“Veer, go—they are here!” Dhruvika’s voice came from the bedroom, carrying  urgency.

Ranveer, who was in the kitchen rinsing the last of the breakfast dishes, dried his hands on the towel and walked to the main door.

It was still early morning. They had returned from their appartment before dawn, showered, and eaten breakfast together. Now, both were almost ready to leave for office when the sharp rumble of a mini-truck outside announced the arrival Dhruvika had been waiting for.

Ranveer opened the door. The workers were already lowering a bike carefully from the truck bed. His eyes immediately caught the sleek shine of black metal—the new machine. His breath paused for a moment.

The black beauty stood there under the sunlight, every curve gleaming, its fresh paint making the air itself smell of new beginnings. Ranveer’s gaze softened.

Dhruvika walked out behind him, adjusting the watch on her wrist. She followed his gaze, then smiled lightly. “Oh, they finished.”

Ranveer gave a small nod, still watching the bike.

But Dhruvika’s eyes weren’t on the new machine. Her gaze darted past it—toward the old one still parked inside, its presence dangerous because it was the last object tied to him, the last piece that could betray his location.

“Veer,” she began, her tone casual, almost playful. “I was saying… why don’t we send your old bike in this truck to the garage?”

Ranveer blinked, finally pulling his eyes away from the new one. “Hmm?” His brows furrowed slightly.

Dhruvika immediately took a step forward, turning to the worker before Ranveer could question her further. “It’s been showing some problems. Excuse me—can you pick the old bike too and drop it near the garage of your showroom? I’ll pay extra for it.”

The worker nodded without hesitation. “Sure, ma’am.”

Before Ranveer could object or even process what was happening, the workers had already rolled the old bike out. His lips parted slightly, but Dhruvika was quick—too quick.

“Veer, start the bike,” she urged smoothly, her voice slipping into his ears like a gentle distraction.

He turned back to the gleaming bike, a spark of curiosity and nostalgia washing over him. Without another word, he swung a leg over it, inserted the key, and the machine roared to life. Its deep hum filled the courtyard, drowning out the fading clatter of the workers loading his old bike.

Dhruvika’s chest rose and fell with relief. Her eyes followed the truck pulling away, carrying with it the last thread the Royals could use to track him. Finally, she thought, finally this chapter was ending. Her watch beeped softly, reminding her of the hour.

She exhaled, forced a bright smile, and turned toward Ranveer, who was now inspecting the handle, adjusting the mirrors with the sharp attention he gave everything.

“Veer,” she called, walking closer, “let’s go. We’ll stop at the temple first, take blessings for the bike… and then head to the office.”

He looked at her, nodded once. “Okay.”

Dhruvika stepped back into the house, picked up their office bags, and returned. As she headed toward the car parked in the driveway, Ranveer frowned.

“Dhruvi?” he called, confusion lacing his tone.

“Yes?” She stopped, tilting her head at him, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

He gestured at the car keys in her hand. “We’re not going together?”

Her smile widened, her eyes glinting mischievously. She dangled the keys with a playful swing. “Why not have a little race, Mr. Husband?”

Before he could protest or even think, she slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine with a roar. Her car shot forward, the sudden movement sending a rush of air through his hair.

Ranveer’s brows drew together in disbelief, but his instinct kicked in almost immediately. Pulling down his visor, he gripped the handle and twisted the throttle. The bike roared back, answering the challenge.

Within seconds, the sleek black machine was flying beside her car, the two moving almost parallel, her laughter faint but audible from behind the glass.

She glanced at him through the window, the morning sun lighting her face, her eyes sparkling with pure mischief. “Catch me if you can!” her lips shaped the words silently.

And for the first time in weeks, something shifted inside Ranveer. A flicker of boyish thrill, long buried under layers of duty and silence, sparked alive. He leaned forward, pushing the bike faster, matching her speed.

The road stretched ahead of them, the city slowly waking up, the temple bell faintly ringing somewhere in the distance. The car and the bike raced side by side, not as a wife and husband escaping shadows of the past, but as two souls sharing a moment of pure, unguarded freedom.

And Dhruvika smiled, gripping the wheel tightly. Because She had won more than a race today.

