Anvitha
His lips still lingered on mine.
I could still feel the press of them-possessive, reckless, demanding.
I hadn't moved in the two minutes since I stepped away. My heart hadn't slowed either. It was still pacing inside my chest like it had something to prove.
What the hell just happened?
The kiss had come out of nowhere-like him. Violent in its need. And just as sudden, I'd slapped him. Hard. No hesitation.
It wasn't because I was shocked.
It was because I'd been wanting to do it since the day Ryan Veer Raichand waltzed into my life like he owned it.
And maybe, in some ways, he did.
But he wouldn't own this. Me. My mind. My questions. My scars.
I unlocked my phone with trembling fingers and opened the chat thread marked Mihir - Father's Secretary.
> "I need to speak with you. Tonight. Privately."
I wasn't expecting him to reply.
He didn't like me. He never pretended to.
To him, I was a nuisance. A disruption to the clean-cut world he ran for Appa. But I was also his boss's daughter.
And that, unfortunately for him, outweighed his opinion.
His reply came less than a minute later.
> "Midnight. Club Sins. Come alone."
Of course he'd choose that place.
One of our lesser-known assets-cloaked in red velvet, dark corners, and expensive vices. The kind of place where secrets came to breathe and people went to forget.
Fitting, really.
---
Club Sins - 12:03 AM
The music vibrated beneath my heels as I stepped past the bouncers, ignoring the haze of perfume and liquor that coated the air. I didn't need instructions.
Waves of people are dancing it more like fishes are out of water and now they are suffering on the dance floor.
Some are dancing, some drinking and some are with there signature ones just making out in the corner.
And the common think in all of them is they are leaving a normal life , peaceful life and has the authority to do what they want.
Something I really hate but again being normal is out of
ANVITHA RAMASWAMY league.
I knew where Mihir would be-he always chose the private booth near the one-way glass.
I found him already seated, his scotch untouched.
He didn't stand.
Didn't offer a greeting.
Just flicked his eyes over me once and said, "You're late."
I took the seat across from him, crossing my legs like I owned the place. "I didn't realize punctuality mattered to someone who never answers straight."
He didn't smile. "What do you want, Ms. Ramaswamy?"
Straight to the point.
Direct.
Fine.
I dropped my voice. "I want to know why I take those pills." and if he want to go straight then here we are .
His brows barely lifted. "Because they were prescribed." He said like he's just stating facts . Fucker .
I didn't stop i asked futher. "Why?"
"You get headaches." His expression didn't change they are neutral and there I thought only I have my walls up so high then Mihir came into the view.
Cracking him wouldn't be easy .
And once again there is nothing easy in my life.
"I'm not an idiot, Mihir. I want the real reason. The ones with clinical reports and buried files and memory gaps that don't make sense."
He sipped his drink and watching me like he can scan what's going on into my mind, well no one can because it's so fuck up that a person can feel suffocated in it . "You're spiraling again."
"I'm searching," I snapped.
"You're always searching." He leaned back, stretching one arm over the velvet seat. "And overthinking. That's what you do, isn't it? You want control, so you chase shadows."
My throat tightened. "You didn't answer the question."
"No," he said simply. "Because I'm not the one who's supposed to."
"Then who is?" I narrowed my eyes.
He chuckled without humor. "Ask your father. That's who you take orders from, isn't it?"
"Then tell me this-why don't I remember anything before I turned eighteen?" My voice dropped. "Why do I feel like I wasn't even real until that day?"
He swirled his glass, watching the amber liquid spin. "You've always been dramatic."
"And Avantika?" I pressed, ignoring the insult. "Is she really my mother? Because I swear, I don't feel it. I've lived in that house for years and never once felt like she saw me. Not really."
Mihir's eyes finally locked on mine.
Cold.
Flat.
"Maybe she doesn't see you," he said. "Maybe you're just not what she expected."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
He shrugged. "It means you're asking questions that'll destroy more than they answer. You want peace? Go do yoga. Meditate. Light incense and chant for clarity."
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
His smile was sharp. "Just a little. But I'm not your enemy, Anvitha. I'm just not your savior either."
I stood. "This conversation isn't over."
"Of course it isn't," he said, raising his glass. "It never is with you."
I paused at the curtain. "Don't tell Appa about this."
He raised a brow. "We'll see."
That bastard.
But I didn't look back.
Because I didn't need Mihir's answers. I'd get them myself.
Starting with the memories I wasn't supposed to recover.
"Why won't you just give me the answers?"
My voice wasn't pleading-but there was something brittle in it. A sharp edge of frustration I couldn't swallow anymore.
Mihir didn't flinch. He sat there, calm and untouchable as always, the shadows curling against his jawline, hiding every trace of conscience. Or maybe he didn't have one to begin with.
He tapped the rim of his glass once. "Because you shouldn't need them."
That stopped me.
I stared.
Not because of the words-but because of how easily he said them. Like it was normal. Logical. Acceptable that I should keep walking through life blindfolded.
I leaned forward, my nails biting into the velvet cushion between us. "Well, I do. And I'll find them on my own."
His eyes finally shifted from the drink to my face. That same bored glint flickered across his gaze, but beneath it-something else. Something like pity...or fear. It didn't matter.
"If I were you," he said quietly, "I wouldn't."
A chill spread down my spine. I refused to react.
"Why?" I asked. "Because I might not like the truth?"
"No." He set the glass down. "Because some truths undo you. Because you have everything people sell their souls for. Power. Safety. Status. A seat at a table others are born beneath. You've got it all, Anvitha."
"Except peace," I said before I could stop myself.
There was a pause.
A small silence where something in his expression cracked just enough to show what lived beneath it.
"Too bad for you," Mihir said, tone flat, "in this world, peace doesn't exist. Not for people like us. Only illusions. Temporary distractions. And if you really want advice, here's mine-"
He stood up slowly, straightened his coat, and looked me dead in the eyes.
Then he give pity look and say .
"In the mess you're entering, the only thing left at the end... is regret."
And then he left.
No parting glance. No smirk. Just that sentence bleeding into the air like smoke from a burning house.
Pity . He pity me . Why the fuck he pity me.
I sat there for a long moment.
Still.
Silent.
A beat too slow to catch my breath.
I hated him for being cryptic. For speaking in riddles like some self-important prophet. But what I hated even more... was the part of me that believed him.
Because if peace was an illusion, maybe so was everything else-my identity, my past, even the family I called mine.
And yet, no part of me wanted to stop.
Not now.
Not after that kiss.
Not after the voices in my nightmares started sounding like echoes from a life I no longer remembered.
I would find the truth.
Even if it burned me alive.
If Mihir thinks he can stop me with his riddles reply and advise.
Then he is so fucking wrong.
And now my next Encounter is going to have with the man who occupied my mind, my thoughts and my sanity.
ļæ¼
Hope you like the chapter.
I know your are going to be thanks me for posting twice , No need to throw rose at my feet , And your welcome.
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_kelly_
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