It’s been three months since I left Delhi. Three months of trying to forget everything—him, the memories, the chaos he brought into my life. I’ve settled here in Bangalore, far away from the shadow of Ashtram Raghuvanshi. In all this time, he hasn’t tried to contact me—not that I wanted him to.
But despite everything, I still find myself craving his presence, craving the way he made me feel alive, even in the darkest moments. It’s maddening. How can I yearn for someone who embodies everything I despise? A devil, a Mafia King.
I shake my head, trying to dismiss the thoughts that have taken root in my mind. Yet, no matter how much I try, I can’t escape this strange feeling. It’s as if he’s always near, watching me from the shadows. But that’s impossible. No one knows where I am—not even Ashtram. Only Megha knows, and I trust her with my life. She’d never betray me.
This morning, I decide to visit the Shiv Mandir before heading to the café. It’s been a while since I prayed, truly prayed. As I stand before Shiv Ji, I fold my hands and close my eyes, whispering a silent plea.
“Please, Shiv Ji, make me stronger… stronger to bear everything life throws at me. To stand on my own, without anyone’s shadow looming over me.”
The serenity of the temple calms me, and for a moment, I feel at peace.
The rest of the day passes in a blur at the café, the same routine as always. It’s almost evening when I finish my shift and step out, the cool breeze brushing against my face. The streets are quieter now, the sun dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink.
As I walk down the road, lost in my thoughts, a sudden screech of tires jolts me back to reality. A car is speeding towards me, far too close, far too fast. My body freezes, panic gripping me as I realize there’s no time to move.
And then, in a flash, I’m yanked backward, a strong arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me out of harm’s way. My heart races, the adrenaline coursing through my veins as I try to process what just happened.
I turn to thank the stranger who saved me, but he’s already walking away, his face hidden beneath the hood of his jacket.
“Wait!” I call out, my voice trembling, but he doesn’t stop.
I take a few steps toward him, desperate to at least see his face, but he disappears into the crowd, vanishing as quickly as he appeared.
Who was he?
I stand there for a moment, clutching my chest as my heart pounds against my ribs. Something about him felt… familiar. The way he moved, the silent intensity of his presence—it reminded me of Ashtram.
But that’s impossible. Isn’t it?
I shake my head, trying to brush off the thought. It’s just my imagination playing tricks on me, a result of the lingering memories I can’t seem to let go of.
And yet, as I continue to walk to my place, I can’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t a coincidence.
Whoever he was, why did he feel so much like him?
It’s been three months of watching her from the shadows, protecting her without her knowing. My Jaan, my Angel, believes she’s free of me, but how could I ever let her go? I’ve kept my eyes on her through the hidden cameras in her flat, through the tracker embedded in the pendant she unknowingly wears every day.
Every night, when she falls asleep, I visit her. I step into her flat silently, moving like a shadow in the dark. I kiss her forehead, the softest touch, a silent promise that she will always be safe. I massage her tired feet, soothing her aches. She works so hard, pushing herself beyond her limits in this new city. She’s trying to be strong, but I know her. I know the cracks beneath the surface, the pain she carries because of me—because of the truth she discovered.
But one day, she will understand. One day, when she knows the whole truth, she will realize why I am the way I am, why I did what I did. Until then, I will take care of her, love her from afar, even if she hates me.
Today, like every day, I followed her. She went to the Shiv Mandir in the morning, the same way she does when she feels the weight of the world on her shoulders. I stayed hidden, watching from a distance.
I haven’t set foot in a temple in 200 years—not since that cursed day when my life was ripped apart. I stopped praying, stopped believing, because what was the point? What kind of God would condemn me to this existence? But for her, for my Angel, I stepped into that sacred place. For the first time in centuries, I crossed the threshold of a mandir—not for myself, but for her.
She doesn’t know it, but she is my Goddess. She is the only thing I want to worship, the only light in my dark, cursed existence. She is pure, innocent, and mine. She doesn’t realize it yet, but her soul belongs to me, just as mine belongs to her.
