Ruhanika's POV

I had decided I wouldn't talk to him. At least not for a while. I had every right to be angry—he left me at the airport without a word, like it meant nothing. So yes, I was going to let the silence do the talking. Give him space. Or maybe just let him wonder.

But his stupidity left me no choice.

First, he sent Kiaan alone to China. Not even a single word about Luv bhai or Rush bhai tagging along.
And now, he casually dropped two lakh rupees into Kiaan's account.
Two. Lakh.

Like we were going on a world tour instead of a competition.

Kiaan is twenty-two. He's responsible, yes—but he's also a college student who once thought packing instant noodles and a deodorant counts as travel prep. You don't just throw two lakh rupees at someone like that. I mean, who does that?

Dheer Rathore does. Apparently.

I had tried to keep my cool. Declined his video calls, ignored the voice call. I wanted him to know he couldn't just disappear when it matters and expect me to smile like nothing happened.

But when he called again—I picked up.

"Where in the world are you that you're so busy declining all my calls? I must have something important to say, right? Otherwise why would I dare to disturb the great Shezada's precious schedule?"
I snapped, the words tumbling out in one breath.

If he'd been standing in front of me, I swear—
Actually, no. Never mind. I'd probably just stare like an idiot again.

"Hello?"
"...Hello?"

Wait.
Did he just put me on hold?

I swear, one more second and I'd have called his mom and told her everything—how he abandoned me at the airport, how he ignored my calls, how he—

" Oh my Shezadi... calm down. Deep breath. I'm listening now, okay? I'm all ears. Please don't be angry," he said, in that maddeningly soft voice.

And just like that, the butterflies I had put to sleep months ago decided to wake up. Stretching their wings like they owned the place.

Ugh.

"You—forget it," I muttered. "Just tell me why you gave Kiaan two lakh rupees."

I pulled my scarf higher, hiding half my face as the wind picked up. It had started snowing again. Tiny flakes brushing against my cheeks like memories. The kind that stay longer than they should.

And once again, the thought crossed my mind—
How warm it might feel to just walk beside him here. No words. Just footsteps matching mine.
The kind of warmth I can't wrap around myself in this weather.

My eyes stung a little.
Probably the cold. Or the wind. Or maybe just... something else.

But I stayed quiet. I didn't want him to hear whatever was happening in my chest right now.

"Ruhi... answer me," I heard his voice over the phone.

Huh?

"Where are you? Why is it so noisy? Aren't you in the café?"
Questions. One after another. As if we were in an interrogation room instead of a phone call.

"Why do you care?" I snapped.
"You just focus on your work, Mr. Rathore. You weren't too concerned when you left me alone at the airport, right? Or when you changed your plans at the very last second and disappeared like a fucking nobody."

I didn't even realize when my voice started cracking. The sarcasm in my tone was working overtime to cover the fact that I was genuinely hurt.

"Why do you care now? I'm doing just fine, thank you very much. In fact, I'm so happy here I've decided I'm not coming back. I'll win this competition, start a new life in China, and marry my favorite Chinese actor!"

I blurted out whatever popped into my head. Apparently, heartbreak activates the nonsense section of my brain.

There was a small pause before he replied.

"Okay okay... I get it. You're happy now."
He sounded so soft it made me want to scream into a pillow.

"I am very, very happy," I snapped back like a five-year-old throwing a tantrum.

"Yes yes, Your Highness is very, very happy," he said quickly. "Now do me a favor and move from wherever you're standing. Go back to the café. It's snowing like crazy there—you'll catch a cold. And don't forget, the competition's still got four days to go."

Ugh.
He had to say that in that tone.

Oh right. That.

I jogged back inside. My fingers were freezing.

"Hmm... so where were we?" I mumbled, catching my breath. "Ah yes, I'll marry that Chinese actor-

what was his name? The one from that drama with the snow and the swords and the tragic backstory...
I was genuinely trying to remember his name when I heard it—

"Hhhss."

