CHAPTER FIVE
1023 Words
The hum of the AC barely drowned out the buzz in Jared’s head. He sat at his desk, fingers interlaced, elbows pressed into the cold glass. The skyline of Deira glittered behind him—clean, pristine, powerful.
But his mind hadn’t left that night.
The girl. Her eyes.
Jared leaned back and rubbed his temples. “You’re losing it,” he muttered.
He tried to forget. God, he tried. He tried to drown her image in whiskey, in paperwork, in the shallow laughter of boardroom meetings.
But her voice still haunted him.
I’m not Layla.
That single sentence had shattered something in him.
She had trembled. Not like Layla. Layla was fire. This girl… she was all broken glass and soft eyes. And yet, when he’d held her—his heart had responded in the same way. Wild. Desperate. And Protective.
He picked up his glass of scotch and then set it down again.
“No,” he whispered, standing suddenly.
He couldn’t stop seeing her face the moment he’d let her go. The way her tears had soaked the collar of her thin dress. How she didn’t scream. Didn’t slap him. Just stood there, like she had no fight left.
Jared slammed his fist against the edge of his desk. The glass trembled but didn’t break.
He should forget her.
“Sir?”
Jared blinked and looked up. Naomi, his assistant, stood at the door with a tablet. “You asked me to remind you about the board meeting in twenty minutes.”
He gave a curt nod. “Cancel it.”
Naomi’s brows rose just slightly. “Sir?”
“I said cancel it.”
Naomi didn’t argue. She knew better. “Yes, Mr. Mehra.”
When the door shut again, Jared exhaled heavily and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.
He had to see her again.
This wasn’t his world. He had built his empire with clean lines and hard rules—he didn’t get involved with women locked in brothels, women tangled in shadows he didn’t understand.
But damn it, he had seen her. Not just her body, or the way she flinched under his drunken hands that night. He had seen her soul.
And it haunted him.
---
His car pulled into the hidden alleyway. The brothel’s heavy gate loomed ahead, going unnoticed as always. He stepped out, sunglasses shielding his bloodshot eyes, and approached the gate.
The guard who recognized him immediately gave a smug nod.
“Back already?” he said, smirking.
Jared said nothing.
The man opened the gate with a buzz. Inside, the same musky scent greeted him—perfume, sweat, and something darker beneath it all.
Srijana was already waiting near the courtyard stairs, dressed in a deep maroon robe and a smile that never touched her eyes.
“Well, well, billionaire sir,” she purred. “Looking for your little mistake again?”
Jared’s jaw tensed. “I want to see her.”
Srijana chuckled. “Diya. You remember her name now.”
Jared didn’t rise to the bait. “Take me to her.”
“Hmm.” Srijana looked him over like he was one of her girls on auction. “She’s not for sale, you know.”
“I’m not buying her.”
Srijana’s lips curled. “Then what exactly are you doing, Mr. Jared?”
Jared met her eyes coldly. “I don’t know. Just let me see her.”
She watched him for a beat longer before nodding. “Fine. But no touching. She’s one of the few that hasn’t broken yet. And I want her spirit to last longer.”
---
Diya was sitting in the far corner of the courtyard, knees drawn to her chest, when she saw him.
Her breath caught.
Jared?
Why had he come back again?
She didn’t move. She couldn’t. Her fingers clutched the hem of her dress, and her heart pounded loud enough to echo in her ears.
He approached slowly.
This time, his steps weren’t drunk. His eyes were clearer, though sadness lingered in the lines of his face.
“You remember me?” he asked softly.
Diya stared at him. “Why are you here again?”
Jared looked around, then sat on the stone bench beside her, not too close. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
She didn’t answer.
“I really didn’t mean to…that night,” he continued. “I thought… I was out of my mind. I thought you were someone else.”
Diya’s throat felt dry. “I’m not her.”
“I know.”
Silence.
“I can’t take you out,” he said after a while. “I’ve tried asking. Srijana won’t budge. She says you’re worth more untouched.”
Diya looked down. “Then why come back?”
Jared swallowed hard. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you. Because I see you when I close my eyes. Because I made a mistake. And I’m trying to fix it, even if I don’t know how.”
Diya turned her face away. “You can’t fix me.”
“I can try.”
They sat in silence again, but this time it wasn’t sharp. It was... uneasy, but soft at the edges.
“I brought you something,” Jared said quietly.
She looked at him warily as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a wrapped cloth.
“Don’t worry. It’s not money.”
Diya unwrapped it slowly.
It was a small, hand-carved wooden bird, with a little a rope running through the head, making it a necklace.
“I made it,” he said, almost shyly. “A stupid hobby. My therapist says it helps with my anxiety.”
She turned the bird over in her hand. It was smooth and warm.
“It’s beautiful,” she said softly.
He smiled for the first time. “So are you.”
Diya looked away again, but this time, not in fear.
And for the first time since she arrived at the brothel, she felt something other than dread stirring in her chest.
Something uncertain.
Something fragile.
Hope.
- Writer
