As soon as she landed in London she reached the Co Ordinators Office.
The room was sleek but suffocating. Meera sat across from the two coordinators in their crisp suits, fake smiles masking the rot beneath.
"One of our biggest funders wants a quick word with you," one of them said, voice coated with politeness but eyes sharp.
Meera frowned. "Funder? Why would a model need to speak to a funder directly?"
"It's… more of a formality. Just for optics." The other gave a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
Before she could protest further, the door opened.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Kunal Rajput stepped in, calm and smug. The door clicked shut behind him. The coordinators were gone.
Her face hardened. "This is highly inappropriate. I won't entertain you here or anywhere."
He strolled toward her, casual. "You embarrassed me. Humiliated me. That slap to my ego? That needs to be paid for."
"I'd rather lose this contract than deal with your power games," she snapped, already reaching for the door.
"Leave?" he chuckled darkly. "How will you? The door's locked. You'll listen to me now."
"This," he said, walking toward her, "is the price you pay when you humiliate someone like me. I lost deals, credibility… because of your little 'scene' with those guards. Now? You get to feel what that costs."
"You'll get nothing from me," she snapped. "And if you even think of trying, I will scream the entire building down."
He smirked. "No one will hear. You're locked in. Just you, and me."
As he reached out to grab her wrist, Meera struck. Her knee slammed up into his groin — he howled, doubling over. She darted for the door, but he grabbed her by the back of her jacket and yanked her down.
She hit the floor hard, pain exploding through her elbow. But she didn't cry. She twisted, kicked out with her heel — it landed on his shin. He grunted and staggered.
"You'll regret this, Meera Singhania," he hissed, slapping her across the face.
Her vision blurred, but she didn't fall back. She stood up, shoulders shaking, blood in her mouth — but defiance in her eyes.
"You should've remembered—I'm not afraid of men like you," she said, voice hoarse.
Kunal lunged again—
CRASH.
The door burst open.
Abhimanyu stood there, eyes wild with fury. For one breathless second, he simply looked—at Meera's torn sleeve, the bruise rising on her cheek, and Kunal still too close.
His body moved before his mind did.
One solid punch landed square on Kunal's jaw—sending him crashing into the wall. Before Kunal could recover, Abhimanyu's fist caught him again—once, twice—until he hit the floor with a groan.
Abhimanyu stood over him, chest heaving. "You touched my wife."
("Meri biwi ko haath lagaya tune.")
His voice could've frozen fire.
The guards moved in, but Abhimanyu raised a hand. "No. I'll handle him myself."
But Meera stepped forward, breathing hard.
"No, Abhimanyu," she said. "He's not worth your hands."
She turned to Kunal, who was trying to crawl away. "You'll be dragged through the law, through every news channel, through every court. I'll see to it."
Kunal tried to speak, but her glare shut him down.
Abhimanyu gently placed a hand on her shoulder—not to claim her, but to ground her. "Let's go."
And this time, Meera didn't walk out like a victim.
She walked out like a storm that survived.
And Abhimanyu didn't say a word as he escorted Meera out of that suffocating room.
His arm hovered behind her protectively, not touching her without permission, but ready—ready to catch her if she stumbled. Her steps were fast but unsteady, and she refused to look at anyone. Her jaw was clenched. Her hands, trembling.
The moment they reached the parking lot, Abhimanyu opened the back seat of his black BMW and gestured for Tanvi, who had followed behind with the guards.
"Tanvi. Sit with her. Don't leave her alone."
Tanvi nodded and slid in beside Meera.
Abhimanyu didn't even glance back.
He slammed the door shut and turned, cracking his knuckles as he walked back into that building.
He didn't need guards.
He was the damn storm.
Meera sat still, her back straight like she was holding herself together with invisible thread. But her hands—her hands betrayed her.
They shook violently in her lap, clenched in fists so tight her nails dug into her own skin.
Tanvi reached out slowly, placing a hand over hers.
"You're safe now. He's not going to touch you again."
That broke her.
Meera looked at her, and her eyes brimmed, but she didn't sob. She cracked silently—her breath hitching, chest shuddering, tears falling in slow, stunned rhythm like rain that had waited too long to pour.
"I… I didn't deserve that. I didn't ask for any of this. I just came for work…"
Her voice was hoarse. "Why does he always show up when I'm just trying to breathe?"
Tanvi didn't answer. She only pulled a tissue out and dabbed her tears gently. But even she was shaken.
She looked up at Tanvi.
