"bhagwaan jaane ye ladki ky hi krke maanegi." Her father said. (God knows what this girl will do to be satisfied.)

Author

Khyati is sitting in her room with Inaya. In the room, there are soft curtains hanging from the window side, a soft glow of sun setting down peeking out from curtains. Walls are painted white with this, there were some artwork and paintings, hanging on the walls which is made by itself khyati.

She is a versatile girl, with different skills. But there is an eerie silence in the room, there is something going on in khyati's mind.

"Khyati, come on don't be upset, you know uncle. Right?" Inaya said lightening the atmosphere. She put a finger under khyati's chin, slowly lifting her face to meet the gaze, "hey, come on."

She had just said that much when she saw Khyati's eyes welling up. "hey, stop it, why are you crying? Meri khyati itni kamzor kab se ho gyi ki kisi ki baaton pe rone lage. Hmm?" Inaya said while hugging khyati. (since When has my khyati become so fragile, that mere words now make her cry? Hmm?)

"It's not like that." Khyati said while covering her eyes with her hands. "Then what is it?" Inaya asked.

"I don't know, I mean, I'm not feeling well. It's..... It's like.... I don't know how do I explain you?" she breathes deeply before saying.

"A storm brews within me-an unshakable restlessness, a whisper of the unknown. It feels like something is about to unfold, something inevitable, beyond my grasp. You know how fierce a woman's intuition is... and mine trembles with an unspoken fear." She said shakily in hoarse voice like she's about to cry.

"Khyati... you've hypotension. Do you remember that or not? It's just because you're thinking too much about uncle's words." She said folding her arms closer to her chest.

"I guess you're right, I don't need to give f*ck about anything." She said being strong and straighten up.

____________________________

At evening, khyati's whole college group friends were doing chit chat on video call.

"Ah, mate, behold my fate-my mother has caged me within these walls since morning. She declares, "You wander far too much, and now that the home feels like chains, you shall not step out of this house." Priya said making a pout.

"Are, thank to your faith stupid girl, your mom has just caged you. But mine she wants me to meet a boy she had seen for me." Shreya said with quivering lips and sorrowful eyes.

"Enough yarr, look at my parents they didn't even informed me before calling a family for meet up." Khyati said being irritated.

"Aah, how was he? Did you like him? Did he like you? Tell me everything." Rahul said, Restlessness was evident in his voice upon hearing those words.

"aahaaann, now khyati will get marry soon, and we'll enjoy it." In teasing voice pracheen said.

"no way, I made him run" khyati said being proud.

"Ah, I knew it, but vanilla please tell me what you did to make him run away." Shreya asked in excited tone.

Hearing Shreya's words, Khyati burst into laughter, clutching her stomach as waves of mirth shook her. Her laughter echoed, unrestrained and full of joy, painting the air with pure delight.

"Hey lady, laugh late, but first tell me what you did." Shreya said making a pout.

"Areyy, okiee, listen..." khyati said while controlling her laugh.

**************************

At that time.

"sit please" Inaya said to that tubelight. "so what do you like in my khyati that made you come here to see her?" she asked.

"what's the problem in her, she looks absolutely stunning, she's smart, intelligent, and hardworking." That tubelight (maanav) says. "ohhh, so you're here just because of her these abilities." Inaya said mockingly.

Maanav ignored inaya.

"so, khyati ji, how are you." Maanav asked being cute infornt of her.

That's when those two start their drama.

Khyati tilted her neck to the left, moving it in a way that seemed as if a gear had jammed mid-motion. After every few seconds, she repeated the movement three to four times, like a clockwork mechanism caught in a loop, stuck between motion and stillness.

Maanav said being confused, "are you okay?"

To which khyati replied, "I'm fine, i...it...it...it's just a c...coonnn...condition," Khyati said, laughing like a madwoman, her voice breaking into stutters. "M...M...My neck j...jee...jerrr... jerks like this every now and then. I...I... even saw a d...dd...doc...doctor-he said it's just some issue wi...wi...th... with muscle contractions." Her laughter danced between amusement and helplessness, a strange melody of acceptance and chaos.

