For three days, the penthouse was a sanctuary. Reyansh was a man transformed—or rather, a man whose obsession had found a new outlet. He didn't just work from home; he curated Myra's existence. He changed her heating pads before they went cold, he hand-fed her dark chocolate during his board calls, and at night, he held her with a protective ferocity that made her forget they were supposed to be "strangers."
But on the fourth morning, the sanctuary dissolved
The moment Myra stepped into the Khurana Group headquarters, the atmosphere was electric. But it wasn't the usual tension. Groups of employees were whispering, their eyes bright with excitement.
"Did you hear?" Sarah whispered loudly as Myra walked toward her desk. "Priya saw him at the pharmacy last week. He was buying everything—pads, chocolates, even a teddy bear. Our 'Ice King' is actually a romantic!"
"I always knew he adored Shanaya," another designer sighed. "She must have been feeling under the weather, and he went out himself to take care of her. Can you imagine? A billionaire doing his own shopping for his fiancée?"
Myra froze. Every word was a serrated blade. The teddy bear currently sitting on her bed, the chocolates she had eaten—the office had packaged them all up and handed them to Shanaya as a "Proof of Love."
The elevator doors chimed, and Shanaya walked out, radiant in a white Chanel suit. She was carrying a bouquet of lilies and wearing a smug, glowing smile.
"Oh, Reyansh is just too much," Shanaya told a group of admiring staff members. "He's so private about his affection, but he really went above and beyond this weekend. He didn't even come to the office because he wanted to make sure I was 'comfortable.'"
Myra's heart shattered. She looked toward the glass office. Reyansh was standing there, watching the scene. He didn't correct them. He didn't step out and say, "No, I did those things for Myra." He simply stood there, his face returning to that familiar, cold mask of the Ice King.
To the world, he was the devoted fiancé. To Myra, he was the man who used her in the dark and denied her in the light.
The humiliation was too much. The "Stranger" and "Sex Buddy" labels weren't just words anymore; they were a cage. Myra didn't finish her shift. She waited until Reyansh was in a meeting, grabbed her bag, and walked out.
She didn't go back to the penthouse. She called the only person she had left—Anjali, a college friend who lived in a cramped, lively apartment in Bandra.
"Myra? My God, you look like a ghost," Anjali said, opening the door.
"Don't ask," Myra choked out, pushing past her. "Just give me a drink. A strong one. And then another."