Chapter 2: Silent Chase

He was following the red BMC bus like a man possessed, maintaining a careful distance, making sure no one—not even himself.

The bus meandered through the narrow lanes, dust swirling in lazy circles, horns playing an endless orchestra. Roshni sat by the window, her notebook resting on her lap. Today’s assignment: Sketch an intricate pendant inspired by nature.
Her pencil moved in soft, sure strokes, but her mind kept flickering back to the BMW — the bottle boy — and that small, unbelievable moment they had shared.

Good boy. How can you call an insanely handsome,tall, grown-up man a “good boy’,What are you even thinking Roshni.
She almost smiled thinking about it. Almost.
But she tucked her feelings away neatly —Roshni wasn't the kind of girl who daydreamed about strangers. She had goals — dreams stitched carefully together like delicate gold threads.
Her master's course in Jewelry Designing at the prestigious Sapphire Institute wasn’t just a degree — it was her promise to her late mother.
To carve a place for herself.
To create beauty.
To live quietly, yet meaningfully.

"Kya kar raha hoon main? The great Rudra jain, chutiye ki tarah 4-5 din se ek ladki ka picha kr raha he …like a Fucking hormonal teenager "
["What the hell am I doing? The great Rudra Jain, following a girl like an idiot for the past 4-5 days… like a fucking hormonal teenager."]

He gripped the steering wheel tighter…..

This wasn’t him. Rudra Jain didn’t chase. Rudra Jain commanded. Demanded. Took.

But something about this girl — about her quiet spirit, her soft disapproval, the gentle authority in her eyes — made him want to deserve her attention.

And for a man like Rudra, that was dangerous, he has dark secrets no one knew not even his father no one .

The bus slowed down near Mahalaxmi. Rudra's heart started thudding.

Will she get down?

He leaned forward, his body moving before his mind could reason.

Roshni stood up, gathering her tiffin and sling bag hurriedly.
A slight frown marred her forehead as she tried to adjust her dupatta over her shoulder.

The bus jerked again, and she stumbled.

Involuntarily, Rudra's hands lifted slightly off the steering wheel, as if he could catch her through the air, through the glass.

“Careful…” he whispered, ridiculous, because of course she couldn’t hear him.

She caught herself, smiled sheepishly at no one in particular, and moved towards the door.

The bus halted.
Roshni stepped down.

Rudra’s car crept forward like a predator stalking its prey — careful, slow, silent.

She walked down the sidewalk, clutching her books tightly, weaving through the crowd with that determined little frown.

He followed.
Block after block.

The city rushed around her — hawkers shouting, bikes squeezing through gaps, the warm smell of samosas filling the air — but Roshni moved like she always did: quietly, steadily.

She waved at her friend Meher, who was waiting near the entrance gate, laughing at something on her phone.

Roshni didn't notice the man a few feet behind her.
Not really.

Rudra stayed back, blending into the chaos. Hands in pockets. Sunglasses hiding his eyes. His car was parked a little away — he didn't care about that anymore.
He just watched.

He leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes for a second.
Feeling a strange sense of relief just knowing a little more about her, knowing where he can find her.

Naam kya hoga iska?
[What must be her name?]

His phone buzzed angrily on the dashboard, breaking his thoughts.

Mr. Jain calling…
Again.

Ignoring it, he kept his eyes glued to the gates of Sapphire Institute.

He just doesn’t care about anyone at this moment. His heart and mind are Possessed with one girl, first time in his 26 years of life he felt this madness of chasing… after a girl…

he wanted to see her…those hazel eyes…

hold her…

crush those pink lips with his rough one…

just in 5 fucking day.

 Unbelievable…

Minutes passed.
Students hurried in and out.
Roshni didn’t appear.

Maybe she would stay inside for hours.
Maybe he was crazy to be sitting here like a possessed idiot.

But he stayed.,

--------

Next Day,

Same street.
Same gate.
The same BMW parked somewhere near the gate.

 He missed her bus by 2 minutes on signal today,

 But he saw her walking inside the institute, in beige kurti-plazzo set with floral design, emerald green studs, same colour bangle on one hand and a simple watch on the other hand.

A green bindi on her forehead is a clear contrast to her Hazle eyes.

 Her neck is bare today, giving a clear view of her long slim fair neck and tempting collar bones.

Her brown hairs loosely tied in a simple band and some strands are flowing from the corner.

Her sandals, with light cream-coloured thin delicate straps compliment well with her personality.

Sweet, graceful and free,just opposite to him, dark, ruthless, dominating.

Didn’t they say opposite attracts!!!

 It did!!

Not only attracts, it possesses!

 Instead of going in the class directly, Roshni crossed the road to her favourite little tea stall — the one with peeling yellow paint and benches that creaked when you sat on them.

 She ordered her regular — adrak wali chai [Ginger tea], extra strong.

Unnoticed, a familiar shadow followed.

 Rudra, parked not far behind, noticed her movements like clockwork.

 He didn't even like tea — preferred his imported coffee brewed at 92 degrees — but without a second thought, he got out of his BMW and walked to the stall, sliding quietly into the space just a foot behind her.

 “Ek chai dena” he said, his voice cold and rude as always.

[one tea please]

He could smell the gentle mix of cardamom and steam.

But more than that, he could smell her shampoo — a subtle jasmine — the kind that lingers.

