2: First Meeting, Old Pain
Mumbai's air feels different.
A little heavy, a little sticky—like the city wants to test everyone before letting them in.
When Arjun stepped off the flight, there was no hurry in his walk. Every step was controlled, as if he wasn't walking on the ground, but over someone's ego. His face was calm, his gaze steady—but something inside him had tightened.
People call it the city of dreams.
For Arjun, it was simply a place where memories and responsibilities stand face to face.
He got into the taxi and looked out through the window. On the other side of the glass stood tall buildings—clean, shiny, and slightly ruthless. Every glass tower reminded him of a world where he was never allowed to enter.
That same world…
named Ananya.
Arjun looked away.
"Worli. Sky-High Apartments,"
he said to the taxi driver without turning his head.
"As fast as you can."
The taxi moved ahead. The city showed its speed—traffic, lights, faces—everything fast.
But inside Arjun, everything was slow.
Only one line was clear in his mind—
This contract is for my sister.
For my family.
Not for Ananya.
Soon, the taxi stopped in front of a high-end society. Security at the gate was tight. Arjun picked up his bag and walked inside without looking around. Standing in the lift, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror—the same calm face, the same controlled eyes.
Only the dark circles beneath them revealed the fatigue.
The apartment door opened.
Inside, everything was perfect—clean, expensive, and slightly cold. It felt less like a home and more like a temporary base. Arjun placed his bag to the side and walked toward the balcony. Below him, Mumbai glittered endlessly.
In this city, everything looks beautiful on the surface,
he thought.
The real truth is always hidden below.
His phone vibrated.
The message was short. Direct.
"Ananya Singhania.
Meeting in 30 minutes."
Arjun locked the screen.
His breath grew deeper.
His chest felt slightly heavy.
First meeting…
and at the same time,
old pain.
He picked up his jacket, checked his wristwatch, and moved toward the door. The stone he had placed over his heart was still there—
and he had no intention of letting it melt.
But he knew…
Some wounds don't hurt with time—
they hurt when you face them.
And Ananya…
was about to stand right in front of him.
He paused for a few seconds near the door.
Then he closed it again and turned back.
As the door shut, silence returned to the room.
The apartment was quiet—so quiet that Arjun could hear his own breathing clearly. He took off his jacket, draped it over a chair, and stood there for a moment, as if giving his mind time to settle.
Then, without looking toward the balcony, without paying any attention to the city's glow, he dropped straight to the floor.
Push-ups began—fast, continuous, almost violent.
With every movement, his breathing grew heavier.
He wanted to exhaust his body.
Because this was the only way to silence his mind.
Poverty didn't make me weak,
he told himself.
It taught me how to fight.
His arms trembled, but he didn't stop.
A familiar voice echoed in his head—
soft, filled with trust.
"Arjun, I'm proud to walk on the streets with you."
For a moment, his eyes closed.
And then that same voice changed.
Cold.
Sharp.
"You're poor, Arjun… and I come from a world where even your shadow can't reach."
His jaw tightened.
The pace of his push-ups increased.
Sweat drops began hitting the floor.
His body was burning—
but the anger inside him burned even more.
After a while, he stood up straight and walked toward the bathroom without stopping. Cold water from the shower poured over him, but his mind remained heated. The memories refused to wash away.
After showering, he put on a dark blue tailored suit. A crisp white shirt, a clean shave, and that same stone-cold expression. He looked attractive—yet there was no warmth in that appearance.
He checked his wristwatch.
Time is almost up.
Picking up his black Bullet, he took one last look at the room.
This place wasn't meant for rest.
It was just a stop.
His bike moved smoothly through Mumbai's streets. Traffic, horns, lights—everything slipped behind him. His eyes stayed straight ahead, his focus sharp.
From a distance, the Singhania Industries building stood like a fortress—tall, solid, and intimidating.
As he reached the gate, two guards stepped forward.
There was pride in their eyes.
In Arjun's—only control.
No fear.
No hesitation.
Just one clear realization—
This may be Ananya's world,
but today… I've come to step into it.
And from here,
the real story of their first meeting
was about to begin.
The guard standing near the gate scanned Arjun from head to toe. The rudeness in his voice was obvious.
"Hey! Where do you think you're going? Show your entry pass, or get out."
Arjun stopped.
