R A Y A A N

I slammed the file onto the polished mahogany table so hard, the entire boardroom flinched.

“What exactly am I paying you all for?” My voice sliced through the silence like a blade. “To waste my time with this pile of garbage? This proposal looks like a college intern had a stroke while designing it.”

A few nervous glances were exchanged. No one dared speak. Smart.

I stood slowly, rolling my sleeves up, because the only thing worse than incompetence was incompetence wrapped in hesitation.

“We’ve been working on this merger for two damn months and this is what you bring to me?” I growled. “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?”

Someone tried to mutter an apology.

“Save it.” I snapped, shooting a glare that made him shrink back into his seat.

The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. Good.

“GET OUT!!. All of you. I want the revised plans on my desk by six. If they’re not up to standard, don’t bother showing up tomorrow.”

Chairs screeched as the room emptied, fast and fumbling. I turned away before the last one scurried out, dragging a hand through my hair, jaw tight.

Pathetic.

I had built this empire with blood and precision, not to watch it be handed weak, sugar coated proposals like we were running a bakery.

“Sir?” came Advik’s voice, too soft for my mood.

I didn’t even glance at him. “If you’ve come to defend those morons, turn around and get out.”

“No, sir. It’s something else.”

“Spit it out.”

“There’s been a delay with the Shimla project. Some legal pushback from the local vendors. They’re demanding a site visit and they want you there personally.”

I turned then, slowly, eye narrowing. “Shimla?”

“Yes, sir. The council is refusing to move unless Oberoi Industries sends its head directly. It could stall the land clearances.”

I scoffed, stepping closer. “Do I look like someone who runs errands, Advik? Do I look like someone who has time to babysit stubborn locals who still live like it’s the 1950s?”

He cleared his throat. “No, sir. I just thought—”

“You thought. That’s the problem with this damn place. Too many people thinking, not enough people doing.”

He swallowed. “The land’s crucial for our expansion. Without it, the northern supply chain takes a hit. We will lose six months.”

I turned, eyes narrowed.

“You think I don’t know what’s at stake?”

He shut up.

Good.

I walked to the window, glaring down at Mumbai like it personally offended me. Shimla. Just the name made something twist inside my chest. I didn’t know why. Didn’t care to know.

Hill stations. Snow. Narrow lanes. Useless.

And yet… there was something about it.

A feeling.

I didn’t like that.

Not one damn bit.

I exhaled sharply.

“Fine,” I bit out. “Book the flight. Clear the schedule. And make sure every idiot on that council knows I’m not flying across the country for chai and small talk. We get that land, or I burn their little town down with contracts.”

“Yes, sir.”

He rushed out like his life depended on it.

And I stood there, still simmering.

I didn’t know why I felt... unsettled. Shimla meant nothing. It was just another name on the map. Just another place we’d conquer.

But somewhere deep in my gut, something stirred.

Something I couldn’t name.

Didn’t want to name.

And that pissed me off more than anything else.

—

I had just poured myself a drink when the elevator beeped. Without even knocking, Riaan strolled into my penthouse like he owned the damn place.

“Ever heard of a doorbell?” I muttered, swirling the glass in my hand.

He grinned, shameless as ever. “Miss me already?”

“No. Just wondering how long it'll take for Aleesha to realise she married a clown.”

He dropped onto my couch like it was his. “She loves clowns.”

“Tragic.”

I took a sip and leaned against the marble counter, watching him like one might watch a fly buzzing around too loudly.

“So,” I said lazily, “how’s your little wife?”

He smirked. “Good. Happy. Still madly in love with me.”

“Shocking,” I deadpanned.

He chuckled, then tilted his head. “You’re really going to Shimla?”

I gave him a look. “Who told you?”

He nodded slowly. “Your PA… And Aleesha and I were thinking of tagging along.”

I narrowed my eyes. “This isn’t a honeymoon destination, Riaan. I’m not going to sip coffee and cuddle in blankets. I’m going because Oberoi Industries needs that damn land and no one else has the balls to get it done.”

He raised an eyebrow. “But I am going for the honeymoon. You’re the workaholic. Let me live a little.”

I stared at him. Hard.

“You think I need babysitting now? Or you just enjoy being a third wheel in a crisis?”

He laughed. “Third wheel? Please. Aleesha and I will barely be seen. You won’t even know we’re there. Besides, you could use company. That mountain air might finally chill you the hell out.”

I didn’t respond.

He Said “ Five years. Dont you miss her, Rayaan.”

“Don’t say her name.” My voice came out low, deadly.

“You need to hear this—”

“I said—”

“She didn’t kill Vanisha!”

The room went dead still.

My chest rose slowly. “What did you say?”

Riaan stepped forward, voice firmer. “You blamed her all these years for something she didn’t do. Vanisha died protecting her. It was an accident, Rayaan. A damn accident. Arvi didn’t know that man is going to kill Vanisha. Vanisha saw him aim, and she jumped in front of her. That was Vanisha’s choice.”

My vision blurred, blood roaring in my ears.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, RIAAN.”

