I hope you will like the chapter. Do give your comments, I love them. ❤️❤️

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INAYAT'S POV:

I layed down on the bed and closed my eyes, trying to sleep. But sleep was far away from my eyes because my mind was constantly thinking about one thing: WHO THE HELL IS THIS AYESHA. 

I had been twisting and turning on the bed for the last half hour. I just can't understand why it bothers me so much when I've explained to myself so well and so many times that I don't want to go back to Shivansh. 

Why does it hurt so much then? My mind is so messed up right now that if Shivansh were to appear in front of me, I'd beat him up badly. It's all happening because of him. Why did he have to step out of the script and say those things about the girls? 

I groaned thinking all this, grabbed a pillow, and pressed it against my face in frustration, muffling my scream into it. Just then, I heard the doorbell. Who could it be at this late hour? 

Throwing the pillow aside on the bed, I got up and went to open the door. And as soon as I opened it, seeing the person standing in front of me made my anger rise even more.

I grabbed his collar and pulled him inside, reducing the distance between us, and yelled, "What the hell are you doing here? And who is this bitch Ayesha?"

 He seemed shocked by my reaction. He brought his hands up to hold my wrists, trying to remove my hands from his collar, but I just tightened my grip and jerked him even closer.

" Aur kitne ladkiyon ke saath soye ho tum huh? . How many girls have you fucked Shivansh?

 Aur abb yeh sab kehne ke baad, dubara, mujhse pyar krte ho yeh kehne ki himmat matt karna."

(And how many girls have you slept with, huh? How many girls have you fucked, Shivansh? And after saying all this, don't you dare tell me you love me again.) 

Now he smirked at me, a teasing smirk that only fueled my anger more. 

He held my wrists tightly again, pulling them away from his collar, and again set his collar properly saying, "This is my favorite shirt. If you keep grabbing it so hard, it'll tear."

I looked at him in disbelief. Then he pushed the door closed with his leg and started coming towards me, saying, " Mein tumse pyar karta hun aur mein toh yeh  hazar baar bolunga." (I love you, and I'll say it not just once but a thousand times.)

But my mind was still stuck on that shirt line. Audacity!!!!! Look at his fucking audacity!!! He cares about his shirt and here I'm getting anxious that how many girls he fucked and had relationships withhh.

So, stepping back, I yelled again, "I'm asking you so many things, and all you care about is your shirt?"

He walked towards me again and said,  " No I dont care about shirts, I just care about this one shirt. Yeh mujhe Ayesha ne diya tha na isliye. 

Baaki aur koi shirt pehenke aau toh aap usse phadein, kholein, utar dein, phenk dein, I don't care. Because all I care about is you Ina."

(No, I don't care about shirts. I just care about this one shirt. Ayesha gave it to me, that's why. Wear any other shirt and you can tear it, rip it, take it off, throw it away—I don't care. Because all I care about is you, Ina.)

This man! This idiot man standing in front of me said that this is his favorite shirt because Ayesha gave it to him. Oh, Ayesha, huh? Just wait, Shivansh, you're in for it now.

Thinking this, I looked around to find something and finally spotted a pair of scissors on the table. I turned my back to him, picked up the scissors, and hid them in my pant pocket. 

Then I went back to him, caressed his shirt, and gave him a tight-lipped smile.

"Favorite shirt? Ayesha gave it to you?" I asked, to which he smirked and nodded. 

I nodded too, slowly placing my hands near his collar again. Then, with all my strength, I pulled his shirt apart, scattering all the buttons across the floor.

Next, I pulled the scissors out of my pocket and began cutting his shirt. Realizing what was happening, he tried to stop me, yelling for me to stop. 

But I wasn't going to stop now. I brought the scissors near his throat and said, "If you make another sound or even move, I'll shove these into your neck."

His eyes widened, but he didn't dare say anything. So, I continued my work, cutting the shirt into pieces, then pulling it off his body and throwing the remnants into the dustbin.

I was really proud of my art. I looked at him with a smirk and said, "So, Mr. Shivansh Kapoor! What were you saying? Your favorite shirt, huh?" 

I asked innocently, then continued, "Oh look!" gesturing at the shredded pieces, "It's no more."

I made a pity face, mocking him. He was speechless and stared at me blankly, but I didn't fucking care if he was hurt.

I turned back to walk away when he suddenly grabbed my wrist and yanked me towards him. I collided with his bare chest, and in an instant, I was pinned against the wall, my hands held above my head as he loomed over me. 

He leaned down, dipping his face into my neck, and inhaled sharply. A shiver ran through my body. "You fucking smell so delicious," he whispered huskily, his lips brushing my skin. 

My heart raced, my breathing turned erratic, and I felt as if I was drowning in his presence.

He moved to my ear and whispered in his deep, husky voice, "Just admit it, Inayat, you wanted to see me naked."

Heat flooded my face, and I knew I was turning crimson. Before I could respond, he sucked on my earlobe, making my heart pound and a loud gasp escape my lips. 

My eyes closed, my nails dug into his shoulders, and I felt my resolve crumbling.

He buried his head in the crook of my neck, his breath hot against my skin. His lips brushed my neck, and I bit my lip hard to stifle the sounds threatening to escape. 

It felt so wrong, so forbidden. But I won't lie—I was liking this. I wanted more of him.

"You drive me crazy, Inayat," he murmured against my skin, his voice sending shivers down my spine.

"I've slept with many women Inayat" the voice echoed in my mind.

Reality struck me like a lightning bolt. I opened my eyes and pushed him away. He stumbled back, looking confused and hurt. He opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off.

"Get out, Shivansh."

