The Fire Between Us
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Late Night – Ruhan's Penthouse, Mumbai
Ruhan sat alone in the dark.
The ring still rested in its open box, untouched.
Aaradhya's voice echoed in his mind.
> "I need to believe that loving you won't come with more lies."
He closed the box slowly, jaw clenched.
Trust—he had earned it in wars, from men who would slit a throat for loyalty.
But from her?
He had broken it before it ever fully bloomed.
He walked to the liquor shelf but didn't pour a drink. Instead, he picked up his phone.
One dial. One connection.
"Devraj," he said. "She knows."
On the other end, silence. Then Devraj's measured voice.
"She was always going to find out. You just hoped it wouldn't be from Shraddha."
Ruhan exhaled through his nose. "What do I do now?"
Devraj's words were quiet but brutal.
"You either earn her forgiveness—or lose her forever."
---
Rathore Estate – Library Hall
Aaradhya paced before the ancient shelves. The silence around her buzzed with thoughts she couldn't sort.
Shraddha's voice still echoed in her head like venom.
> "Do you think a man like that didn't make sacrifices to protect you?"
Zoya entered, hair tied up, laptop under her arm.
"I found something."
Aaradhya turned sharply. "About?"
"The files Shraddha claimed were destroyed. Ruhan didn't burn all of them. He made a backup."
Aaradhya stilled.
"Where?"
Zoya placed the laptop on the oak desk, pulled up an encrypted folder.
"It's geo-locked. Needs retina or voice match."
Aaradhya leaned in. "Whose?"
Zoya hesitated. "Yours."
Aaradhya blinked. "He locked it... for me?"
Zoya nodded. "He destroyed the hard copies. Not the truth."
Tears pricked her eyes. Her heart was a battleground—fury on one end, hope on the other.
Zoya touched her shoulder.
"Maybe he lied to protect you. But he didn't erase you."
---
Next Morning – Rathore Training Grounds
Ruhan stood at the edge of the private arena. Shirtless. Bare feet. Sweat slicking his chest. Blade in hand.
He wasn't training.
He was punishing himself.
Every slash of the blade into the wooden post was for every moment he failed her.
Aaradhya stepped into the ring.
He froze.
She wore black joggers, tank top, her hair in a tight braid.
Her voice was steel.
"Spar with me."
He blinked.
"What?"
"You want to fix this? Prove you're worth the fight."
He didn't argue.
They circled each other, blades drawn.
The clang of steel was sharper than words. Their movements fast—fluid—violent.
This wasn't practice.
It was reckoning.
He blocked a blow aimed at his ribs, spun, landed a tap on her shoulder.
She retaliated with a kick, knocking him back.
Breathless, he looked at her.
"I didn't destroy your past. I hid it because it was still dangerous. Half those allies weren't allies. They were vultures."
Her eyes blazed. "And you think I needed protection?"
"No," he said. "I thought you deserved choice."
She swung again—he ducked.
"And yet you took that away too."
He stepped into her space, blade locked with hers.
"I was scared. Not of your power—but of how much I'd lose if you hated me."
Their blades dropped. Their chests heaved.
Silence.
Then she said quietly—
"I don't hate you."
His breath caught.
"But I don't trust you. Not yet."
He stepped back.
"I'll wait. Until you do."
---
Evening – Rathore Estate War Room
Devraj looked over the blueprint on the digital table.
Aaradhya entered, hair damp from a shower, posture sharp.
"What's our next move?"
He didn't look up.
"You're already moving."
She raised an eyebrow.
"We're giving you full operations authority over the Jaipur branch. You'll also represent Rathore interests at the Global Trade Syndicate Summit next month."
She stared. "You're handing me the entire Jaipur operation?"
Devraj finally looked at her.
"No. You're earning it. This isn't a gift. It's recognition."
She took a deep breath. The weight of legacy settled on her shoulders—this time, chosen.
"I'll clean it up. Make it something new."
Devraj smiled faintly. "Good. We need a leader. Not a shadow."
---
Meanwhile – Shraddha's Secret Compound, Morocco
The desert wind howled.
Inside a rust-colored fortress, masked figures moved in silence.
A woman stood at the center—long black coat, scars trailing down one side of her face.
Her name: Samira Dastan. Former assassin. Now warlord.
She eyed the courier's letter—sealed with a gold tiger.
A threat.
From the Rathores.
She crushed the letter.
"I want eyes in Jaipur. The heir has risen. It's time we remind them who the desert really belongs to."
---
Midnight – Aaradhya's Quarters
She lay on her bed, the ceiling fan spinning above, Zoya snoring softly on the couch.
Her phone buzzed.
Ruhan: I won't ask for forgiveness tonight. Just… listen.
A file attached.
Curious, she opened it.
It was a video.
A grainy feed of her—six years old—being rescued by a young Ruhan and a masked agent. Her face was bruised. Her arm broken.
The agent pulled her close. Whispered something.
Zoya, in the background, cried.
Aaradhya pressed pause.
The audio was faint—but she heard it.
> "One day, you'll forget this cage. You'll wear crowns. I promise you, little flame."
Her throat tightened.
Ruhan had known her before she even remembered herself.
He didn't just protect her. He watched her become who she was meant to be.
---
Next Day – Jaipur Rathore Office
Aaradhya arrived in an all-white ensemble—sharp lines, power dripping from every step.
Her staff straightened at attention.
Inside her office: clean walls, old portraits removed, replaced by plans—solar initiatives, education pipelines, decriminalization programs for syndicate escapees.
Ruhan entered, cautious.
"I just came to drop this."
He placed a box on her desk.
She opened it.
Inside: a blueprint for a center called Agni Foundation. A haven for children rescued from trafficking and training programs.
Her lips parted.
"You named it Agni?"
He nodded. "Fire starts with you."
She looked up.
He looked scared—for the first time.
"I still don't trust you," she whispered.
"I'll rebuild that trust," he said. "Not with words. With legacy."
She nodded once.
And for the first time, didn't ask him to leave.
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