The event was called "Frames and Firelight" — an opulent industry gala drenched in champagne, diamonds, and curated smiles. A night for bold scripts, breakthrough voices, and rising stars.
Maholi's script was on that list.
The venue gleamed in candlelight and chatter. Cameras blinked like hungry fireflies. Champagne flutes clinked beside curated flirtations.
She entered in a deep burgundy sari—elegant, daring, backless. A whisper of seduction spun in silk.Abir had chosen it.He wasn't there yet—delayed by a press event.
She didn't mind.
This was her night.
Or... it was supposed to be.
Aarav Sen had been drinking.
Not enough to stumble. Just enough to let the shadows stretch inside his charm.
His compliments grew warmer. His laughter louder.And his touches... slower.
"You're radiant tonight," he said, low and too close, during a photo op.
His arm slipped around her waist. Then lower.
She stiffened.
He leaned toward her ear, his breath grazing bare skin. "Chemistry like ours doesn't need direction," he murmured. "It just… burns."
Click. Click.The cameras didn't miss the angle.Neither did she.
Maholi stepped away, spine straight, voice sharp. "Don't do that."
Aarav smirked, undeterred. "Relax. It's just press. We sell the illusion."
She opened her mouth to reply—
And the crowd shifted. Whispered.
Abir had arrived.
Black suit. Collar crisp. Gaze lethal.
He scanned the room—until his eyes landed on them.
His jaw locked.
Three strides, and he was beside her.
"Aarav." His voice was ice wrapped in velvet. "Enjoying yourself?"
Aarav didn't move. Didn't blink. "Just bonding with your writer-director. You should be proud—she's quite… expressive."
That was the spark.
Abir's fist landed clean and brutal against Aarav's jaw.
A sickening crack. A gasp that swept across the gala like an electric wave.
Cameras stopped clicking.
Maholi shouted, "Abir!"
Security swarmed. PR teams scrambled. Lights exploded like panic.
But Abir didn't move.
He stood over Aarav, chest heaving.Voice low, guttural, shaking with restrained fury.
"Touch her again—anywhere—and I'll make sure the only thing you direct is shampoo ads from jail."
He turned to Maholi.Eyes burning. Voice breaking."Are you okay?"
She couldn't speak.Not in front of hundreds. Not with her skin still crawling from Aarav.Not with this fire now burning in Abir's eyes.
And her silence?Cut deeper than any punch.
The Aftermath
By dawn, the headlines bled:
"Abir Roy Assaults Co-Star in Jealous Fit""Romance or Rage? Bollywood's Newest Scandal"
Maholi sat beside him in the car. Still. Silent.Not cold.Just… unraveling.
He reached for her hand.Fingers brushed lightly.She didn't pull away.But she didn't hold him either.
"You embarrassed me," she whispered.
His throat clenched. "He touched you."
"You made it about you," she said.
"It was about you," he replied. "He disrespected you. And I saw it. Every second."
Her voice dropped, jagged. "What if I wanted to handle it? What if I was waiting for the right moment?"
He looked away. Out the window. "I'll never be calm watching someone else's hands on you. I won't apologize for that."
She turned her face, tears burning just beneath her skin.He let her.
Three Days Later
Aarav was dropped from the project.
Official statement: "Creative redirection. Conflicting schedules."Unofficial truth: Unprofessional behavior.Maholi hadn't pushed for it.
She hadn't even spoken.
But she knew.
Late that night, she padded into Abir's study. The door slightly ajar.
He was on the phone. Calm. Surgical.
"Let the new actor sign quietly… We'll run a clean press release. No noise. No drama. This doesn't reach her name—I won't have her dragged again."
She stepped in. Silent.
He turned.Paused.Phone still in hand.
"You did this?" Her arms crossed. Voice quiet. Dangerous.
Abir hung up.
"I didn't like how he looked at you," he said, voice raw. "I hated the thought that you felt cornered and I wasn't there."
"I wasn't cornered," she snapped. "I was angry. I was ready."
"I know," he said. "But I'm mine when I'm alone. When I'm with you—" he exhaled, almost trembling, "—I become yours. And I protect what's mine."
She stared at him. Heart thudding. Fury and affection in equal parts.
"You can't make decisions for me, Abir."
"I didn't."A pause."I made them because of you."
Silence. Thick and brutal.
Then she walked forward, slow.Her hand on his chest.Her voice softer, but no less fierce.
"I hate you sometimes."
He bent to her forehead, kissed it like a confession."I can live with that," he whispered into her hair."As long as no one else touches you."
And in that moment—rage, need, possession, love—they weren't just a couple.They were a wildfire holding hands.