at Aditya Kashyap’s Party
Author’s POV
The grand ballroom shimmered under the soft golden glow of chandeliers. The air was thick with laughter, clinking glasses, and the faint rhythm of a jazz tune echoing in the background.
Rishi stood near the bar, sipping his drink—effortlessly handsome and dangerously composed.
His black shirt hugged his broad shoulders perfectly, the first few buttons left open just enough to reveal his strong collarbones.
His perfectly styled hair added to his striking appearance, and his sharp blue eyes gleamed with the spark of victory—the victory of snatching away Ragini Roy’s deal.
He was satisfied, even proud. Yet beneath that calm smirk, he knew..... He knew this peace was temporary.
He knew she wouldn’t stay quiet for long. A storm always follows silence… and that storm had a name—Ragini Roy.
But for now, Rishi was content savoring his win, his glass of whiskey glinting in the dim light as he spoke casually with Aditya Kashyap.
That was until—
the crowd parted, the music softened, and the world seemed to slow down.
She entered.
Ragini Roy.
Every head turned toward her, but only one gaze burned with something more than admiration—Rishi’s. She looked absolutely breathtaking in a deep wine-red bodycon dress that traced every curve with elegance and authority. Her long hair cascaded over one shoulder, her bold red lips curling slightly as if mocking the world that once dared to challenge her.
She didn’t just walk in—she owned the room.
---
Rishi’s POV
I was mid-conversation with Aditya, my drink swirling lazily in my hand, when the air shifted.
Something pulled my attention to the entrance—and there she was.
Ragini.
For a brief second, I forgot how to breathe.
The noise around me faded, the laughter blurred. All I could see was her.
That wine-red dress hugged her like a secret only she was allowed to keep. Her movements were fluid, confident, powerful. Every step she took screamed control—the kind that makes you want to surrender. Her long hair framed her face perfectly, her eyes carrying the same fire I remembered—the fire that once burned against me.
And God, she was divine.
I couldn’t look away. My heart thudded against my chest, loud enough to drown out the music. She was chaos and calm, all in one frame—and I was completely caught.
Just Then... her eyes met mine.
For a fleeting moment, time stopped. We just… stared. Her gaze was cold, unbothered, but mine?... Mine betrayed everything I was trying to hide.
She broke the contact first, looking away with that familiar arrogance before walking toward a group of people. Yet even from afar, I couldn’t stop watching her.
“Mr. Rishi...! Mr. Rishi, where were you lost?”
Aditya’s voice pulled me back to reality. He laughed lightly, shaking my shoulder.
I blinked, coughed awkwardly, and tried to compose myself. “Nowhere,” I said, forcing a faint smile, “just got lost… admiring the beauty of the party.”
Aditya chuckled, nodding in amusement before excusing himself to greet other guests.
And as soon as he left, my eyes found her again—
Ragini Roy.
The woman I defeated… and the only one who could make victory feel like a loss.
Ragini’s POV
I stood in front of the massive wooden doors of Aditya’s mansion.
The sound of music and laughter echoed faintly from inside, but my heartbeat was louder.
I adjusted the strap of my wine-red dress — elegant yet bold — a color that spoke of confidence, danger, and control.
The heels clicked sharply against the marble floor as if announcing that Ragini Roy had arrived.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped inside.
The chandeliers shimmered above, the room glittered with power and pretense. People were laughing, talking, showing off their fake smiles — a typical business party. I had no interest in any of this, but tonight was unavoidable.
And then… my eyes found him.
Rishi Singh Rajput.
The man I didn’t want to see. The man I couldn’t afford to feel anything for.
But there he was — standing at the center of the room, a glass in hand, wearing a black shirt that hugged his frame perfectly. His hair was neatly styled, his jaw sharp as ever, and those piercing blue eyes… locked right on me.
For a second, the world around us blurred.
His gaze was intense — a mix of admiration and challenge, like he was savoring the sight of me.
And damn it, my heart reacted.
I quickly tore my eyes away. No, Ragini. Not him. You cannot feel this. He’s not your weakness.
I moved toward the drink counter, forcing my mind back to composure.
"One orange juice, please," I ordered curtly.
As I sipped, my eyes roamed the crowd — not out of interest, but distraction.
The truth was, I hated these parties.
The pretentious laughter, the business talks masked with fake politeness — all of it. But declining Aditya’s invitation wasn’t an option.
