Broken dreams, Twisted vows

Chapter 6 : Time is a religion

The glass doors of the Malhotra Group of Industries stood tall and imposing, reflecting the chaotic state of the Mumbai streets. For most, it was just a building. For Naina, it was the finish line of a marathon she had been running for three days.

She checked her watch. Her heart skipped a beat. Late. Again.

"Please, please, not today," she whispered to herself, rushing toward the elevator. She didn't have time to wait. She took the stairs, her breath coming in sharp gasps, her hair falling out of its clip. She looked like a whirlwind of desperation.

The Manager’s Cabin

Inside, the Manager was looking at his watch, his face pale. He knew the man sitting in the main cabin didn't just value time; he worshipped it.

"Sir..." the Manager started, entering the grand office where Kartik Malhotra sat.

Kartik didn't look up. His "Eagle Eyes"—those piercing, faint blue eyes—were fixed on a document. He was the definition of perfection. Sharp suit, immaculate hair, and an aura that could freeze boiling water.

"The interviews are over, Sharma," Kartik said, his voice cold and precise. "It’s 9:01 AM."

"Sir, that girl... she’s here again. Miss Naina. She has incredible talent, her portfolio is—"

"Talent is wasted without discipline," Kartik interrupted, finally looking up. Those blue eyes were like ice. "Time is my goddamn religion. If she doesn’t respect my time, she isn't worthy of my company. Tell her to leave. Permanent rejection."

The Manager sighed. He knew there was no arguing with Kartik Malhotra. When he said a time, he meant it. Not a second more, not a second less.

The Hallway

Naina reached the floor, drenched in sweat, her chest heaving. She saw the Manager walking toward her with a look of pity.

"Miss Naina, you may leave," he said firmly.

"What...? Again?!" Naina’s voice cracked. The heartbreak was visible on her face.

"Seriously, Miss Naina? You still don’t get it? This is the third day. Sir hates delays. If this job was survival for you, you would have been here at 8:00 AM."

Naina stood frozen. The world felt like it was spinning. She didn't want to tell him that her bus broke down, or that she had to finish the housework because there was no one else. To them, these were excuses. To her, this was her life.

"If only they knew..." she whispered to herself as she walked back toward the elevator, her shoulders slumped. "It’s not just a job. It’s my survival."Chapter 6: The Rhythm of the Rain

The sky over Mumbai had turned a bruised shade of purple, heavy with the promise of a downpour that usually paralyzed the city. But for Naina, the storm wasn't outside; it was raging right in her chest.

As she walked out of the towering glass monolith of the Malhotra Group of Industries, she felt smaller than she ever had. The rejection wasn't just a professional setback; it felt like a death sentence. She stood on the pavement, watching the sleek, expensive cars glide past, each one a symbol of a world she was desperate to enter but was being barred from by a man with "Eagle Eyes" and a heart made of stone.

“Talent is wasted without discipline.”

Kartik Malhotra’s words echoed in her mind, sharp and unforgiving. She looked at her trembling hands. They didn't see the broken alarm clock, the missed bus, or the three hours she spent scrubbing floors before dawn just to keep her aunt’s house running. To the world of luxury, she was just "Late."

The Walk of Despair

The first drop of rain hit her forehead, cold and sudden. Within seconds, the heavens opened up. Most people ran for cover under the awnings of shops, but Naina kept walking. She didn't have money for a cab, and her house was miles away. The rain soaked through her modest kurti, her hair plastered to her cheeks, but she didn't care. The water masked the tears she was finally letting fall.

If I don't get this job, Aditya’s mother will never stop taunting me. If I don't get this job, I am just another girl with a name and no future.

She walked aimlessly, her head bowed, her mind a whirlpool of dark thoughts. The rhythmic splashing of her footsteps against the puddles was the only sound she acknowledged. She was so lost in her grief that the world around her—the honking horns, the bright neon signs, the rushing traffic—became a blur.

The Collision

Suddenly, a blinding flash of white light cut through the gray curtain of rain.

Screeeech!

The sound of tires protesting against the wet asphalt pierced the air. Naina gasped, her heart leaping into her throat as a sleek black luxury sedan skidded to a halt just inches away from her. The splash of muddy water soaked her hem, but she stood frozen, staring at the hood of the car.

For a moment, there was silence, save for the frantic beat of the windshield wipers. Then, the driver’s side door swung open.

