"Aaj kuch raaz khul jaane do"

~ Meher ~

Mumbai, India

The warm morning rays seeped through the gaps in the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. I stirred in my sleep, feeling the gentle warmth of the sun on my skin and the undeniable comfort of being held. My eyes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the light, and as awareness returned, I realized I was wrapped securely in Kabir's arms. 

The realization sent a rush of heat to my cheeks. The bare skin of our bodies was pressed together, moulding perfectly as though we had been made for each other. My heart fluttered as memories of last night came flooding back— the passion, the intimacy, the way Kabir had looked at me as though I were the only thing in his world. 

I glanced up at him, and my breath caught in my throat. Kabir looked impossibly serene, his features softened in the peacefulness of sleep. The intensity that usually defined him had melted away, leaving behind a calm, almost boyish innocence. His dark lashes fanned over his cheeks, his lips slightly parted as he breathed in an even rhythm. 

I couldn't help myself. My fingers reached out, trembling slightly, and I began to trace the sharp line of his jaw. My touch was featherlight as if I feared disturbing the moment. My fingertips wandered, memorizing the slope of his nose, the faint stubble on his chin, the softness of his lips. 

A smile tugged at my own lips as I leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. The intimacy of the gesture made my chest swell with warmth, and for a brief moment, I allowed myself to bask in it. 

But then, Kabir's lips moved, quirking up into the faintest of smirks, and he murmured something under his breath. My heart jumped, and I realized with a start that he was awake. 

"You know I'm awake, right?" His voice was husky, roughened by sleep, and it sent a shiver down my spine. 

I froze, my cheeks heating as I stared at him. His dark eyes fluttered open, locking onto mine with a glint of amusement that made me want to simultaneously hide and laugh. 

"Kabir!" I gasped, pulling back instinctively. 

He grinned lazily, his arms tightening around me, preventing my escape. "Caught you red-handed, Mrs. Raizada." 

"I wasn't doing anything!" I protested, my voice coming out a little too high-pitched to sound convincing. 

"Mm-hmm," he hummed, his grin widening. "You were staring at me. And touching me. And if I'm not mistaken, you kissed me too." 

My mouth opened to deny it, but no words came out. His knowing smirk made it clear that I had no escape, so instead, I huffed and tried to wiggle out of his grasp. 

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked his voice teasing but with a possessiveness that sent butterflies fluttering wildly in my stomach. 

"Kabir, let me go," I said, though my voice lacked conviction. 

"Never," he murmured, his tone softening as he shifted, flipping us so I was pinned beneath him. The movement startled a gasp out of me, and I stared up at him, my pulse racing. 

"Kabir!" I exclaimed, trying to sound annoyed, but my voice betrayed me. 

"You're not going anywhere," he said, his expression suddenly serious as he cupped my face in his hands. "Do you understand that? You're mine, Meher. Always." 

The intensity in his gaze left me speechless, and my heart swelled with an emotion I wasn't sure I could name. 

"Kabir—" I whispered, my voice barely audible. 

He leaned down, brushing his lips against my forehead in a kiss so tender it brought tears to my eyes. He kissed my cheek next, then the tip of my nose, each gesture filled with a love that spoke louder than words. 

When his lips finally found mine, the kiss was soft, unhurried, and impossibly sweet. But it didn't stay that way for long. As his hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer, the kiss deepened, growing hotter, more insistent. 

I responded instinctively, my arms wrapping around his neck as I melted into him. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and a soft sigh escaped me as his lips moved against mine with a hunger that left me breathless. 

Kabir's hands roamed over my body, his touch igniting sparks wherever it landed. I felt the tension between us build, the air growing thick with an unspoken need that neither of us could deny. 

His lips left mine to trail a path down my jawline, to the sensitive spot just below my ear. I gasped, arching into him as his hand traced lazy patterns on my bare skin. "You're everything, Meher," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. 

The words unravelled me, and I found myself clinging to him, my body responding to his touch with a desperation I couldn't hide. My hands explored the expanse of his back, memorizing every muscle, every scar, every inch of him that was now mine. 

When his lips found mine again, the kiss was deeper, fiercer, and I was lost in him, in us, in the fiery connection that had brought us together. 

