Trisha

Present Day

I drove down the familiar road of my hometown. Only... it didn't feel familiar anymore. The old buildings I vaguely remembered had grown taller, trees had thinned, and traffic buzzed where once there had been quiet. This place had changed a lot.

Not that I remembered much. My memories were faint, fragmented. But even through the haze, I could tell—things were different.

I can't believe it's been 12 years.

12 years since I last came here.

It used to be peaceful, quiet... more houses than high-rises, more green than grey. Now, it looked stripped of its soul.

I scoffed inwardly.

And here I was, judging the city—when my own world had turned black and white. Maybe that's all I'd ever see now. Grey.

I parked in front of Abhishek Kashyap's under-construction site, stepping out to inspect the progress. I wanted everything to be perfect. After all, I was investing in this rising engineer for a reason. An investment always had to give me something useful in return.

"Miss Rathore?" I heard a voice behind me.

I turned with a polite smile. "Hello there."

"How do I owe you this pleasure?" Abhishek asked.

"Oh, nothing dramatic......i just wanted to see if what im investing on is worth enough"

"I hope I'm not disappointing you?"

"Not yet," I said, removing my shades. "I'm here with the terms we discussed—in exchange for this investment."

"Of course. Let's talk inside." He gestured toward a tent.

I followed him in, sat down, and handed him a file. Confusion flickered across his face.

"What is this—"

"Look," I cut in, "you're a beginner in this field. You're just starting your company. You need as much help as you can get. That's where I come in. These are the projects you're going to take over—or at least try to. I want a minimum of five projects in your hands. Lose even one, and I'll pull my investment."

His eyes widened. "You can't just spring this on me now. You should've told me before we signed the deal—"

"If you need help, you'll get it. Money, people, connections—name it. But I want these projects. Quote lower than you normally would. Win them."

"Who are these people? Why are you targeting these projects?"

"These people don't deserve them. If we take them over, we'll become very big. Don't you want to be big, Mr. Kashyap?"

"Not illegally, ma'am. You can walk away with your investment. I'm not selling my morals."

I let out a low scoff. "Morals, huh? That's good..... That's Very good, Mr. Kashyap." I slid the papers back into my bag. "I'm sorry—I was kidding. Just a test. People tend to take shortcuts."

"Did I pass?"

"With full marks." i said forcing a smile

He did passed. I'd been searching for trustworthy people with strong morals to invest in—not just their companies, but their minds. They thought I was a woman of high morals, too. But the truth was, I preferred emotionally struggling people—dreamers starting out with no money. People easy to manipulate. They trusted me with everything, and in return, they doubled my money.

But trust and morality weren't what I needed right now. Not for the war I was about to start.

For Neeraj's destruction, I needed someone with fewer morals. Someone who would do anything for money.

"Uh... excuse me, Mr. Kashyap?" a worker interrupted.

We both turned toward him.

"What is it?" Abhishek asked.

"Sir, someone's here to see Miss Rathore."

My brows rose. I stepped outside and found a black SUV waiting. A woman in a sharp formal suit stood by it.

The Krishnas.

Finally.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Kashyap. I have to go now." I slipped on my shades, heading toward the SUV.

"But ma'am—you never specified the interest or repayment terms—"

"You'll return the exact amount I invested. Now, have someone bring my car back to my office, please." I slid into the SUV without another word.

The Krishnas.

The most powerful underground organization in the world. At least, that's what people said. No one knew who Krishna really was, or if he even existed. But just the name was enough to make rapists and all sort of corrupted basterds piss themselves.

My first thought after leaving Neeraj had been to hire the Krishnas to kill him. Brutally. But no. That would be mercy. I wanted him to suffer. To beg for death. To watch his own world crumble before he finally died slowly, painfully.

After I opened there website I found out that they are not run by a single man but diffrent authoraties its a organization connecting millions and the numbers are increasing...

The people who are running this should be running the government I thought

After 45 minutes or so we reached at the tallest building of the city...

I walked inside the building following the very same woman who brought me hear

I followed the woman inside the lift, but instead of going up, the lift took us down—to the basement.

Of course.

