Sorry achaanak se gayab ho jane ke liye 😭🙏🏼

Nayra pushed the door open and cautiously stepped inside.

The moment she entered, she froze.

This wasn't what she had expected.

Not even close.

The entire place was enormous, almost the size of a private lounge rather than a room. The walls were painted jet black, giving the space a dark and intimidating aura. Deep red lights glowed from hidden corners, casting crimson shadows across the room. The combination of black and red made the entire place look less like a bedroom and more like a secret mafia meeting room.

For a moment, Nayra forgot how to breathe.

The room was filled with expensive leather couches, a massive glass table at the center, and screens mounted on several walls. Everything looked powerful. Dangerous.

Cold.

Very cold.

There wasn't a single soft color in sight.

No warmth.

No comfort.

No signs of the cheerful Vivan she knew.

Only darkness.

Nayra slowly walked further inside, her anklets chiming softly against the silence. Her eyes scanned every corner of the room, trying to understand why Vivan never allowed anyone inside.

Then she noticed something strange.

Despite the intimidating appearance, the room wasn't messy at all.

Everything was perfectly organized.

Every file placed neatly.

Every object arranged with precision.

As if the owner needed control over every little detail.

A faint uneasiness settled in her chest.

The more she looked around, the more she realized this room reflected a side of Vivan she had never seen before.

Not the playful man who called her "Cuhiya."

Not the man who followed her around college.

Not the man who blushed whenever she looked at him.

This room belonged to someone else.

Someone colder.

Someone who had learned to bury his emotions beneath power and control.

Someone the world knew as Vivan Raichand.

And for the first time, Nayra wondered how much of him she had truly known.

Meanwhile, Vivan's face remained completely unreadable.

No anger.

No sympathy.

No emotion at all.

The entire room stood frozen, waiting for his next decision.

Just as he was about to speak, a familiar voice interrupted the silence.

"Vivan, please..."

Everyone turned.

Nayra.

Before anyone could stop her, she hurried forward and stood directly between Vivan and the frightened family.

For the first time, a flicker of surprise appeared in the guards' eyes.

Vivan simply looked at her.

His expression didn't change.

Not even slightly.

A few seconds later, he glanced toward one of his guards.

Immediately, the guard stepped forward.

"Ma'am, please come outside. Sir will talk to you later."

But Nayra didn't move.

Instead, she looked at Vivan with disbelief.

"Mujhe aapse baat karni hai," she said firmly. "Yeh sab kya hai, Vivan?"

Her eyes drifted toward the young boy and little girl standing fearfully in the corner. The sight made her heart ache.

"Please..." she continued softly. "In bachchon ko dekhiye."

Still, Vivan remained silent.

The silence frustrated her even more.

"Main aapse baat kar rahi hoon!" Nayra exclaimed.

When she received no response, she walked straight up to him and stood directly in front of him, forcing him to look at her.

The room fell into complete silence.

Nobody had ever dared interrupt Vivan Raichand in the middle of an important meeting.

Nobody except Nayra.

For several long moments, they simply stared at each other.

One filled with determination.

The other impossible to read.

And for the first time, every person present in that room realized something—

The only person who could walk through Vivan's walls without permission...

It was Nayra.

"Move."

It was the only word Vivan spoke.

His voice was calm.

Dangerously calm.

But Nayra immediately shook her head.

"Nahi."

For a brief moment, nobody in the room dared to breathe.

Then, before she could react, Vivan grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward him in one swift motion. Nayra stumbled forward, her forehead colliding with his chest. His arm instinctively wrapped around her waist to steady her.

"Vivan—"

"Bas."

The firmness in his voice made her fall silent.

A tense silence filled the room.

In a second vivan pulled his trigger directly to the man who was stood there,

His one hand rested on nayra waist and from his Anthore hand he shoot the person next minute the person death body was on the floor

The guards immediately stepped forward, and within moments, the situation was brought under control. The middle-aged man was escorted away while the frightened woman and children were taken to safety.

Nayra's eyes widened.

Everything had happened so quickly that she barely understood it.

When she looked up, Vivan's expression remained completely unreadable.

No anger.

No satisfaction.

Nothing.

As if whatever decision he had made carried a burden only he understood.

The little girl standing in the corner was crying quietly. One of the guards gently led her and her brother outside the room.

Seeing the fear in the children's eyes, Nayra felt her heart sink.

Slowly, she stepped away from Vivan.

"What is all this?" she whispered.

For the first time, her voice trembled.

"This isn't the Vivan I know."

Vivan's jaw tightened.

But he didn't answer.

The heavy silence between them felt louder than any argument.

Nayra looked at him, trying to find the man who used to smile at her over the smallest things.

The man who once followed her around college just to see her for a few minutes.

But standing before her now was someone different.

Someone colder.

Someone carrying responsibilities and secrets she had never known about.

And for the first time, Nayra realized that while she had been fighting her own battles...

Vivan had been fighting his alone too.

Nayra's hands were trembling so badly that she could barely hold the gun. Tears burned in her eyes, yet her stubbornness refused to let her lower it. The people present in the room watched the scene in complete disbelief. No one had ever dared to point a weapon at Vivan Raichand, let alone speak to him the way Nayra was speaking now. Yet there she stood, her chest rising and falling heavily as she glared at him. "Humein jaane dijiye," she said through clenched teeth. "Hum aapke saath nahi reh payenge... aap ek gunde mawali hain." The moment those words left her mouth, several men lowered their heads to hide their smiles. Vivan, on the other hand, simply stared at her with an expression that clearly said, seriously?

"Cuhiya, yeh gun rakho aur apne kamre mein jao," he said calmly. "Baad mein baat karenge."

But Nayra shook her head immediately. "Don't call me that, Mr. Gunde Raichand!"

