The door slammed shut behind her, echoing in the silence of her lavish room. Avneet leaned back against it, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. Her perfectly composed mask... the smirk, the tilt of her chin, the gleam in her eyes... all of it dissolved the moment she was alone.

Her hands trembled.

She pressed her palms hard against the wood, nails biting into it, as if grounding herself in the solidness of the door. But her breathing only grew faster, shallow and uneven. The weight of the day, the confrontation, the humiliation disguised as her own arrogance… it all crashed down like a tidal wave.

Avneet staggered toward the bed and collapsed onto it, her body curling in on itself. Her fingers shook as she tugged at her necklace, her throat tight, every breath coming in ragged gasps. She pressed her forehead to her knees, trying to steady herself, but her chest burned, and her eyes stung.

Her heart was racing. Panic attack.

“No… no, not now,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m Avneet Kaur. I’m untouchable.”

But the words sounded hollow, meaningless, echoing in the emptiness of her room.

The image of Faisu’s eyes, wounded and betrayed, flashed in her mind. The way his voice had broken when he said he was done. The way Jannat had looked at her, sharp and final, cutting her out like a tumor. Avneet felt alone.

She clutched the silk sheets, twisting them in her fists, her breath ragged. Her chest ached, like something was being torn apart from the inside. Why do I even care? Why does it matter? Why does it feel like… like I lost something I can’t ever get back?

Her father’s voice echoed in her head, cold and commanding: You are my daughter. You don’t cry. You don’t break. You win.

And yet here she was, trembling, gasping, unable to stop the tears spilling down her cheeks. She pressed her palm to her mouth to silence the sound, but the sobs slipped through anyway, raw and jagged.

For years, she had built walls — pride, arrogance, power, charm. She was untouchable, the queen bee, the one no one could defeat. But tonight, in the suffocating quiet of her room, with her heart hammering painfully against her ribs, Avneet realized the truth:

She wasn’t untouchable. She was just… alone.

The panic resolved slowly, leaving her drained, her body heavy against the mattress. She stared at the ceiling, her eyes red, her chest hollow. The silence pressed down on her like a weight.

And then, quietly, bitterly, she whispered into the dark:

“Why does it hurt so much?”

But no one answered.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, dozens of unread messages lighting up the screen — gossip, drama, people waiting for her next move. She didn’t pick it up. She didn’t even look at it. She turned her face into the pillow, hiding even from herself.

Because in the outside world, Avneet Kaur was untouchable.
But in the solitude of her room, she was just a girl unraveling at the seams.

The silence of her room became unbearable. The walls felt like they were closing in on her, suffocating her with the weight of her own thoughts. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Faisu’s broken face, Jannat’s disgust, the whispers of the crowd, Sidd.... Her chest clenched, her throat burned, and before she could think, she grabbed her phone, her keys, and stormed out.

An hour later, Avneet sat in a bar — one of the high-end, dimly lit places where the city’s elite drowned their sins in expensive liquor. She was wearing a glittering pink dress, her hair flowing loose, her lipstick smudged from the hurried touch-up she’d done in the car.

A line of empty shot glasses in font of her. She lifted another, the tequila burning down her throat. For a fleeting second, the fire numbed her chest. Then the ache came back stronger, louder. She laughed, a hollow, bitter feeling, ordered another.

Untouchable, she reminded herself. If I keep drinking, if I keep laughing, maybe I’ll feel it again. Maybe I’ll believe it again. Maybe I just need to get laid.

Her head grew light, her body warm, but her mind spun with jagged thoughts. She saw herself mocking Faisu, calling him naive. She heard Jannat’s voice, I can’t be friends with someone like you. She saw Siddharth’s eyes — those hazel eyes filled with fire and disgust — when he spat the word raped.

Her chest tightened. She slammed another shot back.

And that’s when she saw him.

Siddharth.

He was across the room, dressed in dark formals, his hair slightly messy, a dangerous aura clinging to him that hadn’t been there before. He wasn’t here for pleasure... that much was obvious. He sat with two older men in tailored suits. The air around them screamed business, power, danger.

Avneet’s lips curved into a reckless smile. Of course. Of course he’s here.

She slid off the barstool, her heels clicking against the polished floor, the sway of her hips exaggerated by the alcohol flooding her veins. The bar blurred around her, but Siddharth was clear, sharp, glowing like a flame she couldn’t resist touching.

When she reached him, she leaned on the edge of his table, her perfume thick in the air. “Well, well… if it isn’t my baby boy,” she drooled, voice dripping with taunt. Her eyes glittered with intoxication and desperation disguised as charm.

The two suited men stiffened, looking at her with irritation. One of them leaned toward Siddharth, muttering, “Control your… distraction.”

Siddharth’s jaw tightened. He rose slowly from his chair, towering over Avneet. His hazel eyes were sharp, cold, but beneath that coldness flickered rage.

“Avneet,” he said flatly, his voice carrying the kind of authority she wasn’t used to from him. “You shouldn’t be here.”

She smirked, though her lips trembled faintly. “And you shouldn’t be so serious, baby boy. Life’s too short.” She picked up his half-finished glass of whiskey and downed it, wincing at the burn. “See? You’re always so uptight. Loosen up… with me.”

Her laugh was loud, unsteady, cracking slightly at the edges. A couple of heads turned their way. Siddharth caught her wrist before she could reach for another glass. His grip was firm, unyielding.

“You’re drunk,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Go home.”

