Mihir's POV

The phone buzzed, breaking my concentration.

Kabir Kashyap: "Congratulations, Mr. Raghuvanshi. Enjoy your seven months of marriage."

I stared at the message, jaw tightening. Kabir's words weren't random. He was baiting me, and the only person who would arm him with such specifics was the man standing behind him Tej Kapoor.

Before I could think further, a knock sounded at the door. My secretary stepped in, a stack of files in hand.

"Sir, these are the documents you requested. Noble Estate land case. Everything from the original acquisition to the present objections."

I took the file and dismissed him with a nod. The room was silent again as I flipped through the papers. Maps. Deeds. Objections. Counter petitions.

And then

A name.

Bold, clear, printed in black ink across one of the original ownership clauses.

Tej Kapoor.

My eyes lingered on it, sharp and suspicious. Tej Kapoor. Kabir Kashyap's invisible supporter. A man who had never once made a public appearance, never left his fingerprints on any deal and yet here he was. On Aayat's property papers.

I leaned back in my chair, the silence around me suddenly heavier. Questions began to churn.

What was Tej Kapoor's role in this land? Why was his name buried in the legal framework of Aayat's fight? And most importantly what connection did he have to her past?

Because nothing about this looked accidental.

The house was quiet when I got in. Dinner had already been prepared, but I barely touched it. My mind was on the file the secretary had brought me earlier and that taunting text from Kabir Kashyap.

Tej Kapoor.

I couldn't get the name out of my head. And now, seeing her tonight, I needed answers.

"Aayat..." I said gently, breaking the silence after she had reluctantly eaten.

She didn't look up. I took a step closer. "Who is Tej Kapoor? And how are you related to him?"

Her fork paused mid-air. She blinked, lips parting as if to speak.

"I... I... I " Her words faltered, stammered, stumbling over themselves.

Then, as quickly as the hesitation came, she snapped her face into a mask of cold composure. "I don't know him," she said flatly.

I leaned against the doorway, voice calm but firm. "His name is on your property papers, Aayat."

Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second. Disbelief flashed across her face. She swallowed, her gaze dropping to the floor as if trying to process what I just said.

"How... how is his name on my papers?" she whispered to herself, almost inaudibly.

She looked up at me, eyes sharp, lips pressed together, and then silence.

She said nothing more. Just stood there, tense, her expression unreadable.

I let the words hang in the room. Whatever this Tej Kapoor was, whatever connection he had to her, she wasn't ready to share it. Not yet.

I sat across from her, voice calm but firm. "Aayat... you sure?"

Her hands clenched in her lap. Her eyes flashed, and suddenly her voice was sharp, almost a shout. "I I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!"

The words hit the room like a slap. She stood abruptly, chest heaving, and glared at me. "Stop asking me! I don't know him. I've never known him!"

I stayed silent, letting the weight of her anger hang in the air. She sank back into her chair, face tight, jaw stiff. The room was heavy with everything unsaid.

I leaned back slightly, keeping my voice steady, even gentle. "Alright... I'm not asking to corner you, Aayat. I just need to understand."

She didn't respond. Her arms stayed crossed, her jaw tight, eyes fixed somewhere beyond me.

"I saw his name on your property papers," I said quietly, letting the words settle between us. "I need to know why."

Her hands tightened in her lap. She swallowed, but the words never came. Her silence was sharp, deliberate, protective.

Finally, I let it go for the moment. I didn't push. I couldn't. Not yet.

But I didn't look away. Not from her. Not from the truth I knew she was hiding.

The room stayed heavy with tension. The secret lingered between us, unspoken, unbroken.

I waited, listening to her breathing through the door. There was no response, no softening of her tone. After a while, I stood, quietly slipping into the bedroom.

She had already moved to the other side of the bed, curled beneath the covers, eyes closed. She didn't say a word, didn't glance at me just went to sleep, giving me the space she demanded.

I exhaled softly, stepping out of the room. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I dialed Zayran.

"Zyran," I said, voice low, "I need you to dig everything you can about Tej Kapoor. And about Aayat. How they're connected, if at all. Every detail, every paper, every scrap of information. I need it now."

"Consider it done," Zyran steady voice replied.

I ended the call and paused for a moment outside our room, letting the quiet sink in. Then, almost instinctively, I slipped back inside.

Aayat was asleep, soft and unguarded for the first time tonight. Her chest rose and fell in slow, even breaths. Her hair fanned across the pillow, and the tension in her shoulders had softened just slightly.

I sat on the edge of the bed, watching her, my thoughts wandering despite myself.