"Dheer?"
"Hmm."

"What happened?" I asked, alert. That didn't sound normal. That sounded like pain.

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me, I heard that sound," I said sharply. He was hiding something.

He sighed.

"Oh... that? Yeah, that was just... the sound of my heart."
"Your heart?"

"Yeah. You said you'd marry that HAU-CHAU actor, and it hissed. In pain. Felt betrayed."
His voice was all fake sadness and exaggerated sorrow.

I choked on my own laughter.

"They're not HAU-CHAU! And that's not even a name!" I said somehow controlling my laughter.

"Oh but they sound like that! 'Ni hao... mmm xie xie... wo ai ni...'—I mean, how am I supposed to compete with a guy who sounds like that while ordering noodles?"

I replayed a few lines from that drama in my head—and unfortunately, he was not wrong.
I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing.

And just like that, the crack in my voice turned into a smile.

"Hey! Don't change the topic," I snapped, grounding the conversation back to where it started.

"First, tell me why you sent Kiaan here alone—and why in the world did you transfer two lakh rupees to him? Dheer, he's just twenty-two. A college student! How could you even think that's okay? Money can mess with the most stable mind," I said, my tone sharp, anger laced under every word.

There was a pause. Then, in that calm, infuriating voice of his, he replied,
"Ruhi... it's just two lakhs.

And it's for you both. The last three days of the competition, you won't be allowed to step outside the crew's bubble. So this is your time—shop, eat, explore. That's why I sent him the money."

I bit down on my irritation.
Yes, we're privileged.
Our families have never struggled the way many do.

But even then, Mom and Dad never raised us with that 'rich kid' attitude.

Bhai manages half the Goyal empire now, but even he doesn't splurge unnecessarily—no pointless parties, no luxury for show.

And me? I don't even like owning more than I need. Overconsumption disgusts me.

So yes, I was angry. Because this wasn't just about money. It was about sense.

"Dheer... do you even know how much two lakh rupees is?" I asked, quieter this time.

My tone wasn't cold anymore. Just confused. And maybe, a little defeated.

"Ruhi," he said gently, "I know what you're worried about. And I understand.

But you're thinking of him as just a college kid. He's not.

Two lakhs is nothing to him anymore. He has seen and earned way more than that.

And I'm not talking about the pocket money."

His voice didn't have an ounce of arrogance in it—just facts, laid out plain.

Like it was the most logical thing in the world.

Like he hadn't just handed a small fortune to someone who still uses my Netflix login.

Like he didn't send kiaan here all alone he .....he came here with 3 hoodies and his protein shake. And dheer is saying that he is grown up.

"He won't misuse it. He's not reckless. His weekly income is higher than that sometimes.

From gaming, streaming, and from us—he's also our cyber security head, remember?"

My brain went blank. Weekly income? That high?

"Wait... how much does he even earn?"
I didn't realize I'd asked out loud. My heart was thumping now, like it was trying to keep up with the zeros I was already imagining.

"I don't think I should answer that," he said with a tiny chuckle. "But you could try guessing.

Start by checking his stream views. That might give you a hint."

I tried calculating something in my head, but the math gave up on me halfway.
Too many zeroes. Not enough brain cells.

"Mmm... okay. I'm hanging up now," I mumbled. My cheeks were practically glowing red. I'd been ready to deliver a full lecture on money ethics—only to find out I was scolding a self-made boy millionaire.

"Wait..." he said softly.

"Hmm?"

There was a pause.

"Uh... Ruhi, I'm sorry."

Huh?

He apologized.

"Sorry for what?"

I asked softly, my voice folding into the quiet of the cold night.

His breath caught for a moment.
Then came his answer, low and steady—

"Sorry for leaving you there.

For not being with you when you needed me the most.

I wish I could've stayed, Ruhi.
I wanted to be the one walking next to you in the snow,

listening to your silly rants, watching your eyes light up with every new thing you saw."

There was a pause—he wasn't rushing. He never rushed when it came to emotions.