As the day passed, I continued to watch her. She worked at the café, smiling at customers, going about her routine like she wasn’t carrying the weight of her pain. She is so strong, my little baby, but I see through the facade. I see the cracks, the moments when her strength falters.
Evening came, and I followed her as she left the café. She walked down the road, lost in her thoughts, her delicate frame illuminated by the setting sun. I was watching her closely, like I always do, when I saw it—a car speeding toward her. My heart stopped.
Before I could think, I moved. In an instant, I was there, pulling her out of the car’s path, my arm wrapping protectively around her waist. The world seemed to freeze for a moment as I held her close, her heartbeat pounding against me.
But I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t let her see me, not yet. If she saw me, she might run again, and I couldn’t bear that.
She tried to call out to me, her voice trembling, but I walked away. Each step away from her felt like a dagger to my chest, but I had no choice. I had to protect her, even if it meant staying in the shadows.
That car... it wasn’t a coincidence. I’m sure of it. Someone was trying to harm her. But who? Was it one of my rivals? Were they trying to get to me through her?
The thought made my blood boil. No one touches my Jaan. No one even dares to look at her the wrong way.
I checked the CCTV footage near the café, hoping to find a clue, but it revealed nothing useful. The frustration burned inside me, but I won’t stop. I will find out who was behind this, and when I do, they will wish they were never born.
I’ve already ordered my head of security to tighten her protection. More cameras will be installed near her flat and her workplace. Every corner, every blind spot, will be monitored. No area will be left unchecked.
She is my Angel, my reason for breathing, and I will never let anything happen to her.
As I sit in my study, staring at the screens showing her every move, a wave of emotions crashes over me. Guilt. Longing. Rage. Love. She is my everything, and yet, I’ve caused her so much pain. I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms, as I make a silent vow.
No matter what it takes, no matter who stands in my way, I will protect her.
Because she is mine. My breath, my soul, my Angel, my Jaan.
In the dimly lit room of a grand mansion, a man sat in an ornate chair, his presence exuding authority and malice. The air was thick with tension as another man, his head bowed low, stood before him.
“Did you get the job done?” the man in the chair asked, his voice cold and sharp, each word slicing through the silence like a blade.
The driver, the one whose car had nearly hit Niranya earlier that evening, hesitated before replying, “No, sir. Someone saved her before I could hit her.”
A deafening silence followed. The man in the chair slammed his palm onto the mahogany desk in front of him, the loud crack echoing through the room. His face contorted with fury, the shadows cast by the dim light making him look even more sinister.
“You fools are useless!” he roared, his voice dripping with venom. “I’ve been searching for her for years, and every time I get close, she slips through my fingers!”
The man rose from his chair, his tall frame looming over the driver. His sharp features were etched with a mixture of anger and dark satisfaction. His salt-and-pepper hair betrayed his age—he was in his late forties, possibly early fifties—but his piercing eyes burned with the intensity of a man consumed by a dangerous obsession.
“Seventeen years ago,” he began, his voice lowering to a menacing growl, “I tried to end her. She should’ve died that day, but somehow, she survived. And now, after all this time, I’ve found her again.”
He chuckled darkly, a sound devoid of any warmth, sending a chill through the room. “But not for long. Very soon, I’ll finish what I started.”
The driver flinched, fear evident on his face. He knew better than to question the man’s words.
The man turned toward the window, gazing out into the dark night, his mind already plotting his next move. His identity remained shrouded in mystery, but his intentions were clear—he would stop at nothing to see Niranya dead.
For years, he had carried this hatred, this vendetta against her. And though the reason for his hatred remained hidden, one thing was certain—this was no ordinary man. This was someone with power, influence, and a deep connection to the past that Niranya herself was unaware of.
As the shadows danced across his face, the man’s lips curled into a cruel smile. His voice dropped to a chilling whisper, filled with malice and vengeance. “She can’t run forever. Not from me.”
“You have no more time left, Niranya Sharma. You should die... I will make you die for what my ancestors bore because of him. I will make you die to give him more pain.”
His laughter echoed in the room, dark and sinister, as if sealing Niranya's fate with every word.
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