Rahul's jaw clenched so tightly it felt as if he were trying to crush a diamond, his gaze locked on the blurred cityscape outside the sleek car window. The cacophony of New Delhi buzzed like an angry swarm of bees, but all he could hear was the echo of Sana's frantic call. Her voice had shattered through the haze of his day, dripping with fury at Piya's audacious rejection of the lucrative contract, accusing him of neglecting the very lifeblood of her company. The thought of Piya's denial set off a tempest of emotions within him—hurt, betrayal, and an insatiable urge to confront her head-on.

The car glided through the vibrant streets, neon lights whizzing past like colourful shooting stars, while Rahul's anger bubbled just beneath the surface. He stole a glance at his watch—time slipping away faster than a thief in the night—as the driver wrestled with the GPS, the map blinking like a confused firefly. Each minute stretched out painfully, his frustration building like a pressure cooker on the verge of explosion. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing at the flickering light that struggled to break free from the dilapidated shed ahead.

As the car finally pulled to a stop, Rahul's gaze roamed over the crumbling walls and tattered posters that flapped like wounded flags in the steady breeze of the deserted vegetable market. The stark contrast between his polished corporate life and Piya's shabby existence only deepened the storm brewing inside him. The haunting silence of the abandoned stalls magnified his sense of solitude, and the reality of Piya's struggles crashed over him like a wave of bitter truth.

The driver left the car to look for the office leaving Rahul alone. When the driver finally returned, his exasperation hit a boiling point. "Just show me where it is!" he snapped, urgency drenching his voice. The driver quietly led him through the maze of forgotten alleyways, each turn edging Rahul closer to a clash he knew was inevitable.

As they approached the shed, Rahul's heart began to drum a frantic beat against his ribs. The peeling paint clung desperately to the crooked frame, and the structure wobbled slightly in the gentle evening wind, like an old man trying to find his balance after a few too many drinks. This ramshackle horror was the place Piya and Tara dared to call an office; any sane person would have called it a disaster zone. He gestured for the driver to wait outside. He seldom lost his temper and did not desire an audience.

He reached the slightly ajar door and paused, drawn in by the warm glow of light spilling from within. Shadows frolicked across the worn interiors, illuminating the cramped quarters that stifled Piya's potential like a dark cloud suffocating a sunny day.

The door swung open, and there stood Piya, her wide eyes a mix of surprise and apprehension that felt like an electric shock in the air.

Without wasting a second, Rahul stormed inside, urgency spilling from his lips. "Why did you turn down the contract, Piya?" he demanded, frustration boiling over like a pot left too long on the stove. "Do you even grasp what this could mean for your fledging business? For your future? For Tara and her baby?"

Piya's eyes flickered with defiance and trepidation as she stood her ground like a tree against a storm.

Rahul's frustration ignited further at her silence. "Not a good fit?" he scoffed, hands clenching into white-knuckled fists. "Piya, this was the golden ticket! Sana is livid, and now she's starting to doubt me because of your stubbornness!"

Piya remained an immovable statue, her gaze unwavering as if daring him to push further.

"How can you turn down a chance to expand your company, to finally have the resources you need? You silly girl!" he spat, the words slipping out sharper than intended.

At the term "silly girl," Piya winced slightly, but she held her ground, immovable as a mountain in the face of an earthquake.

"You're living in a _shed_," he exclaimed, gesturing wildly around the cramped chaos, his voice rising like a siren. "Any man or stray bull could knock this place down with a swift kick! How can you be content with this?"

Piya's silence only ignited his fury further, and he closed the distance, eyes boring into hers with a fierce intensity. "Why can't you just speak up and tell me what's really going on? Is toiling away for a decent living really worse than sleeping in a cow shed?"

Piya's eyes widened, and she instinctively recoiled, her back colliding with the ancient electric stove, the sizzle of her dinner forgotten. Scalding liquid spilled over her, and she cried out, her shawl igniting like a match to kindling.

In an instant, Rahul reacted, shedding his jacket to smother the flames that greedily licked at her. The sound of Piya's anguished cries sliced through the air, drawing the driver's gaze and the attention of market-goers, rushing in like a brigade of firefighters to douse the disaster.

Rahul gathered Piya in his arms, cradling her as he dashed out to the car. She moaned and whimpered, eyes squeezed shut, wracked with pain. As the car raced through the labyrinthine streets, Piya's cries filled the air like a mournful song. Rahul held her close, heart thundering with guilt, dread, and an overwhelming instinct to shield her from the storm raging around them.

As they sped away, a sinking realization settled in his gut like an anchor dragging him into the depths. "Piya, you can't speak!"