The temple bells chimed softly as they walked up the marble steps. The air was scented with incense and fresh marigolds, a calm contrast to the rush of engines outside.

Ranveer followed Dhruvika silently, his hands loosely folded, every step echoing hers. Whatever she did, he mirrored without question—touching the threshold before entering, bowing his head before the deity, circling the sanctum with steady steps. It wasn’t faith that guided him, but something else—something wordless that pulled him to follow her every move.

The pandit prepared the puja for the new bike, tying the sacred red thread, placing kumkum and rice, and lighting the lamp. Dhruvika pressed her palms together in reverence, whispering a silent prayer she wouldn’t share aloud. A prayer not for herself, but for him—for his protection, his peace, his freedom from chains he didn’t even know were binding him.

Ranveer stood near the bike, still and obedient, as the priest circled the flame and blessed the machine. The black beauty gleamed brighter with every flicker of light, as though even destiny was sealing it as his companion.

When the rituals ended, Dhruvika exhaled, a quiet satisfaction filling her chest. She turned toward him, her expression softening.

“Okay, Veer… here’s your bag,” she said, lifting the strap and placing it on his shoulder. Her fingers lingered just a little longer than necessary, adjusting it properly as if she were preparing him for battle.

Ranveer lowered his gaze briefly, acknowledging without words.

Then she reached for his helmet. Instead of simply handing it, Dhruvika slid it over his head herself, fastening the strap with careful hands. The intimacy of the act was unspoken but heavy, her fingertips brushing his jaw as she adjusted it.

“Have your lunch, alright? And… I’ll see you in the evening,” she murmured, her voice carrying that subtle authority she always used when caring for him.

Before he could respond, she pulled down the visor herself, sealing him away from her eyes. But not before leaning closer and pressing a soft kiss against the cool glass. It was fleeting, yet it left her lips warm.

She smiled faintly, and stepped back.

Walking to her car, Dhruvika slid inside, her eyes finding him once again as the engines started. For a few moments, their paths remained side by side—his bike gliding smoothly, her car keeping pace. They moved like two shadows tethered by an invisible thread, neither rushing ahead nor falling behind.

Then came the turn. Ranveer leaned slightly, the bike slicing through the curve. Before disappearing down his road, his head tilted—just a glance in her direction. No words, no gestures, just that quiet acknowledgment that lingered longer than sound ever could.

Dhruvika’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. She drove straight, watching him vanish into the other lane through her mirror.

The image of his dark figure on the gleaming bike stayed with her—the black suit hugging his frame, the helmet masking his face yet somehow making him look even sharper. He is looking the kind of man who didn’t need expressions to turn heads; his presence alone is enough to demand the world’s attention.

“I need to give him a wedding band.” she murmured.

And as he disappeared into the distance, crossing the limits of handsomeness with every mile.

Samesh was lounging in the grand hall of his estate, sipping his morning tea and flipping through a file when the sudden sound of hurried footsteps echoed. His personal security barged in, faces pale, their eyes uneasy.

“S…sir, actually—” one stammered, trying to catch his breath.

“What now?” Samesh frowned, irritation flashing in his eyes. “Speak clearly.”

Before the guard could answer, the door to the hall swung open wider, and a group of uniformed men entered. Their boots echoed against the marble floor, their presence commanding. Samesh froze for a moment as he recognized them — these weren’t his men. These were police officers.

The man leading them stepped forward calmly, his posture straight, his gaze unwavering. “Nirbhay Solanki, IPS. Superintendent of Police for this district.”

Samesh’s brows knitted. “IPS? In my house?”

Nirbhay’s tone was level, but there was a weight behind his words. “Bike number ED105… that’s registered in your name, correct?”

At once, Samesh’s eyes widened. He got up from chair before setting down his teacup with a sharp clink. “Yes—yes, it’s mine. Why? Did you find it?” His voice carried eagerness, almost desperation.

“Of course we found it,” Nirbhay said, his lips pressed into a firm line. “And with it, we also found something else. Something very valuable… and very questionable.”

Samesh’s heart skipped.“Really? Where did you find it? Tell me, I’ll come with you. Let’s go now!”