For a split second, her smirk wavered. Her eyes softened, not vulnerable, but something close... before the armor slammed back in place. She yanked her hand free, lifting her chin.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she spat, though her words slurred faintly. “You don’t own me, Siddharth Nigam. No one does.”

But even as she said it, she felt her pulse race under his gaze. Because for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t sure if she believed her own words.

Siddharth’s grip tightened on her wrist before she could grab another drink from the table. The sharpness in his eyes wasn’t the helpless boy, this was someone harder, colder. Someone who had stopped breaking and started becoming steel.

“Enough,” he said through clenched teeth, dragging her away from the table. The two suited men watched silently, one raising a brow, the other smirking knowingly. Avneet, however, dug her heels in, stumbling slightly from the alcohol.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she hissed, her laughter forced, covering the crack of fear in her voice. “Dragging me out like some… some schoolgirl? I’m Avneet Kaur, remember? Nobody—”

He spun around, so close their faces nearly touched, his hazel eyes burning. “Nobody except you is humiliating yourself right now,” he growled. “You’re drunk. You’re making a fool out of yourself in front of men who would eat you alive. So shut up and walk.”

For the first time, the venom in his tone silenced her. Her pride screamed to lash back, to laugh in his face, to claw her way free… but her body betrayed her. She let him pull her, half stumbling, through the bar. Eyes followed them — curious, whispering, mocking. Each gaze pierced her, but she masked it with a crooked smirk, tossing her hair like she wanted this. Like she was in control.

Inside, her stomach churned.

The night air outside hit her like ice, sobering her slightly. Siddharth released her wrist at last, but the ghost of his grip lingered on her skin, hot and bruising.

“You don’t get to drag me around like that,” she snapped, her voice louder than she intended. “You don’t get to—”

“You think this is a game?” he cut in, voice low, sharp enough to slice through her words. “What if those men decided to take you up on your little performance inside? Do you even know what world you’re walking into? This isn’t college, Avneet. These aren’t kids who’ll clap when you smirk. They are predators who will tear you apart. This is blood. Power. Violence. And you almost waltzed straight into it drunk off your ass.”

Avneet laughed, loud and brittle, the sound bouncing off the damp walls. “Tear me apart?” she echoed, mocking. “Oh, baby… you are so cute... Like I am scared of that... I have been through worse”

Something in Siddharth stilled.

Avneet swayed closer, pressing her hand to his chest for balance. Her eyes, unfocused, glittered strangely in the neon spill. “You think I don’t know wolves?” she whispered, her tone shifting — lighter, softer, almost childlike. “I was fifteen when I met my first one. Fif-teen. Can you imagine? My first party, my first dress, my first glass of champagne… and he told me I was special. Told me I was mature. Told me I was… beautiful.”

Her lips trembled, and she tried to laugh, but the sound came out cracked.

“At first it felt— exciting,” she admitted, blinking rapidly, like her words were confusing even her. “Like I wasn’t just a silly little girl anymore. Like I was powerful. I liked the gifts, the attention, the way older men looked at me. I thought… I was winning.”

Siddharth’s stomach twisted, rage and nausea mixing into something black.

“But then,” Avneet went on, her voice dropping, slurring but sharp in its honesty, “one day I said no. I thought I could say no. And that’s when I learned the rules.”

Her shoulders shook. She pressed herself against the wall, staring past him into the dark. “They didn’t stop. They didn’t care. They laughed. Said I owed them. Said I belonged to them. That’s when the fun stopped. That’s when… they broke me.”

Her hand went to her throat as if remembering something physical. Her voice lowered to a hoarse whisper. “They chained me. Made me crawl. Made me beg. Tied me up until I couldn’t move, until I forgot what it felt like to be human. They called it training. Called it discipline. Said if I wanted to survive in their world, I had to learn my place.”

Her body shuddered with a sudden hiccup, and she shook her head violently as if to fling the memories away. She laughed again, too loud, too wrong. “And I learned, Siddharth. I learned! I learned to smile when it hurt, to flirt when I wanted to scream, to say yes when my soul was bleeding. I built her...” she pointed her thumb towards her ches... “Avneet Kaur. The untouchable queen. Because the little girl? The prey? She would’ve died.”

Siddharth stood frozen, his fists clenched so hard blood dripped from his palms where his nails dug in. His vision blurred with fury, his chest aching. Every word out of her mouth branded itself into him.

“And now?” Avneet said, staggering closer again, her smirk twisting like a mask slipping off. “Now I’m the one who uses before I get used. I bite before I can be bitten. I’m the wolf.”

Her eyes glittered, wild and wet, though her lips still curved in a drunken smile. “So don’t you dare tell me about dangerous men. I’ve had their collars around my neck. I’ve been their pretty little slave. And I survived. So if I wanna drink with them, dance with them, tease them? That’s my game. Not yours. Because that how I play and that's what I enjoy.”

Her voice broke on the last word, and suddenly she was swaying again, hiccupping, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand like a messy teenager. The queen bee act slotted back in place with sloppy bravado.

She winked at him, lips curved in a half-smile. “See? Untouchable.” Then she stumbled toward the street, humming a tune like she hadn’t just bared her soul in shards.

But Siddharth didn’t move. He couldn’t.

Because for the first time, the mask had finally slipped, and he’d seen the broken girl underneath... chained, humiliated, rebuilt from the ashes into the monster she now pretended to be.

And no matter how fast she staggered away, her drunken confessions echoed in his skull, louder than any gunshot he’d ever heard.