Though, I don't know the fudge I wrote in this chapter, Happy Reading ❤️

🎶 Maula Mere Maula 🎶

My darlings Alyne and Innzaghi6  Thanks for everything. ILY❤️❤️

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"You don't find love, it finds you. It's got a little bit to do with destiny, fate, and what's written in the stars." — Anaïs Nin

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Bedazzling the velvety canvas of darkness with their twinkling gleam, the tiny, wild stars shimmered like polished diamonds—numerous and so bright as if they only breathed to lighten up the entire universe with their shine. Amongst them remained calm, the mysterious moon—full today, casting a softer, silvery glow on everything beneath it. And basking in the dull throbbing of moonshine was none other than Viransh Malik.

Tired.

Defeated.

Alone? No—if one considered the handmade glass bottle of age-old whiskey wrapped around his disconcertingly white palm.

He looked, dare one would say, gorgeous and drunk.

An inaudible sigh by the young man went unheard amid the wilful hiss of salt breezes as they blew his face. He shuddered in the momentary iciness, the undone white tattered shirt helping little to nothing in shielding him from the frosty wind. Eyes closed, he placed his stiff hand on his chest as it twisted in conflict for the umpteenth time today, different emotions reining between the soft walls of his heart.

Humming incoherent words under his breath, he flew his eyes open and jerked his head up, a soft smile twitching immediately on the edge of his full lips as a shooting star zoomed across the sky, a shiny trail of light skittering behind. It looked mystical, as if a fairy had just waved a magic wand in the sky.

"Whoosh!" he wheezed, mesmerized by the tiny, falling star. His miserable face lit up with a celibacy of a young child who was going to make a small wish and hope for it to be true. He closed his eyes, whispering—no wishing, "Please make Avni Desai fall in love with me."

"Yeah, a tough task I know, but it shouldn't be impossible, right?" His words dropped into a faint whimper when that star went out and he stared into the emptiness that it had left behind.

The fire of hope dimmed in his heart, his lips puckering into a small pout as he held onto those waning flames of light, wondering if his wish could ever come true.

His swift, hopeful gaze drifted to his hand, his mouth cutting in a sad smile. Holding the bottle in an agonizingly tight grip, he took a huge gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing with the swig before a stinging pain tingled the walls of his throat. He didn't stop. Because the burning sensation in his heart turned out to be more intense and excruciating than a few swallows of expensive Irish whiskey.

The reason behind the sudden ache? A pair of pitch-black orbs that glinted with sincere intent and love for her.

Reminiscing that moment, whispers of rage scraped his senses, bitterness, and irrational hurt coursed through his veins, igniting violence that had his fingers shaking. He wished to locate the chef and gouge those eyes out with his own bare hands. Maybe pummel his face into those pale barriers where he confessed all those—

With his chest still on fire, Viransh shelved his hysterical thoughts aside and blinked several times, reprimanding himself for morphing into a man of violence as the towering rage lit up in his veins.

No, Viransh Malik was not evil. Neither was Samarth Vyas.

Helpless.

They both were helpless. And bent over by the will of Fate.

Despite his enviousness and annoyance, Viransh understood Samarth. He truly did. He empathized with his pain, his anger, his helplessness, and even his love.

Perhaps that's why he fled from the scene.

He couldn't muster the courage to hear those honest confessions anymore. He couldn't bear to look at those eyes sparkling with sincere and tenderest glint whenever they swept a glance at Avni. If he stayed there any longer, he would've battered the chef black and blue.

But as what? The delectable lines of his throat rattled at the untouched question, the unrivaled noises in his mind surging up. Where did Avni and he stand in the first place? In truth, the relationship he had with Avni lacked a label. Yet, here he was drowning in the waves of jealousy and madness. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't paddle to the surface.

In Samarth's presence, some unsettling feelings churned in his chest—a feeling of insecurity, vulnerability, and enviousness. And it was all because of those unfeigned, honest, and tender obsidians whenever they gravitated toward Avni.

Samarth loved Avni. God, he still does.