 Just as he was about to steal one more glance, she suddenly turned around.

 In that moment, time stumbled.

Her hand accidentally jerked, and the hot tea sloshed over the rim, splashing straight onto his crisp white shirt.

 “Oh my god!” she gasped,

eyes wide in horror.

 “I—I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you…”

 Rudra looked down at his now-stained shirt but the burning of skin under it felt nothing to him as if he was trained for such injuries ,

 then he looked back at her flustered face — the way her eyes darted in panic, her fingers trembling just a little, and that little frown forming again on her forehead.

 She froze for a second, when their eyes met.

 Without a word, she opened her bag in a soft flurry and pulled out a small floral handkerchief.

Her fingers moved instinctively, brushing gently against the stained fabric on his shirt, dabbing carefully, almost like she was fixing something fragile.

 Her bangles chimed gently with every movement — a sweet, glassy sound that danced between them like a song only they could hear.

 He didn’t flinch.

 Didn’t move.

 Just watched her.

 And then, without a word, he lifted his hand.

 Not to help her.

But to stop her.

Gently — just a feather-light touch over her wrist.

 Sparks! She felt it ..

 She looked up at him, startled.

 Her eyes — wide, dark, impossibly tender — met his.

 For a moment, she forgot to breathe.

 No words.

 Just a pause.

 A heartbeat.

 And he… he forgot the thousands of reasons he had told himself to stay away in the last 4-5 days.

 She lowered her gaze, cheeks burning with guilt and apologise.

 Her fingers loosened.

 The handkerchief slipped from her hand and fluttered down like a secret.

 He didn’t bend to pick it up.

 Neither did she.

he tea vendor shouted another order in the background, breaking the spell.

 Roshni clutched her bag tighter and mumbled a quick apology under her breath before hurrying away, her dupatta brushing lightly against his hand as she passed.

 Rudra stood still.

 Holding the memory of her touch.

 And a new ache in his chest he didn’t have a name for yet.

 His eyes followed her retreating figure — the soft sway of her hairs, the gentle clink of her sandals on the pavement.

 She didn’t look back.

 Rudra stood there, unmoving — tea growing cold in his hand, heartbeat still thunderous in his chest.

 Then, under his breath, barely louder than the breeze, he whispered

"Ab chhoo liya hai mujhe tumne...

sirf haathon se nahi, dil se bhi.

Ab zimmedaari tumhari hai —

is pathar ko pighlaane ki,

aur is junoon ko sambhaalne ki.

Main waqt de raha hoon tumhe,

par yaad rakhna,

jitne din bacha logi apne aapko,

utni hi gehri meri zarurat hogi.

Aur ek din...

tumhari har saans, har khushi, har aansu...

sab kuch mera hoga.

Sirf mera."

his lips moved again, barely a whisper:

"Milte rahenge hum...

chahe khamoshi mein hi kyun na ho."

He wiped a hand over his face roughly, a crooked, almost painful smile tugging at his lips — like a man who knew he was already lost... and yet, about to win the only thing that mattered.

His phone buzzed sharply against the silence.

Mr. Jain flashing on the screen — again…5 times in the last 2 hours.

The soft warmth that had briefly touched his face vanished in an instant.

His jaw tightened. His eyes grew cold, unreadable.

Sitting in his car, he swiped to answer, voice clipped, almost detached.

"What is it, Mr. Jain?"

Gone was the boy who just a moment ago had stood there, touched by something pure.
Now, he was Rudra Jain again —a rude diamond prince, carrying a thousand invisible burdens.

The voice on the other end started — questions, pressure, control.

His eyes darkened.

He roared into the phone:

"I fucking don't care!"

He wasn’t done.
Voice dropping to a dangerous, icy tone, he added:

"Don’t meddle in my business again.
It will not do you any good.

STAY. THE FUCK. OUT."

Without waiting for a response, he hung up

Meanwhile in institute Roshni rushed to girl’s washroom. She closed her eyes, trying to calm her breathing.

What just happened? Her mind raced, replaying the moments in the tea stall.

Her fingers fumbled with the hem of her dupatta, and she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

Her skin was flushed, her eyes wide, filled with an emotion she couldn’t place.

She splashed water on her face, hoping it would clear the fog in her head. The coldness of it stung, but still, her thoughts kept circling back to him.

There was something dangerous about him. Something unpredictable. And the way he had stood there, just watching, and then his eyes... so dark, so full of something she couldn’t understand.

Was it anger?

Possession?

Or something else entirely?

like he knew he could have everything in the world, but all he wanted was... her.

“And here I called him a “good boy” earlier…at that moment he looked anything but a good innocent boy…I mean Man!…

Ahh. ..Why is it so hard to ignore a stranger?

She quickly wiped her face, straightened her dupatta, and headed out of the washroom.

From that day, the signal wasn’t just a stop for Rudra—

it was a search.

A habit.

An addiction.

 Week after week, he kept seeing her.

 Outside cafes. On footpaths. Waiting at signals.

 Always in the crowd.

 Always unaware that someone was watching her with a heart that had never beaten this fast.

 And Roshni?

 She started feeling it.

That tingle.

That strange heat at the back of her neck.

That sense that someone’s eyes were following her silently.

 But whenever she turned…

nothing....

 But deep down she knows who it may be…

or she hopes it... to be him.

 But one Friday evening….