And then… I saw him again.
Rishi, walking toward me — slow, confident, with that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips.
My fists clenched automatically. My eyes burned with restrained anger.
“Hey,” he greeted, voice dripping with arrogance and charm. “How’s my ghayal sherni doing tonight?”
(Ye ghayal sherni isko ghayal kr degi ik din guyss🤫🤣)
I glared at him, jaw tightening. “It’s none of your business. And stop calling me that. My name is Ragini — Ragini Roy.”
He chuckled softly, taking a sip from his glass. “Well, well… congratulations on losing the deal.”
I tilted my head slightly, a faint smirk curling my lips. “Thank you for the compliment — but no thank you, Mr. Singh.”
“Oh, my ghayal sherni,” he said with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “Don’t be so mad at me. It’s just business.”
I stared at him, my gaze sharp enough to slice through steel.
He shrugged casually, his tone turning darker. “In our world, Ragini, winning a deal is just another move on the chessboard. Don’t take it personally.”
I stepped closer, my voice low but laced with venom. “You’ll regret underestimating me, Mr. Singh.”
He smirked, clearly enjoying this. “I look forward to it. Well... don't you think you should give me small gift as a congratulations ms. Roy”
"You want a gift mr. Singh ?", I asked raising my eyebrows.
He nodded with a calm presence and a victorious smile on his stupid face.
His arrogance — his calmness — it infuriated me. Every inch of me screamed to break that composure.
So I did😏.
I lifted my glass slowly, met his eyes, and with a bright, confident smile — threw the drink right on his face.
The liquid splashed across his perfect jaw, his shirt, dripping down his collar.
Gasps echoed around the room.
I leaned in slightly, my voice calm and cold.
“Enjoy your little gift, Mr. Singh. I hope you liked it.”
He blinked once, water dripping from his jawline, then slowly let out a short laugh — deep and dangerously amused.
“Fiery as ever,” he said, wiping his face with a handkerchief. “You know, Ms. Roy, that only makes me want to play harder.”
I crossed my arms. “You can play whatever games you want, Rishi. But remember, I don’t lose twice.”
He took a step closer, lowering his voice near my ear.
“Careful, Ragini. The last person who challenged me… doesn’t exist in this business anymore.”
I smiled — cold, confident. “Then maybe it’s time someone taught you how it feels to lose.”
For a brief moment, his eyes softened — admiration flickered there again. Then he smirked, turning his glass toward the bartender.
“Two orange juices,” he said smoothly, glancing at me. “If we’re going to war, might as well make a toast.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide the tiny curl of a smile. “You’re impossible.”
“And you,” he said, raising his glass toward me, “are dangerously captivating.”
Our glasses clinked — not in peace, but in challenge.
The real game had just begun.
The clink of our glasses still echoed faintly between us.
He was smirking — that same calm, dangerous expression that made people surrender or shatter. But not me.
Not tonight.
I took a slow sip from my glass, never breaking eye contact. His gaze followed every movement — the way I held the drink, the slight tilt of my lips.
It wasn’t admiration anymore; it was a challenge.
Before I could speak again, a familiar voice cut through the air.
“Well, well… looks like I interrupted something interesting.”
Mr. Aditya kashyap
I turned toward him, my face softening into a polite smile. “Mr. Kashyap,” I greeted, my voice smooth.
Rishi’s smirk faltered — just for a second. I caught that tiny flicker of irritation in his eyes, and it almost made me smile wider.
Aditya stepped closer, his gaze shifting between the two of us. “Ragini, you look stunning tonight,” he said sincerely, his eyes warm and proud.
“Thank you,” I replied lightly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Your party is… extravagant as always.”
“I try,” he chuckled, then looked at Rishi. “Rishi Singh Rajput — I see even the great CEO finds time to attend my humble gathering.”
Rishi chuckled softly, straightening his collar — the one still slightly damp from my little “gift.”
“I couldn’t miss it,” he said, eyes flicking toward me. “Especially when certain… interesting guests are attending.”
I rolled my eyes slightly, taking another sip to hide my reaction.
Aditya caught the exchange — and something changed in his gaze. His smile turned knowing, maybe even protective. “Ah, so you two know each other,” he said with a teasing undertone.
“Unfortunately,” I said, tone clipped.
“Deeply,” Rishi countered, his voice low and smooth like silk wrapped around steel.