"Are we going to see Krishan?" i asked

That woman looked me dead in the eye "Krishna doesn't meat everyone" she said

They really do love to talk i rolled my eyes...

When the doors opened, cold air swept across me. The underground space sprawled like a fortress—armed men, women in suits, all exuding power.

I followed the lead of the woman and stopped in front of a massive, bearded-looking room with a heavy metal door. She walked towards the guards, whispered something, and instantly they opened the door for me.

Inside, three people sat. One occupied the head chair, while the other two were buried in files, speaking rapidly among themselves. My eyes lingered on the man at the side—his face struck a faint chord of familiarity, though I wasn't sure why.

Oh...

Anuj Bharadvaj. The famous private detective. That must be his assistant beside him.

I approached them, and soon, all their eyes shifted to me.

"Welcome to the Krishnas, Miss Rathore," the man on the left said, rising to his feet. "I am Aryan... and this is Anuj, whom you must already be aware of—our renowned detective—and this is Sammara, his partner."

"What's the use of a detective in an illegal organization?" I asked flatly.

They all laughed.

"Because they're part of it," Aryan said smoothly. "Now, tell me, Miss Rathore—what brings you here? Why have you been so eager to reach out to the Krishnas?"

"Because I want the annihilation of my ex-husband."

"Oh... I know this tone." Anuj smirked, exchanging a glance with his partner.

"Whatever you need will be provided," Aryan said casually. "Money, men, killers, property, plots, buildings—you name it, it's yours. You just need to carry on with your plan."

"I want all the other builders—big or small, our allies—to take over the projects Neeraj and his family need for their ventures. I don't want them to have a single project left, except the one they're already stuck working on. Target him where it hurts. Can you do that?"

"Of course," he replied without hesitation. "We have mostly builders in our group. You'll have it."

I nodded slowly. "I also want someone to build a new company under my name. I could do it myself, but—"

"You're on the radar," Anuj finished smoothly. "You need someone low on morals. Someone who'll do anything for money."

The girl scoffed.

"Can you do that?" I asked them directly.

Aryan shrugged. "Look, we're friends with huge corporations here. Everyone's on the radar. No one's new—you know that."

"What about asking one of the old ones? Surely you have at least one friend you trust," Anuj suggested, his gaze sharp, as though he were reading me inside out.

The way he said it—damn, he really is one of the best detectives out there.

I scoffed. "Just one, actually. But I'm not sure he even remembers me."

"Look, we make memories with college friends," Sammara said, finally speaking, "but bonds with school friends... those are unbreakable. Take your chance."

They know things about me. Too much. Things I never said aloud. I didn't even want to ask how.

"I want a report on everything," I said firmly.

Aryan nodded,"Every morning there will be a package at your house. Make sure to check it."

I gave him a tight nod and finally took my leave.

The moment I slid into my car, light spilled across the dashboard, and I exhaled a shaky breath.

Akshat.

That was the name that surfaced every single time my world tilted off balance.

Whenever things became unbearable, I wanted to run to him—because some fragile, reckless part of me still believed he'd be there for me.

Would he?

After eight years of school friendship?

I always had feelings for him since our teenage days. I liked him—more than liked him. We always stayed in touch, even tried the long-distance thing. I remembered the late-night video calls, the goofy smiles, the confessions we almost made. I even confessed to daddy about him, thinking they will support me

But life had other plans. Things went wrong, spiraling out of my control. And I never told him.

Now the thought of seeing him again terrified me. Because if I did—if I saw him in front of me—I feared my carefully dead heart would beat again. And I wasn't sure I wanted that.

I started driving, every turn tightening the knot in my chest. What if he was different now? For three years, we'd only had video calls and chats. He'd always been sweet, goofy, a little clumsy—but what if that boy was gone?

And the marriage—my marriage—had been everywhere in the news. He must have seen it. Did he move on? Did he bury me the way I buried him?

The thought slammed into me with such force that I slammed my foot on the brakes.

"Why the hell am I even thinking about him all of a sudden?" I muttered, slamming a hand against the wheel.

Anuj's words earlier had stirred memories I'd locked away. And I hated that they did...

"We make memories with college friends, but a bond like no other with school friends."

