Page 10 of One Hellish Love

Assuming it was Chanda, Rudra spoke sharply. “Kuch milega? (Will I get something to eat?) I’m hungry.”

The woman froze, her grip on the knife tightening. That voice—it was a voice she hadn’t heard in 11 years but she knew who it belonged to.Rudra Raheja.The air thickened around her, suffocating her with memories she had tried to bury. Kashish hadn’t expected to run into him—not like this. She had come to the kitchen, assuming everyone had gone to bed, trying to quiet her own hunger after skipping dinner. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

Rudra frowned when the woman didn’t respond or turn around. Something was off. He reached for the light switch, and as the room flooded with light, his breath caught in his throat.

It washer.

Kashish.

She stood there, her back still to him, her body rigid with tension. Her long hair hung loose, falling down to her waist. He saw her toes curl in anger, her knuckles white as she gripped the knife like a weapon, as if daring him to come closer. His heart pounded in his chest. It had been 11 years, but the weight of that time fell away in an instant.

Kashish took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of strength she had, and turned to face him. Their eyes met, and the kitchen seemed to ignite with unspoken fury. For a brief moment, the world stood still. Rudra felt the heat of her hatred, the searing intensity of her gaze—it was the same as that dayoutside the courthouse when she had thrown the stone at him, leaving him with the scar he still carried.

The memories of their first encounter 11 years ago came crashing back, and with them, the same helplessness. He could see it in her eyes—she still wanted to destroy him. She had wanted to then, and she still did now. Kashish’s grip on the knife tightened, and for a split second, he thought she might actually strike him. But she didn’t.

Rudra stood frozen unable to decide if he should leave? Or should he stay? His instincts pulled him in both directions, but nothing felt right. Should he say something to her, or wait for her to speak first? She was the one woman who had the power to dismantle his life, yet the only one who could heal him. Only her forgiveness could set him free, and here she was, mere feet away. The day he had feared most—facing Kashish Bedi—had finally come, and now, standing before her, he didn’t have the courage to even apologize.

She was a storm he couldn’t weather, and he could see it in her gaze that she wasn’t about to make it easy for him. Every apology he had rehearsed in his mind over the years dissolved in his throat. But then something unusual happened. His gaze unintentionally dropped to her lips. His pupils dilated, his pulse quickening at the sight of her. He had tried to imagine her face many times over the years, but nothing had prepared him for this. She was beyond anything his mind could have conjured—breathtakingly beautiful in a way that unsettled him. The way her hair fell loosely, the grace in her movements, the strength simmering beneath the surface—she wasn’t just beautiful; she was intoxicating. She had the kind of beauty that could rival the high-society women he’d seen in Paris, but hers was raw, real, and impossible to ignore.

His gaze slowly travelled back to her eyes, but the connection was broken. Kashish had caught him admiring her. She simplydropped the knife onto the counter and walked past him, brushing him aside as if he were nothing.

For a moment, Rudra felt like time itself had restarted, ticking forward again after that brief, suffocating pause. This was Kashish Bedi—the woman who haunted his dreams, the woman whose anger had scarred him in ways no one could see. She was strong, stronger than he remembered, and as she walked away, he realized one thing with painful clarity: she was going to make these next four months a living hell. He would have to leave sooner than he thought. But in that brief, fiery exchange, Rudra realized something else too—he wasn’t just afraid of her hatred, he was drawn to it.Drawn to her.

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

Back in her room, Kashish slammed the door and threw her pillows to the floor in frustration.

“He was so close, and I did nothing!”she seethed, kicking the edge of the bed, her rage spilling over.

How could she have been so weak? She had spent years imagining what she would do if she ever saw him again—how she would hurt him the way he had hurt her, how she would make him pay for taking her father’s life. She had fantasized about stabbing him, or running him down with a car, doing anything to make him suffer. But now, faced with the man who had destroyed her life, all she had done was walk away.

She collapsed onto the bed, her chest heaving with anger. What was wrong with her? Why did his presence in this house make her feel so vulnerable, so powerless? No. She couldn’t afford to let him affect her like this. But she wasn’t a child anymore, and she wasn’t going to waste her energy on revenge.

Ignorance—that was the best weapon she had. He didn’t deserve her attention, her anger, or her hatred. For the next four months, she would act as if he didn’t exist. That was the only way she could survive this. Shekhar had been right—if she let herrage consume her, she would be the one to suffer. She had fought too hard to put her life back together, and she wasn’t going to let Rudra Raheja tear it apart again.

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

The dawn broke, but the tensions in Raheja Mansion only intensified. Kashish, determined to avoid any encounter withhim, had risen early, and planned to avoid having breakfast with the family. Yet, even her iron will couldn’t exempt her from the morning puja—a ritual as immovable as Daadi’s expectations.

As Kashish entered the temple room taking off her slippers, the air thick with incense and unspoken resentment, Daadi’s eyes flashed with disapproval. Kashish met her gaze unflinchingly, her own heart hardened by years of barely concealed hostility. She knew her place in Daadi’s world—a constant reminder of the pain inflicted on her precious grandson. Kashish’s absence at dinner had been a relief to the matriarch, who clearly expected—no, demanded—that she maintain this distance.

“Where are Rudra and Shekhar, Anjali?” Savitri’s voice cut through the silence.

“Shekhar’s gone to fetch Rudra,” Anjali replied.

Kashish’s breath caught in her throat as a silent prayer forming on her lips.No. He can’t come here. Not now.As if in answer to her desperate wish, Shekhar entered alone, his face a mask of resignation.

“He won’t make it,” Shekhar announced, his tone carefully neutral. “He was in the shower.”

Savitri’s eyes narrowed. “We can wait.”

“No use, Daadi,” Shekhar countered, a hint of steel in his voice. “You know he can take time. Let’s proceed.”

Daadi didn’t argue as she was particular about the Puja timings daily. The puja began.

Fifteen minutes later, Rudra descended the stairs, the sound of bells drawing him inexorably toward the temple room. His eyes fell on the four pairs of shoes outside—a silent confirmation ofherpresence within. Every instinct screamed at him to flee, to escape this powder keg of emotions. But as he turned to leave, fate intervened.

“Rudra?” Savitri’s voice rang out, sharp and expectant. “Take the blessings.”

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