"Do you need some water?" maanav asked in haste.

"No... it's j...j...jus....justtt I can't talk properly. I have a con...connndition of stammering." Khyati said with a pained smile over her face.

"I don't know what do I say about this. I mean you were looked perfect in pictures." Maanav said in reluctance.

"idiot those were pictures." Inaya whispered.

"excuse me?" maanav, like he listened some words. "I said those were pictures maanav ji, pictures can't tell you everything about someone. Right?" Inaya said in flattering voice.

"Yeah, yeah, but it's ok, I don't have any problem because I like you Miss. Sharma, and I don't have any issues with this marriage." Maanav replied.

"Are yarr ye nhi manne wala aise." Khyati said to herself. (Oh man, he's not going to agree like this.)

"Actually, I want to co...cooonnn...confess something." Khyati said in her stammering voice. But Inaya stopped khyati sitting next to her on the bed putting her hand in hers. "Khyati, I'll tell him." Her voice was filled with a soothing assurance, weaving trust into every word, like a gentle promise whispered to the wind.

Inaya turned her face towards Maanav with tearful and hope filled eyes, "Actually, Maanav ji, we...we both are lesbians, and we cherish each other with a love so deep, where hearts beat as one and souls intertwine like an unbreakable melody."Inaya said in a one go.

It was like ground slipped from beneath the feet's of maanav. His mouth fell open; he was stunned by Inaya's word. But he composed himself. "you're kidding with me right." A hint of doubt, a whisper of confusion, and a strange hesitation laced his voice, like an unspoken question lingering in the air. Like what he had just heard is wrong.

"No, why do we? It's true and we really want to live with each other." Inaya said assuring him and when maanav's eyes fell on khyati, he saw a hope of refusing this proposal in her eyes.

"I don't believe you two, you're playing an act so I can just say no to this marriage, but I'm warning you.

Don't...

I want to marry her, no one can find a girl like her, with a versatile character so easily and if I'm getting one you're creating a scene. Her father told me everything about her achieving, how hard working she is. Stop this drama right now." He said being frustrated and in an angry tone.

"Oh please, stop your drama. We're serious and what were you saying 'a versatile girl', so you are just obsessed with her skills not with her. We can prove it that we love each other." Inaya mocked with such confidence that made him halter for a second.

"Then prove it." He completed.

As those words left his mouth, inaya moved her face towards khyati to made an eye contact, she held her cheeks firmly in her hands, stared in her eyes and then her lips for a second, before leaning in to kiss her lips.

She moved closer to her, hiding her own and khyati's lips with her hands in such way that maanav was only able to see their hands and their close face but not their lips.

Their lips hover, breaths mingling. Slowly, they begin to move-like a silent melody, a rhythm only they know. Their heads tilt, their lips part slightly, mimicking a kiss so convincingly that no one could doubt its truth.

Soft, delicate sounds escape their lips-gentle, teasing, playful.

It felt to Maanav as if his entire world had collapsed, and without saying a word, he left from there in haste.

Present time

"Woohooo, you're amazing, vanilla but I can't do this with a boy." Pracheen said making everyone burst into laugh. Catching their breaths.

"but vanilla, what was he by his profession?" priya asked.

"I'm not confirm, but papa told me that he's a CA by his working profession." Khyati replied immediately.

"Are you serious, khyati, being a CA is not as easy as making rice pudding." Shreya said being shocked.

"Yeahhh, that is why you're asking me for a favor. Right?" khyati said in irritated tone.

"let it be Shreya, marriage isn't so far for her. Her father won't stop until she's wed. mark my words." Pracheen said enjoying the moment.

"I. AM. NOT. GETTING. MARRY. WITH. ANYONE. And don't you dare to check my patience level." Khyati's words are pure evidence that how much she is furious right now.