We made love again, the morning sunlight bathing us in its warmth as we moved together in perfect harmony. Every kiss, every touch, every whispered word felt like a promise, a reassurance that we were each other's now, always. 

Afterwards, we lay tangled together, our breaths mingling, our hearts beating in unison. I rested my head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as his fingers trailed lazily up and down my back. 

"You know," Kabir said after a while, his voice soft and teasing, "you're even more beautiful in the morning." 

I laughed, the sound light and carefree. "You're insufferable." 

"And you're stuck with me," he replied, pressing a kiss to my temple. 

I looked up at him, my heart full to bursting. "I wouldn't have it any other way." 

Kabir's smile softened, and he leaned down to capture my lips in another kiss, this one slow and tender. It was a kiss that spoke of love, of commitment, of everything we were too scared to put into words. 

As the sunlight continued to stream into the room, I couldn't help but think that this— waking up in Kabir's arms, surrounded by what I hope was his love— was exactly where I was meant to be.

*   *   *

It was a serene Ashtami morning, the perfect blend of festive chaos and familial warmth filling the air. The golden sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft patterns on the polished marble floor. The moms were bustling about, orchestrating the preparations for the Kanjak Pooja. Their voices carried over the hum of the staff setting up trays of sweets, gifts, and decorative thalis. Soon, nine young girls representing the nine forms of the Goddess would be arriving to be worshipped, fed, and celebrated.

The dads, along with Kabir, were secluded in the study, their voices low but intense—clearly engrossed in some work-related discussion. As for me, I found myself at the breakfast table with Arya and Aryan, Kabir's twin siblings, sharing a lazy meal.

"So," Aryan said, smirking as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "What made you and Kabir stay the night?"

I nearly choked on my tea, the unexpected question sending heat rushing to my cheeks. "We... uh, we thought it would be convenient," I stammered, looking down at my plate, avoiding his gaze.

"Convenient," Aryan repeated, his tone teasing. "Sure, let's call it that."

Beneath the table, Arya's foot gently tapped against mine, and when I glanced at her, she gave me a sly smile. Her lips mouthed a single word. "Confession?"

I shook my head subtly, and Arya sighed dramatically. "Honestly, you're hopeless," she muttered just loud enough for me to hear.

"What are you two conspiring about?" Aryan asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"Nothing you need to worry about," Arya replied sweetly before turning the conversation to lighter topics.

We began chatting about our work lives. Arya, as always, was bubbling with enthusiasm about her latest collection. She described the fabrics, the intricate embroidery, and the meticulous planning that went into her designs.

"It's launching in two weeks," she said, practically glowing. "I'm nervous but so excited."

"You'll nail it," I assured her, smiling. "You always do."

"Yeah," Aryan chimed in, smirking. "You're the star child."

Arya rolled her eyes. "And you're the court jester."

The banter flowed easily, and soon they turned to me. "What about you, Meher? How's the new project going?" Arya asked.

"It's challenging but rewarding," I replied, pushing aside thoughts of last night's events. "We're working on developing a predictive algorithm to help clients streamline their decision-making for the streaming experience. It's been exciting to see it take shape."

"And completely boring," Aryan quipped, making a face. "Numbers and algorithms? I'll pass."

"You'd be surprised how fascinating data can be," I countered, laughing.

"Sure, sure. Leave the nerdy stuff to you and Bhai," Aryan teased before Arya turned the tables on him.

"And what about you, Mr. Lawyer? Any big cases?"

Aryan smirked, leaning forward. "One should never ask a lawyer about his work. The mystery is half the allure."

"Or half the trouble," Arya shot back, making us laugh.

As I sipped my tea, I couldn't help but wonder what Aryan was like beyond the family circle. He had a sharp, almost unnerving wit and a mind that seemed perfectly suited for navigating the complexities of law. A small part of me found his demeanour intriguing but also slightly unsettling.

Just as I was about to delve deeper into the conversation, my phone buzzed on the table. I glanced down, expecting a message from Kabir. But when I saw the screen, my stomach dropped.

It was from an unknown number.

My breath hitched as I unlocked the phone, my fingers trembling slightly.

It was a note from a familiar person.

It's about time Mathur, don't be so unaware of everything around you.