Nirbhay’s expression didn’t soften. His eyes were sharp, cold. “I will take you, yes. But not to the location. I will be taking you to the station. From there, you can explain yourself.”

The words slammed into Samesh like a hammer. His face turned red with fury. . “What nonsense is this? Do you even know who you are talking to? Have you lost your mind?” His voice echoed through the hall, but the officers didn’t flinch.

Nirbhay stood firm. “Yes, I know exactly who I’m speaking to — the man whose bike I caught with illegal contents. Don’t try to play innocent.”

“What? Illegal? That’s not true! That bike—it’s not mine!” Samesh snapped, though.

Nirbhay raised an eyebrow. “It’s in your name. It’s registered to you. And just seconds ago, you admitted it yourself. Don’t try to wriggle out now.”

Samesh swallowed, his mind racing. “No, I mean, it was…but someone els—”

“We’ll discuss all of that at the police station,” Nirbhay cut him off smoothly. His voice carried authority, leaving no room for argument. “Now, let’s go.”

“I am the king here!” Samesh roared, his chest heaving. “This is my house, my empire. You cannot drag me like a common criminal!”

Nirbhay’s eyes hardened. Slowly, deliberately, he pulled out the metal handcuffs from his belt. The cold steel glinted in the hall’s chandelier light. “Kingdoms and empires ended a long time ago, Mr. Rawal. The law is the only ruler now. Cooperate, or I will drag you.”

The guards and servants standing around looked on in stunned silence, their faces pale. None of them dared move.

Samesh’s jaw clenched tight, fury and helplessness warring in his eyes. “I need to make a call,” he said finally, trying to bargain.

“You can call from the police station,” Nirbhay replied firmly.

“But—”

“Sir,” one of the servants interrupted timidly, wringing his hands, “I’ve already informed Agastya sir. He’s on his way.”

Nirbhay gave a single curt nod. “Good. Then let him meet us at the station. Not here.” He turned back to Samesh, his voice steady. “So… are you coming on your own, or should I drag you?”

For a long moment, Samesh glared at him, breathing heavily. His pride screamed at him to resist, but the cold stare of the IPS officer told him resistance would only humiliate him further.

Grinding his teeth, he finally moved forward, each step heavy with suppressed rage. The officers closed in around him as he was led outside. The sight of their master being escorted toward the waiting police jeep left the household in utter shock.

The once untouchable Samesh, who commanded fear with just his name, was now walking out under custody — his power, at least for now, stripped away by the very law he thought he was above.

“Mam, Samesh is in the police station,” Harsh said, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he pulled the phone away from his ear. His lips curved into a satisfied smirk, as though the news itself was a small victory.

Dhruvika, who was seated comfortably with her files spread on the table, didn’t even look up at first. She twirled her pen slowly, her eyes calm, calculating. Finally, she spoke in a low but sharp voice, “I hope he stays there a little longer. It would be… peaceful.”

“Don’t worry about that, mam,” Nikhil’s voice came clearly from the speakerphone. He chuckled faintly. “The officer handling this—Nirbhay Solanki—isn’t the type to bend. Samesh will not be walking out easily this time.”

Dhruvika’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles. “Good.” She tapped her pen against the file once, then shifted her gaze to Harsh. “And Harsh…”

Harsh straightened in his chair immediately, meeting her eyes.

“How many shareholders are on my side till now?” she asked, her tone casual, but her gaze sharp enough to cut through stone.

“Almost everyone,” Harsh admitted, though he hesitated for a second. His eyes flickered downward before adding reluctantly, “But there’s one. A little… jerk . I told you”

Dhruvika raised an eyebrow, her voice turning dangerously soft. “i know but Just one right?”

Harsh nodded.

“Then,” she said firmly, “give his details to Nikhil. I’m sure Nikhil knows what to do with him.”

On the other end, Nikhil let out a short laugh. “Of course, mam. I was hoping you’d say that. Bro, send me the details right away.”

“Okay,” Harsh replied, pulling out his phone to make a note of it.

The call ended with a soft beep. The silence that followed filled the office for a moment. Harsh leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head before letting out a loud sigh.

“I’m tired,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Dhruvika looked up at him, one eyebrow arching. “You are?”

