Author’s POV
Sirajpur — the land of palaces, power, and shadows hiding in plain sight. The streets bustled with vendors, the scent of street food mingling with the heat. In the middle of it, fate was preparing to collide... violently.
đź“ŤScene: Local Bazaar, Sirajpur
Avantika’s POV:
“Bhaiya, adrak zyada dena... aur dhaniya free mein dalna mat bhoolna,” Avantika adjusted her dupatta, holding grocery bags in both hands. A soft smile curved her lips despite the weight of responsibility that life had thrown her way.
But her smile didn’t last long.
“Aree aree sambhal ke...!” Someone’s shout came too late.
BANG. SCREEECH. CRASH.
A luxury black SUV had rammed straight into a vegetable stall.
Avantika gasped. “Yeh kya hai... Formula One chal rahi hai kya yahan?”
Sagar’s POV:
He stepped out, black shirt, silver chain glinting under his collar, jaw clenched — the aura of danger dressed in royalty.
“Bas... aur kya baaki reh gaya tha aaj?” He muttered, pulling his Ray-Bans down, observing the damage.
“Uncle, sach mein maafi... dimag thoda zyada kharaab hai,” he said, handing over a thick wad of notes, crouching to pick up scattered vegetables.
But then... the storm approached. In heels.
Avantika (marching straight):
“Oye Mr. Showoff! Dikhai nahi deta kya? Road pe rocket nahi chalti samjhe?”
Sagar (lifts his gaze, eyebrow raised):
“Excuse me? Tum hoti kaun ho mujhe batane wali?”
Avantika (scowling):
“Main woh hoon jo tum jaison ko sudhar sakti hai. Road pe gaadi chalani nahi aati toh cycle lo... kam se kam dukaan toh nahi todoge!”
Avantika (steps forward, chin up):
“Waise attitude mein toh bade ghoom rahe ho... par dikhte ho bilkul jaise un hero type jo bas reel mein cool hote hai... real mein khali dabba.”
Avantika (flips hair, smirking):
“Aur tum jaise bade par andhar se khokhle pehle kabhi nahi mile.”
The vendors around whispered nervously.
“Arre beta, isse mat uljho... jaanta nahi yeh kaun hai...”
“Yeh Sagar Prabhakar hai... pura Sirajpur ka Raja...”
But Avantika? Completely unfazed.
🔥 SCENE SHIFT — Sagar’s Penthouse, Later That Night
He sat on his velvet chair, swirling a glass of whiskey, city lights flashing behind him.
But his mind? Not on business. Not on guns. Not even on money.
It was stuck. On her.
Sagar (muttering to himself):
"Yeh kaunsi ladki thi... Pehli baar kisi ne mere muh pe aise baat ki hai. Na darr, na jhijhak... bilkul raw fire."
He clicked his fingers. “Aman!”
His assistant walked in. “Yes Boss?”
Sagar:
“Kya tujhe kabhi kisi ladki ne seedha muh tod jawab diya hai? Itna attitude?”
Aman (confused):
“Nahi Boss... ladkiyaan toh usually... aapko dekh ke... bas chipak jaati hain...”
Sagar let out a dry chuckle, leaning back.
"Haan... chipak jaati hai. Boring. Predictable. Annoying."
He took a sip.
"Par yeh ladki... Avantika... Bilkul alag hai. Aag hai. Na chipki... na jhuki... bas aankhon mein aankhon daal ke bolti gayi."
Aman blinked. “Boss... naam kaise pata chala?”
Sagar (grinning slowly):
"Tum mere assistant ho... ya nursery ke bacche? Naam toh abhi pata lagana baaki hai... aur lagana padega."
Aman gulped.
"Theek hai Boss... pata karwata hoon."
Sagar (leaning back, staring at the ceiling):
"Jisne mujhe challenge karne ki himmat ki... usse main aise jaane nahi doonga. Samjhi toh nahi thi... par ab samjhegi. Kismat se."
His fingers tightened around the glass, a slow smirk curling on his lips.
The hunt had begun.
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