Page 3 of One Hellish Love

“Roxy, meet Kashish. She’ll be staying with us from now on. Do you like her?”

The dog, as if on cue, nodded and trotted over to Kashish, rubbing his head against her arm. Despite herself, Kashish found a smile breaking through her sadness. She began to gently pat the dog, her heart softening just a little.

The boy grinned, holding up a slice of apple.

“Here, have some.”

This time, Kashish didn’t resist. She took the apple, chewing slowly as she fed small pieces to Roxy. The boy watched her carefully.

“I’m Shekhar. Shekhar Raheja,” he introduced himself, extending his hand for a handshake. But Kashish didn’t respond, her heart still guarded. She continued eating in silence, feeding Roxy beside her.

Shekhar watched her with a mixture of guilt and sorrow. He wished his grandmother had never gifted him that luxury car for his academic success. It was supposed to be a celebration. But that same car had been the key to the tragedy that unfolded. His younger brother, Rudra, had taken the car keys from Shekhar’s room that night, eager to drive the new vehicle. Rudra, always so bright, so quick to learn, had made a mistake that shattered everything. A mistake that took a man’s life and destroyed a girl’s world.

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It took Kashish three long months to open up to Shekhar. His consistent kindness and gentle concern had slowly chipped away at her icy exterior. Apart from Shekhar, she only spoketo Chanda, the maid who cared for her as if she were family. But Savitri Raheja remained distant, cold. She could never bring herself to connect with the girl, not when every glimpse of her was a reminder of Rudra’s absence.

Savitri’s son and daughter-in-law had died years ago in a car accident, leaving behind Shekhar and Rudra, who were only 9 and 6 at the time. It was Savitri who had raised them, taking charge of the family business and their upbringing. She doted on her grandsons, especially Rudra, who was a handful—stubborn and headstrong. When he wanted something, he would bend the entire household to his will until he got it. Least did Savitri know that it was this unrelenting trait that in the coming future would eventually bend both his fate and Kashish’s.

CHAPTER 2

Two Years Later

Two years had passed, but for both Rudra and the Raheja family, it felt like a lifetime. When Rudra finally walked out of the juvenile home, escorted by their lawyer, Roy, he was unrecognizable. The 18-year-old boy who emerged wasn’t the Rudra Raheja Savitri remembered. His body had weakened, and the spark that once defined him was gone. Most of all, he had lost his most precious possession—his smile.

Savitri rushed to embrace him outside the gates, but the boy who used to return her warmth with enthusiasm now stood stiff, his arms limp at his sides. He seemed unreachable, locked away in his own world. She hesitated to meet his eyes, afraid of what she would find. When she finally did, it confirmed her worst fear—his gaze was empty, hollow, like a soul wandering through a wasteland. With trembling hands, she cupped his face, kissed his forehead, and held back the tears threatening to spill. Today should have been a day of relief, a celebration of his freedom. But deep down, Savitri knew—Rudra would never be the same again.

She had made up her mind long before his release. Rudra wouldn’t return to Raheja Mansion. The presence ofthat girlin the house would only reopen his wounds. He needed time, space, and distance to heal, to rebuild whatever remained of his broken spirit. She had already arranged for his admission to Harvard University, thinking that the farther he was from thefamily—and from Kashish—the sooner he could start healing. Rudra hadn’t protested. In fact, he seemed relieved. The very thought of facing Kashish again shattered him. Though he had served his time, nothing would change her hatred for him. He could never meet her eyes again.

Savitri accompanied Rudra to Harvard, completing the formalities and settling him into the boarding. But what tore at her heart was that even after ten days of freedom, he remained the same—expressionless, lifeless, as if he had left his soul behind in that juvenile home. His face showed no emotion, his eyes held no dreams, and worst of all, his silence was deafening. Watching him like this broke her. If only that girl hadn’t been in the Raheja Mansion, she could have brought him home and tried to heal him with her love. But now, she was torn—leaving him here alone was a risk, even with a guardian to ensure his safety. She just prayed that one day, somehow, he would find his way back to the boy he used to be.