It didn't take Viransh Malik more than a minute to guess it. The awkward moments between the two past friends, the remorseful cast on Avni's delicate features, and the unforgiving yet soft, lingering look on Samarth's visage gave out everything. Even so, Viransh remained silent—perhaps desperately wanting his assumptions to be untrue.

But Samarth's words were like the final nail in the coffin where his heart lay—broken into chunks, ripped into pieces, and left bleeding on the rough casket. It still bled, recalling those syllables.

"Every splintered piece holds your name, loving you the same."

"Broken, yet still in love. Destroyed, yet not fallen out of love."

Viransh's vision weakened, morphing to reflect the color of flames as the onslaught of fury seeped into every cell of his body. With a tight clench of his teeth, he hurled the bottle—undirected and purposeless. Everything inside him deflated as the glass crushed against the uneven stone—its shattering voice still hushed compared to the strange roar of his heart amongst the low hiss of icy wind.

He shook his head, trying to break free of every negativity that was wrapping its filthy claw around him. His deft, calloused fingers flew to his hair, harshly tugging the unruly locks. A slew of contradicting pain radiated from the wounded organ in his chest, metastasizing through his limbs. He sighed—softly this time, trying to eradicate himself from the gale of fury that had wound around him.

For an untold time, he reminded himself that anger and bitterness do no good. That it feeds the sick, depraved parts of humans. And it only nourishes darkness that otherwise remains dormant in the furthest corners of a man's soul.

He straightened his spine and wiped a sheen of sweat from his forehead with the back of his palm. Despite the pinpricks of envy, he wondered if Samarth felt the same way as he feels in Avni's presence.

Did Samarth feel those rushes of joy and heartwarming, fluttery giddiness in his stomach that makes him feel alive in her presence?

Does the tip of Samarth's ears turn red whenever Avni teases him or throws any remark his way?

Would Samarth do anything—no matter how difficult it is, just to see the soft smile on her lips or to hear her mellifluous laugh?

Would Samarth willingly ride the scariest animal he despises the most on her one command?

Would Samarth—

Viransh shook his head, adjourning the rush of the assumptions, but only for a grating question to plunge into his mind, refusing to let go. Does Avni love him?

Fear, unlike he had ever experienced before, slowly crept into him, the unfamiliar feeling making him vulnerable and exposed. He tried to push it away, but it persisted, gnawing his insides with each passing second. It was strange how fear could take hold of a person so easily.

Despite facing many challenges in his life, Viransh had always triumphed. When his older brother, Ved, announced that he wanted to study law, the seventeen-year-old knew he had to compromise his dreams and follow in their father's footsteps and take over the family business. Crushed beneath the weight of his father's expectations in the business world, and burdened with the responsibilities of thousands of employees, Viransh didn't flinch and held onto the reins of Malik Groups, passing his parents' expectations with flying colors.

But today was different. Today, his conscience was overruling his heart.

His gaze rebelled toward the yon-rich sky, his thoughts enlivening and turning to that fateful night. The grizzled stars shimmered in the blissful dusk as if reminding him of the magic that befell three years ago. It was the moonlit night that stayed with him, unforgettable in its beauty and mystery.

Wiping his calloused palm onto his cotton twill, he reached out a cavernous pocket on his chest, withdrawing the delicate silver band. As if having known its home under the moonshine, it glistened—despite having lost its luster. It was the same wristlet he had thieved as a souvenir—just picked up in his words years ago from the hospital.

Why? He didn't know. Yet, for years, the broken, scuffed cord lay on the velvety cushion of his expensive cufflink like a priced possession.

Truth was, he still remembered the woman he met unknowingly on this sheer cliff. There was something more to their meeting, some deeper purpose that he was yet to understand. Powerless to resist her charms, he was spellbound by the mysterious woman. Maybe it was her merriest and rueful little laugh. Or her heartfelt and poignant words. Or her dulcet and deep, ethereal voice. Everything remained etched forever in his memory—especially the promises they both made—of disclosing secrets shared with stars. Of narrating the chronicles of the moon, sun, and scars.

But then she was gone—mixed into the stardust and he was left stranded with lies of her brutal death, holding onto her memories and the broken cords of her bracelet.

Their promises remained unfulfilled.

Had the strange twists of fate brought them together again? 

