Page 4 of One Hellish Love

What if one day he comes back?The thought chilled her to the bone.

Suddenly, the sound of her name broke through her reverie.

“Ma’am, Shekhar Sir is calling,” Mohan, the family’s driver, said as he approached.

Kashish quickly wiped away the tears threatening to spill and made her way back to the car, where she had left her phone. She answered, and the concern in Shekhar’s voice hit her immediately.

“Kashish, what’s taking you so long to get home?” he asked, the worry unmistakable.

Kashish let out a soft sigh, directing Mohan to take her back to Raheja Mansion.

“You know where I am, Shekhar. Why ask?” she replied, her voice heavy with emotion.

Shekhar chuckled softly, but his concern lingered.

“I know exactly where you are, and that’s why I’m asking,” he teased gently. “You know, Kashish... I think it’s time. You should step inside that house. Face it.”

The words hit Kashish like a punch to the gut.

“I can’t!” she cut him off, her voice breaking. “I’m not ready, Shekhar... I’ll never be ready.”

Shekhar sighed. He had known better than to push her on this. Instead, he decided to change the subject, hoping to lift her mood.

“Well, here’s some news that might cheer you up. Anjali’s coming back from her mother’s house tomorrow,” he said with a grin.

A small smile crept onto Kashish’s lips, and the heaviness in her heart lifted, if only for a moment.

Anjali—Shekhar’s wife—was the latest and sweetest addition to the Raheja family. Shekhar had been missing her desperately. Their marriage, a year ago, had been a union of love and friendship. Anjali was everything Shekhar deserved, and Kashish couldn’t have been happier for him.

“That’s great news!” Kashish said, genuinely pleased. “Finally, you’ll get some relief, huh?”

Shekhar blushed, laughing softly as he leaned back in his chair.

“Yeah, I hope so. You have no idea how much I’ve missed her.”

Kashish could hear the love in his voice, and it warmed her. She was about to tease him again when she felt a shift in his tone—something unsaid, something heavy still hanging between them.

There was more Shekhar wanted to tell her. He hesitated, unsure of how to break the news that after 11 long years...Rudra was coming back.

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

Paris - Fashion Shoot

“After 11 long years, you’re finally going home to your family. Aren’t you happy?” Lavina Kundra asked, applying a final layer of gloss to her lips.

She didn’t expect a response—she had known Rudra long enough to understand his silence. The 27-year-old hunk before her was as cold and detached as ever, but today, something about him felt different. There was an unsettling stillness in his eyes, as if he were trapped in some distant memory, staring intently at the scar on his forehead in the mirror before him. Lavina had never seen him like this—so absorbed in a past he never spoke about. She rose from the dressing table and approached him cautiously.

“What’s the story behind this scar?” she asked curiously. But the moment her fingers reached for it, Rudra flinched and took a step back.

No one could know the truth behind that scar. No one could understand how it was the physical manifestation of the hell he’d lived through. This scar was a reminder of everything he wanted to forget—the two agonizing years in the juvenile home, the five years of isolation while he studied at Harvard, and the four years building his empire in Paris. None of it had freed him from the memory ofher—the girl who had marked him as her enemy for life. The girl who had thrown the stone that gave him this scar. The one person he feared facing again.

Lavina saw the flicker of pain in his eyes and quickly pulled back.

“Okay... you don’t have to tell me,” she said gently, adjusting the tie around his neck. “I remember what you told me when we first met—’You can have my friendship, but never my secrets.’”

That was the truth about Rudra Raheja. He was an enigma, his past sealed behind an unbreakable wall. Even at university, he had kept people at a distance, afraid his history would repelthem. Now, after all these years, it felt like it was too late to explain the shadows that haunted him. He hated when people tried to dig into his life, which was why he never allowed anyone to get too close. But Lavina had been different. She had barged into his world, relentless in her curiosity. He had resisted her questions, but she had persisted, until one day, he gave in and accepted her as a friend. But that was as far as it would ever go. Rudra had buried too much pain in his heart, and no one—no one—was allowed to touch it.

“By the way,” Lavina smiled, trying to lighten the mood, “I’m really curious—who will be the lucky girl you’ll give the right to ask questions? She’s going to be special, I’m sure.”

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