Just seven months... my subconscious whispered mockingly. Seven months, Mihir Raghuvanshi. That's all. Just seven months with her. Nothing more. Don't get carried away.

I shook my head lightly, trying to quiet it. But even as I did, I couldn't stop myself from staring, memorizing the quiet curve of her face, the stillness she rarely allowed herself.

Seven months. My mind repeated it like a mantra, but the rest of me didn't listen.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to will myself to sleep. My thoughts were restless, spinning through last night's tension, the unanswered questions, the shadow of Tej Kapoor.

Then I felt it. Her hand. Light, almost hesitant but unmistakable wrapping around my pinky finger.

I froze, heart skipping a beat. Warmth spread through my chest, and before I even realized it, my ears burned. I could feel my cheeks tightening, a blush I hadn't intended, hadn't noticed forming.

She didn't speak. She didn't move. Just held my pinky, small and quiet, yet somehow commanding the entire space between us.

I swallowed hard, looking down at the slight pressure of her fingers and trying to steady my racing thoughts. Seven months. Only seven months... my subconscious whispered, but it felt impossible to focus.

Even like this, silent and secretive, she had found a way to reach me. And somehow... I couldn't stop the warmth spreading across my face, though she didn't even see it.

I woke up first, the soft morning light spilling into the room. The quiet of the house made everything feel slower, more deliberate. I stretched and moved to the kitchen, deciding to prepare breakfast for both of us.

Pasta, simple but satisfying, simmered gently on the stove while I set the table, careful to make it just right. The smell of garlic and herbs filled the kitchen, mingling with the early morning stillness.

And then she appeared at the top of the stairs.

Aayat. In a sage green saree, her hair catching the light, the delicate folds of her saree framing her in a way that made her look almost ethereal. My breath caught before I even realized it.

Seven months... my subconscious whispered again, mocking, reminding.

"Breakfast is ready," I said, keeping my voice calm, trying not to let my thoughts show.

She shook her head slightly. "I... don't want it."

I walked closer, voice soft but insistent. "Please. Please, please, please," I repeated, almost pleading in a way I rarely allowed myself.

Her eyes met mine, a flicker of exasperation and something softer, almost reluctant. Then, finally, she nodded. "Fine."

We sat together, the quiet of the morning stretching around us. I spooned pasta onto our plates, sliding one toward her.

She took a bite, then another, finally settling into the rhythm of eating. The tension from last night still lingered between us, but the act of sharing a meal somehow softened it.

And then, almost quietly, she said, "I... I'm sorry for shouting yesterday"

"You don't have to be. You can do anything you want shout, yell, cry, even... beat me if you need to. I won't mind, Aayat." I said it before I could stop myself.

For a fraction of a second, she froze, fork midway to her mouth. Then she burst out laughing, the sound light, musical, completely unrestrained.

"Mihir... are you drunk today?" she said between laughs, shaking her head at me in disbelief.

I froze, momentarily stunned. The sound of her laughter hit me like a jolt. I had never heard her laugh like this free.

I just sat there, staring at her, completely in awe. My chest tightened, and for a moment, everything else the contracts, the seven months, the questions about Tej Kapoor faded away.

She laughed again, a little quieter this time, and I realized I hadn't even blinked. I hadn't moved. I was too captivated, too fascinated by this side of her the side no one else had ever seen.

And in that instant, I understood just how impossible it would be to treat this as "just seven months."

She finished her breakfast, still humming softly to herself, and left the table without another word, graceful and unreadable as always. I stayed seated, staring at the empty plate in front of me, my mind swirling.

How strange this... us was. One moment, she was shouting, laughing, even teasing me and the next, silent, cold, untouchable. Her moods, her emotions, everything about her... I couldn't put it into words. It was chaotic, overwhelming, and yet somehow... intoxicating.

I ran a hand over my face, letting out a quiet exhale. Seven months. My subconscious reminded me. And yet, even as I thought it, I knew it wouldn't be enough. Not when she could make me feel so many things at once anger, awe, fascination, desire all in a single laugh.

Eventually, I stood, straightening my shirt, and left the house for the office. The city was waking up around me, the usual bustle of traffic and honking filling the streets. My mind, however, remained stubbornly fixed on her.

Zyran as already waiting in my office when I arrived, papers and files spread across the table. He looked up as I entered, expression sharp and expectant.

"Mihir", he said, voice calm but precise, "I've started digging into Tej Kapoor. And Aayat. Everything we could find so far is compiled here. You'll want to see this."

I nodded. The mystery of Tej Kapoor, the strange threads connecting him to Aayat, and everything from last night to this morning all of it demanded answers.