What the actual hell?

What the fuck did it even mean?

The cryptic message sent a shiver down my spine. My heart raced as I reread it, trying to decipher its meaning.

"What's wrong?" Arya asked, her brow furrowing in concern.

"Nothing," I replied quickly, my voice too high-pitched to be convincing. "Just a work message."

Arya didn't look convinced but let it slide, although her eyes lingered on me with curiosity.

I stared at the message again, the words swirling in my mind.

What did it mean? What am I unaware of?

And first and foremost, does that man know what I am unaware of? If they do, can't they not tell me directly?

"Meher, you sure you're okay?" Arya's voice pulled me back to the present.

I forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just some urgent work stuff."

Aryan stood, stretching lazily. "Well, if it's urgent, you should deal with it. I'll be in the study if anyone needs me."

"Off to terrorize Dad and Bhai?" Arya teased as he walked away, making him chuckle.

As soon as he was gone, Arya leaned closer. "Meher, what's really going on? You look like you've seen a ghost."

I hesitated, torn between confiding in her and keeping her out of it. "It's complicated, don't worry about it," I finally said.

Arya frowned but didn't push. Instead, she patted my hand. "Whatever it is, you'll figure it out. And if you need help, you know where to find me."

Her reassurance was comforting, but the riddle lingered in my mind, its meaning elusive yet ominous. What was the killer trying to tell me? And why now?

One thing was certain— whatever game they were playing, I had no choice but to play along.

*   *   *

The night was alive with the rhythmic beats of Dandiya music. It was the second-to-last evening of the festival, and the air buzzed with laughter, clinking glasses, and the vibrant energy of swirling ghagras. The garden of the AV Villa was lit up in a kaleidoscope of colours, fairy lights wrapped around trees, and lanterns dangling from the pergola.

Guests had poured in steadily, filling the space with a mix of casual dancers, enthusiastic players, and others who seemed more intent on using the occasion to network and expand their business ventures. I, however, felt a step removed from the festive mood tonight.

Seated at the juice counter, I swirled my blue lagoon mocktail absently, its icy coolness a stark contrast to the warm evening breeze. The tinkling of bangles and the rhythmic clash of sticks provided a symphonic backdrop to my thoughts. My eyes, almost unconsciously, sought out Kabir in the crowd.

There he was, in his element. His natural charisma was undeniable. Dressed in an elegant black kurta with intricate gold embroidery, Kabir looked every bit the gracious host. His deep voice carried over the hum of conversation as he engaged a small group of people with what I assumed was one of his sharp yet humorous anecdotes.

There was something almost magnetic about him— the way he carried himself, the way his words had everyone hooked. It was moments like these that reminded me why I'd fallen for him so completely.

As if sensing my gaze, Kabir suddenly looked over. Our eyes met for a fleeting moment before he quickly turned away, a small smile tugging at his lips. I could tell he felt caught, slightly embarrassed, yet the faint flush on his cheeks warmed something deep within me.

But I wasn't in the mood to socialize tonight, and Kabir seemed to understand that without needing to say a word. As I placed the empty glass on the counter, I decided to step away from the bustling scene and wander through the quieter corners of the garden.

The grass was soft beneath my feet as I strolled along the lantern-lit paths. Every now and then, I exchanged polite greetings with guests who passed by, but my mind remained elsewhere. The cool night air, heavy with the scent of jasmine and freshly mown grass, was a welcome respite from the warm, crowded spaces inside.

As I turned a corner, I nearly bumped into a familiar figure. Akanksha Singh Chauhan.

"Meher!" she exclaimed warmly, pulling me into a tight hug before I could even process her presence.

"Akanksha?" I gasped, stepping back to take a proper look at her. She was dressed in a stunning emerald green saree, her makeup subtle yet striking. Accompanying her was a tall, distinguished-looking man I recognized as her father, Naresh Agarwal, a prominent hotelier.

"What a surprise! I didn't know you were in Mumbai," I said, still recovering from the unexpected reunion.

"It's been ages," she replied with a laugh. "The last time we met was at your wedding in Jaipur. And as for being in Mumbai, I had some work related to our hotel chain. A few meetings that required my attention. So, I thought, why not take a couple of days off from work and make a trip out of it?"

