Entangled Fates

As Ishita sat in the hospital, desperately trying to figure out how to gather the money for her brother's surgery, a flicker of hope ignited within her. "Yes, Aditya will help me," she whispered to herself, determination setting in. Rising from her chair, she made her way towards the reception area, where her best friend Aditya was on duty.

The corridor felt oppressive, dimly lit and eerily silent, until a faint voice broke through the quiet, weakly calling out, "Pani... (Water)." Ishita's curiosity piqued, she followed the sound, which led her to the door of a VIP room. Hesitating for a moment, she pushed the door open, her heart racing.

Inside, a man lay on the bed, face down, clad only in black pants. His back was bandaged, and the raw pain in his voice sent a shiver down her spine as he reached for something on the side table. "Is he trying to find the help bell?" she wondered, her instincts taking over. Making a quick decision, she stepped closer, gently addressing him, "Sir?"

She carefully helped him sit up, mindful of his injuries, and handed him the glass of water he had been searching for. The man drank greedily, as if he hadn't had a drop in ages. After he finished, Ishita placed the glass back on the table, but just as she turned to leave, a strong hand gripped her wrist, pulling her close.

In a moment of shock, she found herself face to face with him, his grip firm and unwavering as he buried his face in her cleavage. Ishita's eyes widened in disbelief; his actions felt disturbingly natural to him, yet left her feeling violated. "Let me go!" she demanded, anger lacing her voice, but he only tightened his hold, nuzzling closer.

Feeling a surge of fear and frustration, Ishita pushed against him with all her strength, disregarding his injuries. The force of her push caused him to lose his balance, pulling her down with him. As he hit the bed, a soft groan escaped his lips, but before he could react, they found themselves in a tangle—him pinning her down.

A surge of discomfort flooded Ishita as he lay atop her. Desperate to free herself, she summoned all her strength to shove him off. He rolled over, his face hitting the bed with a soft thud, allowing Ishita to scramble to her feet, her heart racing in panic.

Without a second thought, she bolted towards the door, not realizing her dupatta had become entangled on the bed. Breathless and shaken, she fled into the corridor, her mind racing with adrenaline.

As she hurried down the hallway, still rattled by the encounter, Ishita collided with someone, her balance wavering. Just before she could fall, two strong arms caught her, steadying her. Heart pounding, she instinctively covered her face with both hands, the sting of fear from the earlier incident fresh in her mind.

After a few moments, she peeked through her fingers to find a man standing before her, his gaze steady and unwavering. Embarrassed and flustered, she quickly regained her composure, stepping back without a word. Confusion clouded her mind as she rushed away, not daring to look back.

The man watched her leave, bemusement etched on his face. "Bhali aadab to zamana hi nahi rahi," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief at her hasty exit.

Inside the room, Veeraj Singh, the man in black pants, stirred upon hearing the commotion. He was a 29-year-old CEO of the VS Group, known in the underworld as Lucifer, a figure feared by many in the mafia world. Earlier that night, he had been conducting a high-stakes deal at a club when he was ambushed, leaving him with three bullets lodged in his back.

"Veeraj, you awake?" called Siddharth Shargill, his best friend and business partner, as he entered the room. He approached the bed, his tone light but underlined with concern. "I thought the painkillers would keep you out until morning."

"Barely," Veeraj muttered, still groggy from the medication. Despite his injuries, his attention drifted toward the door. "Did you see someone leave just now?" he asked, his voice gravelly.

Siddharth raised an eyebrow, confusion crossing his features. "No, I didn't see anyone," he replied, scanning the room. Then something caught his eye—a dupatta peeking out from under the pillow. He pulled it out, a smirk playing on his lips. "I think I know who you're talking about. I bumped into her in the corridor. She seemed a bit afraid. What did you do?" he teased, his tone playful.

Veeraj scowled, clearly irritated. "Don't start," he snapped, cutting off Siddharth's banter.

Before Siddharth could respond, Veeraj's phone rang. He grabbed it from the bedside table, his demeanor shifting as he answered the call. "Fix the meeting for tomorrow evening. I'm tired of this place; I want to go back to Delhi," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for negotiation before abruptly hanging up. His attention shifted back to more pressing matters, the earlier encounter already fading from his mind.