But even now, as I sat across from Zyran, going through the files, a small, unbidden part of me still replayed her laugh, the way she had looked at me just a moment ago, and the strange, impossible pull of her presence that I couldn't shake.

Seven months. My hand closed over the papers, and I whispered to myself, almost absently: Just seven months...

And yet, deep down, I already knew that those seven months would change everything.

Zyran shuffled through the files in front of me, his expression serious but calm. "Mihir... I've found everything you asked for. And it's... complicated."

I leaned forward, fingers steepled, eyes narrowing. "Go on."

He took a deep breath. "Tej Kapoor... he's your mystery man in Aayat's life. Stepdad. And her mother Shruti Kapoor. That's her real mother. All the legal documents tie them together. Property ownership, guardianship... everything points to them being the reason Tej Kapoor's name appears on her land papers."

I felt my chest tighten. Stepdad. Mother. The pieces I hadn't even known I was missing were suddenly snapping into place.

"And... how does this all tie to the land?" I asked, voice steady but low.

Zyran pushed a few papers toward me. "Looks like Tej Kapoor had legal authority over some of her family properties after Shruti Kapoor's remarriage. That would explain why Kabir Kashyap had inside information and why Tej Kapoor's name appears on her property documents. He's been a silent force all along."

I ran a hand over my face, exhaling slowly I thought . "So... all this time, she's been fighting with a shadow of her past. Someone tied to her mother and stepfather, yet she never mentioned any of it."

I leaned back in my chair, mind racing, but my thoughts kept drifting to her the fierce, unyielding Aayat. Even knowing now the full weight of her past, the silence, the secrets, it didn't make her any less... captivating.

Seven months... just seven months, my subconscious whispered, and yet, I knew the months wouldn't matter. Because she had already taken hold of something in me I couldn't ignore.

I stared at the files, at her name written across the documents, at the web connecting Tej Kapoor and Shruti Kapoor to her life. And for the first time, I understood: this wasn't just a land battle, or a contract marriage. This was her life, tangled, complicated, and fiercely hers and I was caught right in the middle of it.

I leaned back, letting out a slow breath, but my mind was restless. "Okay... Tej Kapoor, Shruti Kapoor. Stepdad, mother. Fine. But what about her real dad?"

Zyran's expression darkened slightly, the weight of the answer heavy in the room. "Her father... he was a famous singer of his time. Incredible talent, respected, beloved. But..." He paused, flipping through one of the files. "He died in an accident. Tragic accident. According to reports, it happened during an event in Russia."

I frowned, leaning closer. "Accident?"

"Yes," Zyran said, voice low, almost solemn. "Her father was driving. The car crashed. Everyone inside... the entire family... Shruti Kapoor, Aayat and her younger brother... they were all in that car. Her father and brother didn't make it."

I let the words settle.

"And she survived," I whispered, almost to myself. "Aayat survived..."

Zayran nodded. "According to the official report. But it was brutal. Emotionally, physically... everything. That incident changed everything about her life. Her mother remarried Tej Kapoor later, and the rest... you already know."

I leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes for a moment. I thought about the woman I'd seen laughing over breakfast, the one who shouted at me, the one who held herself with fire now I understood a piece of why she was the way she was. The layers she carried weren't just ambition they were survival, grief, and strength born from loss.

Seven months... just seven months, my subconscious whispered, but now the words felt absurd. How could anyone measure connection, understanding, care or the silent pull of awe and concern in months?

I opened my eyes, staring at the files again, but my thoughts kept drifting back to her Aayat Mihir Raghuvanshi. Fierce human.

I frowned, leaning forward. "Wait... so it's not even proven whether it was an accident or murder, right?" My voice was low, almost cautious. "There's no official conclusion?"

Zyran hook his head slowly. "No, Mihir. Officially... it's an accident. But the whispers, the rumors... some people genuinely believed there was foul play. Nothing concrete, though. Just speculation."

I ran a hand through my hair, leaning forward. "Then... theoretically, there's a chance he could have survived, right? I mean... someone might have misreported it, covered it up... maybe he—"

Zyran aised a hand, stopping me. "Mihir... I don't know. I can't say. There's no evidence, no trace after the crash. The reports say he died. That's all we have. Anything else... is just hope."

I sat back, staring at the ceiling, letting the thought linger. Just a glimmer of possibility her father might still be alive.

And yet, deep down, I knew even if that were remotely true, it wouldn't undo the life she had lived since. The pain, the strength, the walls... all of it was real.

I exhaled, quiet, letting the files sit between us. Even if her father were alive somewhere, nothing could erase the layers of her past that had shaped her.