"Inayat, wait—"

"I fucking said leave," I shouted, my voice shaking with a mix of anger and something else I couldn't quite name.

He didn't move. For a moment, I was just panting, trying to calm myself down. Then he started walking slowly towards me, his eyes never leaving mine. 

He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me close again, his grip firm but gentle. He cupped my face, his gaze intense, and whispered, "Calm down, my tigress."

His fingers traced the cut on my forehead, and I winced with pain. I had left it untreated, too lost in the echo of his words, "I'VE FUCKED MANY WOMEN." 

He looked at me with a mix of concern and regret. "How is your cut? I'm sorry, baby. I pushed you too hard."

Concern? From him? Why?

"I don't need your sorry," I replied quietly, my voice trembling with suppressed anger. 

"Aur main jaan boojh kar giri aur khud ko hurt kiya. You don't have to show this fake concern.  Jaao Ayesha ke paas, usski fikar karo."

He smirked. Why the fuck is he smirking?

"You think I care about Ayesha?" he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I only care about you, Inayat."

I smiled sarcastically and then, pointing to my face, said, " Yahan pe kya chutiya likha hua hai?" (Does it say 'idiot' written here?) 

Then Shivansh looked at me shocked, as if I had said something unbelievable. He opened his mouth but could not say anything more than " Hein? Kya?", (What?) 

I then rolled my eyes at him, folded my arms over my chest, and said, "Forget that, tell me who Ayesha is and what relation do you have with her?"

He cupped my face, squishing it, making me pout. He smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief, looking so innocent that I almost forgot I was mad. Almost. 

Then he said, "Why do you care, baby? You don't love me, right? Then why do you care, Inayat?"

And then it hit me. Why is this affecting me so much? I'm not in love with him. I'm moving on, right? Then why does it hurt?

Before I can say anything he replied, "I can't tell you about her Inayat."

Oh, that's it! My last ounce of patience snapped. I was boiling with rage.

I pushed him, opened the door, and threw him out, slamming it shut in his face. Well, not exactly. It was more like a firm shove and a dramatic door slam, but still.

This man really has the audacity to test my patience.

He shouted from outside, "Ina, open the door, baby!" His "baby" was melting me down, but I would not open the door. Nope, not happening.

"Baby, at least give me something to wear. How can I go out without a shirt?"

I replied, "Go ask Ayesha!"

Shivansh knocked three or four times, but I didn't open the door.

Then he started singing, "Inaaaaayaaa-aat, please don't leave me like thiiiiis! It's breezy out here, and my abs can't handle the cold!"

I could hear him laughing, and despite myself, I started giggling. Is he insane???

"You know what, Shivansh? Maybe Ayesha will lend you a sweater!" I called back, trying to sound stern.

"Oh, come on! Ayesha's fashion sense is terrible. You know I only wear what you pick out!"

My smile vanished, replaced by a flash of anger. How dare he joke about Ayesha right now? I clenched my fists, my temper flaring up again.

Shivansh knocked again, his laughter dying down. "Ina, come on, don't be mad. Please open the door babyyyyyyyyyyyyyy"

But I didn't reply. I stomped away from the door, seething, determined not to let him off the hook this time.

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VIKRANT'S POV:

I was sitting on the couch, looking at Vidhi and Trisha. Trisha was helping Vidhi with some exercises. 

In just a week, they had become so close. Vidhi spent most of her time with Trisha, and Trisha never got irritated. 

She listened attentively to all of Vidhi's blabbering and answered every single silly question. I could see changes in Vidhi, both physically and emotionally. 

This past week, it started to feel like this was their house and I was just living in it. 

Since Trisha came, she took care of every detail of Vidhi's and indirectly mine too. 

From deciding what food to cook, who would sleep at what time, to even which oil to use in the house, she decided everything. 

She didn't let our cook do much, making food with her own hands. She said she loved cooking for Vidhi, and Vidhi also loved the food made by her. 

I must admit, I love her cooking too, and these days, Vidhi and I eat a little extra.

We were not used to so much attention, and since Trisha arrived, she has been giving us a lot of it, which is a bit new for us, but somewhere, I am liking it.

 Two days ago was my father's death anniversary, and I felt so lonely.

 Vidhi does not remember the date, and I don't want her to remember it either. I was missing my mom and dad so much.

 I needed my parents, but they were not with me, and the ones they were with, like Shivansh and Inayat, didn't value them. 

That day, I felt so depressed that I didn't even realize when I started crying. Then Trisha came and asked me what happened, but I couldn't say anything. 

Without even knowing the reason, she comforted me and hugged me.

 Being in her arms felt so peaceful. She helped me get up, made me lie down on the bed, and caressed my hair just like my mother used to whenever I was tense.

 Finally, I got a peaceful sleep after years.

The next morning, when I woke up, I thought she would behave differently or feel awkward or at least make it obvious that she had helped me, but nothing like that happened. 

She behaved very normally, like nothing had happened, which made me feel less awkward and eased my heart.

 I feel like keeping her always with me, but then I can't do that because I am a villain too, so even I don't deserve a happy ending and her being with me makes me happy.

I was thinking this when I got a call from one of my men. So I went inside my room and answered it. He asked me for what date he should book my ticket.

 I said, "Book my ticket for the day after tomorrow. I have changed my plan. We don't need to kill him anymore. 

But keep him alive and give him so much pain that dying seems easier to him. 

After I arrive, I will make sure to give them both the punishment they deserve. Until then, don't do anything."

Saying this, I ended the call, but when I turned back, the phone slipped from my hand as I saw Trisha standing there with a horrified expression.

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