabin quiet except for the soft hum of the engines. The leather seat cradled him as he looked out at the vast expanse of clouds, a rare smile playing on his lips. For the first time in weeks, his usually stoic expression softened. He was returning to India, and the thought of seeing Naina again filled him with an anticipation he hadn't felt in years.

During his time away, Ishaan had come to a singular realization: Naina was the one. Despite her resistance, despite the obstacles, she belonged to him. The time apart had only strengthened his resolve. Her presence lingered in his thoughts, her face in his dreams. He had tried to convince himself to let her go, but the pull was too strong.

However, Ishaan was pragmatic. He knew Naina wouldn't accept him easily, especially since she was already in a relationship with Vansh. But Ishaan had no intention of losing. He had never lost anything he truly wanted, and this would be no exception. For him, there was only one way to clear the path-Vansh had to be eliminated.

As the plane descended toward the runway, Ishaan's mind was already working through the details. It wasn't just about getting rid of Vansh; it had to be clean, calculated, and leave no trace back to him. Ishaan knew that once Vansh was out of the picture, Naina would be vulnerable. She might hate him at first, but he was confident she would come around. He had all the time in the world, and patience had always been his strongest ally.

The jet touched down smoothly, and Ishaan leaned back in his seat, the smile still playing on his lips.As soon as the jet landed, six black cars were lined up in front of him. The workers began unloading his bags with practiced efficiency, while Ishaan stepped out and walked toward a sleek, black SUV. After a short drive through the busy city, Ishaan arrived at his mansion. The massive gates opened, and the car pulled in smoothly. The moment the doors opened, Savitri came rushing out to greet him. Her face was beaming with an undeniable joy, her eyes filled with excitement. She had been waiting for this moment, knowing her son was finally back after so long.

"Ishaan!" she said with a warmth that only a mother could have, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace.

But Ishaan's attention was diverted when he saw his father approaching. The atmosphere shifted. A coldness settled over him, and the joy of reunion faded. His father stood there, expression unreadable, but to Ishaan, it was a face he had learned to hate. He had never forgiven him for what he did to his grandfather. His father's actions had torn their family apart, and Ishaan couldn't bring himself to feel anything but contempt.

"Good to see you back, son," his father said, his voice strained, trying to keep the tension at bay.

Ishaan didn't even spare him a glance. He simply nodded curtly, his thoughts elsewhere.

"I'm sure you're tired from the flight. Come inside," Savitri insisted, sensing the discomfort between the two men. She led him inside, trying to bridge the gap that had formed between father and son.

Ishaan walked into the mansion, but his mind wasn't on the family dynamics. His thoughts kept drifting back to Naina. No matter the tension in the house, one thing was certain-he would do whatever it took to make her his.

After two days

It had been two days since Ishaan had returned, and today was Holi. After taking a refreshing shower, he walked out of his room, dressed in formal clothes. Savitri, seeing him, couldn't help but smile warmly and said, "Beta, today you should wear something more traditional for Holi."

Ishaan, still adjusting his collar, replied, "I'm more comfortable in this, Mom."

Savitri, with a playful roll of her eyes, said, "Uff, always the modern one." Then, with a more serious tone, she added, "You know we're supposed to go to Shalini's place today for the pooja, right?"

Ishaan nodded, already knowing what was coming. He had a feeling that today was going to be different. A short while later, they were outside Naina's house. Ishaan felt a flutter of anticipation in his chest.

As they entered, his eyes immediately found Naina. She was sitting quietly, absorbed in the pooja. She had donned a traditional saree that made her look even more graceful, but Ishaan couldn't look at her as much as he wanted to. His gaze kept flickering away, as if he were afraid of being caught. He felt an overwhelming urge to pull her close, to hold her, but he suppressed it, not wanting to disrupt the moment.

Naina was engrossed in what the pandit was saying. She was asking him something when the pandit suddenly mentioned the word "storm." Ishaan's lips curled into a smirk. He knew exactly what the pandit meant. That "storm" was about him-the storm that was coming for her.

Savitri, meanwhile, had joined the pooja proceedings, sitting beside Naina without her noticing. Ishaan's phone buzzed in his pocket, snapping him out of his thoughts. He quickly excused himself and stepped out onto the terrace, taking the call.



I received a call from Faris, and he told me, "Sir, Vansh works at the co-operate company owned by your business partner, Raj Khanna."

I acknowledged and ended the call, dialing Raj immediately. He picked up on the first ring.

"Oh, hello, Ishaan sir! How are you?" he greeted me cheerfully.

"I'm good. How about you?" I replied, keeping it formal. Then I got straight to the point. "Does Vansh work at your company?"

