Listen to this song while reading the chapter specially when ruhanika entered in his office.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR COMPLETING THE TARGET 

Bhai dropped me off at the office and personally led me to his cabin. As an employee, I wouldn't have the chance to enter this space without an appointment or a specific reason.

"Call me if you need anything. I called Luv—he's outside. Let him know if you want to leave," Bhai said before walking off to his own office.

I took a deep breath and glanced at myself. I was wearing a fitted white tank top under a soft ivory cardigan, paired with high-waisted beige trousers and a slim brown belt. It was comfortable and simple, but not exactly office-appropriate.

 I just hoped no one would point it out. My hands were still covered in black-blue bruises, so I pulled the sleeves of my cardigan down, trying to cover as much as possible. Well it hurts when the fabric touched the skin.

Shaking the thought away, I knocked on the door.

"Come in."

I opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind me.

Dheer was seated behind a large glass desk, focused on the pile of files in front of him. He was wearing a crisp white shirt with black pants, his coat draped over the back of his chair. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his fingers moved over the documents with quiet precision. He looked calm but busy, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration.

The office was spacious, lined with wooden shelves filled with books, files, and a few framed photographs. A leather couch sat against the wall, and the floor-to-ceiling windows let in plenty of natural light, making the room feel open and bright. The faint smell of coffee lingered in the air. 

 Its my second time visiting his cabin (do you guys remember the first time she came here?)

Dheer didn't look up right away. I stood there, shifting slightly on my feet, feeling awkward in the silence. After a few seconds, he finally lifted his gaze. His dark eyes met mine, scanning me briefly—like he was acknowledging my presence, nothing more—before he simply shook his head and returned his focus to his work.

 He just ignored me.

I clenched my jaw and marched toward his desk, frustration bubbling over. Without thinking, I slammed my hand onto the glass surface. A sharp sting shot through my palm.

Dheer's head snapped up. His eyes widened slightly, more in surprise than concern. "You—" He blinked, straightening his posture. "What are you doing here?"

I sucked in a breath, shaking my hand out before gripping it with my other to ease the pain.

"Why did you ignore me?" I demanded, my voice sharper than I intended.

He didn't answer. His phone rang before he could, and instead of responding, he gave me a look—then picked up the call. With a small gesture toward the couch, he silently instructed me to sit.

I huffed but sat anyway, crossing my arms. He stood and walked toward the tall glass window, his back to me as he spoke into the phone. He was far enough that I couldn't make out the conversation, but from the tone of his voice, it sounded like business.

I rubbed my palms together, trying to shake off the lingering pain, my mind running through what I wanted to say to him. I wasn't sure if it was the cold air in the office or just my own nerves, but a shiver ran through me.

Minutes passed. Then more.

By the time he ended the call—nearly twenty minutes later—Dheer let out a slow breath, rubbing his temple like the conversation had drained him. His expression was unreadable, but there was a trace of tension in his shoulders as he turned toward me.

Stopping a few feet away, he studied me for a moment before speaking.

"What did the doctor say... um, about your injuries?"

His voice was quieter this time, almost careful.

"Nothing. She just removed the bandages since they weren't necessary anymore," I said quietly, tugging at my sleeves to cover the bruised skin and the marks left behind.

I wanted to talk to him, but before I could say anything, he exhaled a deep breath, stood up, and—unexpectedly—sat on the table right in front of me.

I blinked at him. Sometimes, this man was just... unreadable. Unpredictable. Impossible to figure out.

Before I could ask what he was doing, he took my hand in his, his thumb brushing softly over my knuckles. Then, with his other hand, he reached for my sleeve and began folding it up.

"No," I said instantly, my voice coming out sharper than I intended. I didn't want him to see. Didn't want him to look at the ugly reminders that even I could barely stand.

The first time I saw my hands after the bandages came off, I'd felt dizzy—whether from the sudden exposure of my skin to the air or just the sheer shock of seeing them in that state, I wasn't sure.

But Dheer didn't stop. He silently folded the sleeves up on both sides, his fingers moving with a gentleness that threw me off. Then, he just... sat there, taking his time as he examined my hands.

And then, so quietly I almost missed it, I heard him say—

"I'm sorry."

I frowned, uncertain if I had imagined it. "What?"

His eyes were still on my hands, his fingers lightly tracing over the bruised skin.

"I'm sorry for behaving like a jerk that day," he murmured, his voice quieter than before. "I... I shouldn't have forced you to do something you didn't want to."

For the first time since I walked in, he wouldn't meet my eyes.

"It wasn't your fault, actually—" I started, but he cut me off before I could finish.

"Ruhi, listen to me carefully now."

There was a weight in his voice that made my heart slow, my breath catching as he finally looked up.

"I want you. I want to have a normal married life with you. I want to open my heart to you, to build something real with you. I want my life to revolve around you. But..." He let out a deep breath, his hands tightening slightly around mine before loosening again. "I never wanted to force you into any of this."

His voice was steady, but there was something raw beneath it, something I wasn't sure I had the strength to face.

"All of this... it's what I want. That doesn't mean you have to want the same thing." His lips pressed into a thin line for a second before he continued. "Your dreams, your goals, the way you see the world—it's different from mine. 

And that's okay. You don't have to change anything. You don't have to force yourself to be someone you're not. Just... live your life the way you want to live it. That's all I want for you."

I stared at him, trying to process his words, but he wasn't done.

"I've already put so many hurdles in your path by marrying you. And I hate that." His jaw clenched for a second before he forced himself to relax. "But if nothing else, I want to make sure you're happy, Ruhi."