Why did he say that? Why did he look at me like that? As if he knew every page of my history.

I scoffed, though it was hollow. Not that I care. It's not like I've had a life worth remembering anyway.

Still, something in me whispered: Just give it a shot.

I've already been through heartbreaks I never asked for. If he's moved on, if he doesn't help me—it wouldn't surprise me. It wouldn't even hurt.

Why did he say that? Why did he look at me as if he knew my life story?

I scoffed, shaking my head. Not that I cared. My life wasn't exactly something to brag about.

Still... maybe I should give it a shot.

I'd already been through heartbreaks I never asked for. If he had moved on, if he no longer cared, if he didn't help me—it wouldn't surprise me.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the car and walked toward his house.

Strangely, the place felt familiar. Almost as if I had been pushed back into the fifth grade.

I could never forget the day we first met—because that day I didn't just make a friend. I met the weirdest human being alive.

He was so weird.

The memory made me laugh before I could stop myself. But just as quickly, I pushed it away and knocked on the door.

It opened to reveal a woman in her fifties, maybe sixties, wearing a simple sari with an apron tied neatly over it.

And then—the aroma hit me.

Sweet batter. Freshly baked cake.

The smell I thought I had forgotten long ago crashed into me, dragging me back to being a ten-year-old girl, pedaling her bicycle against her father's warnings.

"Don't go too far, Trisha," Dad had said. "Stay in the neighborhood."

But I didn't listened why would I? I just learned to ride. The joy of speeding down the road, hair flying in the wind, feeling free—it made me feel invincible. I didn't care about getting lost. Deep down, I knew Dad would always find me.

I remembered the way the trees lined the path, the sound of kids playing in the gardens, the town alive with simple joys. It felt like flying—until it happened.

A boy.

He appeared suddenly in front of me, his bicycle swerving across the path. Terror flashed in his eyes, mirroring mine.

I slammed the brakes, leapt off, but it was too late.

The crash came.

When I opened one eye, the boy was sprawled on the ground, blood streaking his knee. My chest tightened. He was hurt—because of me.

And instead of him crying, I did. Big, heaving sobs.

He blinked at me, confused. "Why are you crying? Are you hurt?"

I shook my head, tears streaming harder.

"You're too loud! Stop crying!!" he whined, covering his ears.

Through my blurry haze, I saw him brushing at the dirt on his knees. Then a woman—his mother—came rushing. She pulled him into her arms instantly.

"Akku? Are you okay, baccha?" she fussed, checking his knee, brushing the dust away.

"I'm fine, Mom..." he grinned.

I shuffled toward them, trembling, guilt swallowing me whole. "I-I-I'm sorry... I didn't mean to. I wasn't careful..."

I braced myself for scolding. But instead—

"What did you do to her, Akku? Why is she crying?" his mother asked, tugging his ear.

"Mom! I didn't do anything! She attacked me with her cycle!" he yelped.

I sobbed harder.

But then came that aroma. Sweet, warm, comforting. The smell of freshly baked cake and bread.

The woman crouched, wiping my tears. "Shh... it's alright, honey. Are you hurt?"

I shook my head. My gaze shifted to the boy glaring at me.

Digging into my bag, I pulled out a band-aid—Dad always made me carry them in my "emergency pocket." I held it out. "This will make the pain go away."

He blinked at me, then at his mom.

"Take it, Akku. When your friend is trying to help, you shouldn't say no," she said.

Reluctantly, he accepted it. "What am I supposed to do with it?"

I tilted my head. "You don't know how to use a band-aid?"

Weird kid.

When he didn't answer, I snatched it back, tore it open, and knelt in front of him. "Here, I'll put it on."

He flinched away. "It'll sting!"

"No, it won't. I promise it'll only make the pain go away."

"What if it does sting?"

"It won't!"

"What if it does?" he pressed again.

"You won't know until you try!" I snapped loud enough for the whole colony to hear.

With a pout, he finally extended his knee. I placed the band-aid carefully.

He opened his eyes, testing. Then blinked at me.

"See? I told you!" I grinned.

His mother chuckled. "That's very sweet, beta. But I haven't seen you before. Who are you? Do you study with Akku?"

