The wind outside howled like a warning, but inside the glass-walled skyscraper, silence reigned.
Janhavi Jha sat across from AgastyaSinghania in the Singhania Industries conference room—a place meant for deals, but now it felt more like a battlefield.
Neither blinked. Neither backed down.
"I don't do partnerships built on arrogance," Janhavi said, her voice low and razor-sharp. "Especially not with men who think the world owes them loyalty."
Agastya leaned back, his fingers steepled under his chin, eyes locked on her like she was a puzzle he was dying to solve—or break. "And I don't do business with people who flinch every time they're questioned. You walked in here with that ego of yours like you own this city."
She laughed—a sound cold and bitter. "Ego? Darling, what I own can't be taken away with contracts and champagne. I don't flinch. I hunt."
A flicker of something passed through Agastya's eyes—surprise? Respect? He smirked. "Then hunt wisely, Miss Jha. Or you'll find yourself outmatched."
Their tension thickened like storm clouds, but underneath the barbed words lay something dangerous, magnetic.
Their assistants watched awkwardly from the hallway, whispering, sensing a war neither side was prepared to lose.
Just then, Janhavi's phone vibrated. One glance—and her spine stiffened.
Aarav.
Her past. Her mistake. Her living nightmare.
She swallowed the flash of fear and tucked the phone away without answering. She wouldn't give him power. Not today.
Agastya noticed.
"You look pale all of a sudden," he said, rising. "Trouble knocking, Miss Jha?"
Janhavi stood too, her expression unreadable. "Some ghosts don't stay buried."
He tilted his head, watching her carefully. "Then maybe they deserve to be exorcised."
Her eyes flickered. For a moment, just one breathless moment, she saw the truth beneath his arrogance—this man was haunted too. But then the mask returned.
"Keep your sympathy," she snapped. "I don't need it."
She turned to walk out, but Agastya called after her, voice low.
"Then don't expect mine when those ghosts drag you under."
She froze at the doorway, not turning, only clenching her fists until her nails pierced her palm. Her pendant—the tiny silver trishul—pressed against her skin like a brand. A reminder of her strength. Of her vow. She took a deep breath and walked away.
---
Later that night, she stood before her home mandir, lighting the diya. Shadows danced on the wall as she whispered a prayer to Shiva, her voice trembling but defiant.
"Mahadev, protect me from the storm I feel coming. And if you won't—make me the storm instead."
Across the city, Agastya stood alone on his penthouse balcony, a glass in his hand he hadn't touched.
"She's hiding something," he muttered to himself. "And for the first time… I want to know what."
He didn't trust her. He didn't even like her.
But something about Janhavi Jha felt like fire under his skin—and he didn't know if he wanted to put it out… or let it burn him alive.