He seemed slightly confused, asking, "Which Vansh are you talking about?"

I shared a few details, and then he answered, "Yes, he's an honest employee. Why, everything okay?"

I cut to the chase. "I want him fired."

Raj, clearly surprised, asked, "But sir, why?"

I simply replied, "It's something important." Then I hung up the call without waiting for further questions.

For the first time, I felt a strange discomfort. Why was I going to such lengths for someone? But then I remembered-this wasn't just any person. It was Naina....My Naina. The thought of anything affecting her made me do things I normally wouldn't. Yes, he will affect her life. Because... he'll come between us, I thought to myself, as this realization struck me hard. Every decision I was making now was to ensure nothing and no one could come between Naina and me.

I had just descended a few steps from stairs when I saw her naina. She was lost in her own world, dancing gracefully, her hands moving up and down, her body swaying with each rhythm. It was as if she was in a trance, unaware of the world around her.

"Mine." The word escaped my lips, barely above a whisper.

Her movements froze. She looked at me, her eyes locking with mine, and there it was-fear, uncertainty. A cold wave of doubt swept over me. Was she afraid of me?

Without thinking, I took a slow step down, my eyes never leaving hers. Something small brushed against my foot. I glanced down and saw the cat. I bent to pick it up, but my focus remained on Naina.

She was still looking at me, her gaze soft but guarded. I moved closer, the space between us now filled only by the cat in my hands. Every inch closer to her felt like a pull I couldn't resist, but the cat... it was the barrier between us.

I just wanted to close that gap. I whispered softly, "Yaad toh aayi hogi meri Naina?" (You must have missed me, Naina?)

Her eyes widened just a little, a flicker of recognition passing through them. It was as if she was trying to hold on to something that was slipping away. Her breath caught for a moment, but she didn't move.

I placed the cat gently down, my attention fully on her now. With a quiet resolve, I stepped closer, closing the distance between us, and without any hesitation, I brought both of my hands to her, pulling her gently toward me.

Her body was warm against mine, but she remained still, almost hesitant. I could feel her pulse, the uncertainty in her every breath, but I didn't let go. It was like everything I'd been holding back for so long was rushing forward, and I needed to hold on to her, needed her to understand.

"Naina," I whispered again, my voice barely a breath, as if saying her name would change everything between us.

"Kya tum maano gi? Agar main kahun ke har din tumhe yaad kiya hai mene." ("Would you believe me if I say I've thought about you every day?")

I spoke softly, almost as if I was confessing a secret I had kept for far too long. Her eyes remained locked on mine, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw something - maybe recognition, maybe fear - but before I could be sure, she lowered her gaze.

She tried to pull away, her arms moving away from me, but I didn't let her. I closed the distance between us, not letting her slip away, and I wrapped my arms around her gently, pulling her into an embrace. The world seemed to quiet down around us, and for once, I didn't feel the need to rush.

Her body was soft in my arms, and the moment felt like it was frozen in time. I could feel the warmth of her against me, and despite the distance she tried to create, I knew this was where I was meant to be - with her. Slowly, I whispered, "I've missed you, Naina, every....fucking day."

She asked in a whisper, "Koi itne jaldi pyar kese kar sakta hai?"("How can someone fall in love so quickly?")

I pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, as my heart ached with everything I hadn't said until now. The air between us felt thick, but my voice was steady as I answered,

"Tumse pyar waqt ka mohtaj nahi tha, Yeh toh tab hua jab meri rooh ne pehli baar tumhari rooh ko pehchana." ("My love for you wasn’t bound by time; it happened the moment my soul recognized yours for the first time.")

The truth was, this wasn't about time or logic. It was about something deeper, something inexplicable. The connection we had wasn't defined by seconds, minutes, or hours; it was beyond that. It was the kind of love that happened when the universe aligned, and nothing else mattered.

Her eyes softened, and for the first time in a long while, I could see the hint of something breaking through the walls she had built around her heart. But her words stung me,"Lekin mujhe tumse koi pyar nahi hai... Na hi kabhi hoga."("But I don't love you... and never will.")

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. Anger surged through me, hotter than anything I'd ever felt before. I didn't know what had come over me, that I grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer, my voice low and steady,

"I don't expect you to love me back."

I could see the shock in her eyes, the way she froze as I leaned in, just inches from her lips. "Tum meri ho..." (You are mine ) I whispered, the words leaving my mouth before I even realized how badly I needed her to understand.

I didn't wait for her response. I couldn't. I turned and walked away, leaving behind the sound of my heartbeat and the echo of her silence.

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