“Of course, mam!” Harsh replied dramatically, as though she should already know. “Megha isn’t here, and I’m handling all her work on top of mine. Do you have any idea how much running around that is?”

Dhruvika tilted her head, studying him carefully. “Any problem with it?”

Harsh shook his head quickly. “No, no… nothing like that. It’s hectic, sure, but—” His expression softened into a grin as he leaned back further, his eyes looking faraway. “Her wedding menu is too good for me to complain. Just thinking about it makes me forget half the stress.”

The dreamy look on his face made Dhruvika shake her head in disbelief. “You’re impossible,” she muttered, though the corner of her lips twitched upward.

It was already late evening  as Dhruvika walked briskly towards her car. She had just wrapped up some paperwork and was rushing home and she was sure Ranveer must have reached already.

Her phone vibrated. A familiar number flashed on the screen. She didn’t even bother to sigh; she knew the caller wouldn’t give up easily. Sliding into the driver’s seat, she slipped on her Bluetooth earpod before answering.

The voice on the other end boomed before she could say anything—

“YOU ARE A REAL DEVIL, YOU KNOW… AND I LOVE YOU FOR THAT!”

Dhruvika paused halfway through clicking her seatbelt, tilting her head with the faintest smirk. “Shut up, Maharsh…” she muttered, finally fastening the belt and starting the car.

“You should’ve seen Nirbhay Solanki’s face,” Maharsh continued dramatically, not caring for her tone. “When the higher officer ordered him to release Samesh Rawal… oh, Ruvi, it was epic. Like pure entertainment! The man looked like he swallowed fire.”

Dhruvika steered the car smoothly out of the parking lot, her eyes sharp on the road. “Maharsh, you shouldn’t be celebrating someone else’s misery—especially when that someone is an honest officer doing his job.”

“Come on, yaar Ruvi,” he groaned. “Don’t start guilt-tripping me. I’ve suffered enough irritation from him when you weren’t around. The man was breathing down my neck twenty-four-seven. So yes, today I am happy. Very, very happy.”

She pressed her lips together, shaking her head slightly. “I know how he is,” she admitted as the car merged onto the highway. Her fingers adjusted the gear smoothly, and the vehicle picked up speed.

“Exactly,” Maharsh said triumphantly. “And don’t get me wrong—it’s not the IPS officer part of him I dislike. It’s the frustration on his face that made my day.”

“You realize you’re being completely illogical,” Dhruvika replied dryly, accelerating a little more as the city lights stretched into streaks outside her window.

“Whatever,” he said carelessly. “The point is—I’m happy. Oh, and one more piece of good news. That morstard is finally on vacation.”

Her brows furrowed. “What?”

“Moron plus bastard equals morstard,” he explained proudly.

Dhruvika rolled her eyes. “Where is he?”

“There. Same city. But staying at some separate villa… more like a massive farmhouse setup. He thinks it’s discreet. Spoiler: it’s not.”

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly. “How many agents of ours are placed nearby?”

“Twelve,” he said immediately. “All loyal, all ready.”

“Good,” she said after a pause. “Keep them steady.”

“Done. Anyway, did you finish your side of the work?” His tone turned casual, though the underlying seriousness remained.

“Not yet,” Dhruvika admitted. “But I will. Soon.”

There was a small silence on the line before he changed the topic. “Fine, fine. Enough of business. My delivery’s here—I need to eat before I die.”

“Learn how to cook, idiot,” Dhruvika said, taking a sharp turn and sliding into another lane.

“Nope. My wife will cook for me,” he replied smugly.

“Patriarchy at its peak,” she muttered.

“Nope. Love at its purest,” he countered, his voice warm despite the banter.

And before she could come up with a sharper reply, the line disconnected.

The car sped forward, her mind split between his words and the weight of her own plans.

“How the hell did the bike reach there with those things?” Avyan’s voice thundered in the room, his frustration spilling over as he ran his hand through his hair. His eyes blazed, restless, searching for an explanation that didn’t exist.

Samesh leaned back, his expression grim. “I thought… finally, we had Ranveer. I thought we caught him red-handed this time.” His words carried disappointment, but also a strange undercurrent of confusion.