The woman he had been working so hard to win over was none other than the woman he had met on this very cliff. His heart spilled over an eternal gratitude for whoever lined up the stars or stirred the hands of destiny.

Viransh's ringed thumb stroked half moons over the rim of the cracked butterfly crystals, his mind trying to wrap and unwrap everything that his assistant had filled in while he was in the restaurant. His mouth twisted in a sardonic smile as if mirroring the bitterness settled in his heart for Avni's family. They have a lot to answer.

His large, mournful eyes cast downward into the abyss, ciphering the unfathomable depth of the callous cliff. The sight alone made him dizzy. His heart lurched out of his chest for the excruciatingly bruising pain she must've felt. No doubt, the fatal fall must've been an enormous impact on her—both physically and mentally. But how long was she constrained to the bed? How many scars and bruises this fallout inflicted on her? Did she remember anything about that night?

Fisting the slim bracelet, he shifted a smidge and felt a sharp pain shoot through his upper thigh. He winced, catching his breath, and then patted the area to ease the discomfort. As he did, his hand brushed against his mobile, which suddenly felt like an alien device to his intoxicated brain.

Blinking several times, he switched it on and grunted at the sharp notifications of missed calls and numerous texts. He chuckled. Mobile network in these woods? Seemed like many things had changed in the past three years. With a slow shake of his head, he let his fingers wander and scroll through the texts, his thumb wavering at the particular contact—his father, to be precise. He should've guessed it by now. Deven Malik had ninjas on his beck and call, who must've long ago alerted him about the unforeseen storm coming their way.

The sound of the night breeze became more pronounced as it blew around, pelting his skin with coldness. With no intention of dampening his mood, Viransh ignored his father's texts and continued scrolling through his phone. His gaze hovered on his friend's name and a smirk flitted across his lips as he quickly shot him a text before resuming his search. His fingers then paused briefly at his assistant's name, a wave of gratitude washing over him. Pratik had gone above and beyond to uncover the missing pieces of that night. He deserved a bonus, alright. Clearing his throat, he pressed the call icon beside the contact labeled Mr. Colorful and drummed his fingers against the rough ground as he waited.

"Viru?" the voice on the other end sounded tense and worried.

Viransh's face twisted in disgust at the nickname. "Did you just call me that?" he retorted. "I am going to deduct fifteen—"

"Viransh! Is this what I taught you?!" The person on the other end cut him off, her voice sharp with disapproval. "Didn't I tell you to stop threatening that sweet, poor boy with his salary?"

Viransh's cool hand flew to his chest as recognition dawned on his senses. "Mom?" he whispered incredulously before pulling the phone away from his ear to check the contact. Sure enough, it read Mom. He mentally chided his inebriated state for accidentally dialing his mother.

"Where are you?" his mother demanded, her impatience palpable.

The wind howled around him, making it difficult to hear his mother's voice. Viransh sighed deeply and glanced around, taking in the stunning view from his vantage point on the cliff. He felt a sense of peace and tranquility wash over him, a feeling that he rarely experienced in his busy life.

"Where are you, Viransh?" Barkha asked again, louder this time.

"Um...on a cliff," he replied, scratching his head absentmindedly.

"Why are you trekking at this hour?" he heard his mother's voice tinged with surprise and annoyance.

"Oh, I don't know?" An abrupt laugh broke free from Viransh's throat. "But it's said that trekking at night pisses your family, so I thought might as well try it," he continued, amusement still threading in his timbre. "Hey, fun fact. This isn't my first night hike. Back in college, Abhinav and I used to sneak around for hikes all the time. And one time, we got completely lost in the woods and thought we were being haunted by a ghost."

After a moment, his face twisted in a frown when the silence stretched into the air and he heard a sharp intake of breath. The color drained from his face when he realized he had retorted his mother with a cheeky remark. He regretted it instantly, cursing himself for having spoken out of turn. It was the alcohol that had given him unwanted and untimed boldness.

"What's wrong with you?" Barkha's almost toneless voice trailed off.