The air thickened again. Aditya’s brows furrowed slightly, as if sensing the storm brewing between us.
He chuckled awkwardly. “Well… I’ll assume there’s some business history there.”
“History?” Rishi smirked, stepping closer. “You could say that. But it’s far from over.”
I turned to him sharply. “In your dreams, Mr. Singh.”
He leaned closer — too close — his breath brushing against my ear.
“Sweetheart, that’s exactly where you live lately.”
My pulse spiked, but I refused to flinch. He wouldn’t get that satisfaction.
Before I could respond, Aditya stepped between us — subtly, but firmly.
“Alright, you two,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Let’s not turn my party into a battlefield.”
I forced a small laugh. “Don’t worry, Aditya. I don’t fight with people who already lost.”
Rishi’s jaw tightened just slightly, but his eyes… they gleamed with something darker.
“Careful, Ms. Roy,” he murmured, voice barely audible. “You might just make me fall for the fight.”
And with that, he walked away — leaving behind the faint scent of his cologne and a thousand unspoken words.
I stood still, my grip tightening around the glass.
Every part of me wanted to scream, to punch, to forget the way his words made my heartbeat shift rhythm.
“Ragini?” Aditya’s voice pulled me back. “You okay?”
I nodded. “Perfectly fine,” I said flatly.
But inside, I knew — this night had changed something.
The war between Rishi Singh Rajput and me had just turned personal.
Author’s POV
The clock struck midnight when the black car stopped in front of the grand Roy mansion.
From the outside, it looked majestic — tall gates, glowing lights, silence draped in wealth. But inside… it was lonely. Too lonely.
Ragini stepped out, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. The echo of the party still lingered in her ears — the laughter, Rishi’s voice, his taunting words. She had kept her head high there, unbothered and untouchable, but now… the mask was slowly cracking.
Without greeting anyone, she made her way straight to her room. The mansion was silent, as if even the walls respected her need for solitude.
Her room was neat — too neat, like someone trying to control the chaos within by keeping everything in perfect order. The soft jasmine fragrance filled the air, calm and familiar. It was her favorite scent — her father’s choice, years ago.
She slipped off her heels and changed into a simple nightdress, her movements mechanical, her mind somewhere far away. The diamond earrings she wore clinked softly as she placed them on the table.
Then, she walked toward the study room — her father’s old room.
The moment she opened the door, the faint smell of old paper and sandalwood filled her senses. It hit her chest like a memory. The room hadn’t changed in years — not a single thing. The books on the shelf, the small globe on the desk, the half-broken pen stand — everything remained the same.
Her eyes fell on the photo frame resting on the wooden table.
She froze.
Her throat tightened, and her vision blurred as she reached out for it with trembling hands. The frame felt heavier than it should. Inside the photo, a man in his forties stood with a little girl in his arms — both smiling brightly, both looking at the world with joy.
Her father.
And her.
Her fingers brushed against the glass gently, as if afraid it might shatter beneath her touch. “Papa…” she whispered, her voice breaking like glass against stone.
Tears welled up, one after another, until they spilled freely down her cheeks. The confident, fearless Ragini Roy — who could face Rishi Singh Rajput without flinching — was gone. Here stood only a daughter, missing her father.
“You always said, ‘Don’t let anyone see your tears, my brave girl,’” she murmured, smiling faintly through the tears. “But it’s hard, Papa. It’s so hard pretending to be strong every single day.”
She sat down on the floor beside the desk, clutching the frame to her chest. The silence around her grew heavier, almost suffocating.
“I wish you were here,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I wish you could see me now — handling your empire, keeping your name alive. But Papa… it hurts. Every win feels empty without you.”
Her vision blurred as tears filled her eyes. One slipped down her cheek, landing on the glass. She didn’t bother wiping it this time.
“I need you, Papa…” she choked out, clutching the frame tighter. “I’m so sorry… I really am. I—”
Her voice broke completely. She fell to her knees, shaking, the words tearing out of her like pieces of her soul.
“My one mistake… it took your life, Papa… I’m so sorry…”
The confession echoed through the stillness, raw and shattering. The mask of strength she wore every day cracked open completely, revealing the guilt that had eaten her from within all these years.
“I thought I was strong,” she whispered through sobs. “But I can’t… I can’t do this without you. Everything I built, every success — it means nothing when you’re not here to see it.”