“You’ve punished her long enough. You’ve punished yourself long enough.”

“I SAID SHUT UP!”

The glass on the coffee table cracked under the force of my voice. My fists trembled at my sides.

“She was my sister!” I roared. “And Arvi… she was supposed to be the reason we healed, not the reason I lost her!”

“You didn’t lose Vanisha because of Arvi. You lost her because someone else chose violence. And Arvi… she also lost everything that night too. Including you.”

I turned away, throat burning, jaw clenched so hard it ached.

“Don’t come to me with your twisted justifications, Riaan,” I growled. “You weren’t there when I held my dead Vanisha in my arms. You didn’t see the blood. You didn’t SEE ANYTHING.”

“No,” he whispered, “but I’ve seen you die every day since.”

Silence stretched between us like a chasm. I looked away, jaw tightening.

“GET OUT FROM HERE,” I said “I don’t care If you are coming shimla or not,  Just stay out of my way.”

Riaan didn’t argue. He only nodded once, painfully, and turned to leave.

But before he stepped out, he said, “You can keep running, Rayaan. But the past always finds a way to catch up.”

And then he was gone.

I stood there, in the middle of the silence, the weight of truth crashing down on me like an avalanche.

And for the first time in five years, I didn’t know if I hated Arvi…

Or myself more.

SHIMLA

The black cars rolled out of the Oberoi Tower like shadows on a mission. Mine led the way. Riaan and Aleesha followed in the second car, surrounded by bodyguards, their presence more a formality than protection. No one would dare touch us not in Mumbai, not in Shimla.

Advik sat in the front seat, quiet, focused on his tablet. I didn’t say a word. I didn’t need to. The air around me spoke enough.

The flight was smooth, silent. I stared out of the window, lost in thought, but never once letting my guard drop. My mind wasn’t in the clouds. It was on the land I came to claim.

Shimla.

Even the name left a bad taste in my mouth.

We landed just before evening. Cold wind hit my face as I stepped out, sharp and bold, like it wanted to challenge me. I didn’t flinch. Let it try.

The cars were already waiting. I got into mine without a glance behind. Riaan and Aleesha were in the second one, laughing about something. I didn’t care what.

The drive up the hills was long, winding. Trees stood tall on either side, snow resting on their branches like secrets. People called this place peaceful.

The hotel appeared like a fortress on the mountain. Tall. Beautiful. Cold. Just like me.

I walked in without waiting for anyone. Staff bowed, welcomed me, offered warmth. I ignored it all.

My suite was large, with a view of the valley. The fire was already lit. I stood by the window, drink in hand, staring at the snow-covered world outside.

“Everything is ready for tomorrow,” Advik said behind me. “The council meeting is at ten. They know who they’re dealing with.”

“Good.” I didn’t turn around.

He left after that. Smart move.

I stayed there, still, silent. The glass warm in my hand, the cold air pressing against the windows.

And then it hit me.

This place...

It didn’t feel new.

It felt like a memory waiting to come back.

Like something was about to wake up.

And for the first time in five years

I wasn’t sure if I was here for business.

Or to face something I buried a long time ago.

I sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, the glass hanging loose from my hand. The fire cracked softly behind me, throwing shadows on the walls.

Shimla was quiet. Too quiet.

And that silence... it scraped against my bones.

I hated it.

I hated how this place made me feel.

I hated that somewhere in that silence, she lived. Not in the city. Not in the room. But in my memory.

Arvi.

Her name echoed in my mind like a curse.

Five years.

I’d spent five years building walls so high no one could climb them. Not grief. Not guilt. Not her.

And yet, sitting here, with snow falling outside and the night stretching long and lonely...

I thought of her.

Her laugh. Her stubborn eyes. The way she used to argue with me like she didn’t care who I was.

I took a long drink, jaw tight.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. I didn’t come here to think about her. She wasn’t part of the plan. She wasn’t anything anymore.

But my chest ached anyway.

And I hated that.

I hated that even now, a part of me still missed her.

Because missing someone you’ve destroyed?

That’s a special kind of pain.

I stood up, slammed the glass on the table, and stared at my reflection in the window.

Stone-cold eyes. A man people feared. A man who had everything except peace.

“She’s gone,” I told myself.

But the truth was louder.

She was still inside me.

Next Day—

The council folded quicker than cheap paper.

They sat there, puffed up with fake authority, throwing around words like "community" and "sentiment." I let them speak for exactly three minutes. Then I dropped the folder on the table with every signed agreement inside.

“I own the entire strip now,” I said, leaning back. “The tea stall, the pharmacy, that run down bookstore, bakery shops are all mine now. Bought them out this morning.”

Their jaws dropped. One tried to protest.

I cut him off. “Don’t waste my time. Your little rebellion ended the moment I signed the cheques.”

Silence.

“Now either we finalize the clearance and start construction, or I’ll make sure this place doesn’t see a dime of progress for the next decade.”

They agreed. Of course they did.

I walked out without looking back.

Shimla was mine now.

Just like everything else I set my sights on.