"Ohk..ohk..ohkk... lady singham... calm down. I am just kidding." Her words made pracheen falter for a moment. He continued, ""But Khyati, I've noticed-you flare up at the mere mention of marriage. Tell me, is it the suitors you despise, or is it the very notion of marriage that sets your soul ablaze?"

There was an eerie silence in the room for a moment, Before khyati's words...

"Men..." she said mockingly.

"Tell me one thing... Men say they never say no to anything, but still, we- we- need permission to do anything." Pauses, exhales deeply.

"Everyone tells us to study hard, work hard, so that one day, we can get a good husband and understanding in-laws. But why? Do we study this hard only for a man? Is that it?" She laughs bitterly, shaking her head.

"Everyone says, "Get a good job so that even your in-laws will respect you." But why don't they respect us anyway? Why is respect something we have to earn, not something we are given?"

"My father... my own father... he tells me to do whatever I want after I become independent. "No one will stop you," he says. But still... still, they do." She clenches her fists, eyes welling up.

"Really? This is the independence they give me? A cage painted gold?"

"It's not about one time. No, not just once. It has happened many times in life. And it's men themselves... who force me to hate them. Their behavior made me hate them." She stops, her voice shaking.

"It was my father... my own father, who told me-warned me- that a man is an animal. That they use girls every time they get a chance. "Never trust them," he said. Never." She whispering now.

"It was my love... my so-called love... who made me feel unwanted, undesirable, not good enough. Not beautiful enough to get his attention." Her voice grows heavy with emotion.

"It was my ex... the one I gave everything to... who disrespected me. Even after I let him be my partner, he- he- insulted me."

"I respected him. His emotions. His feelings. His space. But still... still, he pointed his finger at my character. Mine." She laughs dryly, tears escaping her eyes.

"And yet, they ask me... why am I angry? Why do I question? Why do I hate?

"Maybe because... they made me this way."

"I. HATE. MEN."

"And I've shaped myself into something so rare, no one's worth dares reach me there."

______________________________

Somewhere in Bangalore...

In a nightclub

A kaleidoscope of colorful lights flickers across the dimly lit nightclub. The bass-heavy music vibrates through the air, blending with the chatter and clinking of glasses.

At the center of the club, a raised platform with a pole-dancing partition takes the spotlight. Several women move gracefully under the neon glow, their silhouettes highlighted by the pulsating lights, they were barely wearing some fabric to cover-up their body.

Around the club, various private booths are separated by tinted glass and velvet curtains, providing secluded spaces for guests. Each booth hosts different groups-some engaged in quiet conversations, others lost in indulgence.

In one of the more dimly lit partitions, away from prying eyes, a group of individuals huddle together. Their voices are hushed, their body language tense. A secret meeting is unfolding in the shadows, hidden from the revelry outside.

Suddenly, the heavy wooden door creaks open.

A towering figure steps in-six feet tall, broad shoulders, a presence that chills the air. The room stiffens. Conversations halt. Eyes lower in fear. His very existence commands silence.

He moves with slow, deliberate steps, cutting through the tension like a blade. Without a word, he sinks into the center of the plush leather sofa. The moment he sits, every other man in the room rises instinctively, as if gravity itself bends to his will.

Sweat beads on nervous foreheads. Hands tremble over half-empty glasses. A suffocating silence clings to the air-until the speaker's crackle.

A sultry beat begins, playful yet laced with irony. The opening notes of "Halkat Jawani" slither into the air, an unexpected contrast to the fear gripping the room.

Play a song Halkat jawani. (headphones are recommended)

Aajaa...aajaa...aajaa...aajaa

Aaja zaraa sarak le, gir le zara behek le

Saiyaan zaraa chalak le haae....

One of the standing men dares to speak. His voice wavers, barely above a whisper.

"S-Sir, we moved the goods with utmost caution... but somehow... the police they found out. We don't know how. I swear, sir..." he swallows hard, eyes darting, searching for mercy. "It won't happen again. Next time, there will be no mistakes."

Silence.

The towering figure says nothing. Just leans back. Eyes cold. Unreadable.

