📍M U M B A I, I N D I A

At precisely 10 o'clock, "Elysian Designs" buzzed with the focused energy of the morning rush, employees lost in the hum of tasks and deadlines. Just then, he entered through the main doors, his presence shifting the atmosphere as voices rose in unison, greeting him with respectful "Good mornings." He responded with a subtle nod, his gaze steady, as he made his way towards his private office.

Once inside, he closed the door, slipping into a calm yet expectant silence. His eyes fell to his wristwatch-a habit, as if it held some hidden message, some indication of what he was waiting for. Perhaps it was a moment yet to arrive, or perhaps... someone.

*Lekin keh nahi sakte...*

Just then, the murmur from outside his office grew louder, voices rising with urgency. He could hear the unmistakable thud of heavy footsteps approaching. Yet, he remained unfazed, his attention seemingly absorbed in the screen of his phone, scrolling with a composed indifference.

A knock broke the tension, and Prisha entered, her expression a mix of concern and silent understanding. Meeting her gaze, he nodded, slipping his phone into his pocket, and rose from his chair. Without a word, he stepped out of the office, with Prisha trailing closely behind him.

The entire office seemed to be gathered in anticipation, eyes following him as he approached the scene. Standing at the center of it all was the man from the previous night, looking more nervous than ever. This time, however, he was flanked by not two but four towering bodyguards, their presence casting an imposing shadow over the room.

"Sir, ye jhoot hai. Main whistleblower nahi hoon," the man pleaded, desperation edging his voice as he looked at Ansh, his eyes wide with fear.

The term whistleblower carried a certain weight in this world-a person who dared to expose secrets hidden beneath layers of power and privilege.

Ansh's gaze was steady, unmoved by the man's pleas. "Maine tumhe ek chance diya tha," he responded, his tone laced with a chilling calm.

The man's face paled as he tried once more, his words spilling out in hurried panic. "Ye jhoot bol rahe hain! Kisi aur ne information di hai, main nahi... Maine nahi, sir!" He clasped his hands, hoping his sincerity would reach Ansh.

Ansh tilted his head, his expression unreadable, as he spoke with a quiet detachment. "Fir bhi tumne... tsk tsk" He clicked his tongue, shaking his head slightly, dismissing the man's words as though they were nothing more than background noise.

Prisha shook her head, a faint sigh escaping her lips as she motioned to the bodyguards, signaling them to escort the man out. Without sparing another glance, Ansh turned and walked back into his office, Prisha following in silence.

Once inside, the door closing softly behind them, he spoke with a quiet resolve, his tone unyielding. "Ansh kisi ki naukri nahi chinta... Career chinta hai," he stated, as though reminding himself as much as her. His words lingered in the room, a stark reflection of his principles-ruthless, unwavering, and utterly pragmatic.

*Ansh ka phele impression farishte

ka tha,

aur tumne farishte zameen pe toh nhi dekhe honge*

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📍R A J A S T H A N, I N D I A

The sun stood high at 11 am, casting a warm glow through the windows as Arshia prepared a cup of coffee. The aroma filled the kitchen, bringing a small comfort to the otherwise quiet house. She carried her mug to the hall, settling onto the couch and switching on the TV, letting its familiar hum break the silence.

Not long after, a sudden yell echoed down the stairs. "Mamma, mere dress kaha hai jo main Jaipur se layi thi?" Naina's voice rang out, sharp and impatient.

"Laundry mein hai, beta. Maine dhone ke liye diya tha," her mother, Rekha, replied from the kitchen.

Moments later, Naina descended the stairs, her footsteps brisk with purpose as she crossed the hall without so much as a glance at Arshia. She continued directly toward the laundry room, intent on retrieving her dress. Arshia didn't react-whether she didn't notice or simply chose to ignore Naina was hard to tell, as her focus remained elsewhere, distant and detached.

"Mamma, mamma!" Naina's voice pierced through the house as she stormed out of the laundry room, clutching a blue dress marred with white patches. Her tone was laced with indignation, each step radiating her frustration.

Arshia remained unbothered, her gaze fixed on the television screen, seemingly absorbed in her show, oblivious-or perhaps indifferent-to the commotion.

Rekha appeared from her room, concern crossing her face as she approached her daughter. "Mamma, ye kisne kiya? Meri puri dress kharab ho gayi!" Naina wailed, looking at the ruined fabric in disbelief.

Rekha murmured soothing words, assuring her it must have been a worker's mistake, a simple oversight. Together, they began to ascend the staircase, their voices fading gradually, yet one last line lingered in the air for Arshia to catch.

"But Mamma, meri ye favourite dress thi..."

Just then, a voice from the television echoed, "Tit fir tat." Arshia's eyes sharpened, catching the irony. She repeated the phrase silently, a subtle smile flickering before she switched off the TV. She rose, leaving the empty cup on the table, and made her way to her room, her expression unreadable, but her thoughts simmering beneath the surface.

*Arshia ka phela impression aam si ladki ka tha, jo maaf kar deti hai.

But vo Arshia thi usse maaf karna nhi aata tha*

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📍M O N T M A R T R E, P A R I S

It was noon by the time his phone buzzed, pulling him from his sleep. The persistent ring sliced through the silence, but he merely glanced at the screen and dismissed the call, uninterested. Running a hand through his hair, he let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the last traces of sleep from his eyes. Finally, he pushed himself up, making his way to freshen up, the haze of sleep slowly giving way to his usual sharp focus.

After freshening up, he picked up the room service phone, his voice calm and steady as he placed an order for breakfast. The quiet luxury of his hotel room enveloped him, offering a brief escape from the busyness outside. He sank into the armchair by the window, glancing out at the cityscape, his mind already drifting as he waited for his meal to arrive.

He picked up his phone, absently scrolling through notifications and messages that had accumulated overnight. With a faint smile, he began replying to a few texts from his loved ones-brief words exchanged, warm and familiar, bringing a small sense of connection amidst the solitude of his hotel room. As he typed, his expression softened, revealing glimpses of the man behind the carefully crafted exterior.

A gentle knock on the door pulled Ishvik's attention as a staff member entered, carrying the ordered food. Ishvik greeted him with a warm smile-a smile that could brighten anyone's day. The staff member returned the gesture, a bit taken aback by the warmth radiating from someone with such an aura of charm and sophistication.

As the staff carefully set the food on the table, he began arranging the rest of the room, ensuring everything was in perfect order. While tidying the bedside, his eyes fell upon a small bottle of medicine tucked discreetly beside the lamp. He paused, a slight frown forming as he recognized it-antidepressant pills.

A quiet disbelief flickered in the staff member's gaze. He stole a glance back at Ishvik, who was calmly enjoying his meal, seemingly unaware of the world around him. It was hard to reconcile the man before him-so vibrant, charismatic, the kind who could lift anyone's spirits-with the silent battle the pills hinted at.

After ensuring everything was perfectly in place, the staff member offered a polite nod and quietly exited the room, leaving Ishvik to the solitude of his thoughts and the quiet hum of the city beyond his window. The door clicked shut, and a stillness settled over the room once more.

*Ishvik ka phela impression ek aise insaan ka tha jo apni life se bohot khush hai,

But kisi ki bhi life perfect nhi hoti*

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*Kaha tha na phele impression pe bharosa mat karna...*

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