He exhaled sharply, like the words had taken something out of him.

"I know what it feels like to forget about yourself. To let go of your own dreams because you have to live for others. For family." His voice dipped lower, almost as if he were admitting something he hadn't said out loud before. "I'm living that life. And I don't want you to. I don't want Kiaan to. That's not the life either of you deserve."

He paused again, his hands still lightly holding mine, his gaze still averted.

I didn't know how to feel. What to feel.

How could someone like Dheer exist in the real world?

I mean... he cared. He cared about his family. He cared about his brother. And he cared about me.

And what did he get in return? Nothing.

He never asked for anything. He never demanded love or acknowledgment. He just... existed in the background, silently watching over the people he cared about.

He was selfless.

My fingers twitched slightly in his hold, but I didn't pull away. I couldn't. His words were settling over me, heavy and unfamiliar, leaving behind a strange ache in my chest.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but no words came out. What was I even supposed to say? That I understood? That I didn't? That I wanted to—but I didn't know how?

I swallowed, forcing my voice to work. "Dheer..."

At the sound of his name, his grip on my hands tightened for a fraction of a second before he finally looked up. His dark eyes met mine, searching, waiting.

"You—" I exhaled shakily, breaking eye contact. "You're saying all of this like... like you don't matter."

His brows furrowed slightly, but he didn't interrupt.

"You keep talking about what I want, what Kiaan wants, what everyone else wants. But what about you? What do you want, Dheer?"

He let out a quiet chuckle, but there was no humor in it. "I just told you, Ruhi."

"No." I shook my head. "You told me what you want for me. Not what you want for yourself."

For a second, there was silence. A stretch of stillness that made my stomach twist uncomfortably.

Then, he sighed. " I don't know how to answer that."

He ran a hand through his hair, looking away again. "It doesn't work like that for me. My life has never been about what I want. I don't know how to separate myself from my responsibilities."

The quiet honesty in his voice made my chest tighten.

I wanted to argue. Tell him he deserved more. That he should want something for himself. But then I realized—maybe he did, at some point. Maybe life had just taught him that it didn't matter.

And for some reason, that realization stung.

"That's not fair." The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Dheer smiled—small, tired. "Life isn't fair."

I shook my head again, something restless curling inside me. "No. Maybe it isn't. But that doesn't mean you have to just—just accept it. You should be able to want things, too. You want to build LUXE LEGACY it was your dream, but it is materialistic it's not an actual want. You should have something in your life that makes you happy, happy in the sense that make you want that the world would stop and you can cherish that moment. I know family matters But everyone has that one thing—the reason they keep going, the thing that makes them want to live more, to not give up.

His expression shifted, something unreadable flickering through his eyes. He didn't say anything for a moment, just watched me with an intensity that made me want to look away. But I didn't.

Finally, he exhaled. "You know what would make me happy?"

I blinked at him, my throat suddenly dry. "What?"

"When I know you—not just the parts you show to the world, but the pieces you keep hidden. When I understand the way your mind works, the fears you don't say out loud, the dreams you're too scared to chase.

 When you get panic attacks, and I don't have to guess—I just know how to hold you, how to calm you, because I understand what made you spiral in the first place."

He exhaled, his thumb absentmindedly tracing slow circles against my skin.

"The thing that makes me want to stop the world... is the thought of knowing you so deeply that silence between us speaks louder than words. When I can sit with you in the dead of night, with nothing but the sound of our breaths and the weight of our thoughts, and understand you—without either of us having to say a thing. That... that's what I want."

His words wrapped around me like something so raw, so real, that I wasn't sure how to breathe past the ache blooming in my chest.

I sucked in a breath, my heart doing something weird in my chest.

Because the way he said it—He meant it.

I stepped closer, closing the space between us. He widened his legs slightly, letting me stand between them. As he looked up at me, I cupped his face, my thumbs grazing over his cheekbones, tracing the warmth of his skin—just like he always did with me.

From this angle, he looked different. Not the composed, unreadable man the world saw, but someone quieter. Someone who, despite everything, still carried the weight of an abandoned child lost in a crowd. The part of him that never truly learned how to ask for love, yet gave it so effortlessly.

A lump formed in my throat as I pushed back a few strands of his hair from his forehead. He exhaled softly, as if the touch unraveled something deep inside him. Then, without a word, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me into his embrace, burying his face against me.

His hold was firm, grounding. I felt the way his body eased into mine, how his breath slowed, how the tension in his shoulders melted as if he had found a place to rest, to just be. My arms tightened around him instinctively.

I will give him all the happiness he deserves. I will make sure of it.

"Let's go," I murmured, my fingers threading through his hair, smoothing it back into place.

He tilted his head up, his gaze searching mine. "Where?"

A small smile tugged at my lips. "To let you meet the real Ruhanika."

AHHHHHHHH! God, I want this cute Dheer! The more I write about him, the deeper I fall for him. It's ridiculous at this point—I feel like I'm swooning over my own creation. But damn it... I don't know how I'm going to bring myself to do what I have planned for him. 😭

He literally deserve the whole damn world. 

Girls, just be honest with me—are you enjoying how the story is unfolding? If there's anything you'd like to see differently, let me know! 

I'm open to making changes because, at the end of the day, I want this to be as perfect for you as it is in my head. 💙

This chapter is crucial before we finally dive into Ruhanika's past. Also, fair warning—I'm on my period, so if anything feels overly intense or dramatic, blame it on the hormonal rollercoaster.

BYE BYE. TAKE CARE BEAUTIES