Page 48 of One Hellish Love

“Kashish, I asked you a question. Where are you? Are you alone?” His voice had softened, but she could still hear the urgency in his tone.

“Stop wasting my time,” she spat, cutting the call, leaving him fuming.

She wasn’t going to answer him. Fine. Rudra quickly messaged Jay.

“Trace Kashish’s number for me. Now. I need to know where she is.”

Jay didn’t ask questions; he knew better. Within minutes, Rudra had Kashish’s location. Uttam Nagar. His blood ran cold. What was she doing there? Was this about Uday Khatri? Was Kashish walking into a trap? He couldn’t waste another second. Barking orders at his driver, he rushed out of the mansion, the car racing through the streets of Delhi.

When they arrived at Uttam Nagar, Rudra stepped out, his eyes scanning the surroundings. He spotted her near a huge banyan tree, staring intently at a house in the distance. Relief washed over him—she was safe. But something about her posture, the way she wiped a tear from her eye, told him this place held memories. Painful ones.

Suddenly, she turned and saw him. Her face twisted with fury, and she stormed toward him, her words laced with venom.

“How dare you come here?” she shouted. “Don’t you have any shame? Or did you come to relive the memories of that night? The night you crushed my father under your car?”

Her words cut deep, reopening wounds he’d buried long ago. Yes, this was the place. The banyan tree—the same one he hadcrashed into the night of the accident. His heart pounded as the horror of that night flashed before his eyes. His legs felt weak beneath him. He stumbled, barely managing to steady himself by gripping a nearby scooter.

Kashish watched, her anger slowly giving way to confusion. Why did he look like he was about to collapse? This place—it was crushing him, just like it had crushed her for the past 11 years.

Rudra’s driver, Mohan, rushed to his side.

“Sir? Are you okay?” he asked, worry evident in his voice.

Rudra nodded weakly, leaning against a pillar to catch his breath. His mind flashed those memories again that he wasn’t ready to confront. Not here. Not now.

“Kashish Madam, please help me take Sir home,” Mohan called out to her.

Kashish clenched her jaw, the last thing she wanted was to help Rudra. He didn’t deserve it. But there was a flicker of humanity in her. She pulled a water bottle from her purse and handed it to him. Rudra refused, but Mohan, sensing the urgency, took it and forced Rudra to drink. Slowly, he began to feel better.

“I’ll get the car,” Mohan said. “Ma’am, please watch him until I return.”

“No. I’m fine. Take her home,” Rudra ordered, his voice firm despite his weakness.

“I’m not going home,” Kashish snapped.

Rudra ignored her protest. “Mohan, get the car,” he repeated.

As Mohan rushed off, Kashish started to leave, but Rudra grabbed her arm, his grip firm. She struggled to break free, but it was no use. When Mohan returned, Rudra shoved her into the car, closing the door behind her.

“Don’t stop the car, no matter what,” Rudra warned Mohan. “Not even if she orders you to.”

Kashish’s eyes widened in confusion. As the car sped away from Uttam Nagar, she stared at Rudra from the rear-view mirror, his face unreadable, but his grip on her arm still burned like a chain she couldn’t break free from.

Why had he come there? Why did he insist on sending her back home? Though she had no concrete answers to his actions, one thing was clear: the sight of him crumbling under the weight of guilt brought her a grim sense of satisfaction. The way he reacted when she reminded him of the accident that shattered her world eleven years ago—his sudden breakdown—made it painfully obvious that he was still haunted by that night. But if his remorse could bring her father back, she would have forgiven him long ago. Tears welled up in her eyes as Mohan pulled the car into the gates of Raheja Mansion. She stepped out and hurried inside, not wanting anyone to see her pain.

CHAPTER 18

A while Later

Composing himself, Rudra stood outside the post office at Uttam Nagar, as instructed by Uday Khatri’s letter. His nerves were taut, his mind racing. Who was this man? And what connection did he have to Kashish and her father? Suddenly, a firm hand clapped his shoulder. Rudra spun around to find a tall, burly man in a hooded jacket standing before him. His neck was weighed down by a thick gold chain, and nearly every finger was adorned with rings.

“Rudra Raheja, I knew you’d show up.”

“Who are you?” Rudra asked, keeping his tone controlled, though his eyes burned with curiosity.

“Uday Khatri. Let’s not talk here,” Uday’s eyes darted around, scanning for signs of Rudra’s backup.

“I came alone,” Rudra responded coldly. “But I’m not leaving. You want to talk? We do it here.”

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