This time a few guards nearly choked trying not to laugh. They had seen people fear Vivan, respect Vivan, even tremble before him—but never had they seen someone argue with him while pointing a gun at his face.

Vivan closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed his forehead. "Nayra, please. Scene mat create karo."

"Hatt jaiye samne se, warna hum bandook chala denge!" she declared dramatically, though her shaking hands ruined the effect.

Instead of moving away, Vivan calmly stepped forward until he was standing right in front of her. Then, to everyone's horror, he gently pushed the barrel upward and placed it against his own head.

The entire room fell silent.

"Chaliye," he said softly. "Chala dijiye gun, Mrs. Nayra Vivan Raichand. Agar meri maut aapke haathon likhi hai, toh mujhe koi shikayat nahi."

Nayra's eyes widened. "Hum chala denge, Vivan!" she cried, more scared than angry now.

"Toh chala dijiye," he replied.

His calmness completely shattered her composure.

Her vision blurred with tears. Her fingers slipped against the cold metal. Panic rushed through her body, and before she could understand what was happening, a loud sound echoed through the room.

The gun fell from her hands.

For a second, Nayra forgot how to breathe.

Her face turned completely pale as she stared ahead in shock.

"No..." she whispered brokenly. "Humne... humne..."

Tears immediately spilled from her eyes.

Meanwhile, Vivan stood there unharmed, looking at her rather than the gun lying on the floor. The room remained silent as everyone watched Nayra break down. She sank to her knees, her entire body shaking uncontrollably.

And for the first time since she had returned, Vivan's cold expression cracked slightly.

Because in that moment, he wasn't looking at an enemy.

He was looking at the same frightened girl he had fallen in love with.

The moment the gun slipped from Nayra's trembling hands, all the strength left her body.

Her vision blurred.

The voices around her became distant echoes.

She could hear people shouting, guards rushing forward, someone picking up the gun—but none of it felt real anymore.

All she could see was Vivan.

Standing in front of her.

Safe.

Alive.

A shaky breath escaped her lips.

Relief washed over her for a brief second before the room started spinning violently around her.

"Nayra..."

She heard her name being called.

Maybe once.

Maybe twice.

She wasn't sure.

The floor beneath her feet seemed to disappear.

Her knees gave out instantly.

Before her body could hit the ground, a pair of strong arms caught her.

Vivan.

For the first time since she had returned, panic flashed across his face.

"Nayra!"

His voice echoed through the room.

The guards exchanged worried glances.

No one had heard that tone from him in months.

Vivan immediately pulled her against his chest, one hand supporting her head while the other tightened around her waist.

"Cuhiya..." he muttered, gently patting her cheek. "Nayra, aankhein kholo."

No response.

Her head rested lifelessly against his shoulder.

The sight made his jaw clench.

A few moments ago she had been arguing with him, threatening him, calling him a gunda.

And now she lay unconscious in his arms.

For the first time that day, the cold mask on Vivan's face completely disappeared.

"Doctor ko bulao. Abhi."

His voice was sharp enough to make everyone move instantly.

Within seconds, the entire room erupted into chaos.

But Vivan noticed none of it.

His attention remained fixed on the girl in his arms.

Carefully, he brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

His eyes lingered on the tear stains on her cheeks.

And despite all his anger, despite all the hurt she had caused him, one thought kept repeating in his mind—

Nothing scares me more than losing her again.

Nayra's eyes fluttered open slowly.

For a moment, everything felt blurry.

The white ceiling.

The soft mattress beneath her.

The faint scent of medicine lingering in the air.

Confusion filled her mind as she pushed herself upright and looked around. She was in her bedroom.

Two servants stood nearby, watching her with worried expressions.

Then suddenly—

Everything came rushing back.

The room.

The gun.

Vivan.

Her breathing quickened.

"Vivan!" she screamed.

The servants immediately rushed toward her.

"Ma'am, please calm down—"

But Nayra wasn't listening.

She threw the blanket aside and stumbled out of bed. Her saree was completely messed up, the pallu trailing behind her on the floor, but she didn't care.

All she cared about was finding him.

"Vivan!" she called again.

Her bare feet echoed against the marble floors as she ran through the mansion.

Every corridor.

Every staircase.

Every hall.

She searched everywhere.

The servants followed her helplessly, trying to stop her, but Nayra had already lost herself to panic.

"Vivan!"

Tears blurred her vision.

What if he was angry?

What if he refused to see her?

What if—

Her thoughts shattered when her exhausted legs finally gave up.

She collapsed onto the floor.

A sob escaped her lips.

For the first time in years, she felt truly terrified.

Not of losing herself.

But of losing him.

She sat there crying uncontrollably until she noticed a pair of polished black shoes stop directly in front of her.

Her breath caught.

She didn't need to look up.

She knew.

Slowly, trembling, she moved forward and rested her forehead against his feet.

"I..." she whispered.

But the words refused to come out.

All the apologies.

All the explanations.

All the emotions trapped inside her heart.

Nothing left her lips.

Only tears.

For a moment, silence surrounded them.

Then Vivan sighed softly.

The next second, he bent down.

Without saying a word, he slipped one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back.

And lifted her into his arms.

Nayra's fingers immediately clutched his shirt as if she were afraid he would disappear.

For

the first time since she had returned, she didn't try to hide her fear.

She buried her face against his chest and cried.

Vivan remained silent.

His jaw was tight.

His expression unreadable.

Yet despite everything, despite all the anger and hurt still lingering between them, his hold around her tightened slightly.

As if some habits could never truly be forgotten.

And for the first time in a very long time, Nayra allowed herself to feel safe.

So finally aaj to mai bahut jyada wala khush hu because aaj maine fir the second time I talk to my crush 🤭....mujhe saram aarhi hai 💞