"Work? Don't tell me you've started to completely manage the family business now," I teased, knowing full well that Akanksha's true passion lay elsewhere.

She laughed, shaking her head. "No, no, I'm still very much in my world of crime and forensics. The hotel work is just a temporary distraction."

Ah, yes. Akanksha was a forensic expert with the CBI— an unrelenting perfectionist and someone who had seen the darkest sides of human nature. Despite the grimness of her work, she always carried herself with a kind of lightheartedness that made her presence comforting.

"And how's life treating you?" I asked as we moved to a quieter corner of the garden.

"It's going well," she replied, her lips curving into a serene smile. "Busy, of course, but fulfilling. How about you? How's married life?"

"Chaotic but rewarding," I admitted, earning a laugh from her.

As the conversation flowed, my thoughts turned to something I had wanted to tell her for a while. "Akanksha," I began hesitantly, "I never got the chance to thank you properly for what you did during the New Year serial murder case. For Ruhi."

Her expression softened at the mention of Ruhi. "Meher, please, you don't have to thank me for that. Ruhi was my best friend. She meant the world to me. What I did... it wasn't out of duty. It was personal. And I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

Her voice, though calm, carried a conviction that sent a chill down my spine. For a moment, I saw a side of Akanksha that she rarely let others see— a fierce loyalty that burned brighter than any sense of obligation.

"Friendship is above everything else for me," she continued. "Even above love. And if it ever came to it, if I had to kill someone to protect my friends, I wouldn't hesitate."

The intensity in her eyes as she said those words made my breath catch. She wasn't exaggerating. Akanksha wasn't the type to say something she didn't mean.

Her words, so raw and unfiltered, stirred something within me. They reminded me of my own friends— the ones I had lost, the one who was still fighting for his life. My chest tightened as I thought of Sahil, Tara, and Abhimanyu. Their memories loomed large, yet I had done so little to bring them justice.

What was stopping me? Was it fear? Guilt? Or something deeper?

Why wasn't I doing enough?

Akanksha's unwavering commitment to her friends contrasted starkly with my own hesitations. It made me wonder what kind of friend I had been.

"Meher?" Akanksha's voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

I forced a smile, trying to mask the turmoil inside me. "Sorry, just got lost in my thoughts."

She studied me for a moment, her sharp eyes seeming to see more than I wanted her to. But she didn't press further. Instead, she reached out and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

"If you ever need anything, you know I'm just a call away," she said.

"Thank you, Akanksha," I replied, genuinely grateful.

As the night wore on, I couldn't shake the feeling that our conversation had shifted something within me. Akanksha's words echoed in my mind, her conviction urging me to confront my own fears.

And for the first time in a long while, I resolved to do more. For my friends. For justice.

For them.

*   *   *

The night was alive with the vibrant beats of dandiya music, the clash of sticks creating a rhythmic melody that seemed to pulse through the air. Kabir's hand slipped into mine as he led me to the centre of the courtyard, where a circle of dancers swirled and spun, their colourful outfits creating a kaleidoscope of motion.

"Come on, Meher," Kabir said, his eyes glinting with mischief. "You can't just stand there all night hiding away from people. You owe me at least one dance."

I rolled my eyes, though a smile tugged at my lips. "Fine, but don't blame me if I accidentally hit you with the dandiya sticks."

His laugh was rich and warm, wrapping around me like a comfort I hadn't realized I needed. He handed me a pair of sticks and took his position across from me. As the music picked up pace, we fell into the rhythm, our sticks meeting with satisfying clicks.

"You're surprisingly good at this," I remarked, slightly out of breath.

"Surprisingly? You wound me," Kabir replied, feigning offense.

Our banter drew a few amused glances from those around us, but I didn't care. In that moment, with Kabir smiling at me like I was the only person in the world, I felt a rare lightness.

As the tempo of the music slowed, Kabir stepped closer, his fingers brushing against mine as he leaned in. "You're stunning tonight, Meher," he murmured, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

Heat crept up my cheeks, and I looked away, trying to mask the fluttering in my chest. Before I could respond, a familiar voice interrupted us.

"Meher, could you come upstairs for a moment? Sorry Kabir beta, I need your wife for something," my mother called, standing at the edge of the crowd.