He took a slow breath.
Then he spoke—his voice low, but so cold that both guards instinctively straightened up.
"Step aside.
I don't like repeating myself."
He didn't argue. He simply pulled a metallic card from his pocket and held it out slightly.
GLOBAL GUARDIAN.
The moment they saw the card, the atmosphere shifted.
The guard's face went pale. This was the same agency that protected people whose enemies were afraid to even touch them.
"S-Sorry, sir…"
the guard stammered.
"We didn't know you were from HQ. Please… the way is clear, sir."
Arjun didn't even look at them.
He walked straight inside.
The moment he stepped into the lobby, it felt as if the temperature in the air changed.
Typing stopped.
Phone calls softened.
Eyes turned toward him on their own.
A few women peeked out from their cabins.
"OMG… who is he?"
one of them whispered.
"Such a strong aura… looks like a model, but his eyes are completely ice-cold."
Another added softly,
"Look at that jawline… definitely attractive, but he doesn't look like someone who enjoys talking to anyone."
Arjun stopped in front of the receptionist.
She was about to speak, but her professional smile froze midway.
"Ananya Singhania's cabin?"
Arjun's voice was calm. Official.
"S-Sir…"
she hesitated.
"Do you have an appointment—"
"I'm her new personal bodyguard."
He placed the card in front of her.
"Please inform her."
The receptionist quickly picked up the intercom.
"Ma'am… your bodyguard has arrived… yes… okay."
Then she looked back at Arjun.
"10th floor. Last cabin, sir."
The sound of his heavy boots echoed through the corridor.
With every step, his control became more evident.
He stopped outside the cabin.
For a moment.
It was as if he locked all the memories running through his mind into a sealed chest and turned the key.
Then he gently pushed the door open.
The cabin was large.
Beyond the glass walls, all of Mumbai looked like a toy city.
Ananya sat in her chair, going through files.
She didn't look up.
"You are late."
Her tone was professional.
"I told you to report in the morning, and you've arrived in the afternoon.
Anyway… it's your first day. Name?"
Arjun stood there.
Like a rock.
His gaze went to Ananya's face.
There was exhaustion.
Lack of sleep was clearly visible.
"Arjun,"
his voice echoed.
"Arjun Ahirwar."
A second passed.
Then—
the pen slipped from her hand and fell to the floor.
Ananya looked up.
In front of her stood the same face…
the one she had rejected years ago by calling him "poor."
Her eyes widened.
Fear, shock, guilt—all at once.
As if her past had suddenly come to stand before her, demanding answers.
Arjun bent down.
Calmly picked up the pen.
And without saying a word, placed it back on the table.
"Arjun…"
her voice trembled.
"You… here?"
"Ma'am,"
Arjun's voice was emotionless.
"I came to report that I've arrived in Mumbai.
I am your bodyguard, not your past.
My duty begins tomorrow morning.
That's all for today."
He turned to leave.
"Arjun…"
there were tears in Ananya's eyes.
"How are you? Where were you all these years?"
Arjun's steps paused.
He didn't turn back.
"Ma'am,"
he said in a professional tone,
"as per agency rules, discussing personal matters with the client is not allowed.
It would be better if you ask only those questions that involve your profit.
We'll meet tomorrow morning."
The door closed.
Outside, Arjun walked straight to his bike.
He gripped the handle tightly.
His knuckles turned white.
The phone rang.
"Brooding hero!"
Ronny laughed.
"Meeting done? Is everything smooth?"
"The work is done,"
Arjun's voice was cold.
"Don't talk nonsense. I need to prepare a report."
"Why is it so cold?"
Ronny said.
"Madam will think she hired a bodyguard or some Ice-Age rock.
And anyway… It's a fifty-lakh deal. Try to look happy!"
"Ronny,"
Arjun said,
"Just because fate brought us together doesn't mean we've reunited.
For me, this is just a contract."
The call ended.
Inside the cabin, Ananya collapsed into her chair.
A strong business CEO…
but inside, the same old, frightened Ananya.
She covered her face with her hands.
And began to cry.
Today, more than her illness,
what terrified her were
Arjun's cold eyes.
Will Arjun really allow his past to remain just the past?
Or will this first meeting deepen old wounds even further?
VEINS OF DESIRE
The story is about to get even more dangerous…