She buried her face against the frame, her tears soaking into her hands.
The silence around her grew heavy — as if even the air mourned with her.
Her tears dropped on the glass of the photo, blurring her father’s smile. She quickly wiped it, like she used to wipe her father’s face playfully after he returned from work.
A soft breeze entered the room through the slightly open window, making the curtains sway gently — like a silent answer. She closed her eyes, imagining his voice, the way he’d call her “my little sherni.”
Her lips trembled into a faint smile. “Your little sherni is still fighting, Papa,” she whispered. “But sometimes… even lions get tired.”
For a long while, she sat there — lost between memories and the ache of absence. Then, slowly, she placed the frame back on the desk with delicate care, like it was made of her own heart.
As she stood up, her face was streaked with tears, but her eyes — those fierce, determined eyes — burned once again with resolve.
“I’ll make you proud,” she said softly. “No matter what I have to face.”
And as the night deepened outside, the daughter of the late Arjun Roy — the woman the world knew as Ragini Roy, the unshakable queen of business — quietly broke, then rebuilt herself again.
___
Rishi’s POV
The city lights blurred outside the car window as I leaned back, silent.
The driver didn’t dare speak. No one ever did when I looked like this — half calm, half chaos.
My hand ran through my hair, still faintly damp from her drink.
I could still smell the citrus on my shirt — orange juice, thrown in anger, splashed with pride.
A faint smirk tugged at my lips.
Ragini Roy.
The woman was fire and frost all in one breath — and somehow, she always managed to burn me even when I saw her coming.
The image of her in that wine-red dress replayed in my mind — confident, breathtaking, dangerous. She didn’t walk into the party; she owned it. And when our eyes met, it was like time itself decided to pause.
I’d dealt with hundreds of business rivals, thousands of strong personalities — but none like her. Ragini wasn’t competing for power. She was power.
I poured myself another drink as soon as I stepped into my mansion. The place was silent, grand, and sterile — the kind of silence money couldn’t fill. The kind of silence I preferred.
I loosened my tie and walked to the window. The city glittered below — cold, merciless, ambitious.
Just like me.
And yet… she’d managed to disturb that calm. Again.
Her eyes — fierce and proud — had that flicker of something else tonight. Pain, maybe. Or something heavier. But it wasn’t my concern.
Still, for reasons I couldn’t explain, it stayed in my mind.
I took a sip from my glass and let out a quiet chuckle. “You really know how to make an impression, don’t you, Ms. Roy?”
She had thrown the drink with such precision — anger burning behind her eyes, yet not uncontrolled. Even her fury was elegant.
She hated losing, and I loved watching her fight.
But what I couldn’t figure out was why she looked… haunted.
There had been a second — just one second — before she spoke, when her eyes softened, like she was carrying something too heavy for even her strength.
And damn it, that thought irritated me.
I didn’t care what hurt her. It wasn’t my business. It wasn’t my fault.
Still, something about her pain made me restless. Not because I felt pity — I didn’t even know how to feel that anymore — but because it made her real.
Raw.
Human.
And that, somehow, made her even more impossible to ignore.
I ran a hand over my jaw, staring at the reflection of my own face in the glass.
I’d spent years mastering control — emotions, deals, people, everything. But she was the one variable I couldn’t calculate.
The one woman who could throw a drink at my face and still make me want to smile.
A faint smirk curved my lips again. “You’ll regret that, Ragini,” I murmured under my breath. “No one challenges Rishi Singh Rajput and walks away untouched.”
I didn’t mean it as a threat. Not really.
It was… a promise. A pull.
A silent vow that this war between us was far from over.
My gaze fell on the file lying on my desk — Roy Industries embossed in gold letters. Tomorrow, we’d be face to face again.
Another battle. Another chance to watch her burn and rise.
I finished my drink, setting the glass down with finality. The faint scent of whiskey lingered in the air.
“Let’s see how long you can keep your walls up, Ms. Roy,” I whispered, the smirk returning. “Because whether you like it or not… I’m not done with you yet.”
The night outside deepened — silent, electric.
And somewhere between his pride
and fascination, Rishi Singh Rajput realized the truth he’d never admit aloud —
he wasn’t sure if he wanted to defeat Ragini Roy… or understand her.
---
So that's it for today.... Next chapter will be updated soon as I already said...
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Love you all guys 😘
Byy take care tulips 🌷
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