---

Morning – The Battle at Home

Saanvi sat cross-legged on her bed, hair falling in messy curls as she glared at her left hand. The ornate ruby ring mocked her. Soap, oil, thread—nothing worked. The metal felt fused to her skin. Her pulse thudded loudly as she tugged harder. “Nahi nikal rahi…” she whispered.

Her mother called, “Saanvi, breakfast!”

“Coming!”

But her eyes stayed on the ring.

If I can’t pull it off… I’ll get it cut. Today.

She straightened her hair, wrapped her dupatta, and forced herself into teacher mode.

School — The Eyes That See Too Much

Walking to the blackboard felt unusually long. Every time she picked up the chalk, the ruby glittered, catching attention. Her colleagues smiled, but their eyes lingered on her hand. Not paranoia. She knew exactly whose doing this felt like.

She remembered the dark balcony.

His whisper.

Don’t remove the ring.

A shiver ran through her. By the last bell, she had already decided—jeweller first, home later.

Mehra Jewellers — A Small Place for a Big Problem

The small shop smelled of melted gold and incense. The shopkeeper greeted her warmly. She slid her hand forward. The ruby flashed like a drop of blood.

“This ring… it won’t come off. Please cut it.”

He examined it. “Pure platinum, onyx lattice… aur yeh ruby toh rare hai. Kahan se mili aapko?”

“That’s not important. Just cut it.”

He hesitated. “Itni costly ring ko kaatna… sure?”

“I said cut it,” she snapped softly.

He sighed, fetched a precision cutter. Her heartbeat quickened—finally, freedom.

The Door Chime — And Everything Stops

The bell above the door tinkled.

The jeweller froze. “D… Devraj ji?”

Saanvi turned, expecting a stranger.

It was him.

Devraj Rathore. White kurta, rolled sleeves, eyes sharpened with calm intensity. The Chief Minister.

And the man staring directly at her ring.

“I told you…” His voice was low, dangerously soft. “Don’t. Take. It. Off.”

It wasn’t just a warning. It was possession.

The Realisation

The truth slammed into her.

The midnight message.

The balcony shadow.

The whisper.

The kiss on her sleeping hand.

It was him.

Devraj Rathore.

Chief Minister.

Midnight trespasser.

And he wasn’t even sorry.

Her chest tight

ened, breath catching.

To be continued ✨

---