But the thought... the mere possibility... it refused to leave my mind.

I leaned back in my chair, eyes fixed on the ceiling, fingers tapping absently against the table. The weight of everything Tej Kapoor, Shruti Kapoor, the land, and now the whispers about her father pressed against me.

How do you even begin to ask someone about something that might reopen every wound they've fought to close?

Just seven months, Mihir Raghuvanshi, my subconscious whispered. Seven months of pretending, of boundaries, of control.

I exhaled slowly, leaning forward, elbows on my knees. I could go to her now, knock on her door, and try to ask. But how do you tread carefully when the person on the other side of the door is a storm wrapped in ice and fire?

I pushed myself to my feet, pacing the office slowly. Her trust wasn't something I could demand. It had to be earned, slowly, carefully, one moment at a time.

And yet... the thought of leaving her in the dark, of letting her carry all of this alone, didn't sit right.

I stopped in front of the closed door to my thoughts, staring at the image of her in my mind strong, unyielding, and utterly untouchable. Seven months, my subconscious mocked again. Just seven months, Mihir Raghuvanshi.

I let out a low chuckle, half in frustration, half in awe. Seven months. Nothing about her fit neatly into a contract. Not her strength, not her fire, not the way she could disarm me with a single laugh, a single look.

I sat back down, letting the silence settle. The files sat open in front of me, but my attention kept drifting. I needed a plan not to corner her, not to push but to understand, to protect, and maybe, to be there. Quietly. Carefully.

Because this wasn't just a contract marriage. This was her life. And somehow, impossibly, she had become my responsibility for 7 months.

Zyran's words, the files, the rumors they were all pieces of a puzzle. But Aayat herself... she was the one piece no file, no report, no investigation could fully reveal.

And that was what made her impossible. And necessary.

I exhaled slowly, heading toward the door, my mind circling back to her, to the contract, to the laugh I couldn't forget, and to the silent pull that had begun between us.

I had just reached the door of my office, coat in hand, when my phone buzzed again.

Her name lit up the screen.

My Witch.

For a second, I hesitated. She rarely called. When she did, it was either urgent or calculated. Never... casual.

I pressed accept, my voice steady. "Aayat?"

There was silence on the other end. Just her soft breath, like she hadn't decided whether to speak. I leaned against the doorframe, heart picking up pace despite myself.

Finally, she said it. Soft, unexpected, almost hesitant:

"Mihir... are you free tonight?"

The words caught me off guard. She had never asked me that before. Meetings, dinners, appearances sure, those had been obligations. But this... this sounded different.

I blinked, collecting myself. "Yes," I said carefully, my tone even. "Why?"

There was a pause. I could almost picture her, fingers fidgeting with the end of her saree, eyes avoiding the phone even though I couldn't see her.

I stared at the phone screen, her name still glowing as if it hadn't really ended. My mind replayed her words on loop.

"Mihir... I want you to meet someone."

Not dinner. Not silence. Not another fight. She wanted me to meet someone.

I lifted the phone back to my ear, almost not trusting what I had heard. "Meet... someone?" My voice was low, careful.

On the other end, her breath caught faintly before she answered. "Yes."

I frowned, pushing away from the door, pacing the length of my office. "Who?"

There was a pause. Too long. The kind that meant she was calculating, weighing every syllable before letting it fall. Finally, she said, quiet but deliberate:

"You'll know when you see them."

Something in her tone twisted in my chest. It wasn't cold, wasn't angry...it was guarded, layered with something I couldn't yet read.

"Aayat," I pressed, steady but insistent, "if you want me to meet this person, I need to know who they are."

Another silence. This time, I heard the faintest trace of a smile...or maybe it was bitterness...when she said:

"Not now. Tonight. Eight o'clock. Don't be late."

And before I could reply, the line went dead again.

I stood there, phone still in my hand, the quiet of the office pressing in around me. Zayran's words, the files, Tej Kapoor, her father's accident they all swirled together in my head, colliding with this new mystery.

She wanted me to meet someone.

Someone important enough to break her silence.

Someone tied to the truth she'd been burying.

My fists clenched at my sides, and yet... beneath the sharp edge of suspicion, there was something else. A pull. A strange, gnawing need to know not just who this person was but why she wanted me to meet them.

Seven months, my subconscious mocked again. Just seven months, Mihir Raghuvanshi.

But tonight, it felt like those seven months had just taken a turn I wasn't ready for.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

AND YES TELL ME HOW WAS THE CHAPTER??????

To be continued

Don't forget to VOTE and COMMENT.