"Where's… where's Abhimanyu?"
Tanvi paused.
Then softly said, "You don't want to see him right now."
"Why?"
Tanvi looked away, her voice lower.
"Because right now… he's not the man you know. He's Abhimanyu Rajput. And if you saw what that means… you wouldn't be able to forget it."
Meera's eyes widened. A long silence stretched between them.
Outside, sirens were starting to wail in the distance.
But Meera tried to calm herself down
But the moment Tanvi glanced at her phone and turned pale, Meera sat upright.
"What is it?"
Tanvi's jaw clenched. "Security just gave me an order. I'm supposed to take you back to the hotel. Now."
Meera blinked. "What? Why?"
Tanvi hesitated.
But Meera pressed again. "Tanvi—what happened inside?"
Tanvi finally met her gaze, eyes somber.
"They said… Kunal's been dragged out of the room. Barely breathing. And Abhimanyu… he's not in the right state of mind. No one is allowed to speak to him. No one's allowed to go near him."
Meera went silent for half a second.
And then she threw the door open.
"Meera!" Tanvi tried to grab her arm. "Don't. Please. Just—just let it settle. This is not the time to be brave."
"I have to see him," Meera snapped, already stepping out. "I don't care what anyone says. I know what that bastard did to me, and I don't want Abhimanyu to lose everything because of him."
Tanvi stood helplessly by the car as Meera walked straight toward the glass building.
But as she pushed past the lobby and turned the corner toward the office hallway—
A wall of black-suited bodyguards stopped her.
"Ma'am, you cannot go in."
"I need to go in. I'm his—"
"We know who you are, ma'am. But Abhimanyu Sir has issued a direct command: no one enters."
Her voice cracked, but she held her ground. "Please. I just need to see him—"
The bodyguard lowered his voice, eyes apologetic.
"You can't, ma'am. Not right now. He's in a state no one's allowed to witness. Kunal was barely breathing when we pulled him out. If you see him like this… you won't be able to forget it."
Meera froze.
She looked past the shoulders of the guards to the blood-smeared corridor, the shattered glass outside the office, and the paramedics wheeling someone away.
She felt her stomach turn.
Her hands trembled again, but not from fear.
From the ache in her chest.
But then she just looked at them and firmly gestured to let her in and seeing her resolve the guards parted away for her to enter.
The floor was slick with blood, and the smell — metallic, sharp — clung to the air like smoke in a burning house.
Meera stood at the doorway, breath shallow, her chest heaving from the cold shock of everything she'd seen — and what she still wasn't prepared for.
Abhimanyu stood over Kunal's limp body, his sleeves rolled up, fists still clenched. His guards were dragging Kunal out as she entered.
He turned.
One look.
His eyes weren't the man she had married.
"Who the hell told you to come inside?" he shouted, voice thunderous.
Meera flinched.
"I— I had to see if you were okay—"
"I warned you!" he barked, storming toward her. "I told you not to come to London. I told you to stay the hell out of this city."
His voice echoed through the office like a whip crack. The guards paused but didn't dare speak.
Abhimanyu stood inches away now, his jaw tight with fury.
"You saw what you weren't meant to see. You dragged this side of me out," he hissed. "Now you think you get to fall apart? In front of my men?"
"I—" Meera stammered, her voice barely a whisper.
He cut her off.
"Do you have any idea how many people now know I'm married? Do you even know how much trouble you've caused just by walking in here?"
Meera's eyes welled up. "That's what this is about? That someone saw me? That someone found out I'm your wife?"
"You were never supposed to be seen!" he roared.
Tears spilled silently down her cheeks as her fingers clenched by her sides. "You don't care. You never have. You care more about hiding me than protecting me."
Abhimanyu's chest heaved as he stepped forward again — and this time, his hand shot out and grabbed her jaw, tilting her chin up roughly.
Meera gasped at the sting.
"I hated your father," he said in a deadly whisper. "Before. Now. Always. And every time I see your face, I remember the day my parents died because of him."
She didn't cry. Not anymore. Her jaw hurt under his grip. Her eyes were red. But she was too pale, too empty to even blink.
"And I swear, Meera… I will make you pay for every sin your father committed against me."
His grip tightened for just a second longer before he let go.
Her shoulders slumped.
But still, no words.
Not one.
Because what could she say to a man who had made her a graveyard for her father's sins?
He walked away.
And Meera stood there — shattered, silent, and swallowed whole by the blood and the silence that followed.