Rudra, on the other hand, was still trapped in the nightmares of the past two years. Every night was a battle with sleeplessness, and every morning he woke with the weight of the same guilt. He would sit by the window, staring into the distance—at the bustling city or the vast, open sky—lost in thoughts no one could reach. It was as if he were searching for something, or someone, in the endless horizon. The once-bright boy who excelled in everything had vanished. Now, he was a hollow shell, consumed by the weight of his actions.

Worried beyond words, Savitri sought the best psychologist she could find, explaining Rudra’s condition in detail. But the first two weeks of therapy were fruitless. He hadn’t spoken a single word during their sessions, his silence like a fortress no one could break. It wasn’t until the third week, during their ninth session, that Rudra finally spoke—and what he said sent a chill down the psychologist’s spine.

“Rudra, this is our ninth session, and you’ve yet to say a word. How can I help heal your heart if you won’t speak?” the psychologist asked softly.

“Killers don’t have hearts,” Rudra said, his eyes still fixed on the floor, his voice cold, detached.

The words hung heavy in the room, and the doctor realized the depth of the trauma he was dealing with. This wasn’t just a case of grief or guilt—this was a soul drowning in its own darkness. The doctor later explained to Savitri that healing Rudra would take much longer than expected—perhaps even years. He wasn’t ready to accept the reality of his situation or take the first step toward recovery. Children who experience such devastating trauma at a young age often find both solace and punishment in their grief, but if Rudra stayed on this path, there was a real danger that he might lose his psychological balance entirely.

That was the moment when Savitri, the strong and determined matriarch of the Raheja family, finally broke down. For the first time, she lost faith in her ability to save her grandson.

Meanwhile, back at Raheja Mansion, life had slowly begun to move forward for Kashish Bedi. Though still burdened by her loss, she had found a semblance of peace in her new life. Shekhar Raheja had been a constant source of comfort, always trying to make her feel at ease in the house that still felt foreign to her. His gentle presence made it easier for her to resume her education, though now she was in a school world apart from her previous one.

While she missed her old friends, she eventually adapted, making new acquaintances, though none touched her heart the way her previous friends had. The girls at her new school were wealthy, privileged, and carried an air of superiority that Kashish found hard to connect with. Even when they tried toinclude her, she kept her distance. No matter how luxurious her surroundings were, she never forgot where she truly came from. She would never belong to this world of wealth and privilege.

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9 Years Later

Kashish built her career under the careful guidance of Shekhar Raheja, now the Director of Raheja Designs in India. Across the world, in Paris, the other half of the empire was thriving under the leadership of his brother Rudra Raheja. His name was everywhere—the brand in Paris was ‘RR Designs’, named after him, a decision made by Savitri and Shekhar together to expand a new division of their business which Rudra could handle separately and based on his terms. But for Kashish, that name felt like a thorn lodged in her heart. The very thought of Rudra sent ripples of hatred through her, even after all these years. She had made it clear from the start—she would never work under that name. While she contributed to Raheja Designs only, when necessary, it was never out of loyalty to the company. It was out of obligation. No matter how intertwined her life had become with the Rahejas, she had no intention of becoming a regular part of their legacy, even if it meant risking her own career growth.

Yet despite her emotional distance, Kashish had made a name for herself as a brilliant fashion designer. She was the creative force behind some of Raheja Designs’ most successful launches, particularly their traditional line, where her designs shone like jewels. But no matter her success, the shadows of her past never quite let her go.

Now, she stood a few meters away from the house where she had spent her childhood in Uttam Nagar. This was the place that held the happiest memories of her life—the only place that had ever felt like home. She often visited, but she never dared to step inside. She knew that crossing that threshold would meanopening old wounds, and she had spent too many years trying to heal. Forgiving the rest of the Raheja family had taken every ounce of strength she had. After all, they were innocent. But the one person she could never forgive—the one name she would never allow herself to utter—was their youngest son, Rudra. Even after 11 long years, the thought of him still filled her with rage.

Tears stung her eyes as she stared at the narrow lane that led to her old house. The memories came flooding back, bittersweet and vivid. How peaceful life had been back then—how simple, how full of love. It wasn’t that she wasn’t grateful for the Rahejas. They had provided for her, given her a life far beyond what she could have imagined. But that house... that family... would never truly belong to her. And every time they mentionedhisname, it felt like a fresh dagger to her soul. She avoided conversations that involved Rudra, but she knew it was only a matter of time before she would have to face him again.

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