Avyan paced, his steps echoing against the marble floor. “No. This isn’t just about a bike showing up in the wrong place. This is bigger. Much bigger. The resign, the transportation, all of it—it’s part of a carefully laid plan. And mark my words, it isn’t random.” His jaw clenched as his voice dropped, sharp and cutting. “And I refuse to believe that Dhruvika is as innocent as she pretends to be. She’s hiding something. I can feel it.”

The room fell silent at his words. Samesh didn’t argue. Instead, he pulled his phone from the table with a heavy hand. Every eye turned toward him as he scrolled through his contacts and pressed a number.

The line connected.

“Hello, uncle.” Dhruvika’s voice came through, warm and polite.

Samesh cleared his throat. “Dhruvika… you aren’t busy, I think?”

“No, no. I’m not.” Her tone was soft, composed—as though she had been expecting his call.

“You d—” he began, but she cut across smoothly.

“Sorry, uncle. I couldn’t speak to you yesterday. I’ve been really busy. In fact, I wanted to call you myself for the past few days regarding something important, but I just didn’t get the chance.”

The men in the room stiffened, exchanging uneasy glances. The timing was too precise. Too rehearsed.

“Important matter?” Samesh asked slowly, suspicion creeping into his voice.

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “Actually… it’s about Ranveer.”

The name sliced through the silence like a blade. Avyan froze mid-step, his gaze snapping toward Samesh, who stared at the phone as if it had betrayed him.

“Ranveer?” Samesh repeated cautiously.

“Yes,” Dhruvika sighed. “I’ve been trying to contact him for days. His phone is completely unreachable. And with the divorce hearing so close… I don’t know what to do.”

Shock rippled through the room. Samesh had called her intending to corner her about Ranveer, yet she had flipped the script and spoken of him first.

“Oo…” Samesh faltered, at a rare loss for words.

“Can you—” she began, but he cut her off sharply.

“He isn’t here.”

There was a pause. “Hm?”

“He resigned. And I don’t know where he is now,” Samesh replied, his voice firm though his hands trembled slightly.

A beat of silence, then her voice, laced with shock. “Oo… really?”

“Yes,” he answered flatly.

“Why did you call, uncle? Was it something important?” Dhruvika asked, her tone polite but distant.

Samesh hesitated, glancing at the others. “Yes… but I’ll talk to you later about it.”

“Alright then. We’ll speak later. Take care, uncle.”

The line went dead.

The room was suffocatingly silent until Avyan broke it, his voice low but furious. “I don’t trust her.”

Samesh’s eyes lifted to him, unreadable.

“All of this—everything—started only after her arrival,” Avyan snapped, his voice rising. “Ronny’s resignation. The company’s sudden downfall. Ranveer disappearing without a trace. Even his behavior before he vanished—none of it was normal!” He slammed his fist on the table, his frustration spilling over.

Samesh said nothing, but his silence was louder than words. Because deep down, he knew Avyan was right.

Agastya, who had been unusually quiet, finally spoke. “But why would he do it? What reason could Ranveer possibly have?”

Avyan’s lips curled in anger. “I don’t know. But Ikshita was saying they’re living together.”

“I don’t trust your sister,” Agastya retorted coldly.

Avyan snapped back, his voice breaking with anger. “Maybe. But not all her words are lies. Some of it makes sense. Too much sense to ignore!”

He looked around at the others, his chest heaving. “No. Something is there. And everything—every damn thread—is leading back to Dhruvika Awasthi.”

The weight of his words lingered in the air, pressing down on them like an unspoken truth they didn’t want to admit but couldn’t deny.

Dhruvika glanced at her phone, the screen glowing faintly in the dim light of the car. A part of her already knew—the doubts must have begun to circle in their minds. Avyan, Samesh, Agastya… they wouldn’t stay blind for long. She exhaled slowly, pressing her lips together.

First, I need to settle my matters. Only after that will I deal with them one by one.

She locked the screen with a soft sigh, but before she could gather her thoughts, the side door opened. Ranveer’s tall frame filled the space. His face was shadowed by the evening lights, but his eyes found hers instantly, laced with worry.

“What happened? Are you not feeling well?” His voice was low, steady, but it carried genuine concern. He had seen her speaking on the phone in the car, right outside their house, and now he couldn’t help but ask.