"But something came up. Something I couldn't ignore.
I know it doesn't make sense now, but I need you to believe me."

And I did.
My heart may have been sulking, but deep down—I knew.
Still... knowing doesn't always quiet the ache.

"I know, Dheer.
I know you wouldn't have left without a reason.
But... I just—"

My throat tightened.

"I just wish you were here.
Everything feels heavier without you.
And I'm scared.

What if I don't win? What if I let her down?
She... she gave up her life for me, Dheer.

How do I live up to that?"

The silence that followed wasn't empty. It was full—of unsaid things, of breathless understanding.

"Ruhi...
You're carrying pain like it's your responsibility.
But it's not.

You don't owe her a victory.
You just owe her a life well-lived.
Show your heart.

Tell your story.
And let them see the girl I see—
strong, flawed, beautiful and pure by heart."

A tear slipped down my cheek, warm despite the cold.

"What if no one claps for me?"
I asked, in a soft voice.

His answer came with a smile I could feel through the line.

"Then I'll be the only one clapping.
Louder than anyone else.
And that's better, don't you think?"

I gave a small laugh, wiping my tears.

"Why would that be better?"

"Because...
all the girls in that hall will look at you,
and then at me—clapping like an idiot—and wonder what kind of emotions feels like that."

My heart stilled.
A softness spread through my chest.

"So..." he added, tone playful yet quiet, "will you change your decision?"

"Which one?" I asked, dragging my foot across the snow-covered ground, sketching mindless lines.

"The one about settling in China.
And marrying your favorite Chinese actor."

I laughed, genuinely this time, the sound bubbling up unexpectedly.

"You believed that?"

"With the way you looked in that dress?
Honestly, Ruhi... anyone would've fallen for you."

But your hair style could be better it wasn't going well with the look.

He said it so casually.

Like it was a truth, not a compliment.

And then... the question slipped out. Not planned. Not rehearsed.

"What about you?" I blurted out.

"What about me?"His voice faltered for a second.

"Did you fall for me?"
The words were quiet, almost shy.
But I meant them. I want to know I want to hear it from him.

I waited.
Eyes closed.

"What the hell?"

That's all I heard before he cut the call.

Excuse me?
What just happened?
Was that a panic reaction?

That's why That's why girls never took the first step in the relationship.

I stared at my phone like it had personally offended me.

Then, before I could even process, it started ringing again.
His name lit up the screen. I picked up.

He was breathing like he'd just run from Delhi to China.
"Ruhi... I'm sorry. But I'll compensate, okay?"

Oh.
This should be good.

"And may I know how you plan to compensate me, Mr. Rathore?"
I asked, already smiling like a complete fool, cheeks warming up even before he answered.

There was a pause.
Then he dropped it.
Smooth. Dead serious.

"With my body, my lady. Just wait."

I choked on air.

My cheeks caught fire.
My brain short-circuited.
I swear I felt the heat travel down my spine like some sinful wave.
God, why is he like this?Why so Blunt man?

Before I could respond—or recover—

FUCK YOU

he shouted—but not at me. It was in the background.
He was clearly cursing someone else.

But... my thighs decided to react anyway.
Tightened up like they'd heard something scandalous in 4K.

I blinked.
Wait.

What the hell is wrong with me?

"Dheer?" I asked, my voice a little more breathless than intended.

He came back on the line like nothing happened.

Huh yup. I'm here.

"YOU—"
I couldn't even finish.

Yes it's me," he said. He is not sounding normal.

Just imagine me shirtless, apologising with my abs Oh by the way I got baby abs the fourth pack as you wish."

Just as I said not normal.

I groaned.
Out loud.
Why did that image appear so quickly?

"I hate you."

"No you don't. You just hate that you can't unsee the visual."

Touché.

FUCK YOU," this time it was me who cursed him. How could he made me imagine all these things how will i sleep at night these pictures will....shit.

