Ruthless Hearts ( Book 1 Of Shattered Hearts Saga)

He arrived at Singhania Corporation early, his car pulling up just as Anika's did. She was stepping out, a simple yet elegant dress in a cool shade of blue highlighting her professional demeanor. She held a large leather portfolio clutched to her chest and was fumbling with a stack of papers in her other hand. His eyes, fixed on her, missed a crucial detail: the marble floor of the lobby had just been polished.

She gasped, her head snapping up. For a moment, their eyes locked—his intense, demanding jet-black, and her startled, searching hazel. They were an echo of a connection he couldn't name, a push and pull that transcended the simple act of a near-fall. The moment hung in the air, charged with unspoken questions and a palpable tension.

“I—I'm so sorry,” Yakshit stammered, his grip on her a little tighter than necessary. “Are you all right?” as if he was actually scared. His Past guilt surfaced making it impossible to control his overflowing emotions

Anika pulled back, almost as if her body was on fire from the mere touch. “I’m fine,” she said hastily, her voice a little breathy. She quickly bent down to gather her papers, and Yakshit, breaking out of his daze, knelt to help. Their hands brushed as they reached for the same document, and the awkwardness returned, a sudden, heavy blanket.

They rode the elevator in silence to the project meeting room. The small group of employees—specialists from different departments—were already there, their faces a mix of anticipation and nerves. Anika, however, seemed to shed her earlier discomfort the moment she walked through the door.

She moved with an easy confidence, her composed demeanor a stark contrast to her disheveled state from the day before. She began the meeting by laying out a comprehensive plan, her voice clear and authoritative, a far cry from the monosyllabic answers she had given him.

“Our first objective is to streamline the current supply chain. We’ll analyze the Q3 reports to identify key bottlenecks,” she said, her eyes sweeping the room, "and then we’ll integrate the new inventory management system by the end of the month."

Yakshit watched in amazement. She wasn't just talking; she was commanding. The employees listened intently, nodding and taking notes almost as if they were afraid from her non existent wrath. Her authority was quiet but absolute, and he realized with a jolt that she was not just a managing director; she was a force of nature.

Her cunning was subtle, hidden beneath a veil of professionalism, and he found himself both impressed and intrigued. Throughout the discussion, he found himself doing what he had resolved not to do—he kept glancing at her, trying to read her, to find a hint of the person he had once known, but all he saw was an impenetrable wall of professionalism. Her occasional glances at him were fleeting and hesitant, a clear sign that his continuous stare was making her uncomfortable.

The meeting stretched into the afternoon, and soon the room was filled with the rustle of papers and the hum of focused work. Yakshit and Anika, side-by-side, were deep in the project details. A sudden knock on the door broke their concentration, and Yuvaan walked in, a couple of takeaway bags in his hands.

“Well, well,” Yuvaan said with a playful grin, placing the food on the table. “Look at these two workaholics. Lost track of time, have we?”

Anika looked up, her eyes widening in surprise. “Yuvaan, you didn’t have to.”

“Yes, I did,” he replied, his tone growing serious. “I know you two. You’d forget to eat if I didn’t bring it to you.” He looked at Anika with genuine affection. “You know, bhai, after you left, this girl here became a really important part of my life. She's the big sister I never had. She was there for me during some really stressful times at the company, always had my back. I hope you treat her right, bhai, because she deserves it.” He then turned to Anika. “And you, stop working so hard. I don’t want you compromising your health again di.”

Later that evening, after the work was done and they were both packing up, Yakshit's phone rang with a notification from yuvaan waiting for him in the parking lot as they had arrived together in the morning. He saw that Yuvaan had already been exhausted and needed to be home before he falls down. Just then, Anika's phone rang. She answered, her face creasing with a frown. "It's fine... no, I'll figure it out... yes, I know... just be careful, okay?"

She hung up, a sigh escaping her lips. "Is everything okay?" Yakshit asked hesitantly.

"My car's with a friend," she explained, "and she's stuck. Can't come pick me up." She answered as they reached the parking lot.

Before Yakshit could respond, Yuvaan, who had been listening to the conversation, chimed in. "Perfect! You can ride with us." He turned to Yakshit, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Anika, you sit up front. I'll take the back seat. I'm exhausted." He hopped into the backseat before Yakshit or Anika could object.

The first few minutes of the drive were silent, punctuated only by the low rumble of the engine and Yuvaan's light snoring from the back. To break the silence, Yakshit turned on the radio. A soft melody filled the car, the familiar notes of “Bahara” playing.

Dheere dheere se, mere dil ki sada…

(Slowly, slowly, the call of my heart…)

"So, what's your take on the preliminary budget for the project?" Yakshit asked, his voice softer than he'd intended.

"We can cut costs on a few fronts," Anika replied, her voice calm and professional. "I'll outline a few possibilities in tomorrow's brief."

Bahara… Bahara… hua dil pehli baar ve…

(Oh, spring, my heart has blossomed for the first time…)

"That's a good idea," he agreed, turning to face her. "Do you… listen to a lot of music?"

"Sometimes," she replied, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. "When I get the time."

Teri wajah se, meri saansein chale…

(Because of you, my breath moves…)

The conversation turned from work to the mundane, and he found himself asking about her favorite books, her hobbies, anything to hear her voice that resembled the voice of someone really important to him, as if he was trying to figure out if she was actually his ruhaani or not. She answered in monosyllabus, but he found himself drawn into the rhythm of her speech which didn't gave anything away, the way her eyes were hollow as is they had seen some really dark moments, an emptiness, as if she didn't want to answer his questions or rather didn't want to talk to him at all. Because of which he stopped asking her questions and focused on driving simultaneously stealing glances of her through the rearview mirror.

He pulled up to her apartment building. It was a modest place, a sharp contrast to the lavish mansions of the Singhania family. He got out and opened the door for her.

"Thank you, Mr. Singhania," she said, her voice genuine. "And thank you for not scolding me today."

He smiled, a genuine one this time, because she once again reminded her of that someone important. "My apologies, Ms. Verma. It was a mistake."

She just nodded and started to walk away. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He stood there for a moment, watching her until she disappeared inside. As he got back in the car, his thoughts drifted back to those hazel eyes, a sense of déjà vu washing over him. He had known those eyes. He had known that soul. But how? He drove away, the music still playing, the memories of a ghost from the past now in the form of a woman whom he met just a day ago.