Dhruvika forced a faint smile. “No, I’m fine,” she reassured, her tone calm as she slipped out of the car.

Ranveer quietly locked it and followed her, his steps unhurried yet protective.

When they entered the house, she noticed something immediately—open boxes, scattered clothes, the faint sound of zippers. He had already begun packing.

From behind her, he muttered in a tone that carried a trace of complaint, “You said I can’t take leave.” His voice wasn’t sharp, only quiet, tinged with something unspoken.

“I did,” she admitted simply, not turning to look at him.

He didn’t argue further. Instead, he placed a glass of water in her hand, his silent way of caring.

“Thank you,” she said softly, taking a sip.

She placed the glass down and moved toward the bedroom to change. A few minutes later, she emerged, her hair tied up in a messy bun, her night-suit jacket still in her hand. She walked into the kitchen, only to halt at the sight before her.

“Veer… did you make dough?”

Ranveer, standing nearby, suddenly looked stiff. “Umm… yes,” he admitted, his voice almost boyish.

Dhruvika raised an eyebrow. “This much?” She leaned down, pressing her palm lightly against the mound of dough. It was enough for a  family to eat for two or three days.

“It became watery so… I added more flour,” he muttered nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

She turned to him, her expression unreadable. Ranveer swallowed, waiting for her scolding.

But instead, her lips curved into a smile. “Okay. I’ll put it in the fridge. We’ll use it tomorrow too.”

Relief washed over his face. “It’s possible?” he asked almost innocently.

“Of course,” she said, amused. “We have a refrigerator.”

Ranveer let out a breath, his shoulders finally relaxing, while Dhruvika busied herself with cooking. He, in turn, went back to arranging their things. Every time she glanced toward him, she found him folding neatly, checking zippers, adjusting corners—so careful, so precise, as though packing clothes was a matter of discipline.

“Dhruvi?” His voice called from the other room.

“Yes?” she asked, pausing with the spice box in hand.

He appeared at the kitchen doorway, holding another pile of items.

“No, don’t pack those,” she instructed gently. “I’ll do it tomorrow. You focus on our clothes, except one pair put everything in my trolley.”

He nodded without question, retreating to the bedroom again.

Dinner was quiet. They ate without unnecessary words, but the silence wasn’t heavy. It was warm, almost comforting. Halfway through, Dhruvika leaned against his shoulder, her voice dropping to a soft murmur.

“I’ll miss this house,” she confessed, her eyes roaming the walls.

Ranveer froze slightly. His gaze shifted around the room, but to him, walls and ceilings had never mattered. He had lived in places far colder, darker, lonelier. To him, a house was just bricks and plaster. But now, with her head resting on his shoulder, he realized—home was wherever she was.

He didn’t speak, but his silence said enough.

Dhruvika smiled faintly. “But it’s fine. We’ll adjust.”

After dinner, Ranveer washed the dishes while she stacked away what was left. He handed her the glass of milk, waiting until she drank before sipping his own.

Later, she busied herself with sealing the boxes of things they wouldn’t need the next day, while he continued folding clothes with the same precision. When she entered the bedroom again, she found him bent over their belongings, carefully arranging her sarees, nightdresses, and salwar suits.

“Veer…” she called softly, her voice tinged with weariness. “Come. I’m sleepy.”

He instantly zipped the trolley and put it aside, hurrying to her side as if her one complaint was enough to summon him.

On the bed, she snuggled close, resting her head on his chest while he threaded his fingers gently through her hair. She spoke in a hushed voice, her words almost drowsy.

“You know, when I first came here… I loved the environment. It was so peaceful. I thought I’d never want to leave.”

He listened, his touch never faltering.

“So now…” she sighed softly, “I don’t want to live in town anymore.”

“I’ll make our new house quickly,” he promised quietly, his voice steady, the kind of promise he would never break.

“I know,” she whispered, already drifting into sleep.

Ranveer tightened his arms around her, pulling the blanket over her small frame. To him, the house they were leaving behind meant nothing. But the woman in his arms meant everything. Wherever she was, he would follow.

That was his only truth.

As she slipped into peaceful slumber, he pressed a tender kiss to her hair. He held her close, guarding her even in sleep.