I sighed, stepping away from Kabir reluctantly. "Duty calls," I said with a small smile, handing him my dandiya sticks.

"I'll be waiting," he replied, his gaze lingering on me as I walked away.

The house was quieter upstairs, the distant hum of the music providing a comforting backdrop as I made my way to my room. My mother had asked me to retrieve some sort of a box from my closet, though she hadn't been quite specific about it.

Entering my room, I flipped on the light and crossed to the large walk in closet. As I entered, the familiar scent of cedarwood greeted me, mingled with a faint trace of lavender from the sachets I kept tucked inside.

Following her directions, I pulled open a drawer from the corner she had mentioned, searching for the item my mother had described. My fingers brushed against a small velvet box, and my breath hitched. I hadn't seen it in months, maybe years.

Slowly, almost reverently, I picked up the box and opened it. Nestled inside was a delicate gold heart shaped locket, its surface engraved with words.

Always and Forever, A & M.

My chest tightened as I held it in my hands, the memories it carried rushing back with a force that nearly overwhelmed me.

This locket was the last gift Abhimanyu had given me.

I clicked it open with trembling fingers, revealing the tiny photographs inside. I had never seen it after the engagement, I never dared to. One side held a picture of me, smiling brightly, my hair tousled by the wind. The other side held a photo of Abhimanyu, his grin lopsided and endearing.

The memory hit me like a wave. I could almost hear his voice, teasing and warm, as he handed me the locket that day. It had been a sunny afternoon, the sky painted in shades of gold and blue. We had just confessed our feelings for each other, and for the first time in years, I had felt truly, deeply happy.

And then, mere hours later, he was gone.

The pain of that day, of losing him so suddenly, had never really left me. I had pushed it down, buried it beneath layers of responsibility and distraction. But holding the locket now, the grief felt as raw as it had back then.

As tears welled in my eyes, the locket slipped from my hands, landing on the wooden floor with a soft click. I bent down to pick it up, and that's when I saw it.

A tiny chip, no larger than a fingernail, had fallen out of the locket.

Frowning, I picked it up, turning it over in my hands. It looked like a memory chip, the kind used in cameras or phones. My brow furrowed as I examined the locket more closely, realizing there was a hidden compartment beneath Abhimanyu's photograph.

Why would he hide something like this?

Or was it Sahil?

Curiosity and unease warred within me as I walked out of my closet to my desk, where my laptop sat. I retrieved the chip reader from the drawer, inserted the chip, and plugged it into my laptop.

The screen lit up, and a single file appeared— a photograph.

I clicked it open, and my blood ran cold.

The image was grainy, as though taken with an old camera, but its contents were unmistakable. It showed my friend Tara, sitting stiffly on a man's lap, her discomfort evident in the tension of her posture. His arm was draped around her stomach in a possessive grip, his face partially obscured by the dim lighting.

Two other men flanked him, one on each side. The man on the left had his hand on Tara's thigh, his fingers digging in with a cruelty that made my stomach churn. The man on the right had his hand on her chest, a smirk plastered across his face.

Tara's face was pale, her eyes wide with fear, but she wasn't crying. She looked frozen, her expression one of silent resignation.

But it wasn't just Tara's plight that horrified me.

It was the identities of the men.

The man with his hand on Tara's thigh was Rishabh Jaiswal, the dead self-made businessman whose polished public image masked the darkness I now saw so clearly.

The man with his hand on her chest was Utkarsh Patil, the dead and privileged son of the Chief Minister, his arrogance evident even in the way he carried himself in the photograph.

And the man holding Tara on his lap, his grip the most possessive of all, was someone I knew all too well.

Ahaan Chahal, alive and breathing.

It has been a while since I have ended chapters on a cliffhanger. I guess many of you expected it, but no one could point to the exact reason why it happened. Meher has gotten the shock of her life considering a friend in making was now turned into an enemy to the making.

What would be next? Let me know your thoughts in the comments.

Do you guys think I should make an Instagram ID for my stories?

It has been 12 days since 2025 has started. How has it been for you so far?

Please VOTE, SHARE and COMMENT. Comment a heart if you enjoyed reading this chapter.

With Love,

Akii.