The air grows heavier. The trembling man, overcome with terror, suddenly drops to his knees. Crawling forward, he grabs the edge of the sofa-the fabric bunching under his desperate grip.

"Please, sir... Please forgive me. I swear, it won't happen again. Just one more chance... Please..." His voice cracks, raw with fear. His fingers clutch the man's polished shoes, as if begging for salvation.

The towering figure exhales-slow, controlled. Then, he lifts his head, eyes like ice, locking onto the man groveling at his feet.

"I do not tolerate carelessness in business." His words land like a death sentence.

Joban hai pyaasa to jor kre,

Aivayi ye din m bhi shor kre,

Takiya bana lapat le,

Kambal bna lapat le...

Tears brim in the man's eyes. He is on the verge of breaking, of collapsing under the weight of his own fear. "Sir, please... I beg you..."

His head bows further, now pressing against the cold leather of the man's shoe. A desperate gesture of surrender.

Then-a sharp vibration. A shrill ringtone slices through the tension. The kneeling man freezes.

He fumbles for his phone, his hands shaking as he lifts it to his ear. The screen flashes a familiar name. His breath hitches. "H-Hello? Beta... Beta?"

A panicked voice crackles through the receiver. "Papa... help me! These people...they're taking me!"

The call cuts. Silence. Just the dull hum of the club's music. The man's grip tightens around the phone, his knuckles white. His world is caving in.

The man sitting on the sofa tilts his head, watching him, amused.

"You'll see your family again... when you bring me back what's mine." His voice is smooth, deadly.

The man's breath shudders. There is no choice. Only consequence.

Aa chhoron kii niyat halaal kre aah,

Are basti mein daily bavaal kre...

Just then, a dancer enters their secluded space. Her hips sway in rhythm with the music, confidence glistening in her eyes. Without hesitation, she struts toward the seated boss, her presence daring yet inviting.

Haae chhoron kii niyat halaal kre,

Basti mein daily bavaal kre...

She lifts a leg, resting her stiletto-clad foot against his chest, her lips parting in silent mimicry of the song playing in the background. Her gaze locks onto his, smoldering, as she slides onto his lap, her movements deliberate, hypnotic.

Aankho ko kyu seke

Haatho se kar manamaani...

His hand is guided to the curve of her waist, her body arching into him. Her breath, warm against his skin, teases him closer-closer still. Their lips are inches apart, a whisper away from collision.

Then-

Cold. Unforgiving. Metal.

A chill spread across his chest, slithering like a phantom touch. The sensation is unmistakable.

The dancer's playful gaze shifts, and suddenly, the color drains from her face. Her breath hitches. Beneath her, the world tilts as she realizes the truth.

A gun.

Pressed against her skin.

A single drop of sweat glides down her temple. Her pulse roars in her ears, drowning out the music. Her once-steady breath turns erratic, betraying the fear clawing at her insides.

"How dare you even think...of coming this close to me?" His voice is ice, cutting through her like a blade.

Without warning, his hand grips her hair-tight, merciless. In one swift motion, he wrenches her away, shoving her violently to the floor.

She crashes down, her breath knocked from her lungs. The music halts. The room stills.

She lifts her head, dazed, her eyes locking onto him. But his gaze is colder than before, sharper, filled with nothing but rage.

A silence lingers... then-

BANG.

The very leg she had once rested on his chest-

Now struck. A bullet lodged deep in her thigh.

Her scream shatters through the room, piercing through the heavy air. Pain consumes her, her hands trembling as they clutch the bleeding wound. Her breath ragged, her body convulsing in agony.

The man remains unmoved.

A man steps forward, breaking the tension. "She was only sitting there...You shot her for that?"

The boss exhales, his jaw tightening. "I don't like being touched."

His voice is laced with venom, his gaze dark, unforgiving. "And above all-I despise women." His words, s

harper than the bullet fired, echo through the silence. "Rajveer Singh Singhania... Hates women."

His face finally emerges from the shadows-

A masterpiece of sharp features, strikingly handsome, the kind of beauty that could lure anyone in-only to destroy them.

To be continued....