"I'm not his friend," I said firmly. "I don't know him. I'm Trisha Thakur."

She frowned. "What are you doing here, beta? Did you move here?"

I shook my head. "I'm lost." I grinned sheepishly.

"What? Your parents must be worried. You shouldn't—"

"Doesn't look like it's her first time," the boy muttered, narrowing his eyes.

I stuck my tongue out at him.

The woman sighed. "Do you know your parents' number?"

I rummaged in my bag, pulling out my diary. "I want to be a detective when I grow up," I explained proudly, handing it to her.

She laughed softly. "Very smart girl. Why don't you come inside for some sweets while I call your parents? They must be worried."

I nodded enthusiastically, following her.

That same woman now stood before me.

And I wasn't going to lie—the aroma still made me drool.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

I blinked out of my memories. "Oh... sorry. I—I'm here to meet Akshat. Is he home?"

"Oh, I'm afraid not, beta. He left for the bakery a few hours ago..." Her eyes swept over me curiously. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

For some reason, a part of me wished she would recognize me.

I smiled faintly. "That just caused an internal pain.. aunty."

Her eyes widened her palm flew to her mouth "Oh my god—"

i bit on my lower lip"I know, I know... I've changed—"

Before I could finish, she pulled me into a warm embrace. The same one as years ago.

the godamn same embrace that can croumble any wall down in a snap

something in me itched to hug her back

so

I pulled away quickly, afraid tears would betray me..

"Beta, it's been so long! You've grown so beautiful."

"Yeah..." i cleared my throat "umm... could you give me Akshat's address? It's urgent."

"Of course. But at least come in! I'll bake something quick—you know, I was just about to make those cookies you and Akshat used to fight over—"

"Some other day, aunty," I cut her off, forcing a smile. "I promise I'll come just for your treats... im in a hurry"

She hesitated, then disappeared inside and came back after a few moment handing me a card "he also runs a small cefe too... the backry is quite far away you you should check the cefe first okay?" she explained

i nodded turning away

"Trisha?" she called...

I froze.

"yes?" i looked at her and She handed me a paper bag, lips jutting like a child. "Hear Have this on your way."

Is she really sulking because I refused to go inside?

I chewed the inside of my cheek, fighting a smile, and took the bag. "Thank you. I promise I'll visit—and stay as long as you want," I said.

"Promise?" she asked, her eyes narrowing like a suspicious child.

I arched a brow. Isn't she the mother of a twenty-eight-year-old son?

"I don't want to say it..." I muttered. "I'll try," I finally conceded before turning and walking toward the car.

Sliding inside, I placed the bag on the passenger seat and started the engine.

It took all my willpower not to peek inside that paper bag.

Forty minutes later, I reached the address. On the first turn of the road stood a small café and bakery.

The place was swarming with people—mostly women.

Seems like it's famous.

Parking the car, I stepped inside. The café was buzzing with activity; the air smelled of fresh coffee and sugar. Nearly every table was occupied, and the line at the counter was long—mostly women again.

It didn't take long to see why.

Every single staff member was male, and not just male—good-looking. Ridiculously good-looking. and i dont even wanna get started on the girls and women present hear most of them were making videos taking selfies trying to stalk the staff

well i guess this is what a femail dominated society would be like

men should also desrve to know what it feels like

who am i kidding when i know most of them enjoys this kind of attention especially from the femals...

I scoffed. Looks like Akshat knows how to run a business in a small town where women don't get to see this kind of antique beauty every day.

"Excuse me," I said, stepping up to the counter. "Where's the owner of this café?" i asked a free worker

The worker glanced around, then pointed toward a man. "There he is, ma'am. He's attending to one of the customers."

I followed his gesture—and my heart stumbled.

It didn't take long to recognize him. After all, there was a time we spoke almost every day, when long distance meant nothing.

He looked almost the same.

Rolled-up sleeves on a plain white shirt. An apron with the café's logo tied around his lean frame. His hair falling loosely onto his forehead. His gaze fixed on the woman across from him with a mix of attention and warmth.

who is she?

I hated how easily my heart picked up the pieces of memory.

Is she one of the regulars?" I asked.