"Mom, wait. Let me talk to him." Suddenly, Viransh heard a gravelly, calm voice at the end of the line. His shoulder slumped as he heard his younger brother. "Geez, the world is on fire, Vir. What are you doing on a cliff? Do you know Dad is really mad at you right now?"

Viransh snorted. "Dad is always mad at one of his kids. What's the big deal?"

Silence elongated a moment only to be splintered by the younger brother. "You don't normally take Dad's anger lightly. And you sound wasted, Viransh."

Every inch of Viransh's body screamed to deny the right assumption his brother had just made, but the right words evaded him and he found himself shaking his head. "I am brokenhearted. Not wasted."

"Shut up, Viransh." This time, he didn't receive a response from Vihaan. It was his mother, her normally soft voice holding a razor-sharp edge, slicing the mistiness that had clouded his senses. "Getting drunk and numbing the pain temporarily with alcohol is usually a fool's solution. If alcohol truly was the answer to emotional pain, then the world would've been free of suffering a long time ago." Disappointment coated his mother's voice. "I expected better than you."

Viransh's throat rustled with a visible swallow as the gravity of her words plunge his mind, each syllable hot and heavy, like a direct jab, beckoning him to come forward and answer for his stupid action. Guilt gnawed at him. He had always been the responsible one, the one who had it all together. But today's incident had shattered him. He had let his pain consume him and when it became unbearable; he turned to alcohol for comfort.

Cocooned in quietness, Viransh let his rough hand hurtle through his hair, uncaring about the mess it spawned. He closed his eyes and drew a lungful of air, wincing slightly as the salty breeze teased his nostril.

"I'm sorry, Mom. Perhaps you're right. It's just I am tired," he murmured unknowingly and shuddered as a nippy wind fled past him, "and so cold."

"I never heard you this dejected before." Barkha's tone softened. "What's bothering you, sweetheart?"

Viransh sighed as his shoulders slumped, weighed down by exhaustion. His heart raced at a frantic pace, visions of Avni flashing behind his closed eyes. With a grunt, he uncrossed his legs, feeling the sturdy muscles in his thighs stretch out as he straightened his spine and rolled his broad shoulders. He couldn't shake off the haunting presence of her thoughts. She was bothering him. Every little detail about her was bothering him, from the way she moved to the sound of her voice.

Her intangible presence teased him, hauling him to a dreamlike state. Despite her mystery, she was it—indignation of art that his felonious heart admired and celebrated even from far. An ache unfurled like a wildfire across his chest, its flames igniting a fire in his veins as her face epitomized before him—like a hallucination, mocking and teasing him—flesh of slick gold, feline eyes reminiscent of buttered chocolate, her dark, unruly hair as black as a raven's feather that curtained her nymph-like countenance flawlessly, and the subtle hint of debauchery marring her fiercest features.

A brightest tiny star streaked across the dark sky and the young man observed it with bated breath. Truth was, he didn't only crave the prettiest parts of her, but the ugly ones too. He always did. Perhaps, in the hope her darkness would scare him—that eventually the unseemly evil and uncanny side of her would stop him from getting more closer to her.

Avni Desai was wicked. He had learned it from their first meeting itself. Time and incidents convinced him she was a sin sheathed in a beautiful, angelic human form. And he dreaded he would never be able to fathom her—unless she herself helped him.

Beyond doubt, her undeniable allure captivated him, although he couldn't pinpoint what it was about her that drew him in like a moth to a flame. But the most enrapturing thing he could remember was the way the tiniest smile would grace her lips when she talked about her past. The way she would look vulnerable one moment and strongest the next. And the way she would expose a glimpse of her unseeable scars only to shield them back with unyielding armor.

While Avni Desai claimed to be the despicable, remorseless, selfish villain, he knew her crude behavior tries to stow away the splintered woman that wanders in her own dark abyss, searching for warmth and acceptance. He had seen her past the facade. Probably only for a moment or two and that too when she let him. But he knew there lies a woman who was still fighting against herself. For herself.

His heart hoped that one day he could be the one to hold her in his arms and let her know he was willing to fight the demons along with her. He wanted his warmth to drape around her and thaw the icy barricades around her heart. He wanted to be the beacon of light that would help her escape those eerie alleys she had been wandering