Oh baby I am dying to be fucked by you," he replied and I could literally picture that smirk and sly smile on his face.

Bastard my wife is waiting, just give it to me," it was the last thing I heard from him before the call cut from his side.

Suddenly, the snow starts feeling less chilly, the breeze seems less angry, and everything looks... beautiful.

I walk back to the café. Kiaan was nearly dozing off at the table, and a few girls were clicking his pictures while whispering and giggling among themselves.

I steady my steps, walk up to him, and gently shake his shoulder. He blinks awake—and awww—he literally looks like a cute baby.

Those girls nearly screamed. I gave them a glare sharp enough to cut glass and dragged Kiaan outside with me.

The snow hit his face, and the icy breeze made him open his mouth mid-step—

"Bhabi, let's go back to the room. The temperature keeps dropping. We'll freeze to death," he whined, wrapping his arms around himself.

But I had other plans.

"Let's take some pics first."

His sleep disappeared instantly. In a blink, he pulled a lip balm from his pocket, applied it with precision, then ran his hands through his hair—getting all set for an impromptu shoot.

And I just stood there... staring at him like a beggar outside a bakery.

Snow dusted my hair, my lips were chapped, my nose red from the cold—I looked like a 55-year-old woman wrapped in layers of coat and scarf.

Still, I took off the coat and the scarf, fixed myself up as best I could, and smiled through frozen lips. We clicked pictures. Lots and lots of pictures.

Later, I posted them on Instagram. 

Within minutes, moms and dads were in the comments:

"You'll catch a cold."
"Wear more clothes."
"Don't come crying with a fever."
"What were you even thinking?"

Thankfully, it was my other account—only for family. Because the main account... holds secrets. Secrets they're better off never seeing.

Like the kind of reels I like.

Things would be too had to explain.

Finally, I got back to my room, changed into something comfortable, and after doing my skincare, slipped into the cold bed like a tired burrito.

Just as I was about to drift into sleep, my phone rang.
Kiaan.
At midnight.

My heart leapt into my throat.
Why was he calling this late?

What if he got robbed on the way back to his room?

What if those girls followed him and kidnapped him for being too pretty?

What if he slipped on the snow and was lying somewhere unconscious?

I picked up the call, and my heart somehow found the strength to beat even faster after hearing his broken, crying voice.

"Bhabiiiii..."

"What happened?! Kiaan, why are you crying?! Are you okay? Where are you?!"

"No bhabi... I've been harassed. I've been assaulted in ways I never imagined."

I swear my soul left my body. My hands scrambled to grab my coat, feet barely in my slippers. I was about to yank the door open when—

"That photo, bhabi. The one you posted. Where we're posing and your hair's all over me—bhai saw it."

My hand froze on the doorknob.

"He sent me 25 videos about hair damage.

He said I should've covered your hair, that I was irresponsible, and bhabi... he said he'd shave my head. Bald. Like an egg."

My brain short-circuited.

"He completely ignored the one where you were yanking my hair like a psycho! He's being biased!"

I was silent.

If he had been in front of me, I would've knocked his teeth out and fed them to him with a spoon.

"You scared the life out of me, Kiaan!" I hissed, finally able to breathe again.

Then I smirked.

"Okay. Now it's my turn."

"Wait—what? No, bhabi—don't you dare—bhabiiii ."

"Just wait. Let me message Dheer that you forced me to take that pic and you were the one pulling my hair. You scared me, na? Now suffer."

Bhabi you were the one who forced me bhabiii please .... Bhabi I am still unmarried bhabii......

Before he could scream more, I cut the call, sent the message to Dheer, and smiled like a villain.

Sweet dreams, baby brother. Let's see who sleeps tonight.

Don't you guys think Kiaan needs a lawyer?

Did Dheer seems suspicious?

Next chapter will be posted after my internal exams are over which is after 25.

Complete the target if you want the chapter.

TARGET : 20 VOTES AND 1OO COMMENTS

FORGET IT AND I WILL FORGET THE STORY.