A man stepped out. Even through the torrential rain, his presence was undeniable. He didn't have the cold, rigid aura of Kartik Malhotra; he was different. Messy black hair, a light beard that defined a sharp jawline, and eyes that—even in anger—held a strange, golden spark.

He snapped his fingers right in front of her face, his expression a mix of shock and irritation.

“Miss, are you blind?” he yelled over the thunder.

Naina didn't blink. She just stared at him, her eyes vacant, her spirit too broken to even be frightened.

The man stepped closer, waving his hand. “Hello? Miss Whatever-Your-Name-Is? Out of the whole world, you just had to walk in front of my car? I have a Titan watch on my wrist and a schedule to keep, and you’re out here trying to become a permanent part of my bumper!”

Naina finally snapped. The three days of rejection, the rain, the humiliation—it all came boiling out.

“If I’m not talking, why are you bothering me?!” she exploded, her voice trembling with a mix of rage and exhaustion. “I stepped in front of your car, but I didn’t die, right? You’re still standing there, your car is fine, your precious watch is ticking! If it bothers you so much, you could’ve just run me over! That would’ve been better than listening to your nonsense right now!”

The man, Harsh Singhania, paused. He had expected her to apologize or scream in fear. He hadn't expected a drenched, tiny girl to challenge him with such ferocity.

“Look, madam, I don’t enjoy killing people,” he said, his tone softening slightly into a sarcastic drawl. “It’s bad for the upholstery. If you want to die, jump in front of a truck or off a bridge. Just don’t pick my car! I just got it waxed.”

“Why do you care?” she snapped, wiping the rain from her eyes with a frustrated swipe. “Are you my relative that I should share my life story with you? Move your car and let me walk.”

Harsh looked at her—really looked at her. He saw the stress lines around her eyes, the way she clutched her bag like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Beneath the anger, there was a profound, bone-deep weariness that tugged at something in his chest.

“If it were up to me,” he said softly, almost to himself, “maybe I would help you.”

Naina let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “Oh, so now you’re some kind of savior? A hero in a black car?”

The Confession in the Rain

“Look,” Harsh said, leaning against his car door, ignoring the rain soaking his expensive shirt. “I don’t know you and you don’t know me. But you look like you’ve been through a war. My brain’s already fried today. Don’t bother me, and I won’t bother you.”

Naina’s guard dropped just an inch. “My luck is already awful,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rain. “I’ve been running around for three days just trying to get a job. But that arrogant, rude, cold man at Malhotra Group... he refuses to hire me! I mean, sometimes people are late, okay? Life happens! But no... I guess he has a problem with everyone!”

She didn't know why she was telling him this. He was a stranger. But the rain made everything feel private, like they were the only two people in the world.

Harsh’s eyebrows shot up. Malhotra Group? Kartik? A small, mischievous smirk played on his lips.

“So, Mister Eagle-Eyes gave you a hard time, huh?”

Naina looked at him, confused. “You know him?”

“Know him?” Harsh laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “I’ve spent half my life trying to convince that man that the world doesn't end if a clock is two seconds off. But listen, Miss Naina—that’s your name, right? You can't stand out here and drown. There’s a café right there. Walk in, get a coffee, and maybe—just maybe—your luck is about to change.”

Naina hesitated. She looked at the warm, golden glow of the café nearby and then back at the dark, wet street.

“I don’t have—”

“It’s on the guy who almost ran you over,” Harsh interrupted, gesturing toward the door. “Consider it a 'sorry-I-didn't-kill-you' gift. Go. I'll join you in a minute after I park this beast.”

Naina watched him get back into the car. For the first time in three days, someone hadn't looked at their watch when they talked to her. She turned and walked toward the café, unaware that this chance encounter was the first thread in a web that would link her, Kartik, and the Rathores forever.

A Glimpse into the Shadows

While Naina was finding a strange savior in Harsh, miles away, Surmidhi sat by her window. The same rain was hitting her glass, but for her, it felt like a cage. She thought of the stage, the way the light felt before Aryan’s voice cut through her soul.

“Disqualified.”

She gripped her Dad's old sketchbook. She was Vikram Chauhan’s daughter—a name that meant nothing to her father, but everything to her identity. She didn't know that at that very moment, in a high-rise office, Aryan Singh Rathore was staring at her file.

He didn't know why he was obsessed. He didn't know why he had followed her to that Club. All he knew was that her face was a riddle he had to solve, even if it meant burning down both their worlds to find the answer.

"To Be Continued...