"Sorry?" the worker tilted his head.

"Never mind," I muttered quickly.

My eyes remained on him. Their body language—sometimes serious, sometimes whispering, sometimes laughing—made it obvious.

He'd moved on.

I scoffed. "Oh man..."

Why wasn't this a surprise?

I guess we're even now, Akshat. First, I broke your heart. Now you broke mine. Because I did hear it—a faint, traitorous crack inside my chest.

I rolled my eyes and walked inside taking a the empty table

ill play it for a bit and lets see if he recognizes me

I sat there my eyes fixed on him looks like he is enjoying the attention too and the women was preety

well he has standards for sure

Don't tell me hes married already with a kid?..

Good for him i guess... atleast one of us is

And then—my eyes landed on Shourya.

What is he doing here?

I remembered meeting him at my engagement with Neeraj. He'd warned me—bluntly—that Neeraj wasn't a good man. He'd told me to stay away from that family. The very next day, he disappeared.

When I told my parents what he'd said, they dismissed him. Called him the black sheep of the family. A troublemaker who slandered everyone.

But I remembered the sincerity in his eyes.

We hadn't met since. And yet... seeing him here, looking grounded, almost ordinary, I thought—maybe he could be useful.

He was seated with colleagues, clearly on a lunch break.

Should I go say hi?

My gaze drifted back to the counter—Akshat was gone. The owner had vanished into the back.

Until he comes out, I may as well...

"Shourya Avasthi," I said, sliding off my shades and offering a polite smile.

He looked up, startled, and so did his colleagues. Recognition dawned.

"Trisha?"

"You just disappeared after the engagement party," I said smoothly.

"Engagement party?" one of his colleagues asked him.

He shook his head and stood. "This is my cousin brother's wife—"

"Ex-wife," I corrected firmly.

All their heads snapped in my direction.

Shourya's face didn't show surprise. He only gestured for us to move. We excused ourselves and took another table, away from curious eyes.

"Are you really an employee here?" I asked, disbelief thick in my voice. His father was an MLA, his brothers controlled multi-million-dollar companies.

He nodded simply.

"Why?"

"Because I want to," he said evenly. "I don't want to be part of their world."

I rolled my eyes.

"Where do you work?"

"Abhimanyu Kashyap's company."

Oh.

"Well, that's... interesting."

He tilted his head. "What are you doing here?"

"Do you seriously have no idea about your family's illegal activities?" I asked coldly.

He shut his eyes, letting out a slow breath. "I don't care."

"Sure you don't." I scoffed. People like him were worse—those who ran away instead of fighting. Cowards. I knew that too well. I'd been one myself.

The waiter interrupted. "Can I take your order?"

"Two coffees, please," Shourya said, glancing at me.

"Iced coffee," I corrected, my gaze fixed on him. He shifted in discomfort.

When the waiter left, he asked quietly, "What happened?"

"You know damn well what happened."

He exhaled. "I'm not talking about them. I'm talking about you. What happened to you, Trisha? Why are you here?"

"I'm here to plant the seed for their destruction," I said calmly.

"And why are you telling me this?"

"Don't worry. I won't ask you for infiltration, or help. Do what you always do—run. Because when it happens, you'll be affected too."

His brow furrowed. "Are you threatening me?"

I laughed softly. "No. I'm threatening everyone else—except you."

He frowned deeper.

"Do you seriously not know? Or do you pretend not to know that they keep eyes on you twenty-four seven?" I said, letting my gaze sweep the café.

He followed my line of sight—and froze. He'd noticed them too.

"The prince of the family always has guards," I whispered.

His throat bobbed. "What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing. Like I said—I'll handle everything. When the time comes, I'll tell you to run."

He swallowed hard. "Are you going to kill them?"

I wanted to laugh.

Killing would be too easy. Too merciful.

"No," I said finally.

He studied me.

"But I won't let them live, either. There's a thing called hell, Shourya. I'll just bring it down to earth—especially for them."

To my surprise, his lips curved in a small smile. Not mockery—but understanding.

"Take care of yourself," he breathed, before standing. "Our drill is over." he said walking away 

HIII MY CUPCAKES

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