Aisha glared at Robin, her eyes flashing with accusation under the neon glow of Gachibowli's Neon Nights bar. The place pulsed with DJ beats, the air thick with the scent of spicy biryani and expensive cologne. Hyderabad's monsoon drizzle pattered outside, reflecting the city's skyline on wet pavement, while Tollywood posters lined the walls, adding a cinematic flair to the chaos.
Vikram Malhotra's eyes lit up like a Diwali sparkler, sensing his moment. "Robin, you've signed the divorce papers, so keep your distance! Aisha's not changing her mind, and she's definitely not jealous seeing you with another woman. Your little game's a flop—you're just looking like a fool!" His voice dripped with smugness, his London-returned swagger on full display.
Robin's face stayed cool, his smartwatch humming softly as his AI-driven Ayurvedic app tracked his own pulse, a subtle nod to his modernized ancient wisdom. "Let's go inside," he said, his tone so dry it could've doubled as a desert breeze.
"Perfect!" Priya Reddy grinned, her simple white top and jeans somehow stealing the spotlight as she strutted into the bar. Heads turned, drawn to her effortless beauty like moths to a neon flame.
Priya snagged a plush booth, ordering a round of fiery cocktails that promised to burn brighter than a Hyderabad summer. She slid next to Robin, her eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and intent. In her mind, a tipsy Robin might just lower his guard tonight—maybe enough for something to spark between them. She'd waited years for this man, ever since that rainy night when he'd stormed a trafficking den, his intervention, freeing her from despair. No one else had ever come close to filling her heart.
"Robin, what's next for you? If you need it, I can hand over anything—my whole world, if it helps," Priya said, her voice earnest as she downed her cocktail in one bold gulp, red lips curving into a smile. Live a little, Priya, she thought, her heart soaring.
"You don't owe me anything," Robin replied, sipping his drink slowly. His app pinged a stress alert, but his face betrayed nothing. Melancholy flickered, then faded into resolve. Unbeknownst to him, this shift in his heart—letting go of Aisha—cracked open a new level of mastery in his Fighting Style, His body hummed with untapped power.
Priya's eyes dimmed briefly. "Robin, do you still care for Aisha? With your skills, winning her back wouldn't be hard. If you want… I'd help, no questions asked." Her voice was soft, but inside, she winced. She'd do anything for his happiness, even if it meant losing him.
Robin's gaze hardened, like the edge of a Sharp blade. "My heart moved once in this life, and that's done. Aisha and I are finished, forever."
"Really? What if she comes crawling back, begging?" Priya's eyes burned with hope.
"A good horse doesn't graze old pastures. Aisha and I are done." He paused, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "And I'll tear down everything she's built."
Priya leaned closer, her grin wicked. "Count me in! Everyone knows you're the one who built her empire. Without you, Aisha wouldn't be Hyderabad's queen. Take you out of the equation, and her salons, clubs, everything—it'll crumble like a Castel of Cards."
Across the bar, Aisha and Vikram sat in their own booth, a polite gap between them like a no-man's-land. Vikram ordered a tray of potent cocktails, eager to pour his heart out about his long-lost love. But Aisha's eyes kept drifting to Robin, locked on him like a satellite signal.
"Earth to Aisha!" Vikram called, his voice sharp. Her gaze snapped back, her expression sour. Jealousy was written all over her face, plain as a Tollywood billboard.
Vikram forced a grin. "Aisha, let's toast—to your freedom from that mess and to us, finally together after all these years! Fate didn't let us miss out!" His voice oozed charm, but his eyes flicked nervously to Robin's booth.
Aisha's face stayed blank. "My life with Robin wasn't a mess. We just grew apart. It's a clean break," she said, her voice low, almost defensive.
Vikram's smile twitched, his ego bruised. "Right, cheers to that!" he said, raising his glass.
"I'm driving later. No more drinks," Aisha replied, her tone flat.
"Just get a driver! Tonight's a double win—your freedom and our reunion. I'm not getting drunk, but I'm definitely having a few!" Vikram pressed, his plan to get her tipsy still simmering.
Aisha hesitated, then nodded, but her heart wasn't in it. She should be thrilled—divorced from Robin, reunited with her First Love. Yet seeing Robin and Priya laughing, their ease cutting through the bar's electric vibe, twisted something inside her. She was certain she felt nothing for Robin. So why this ache? Was it true you only value what you've lost? No way. She scoffed inwardly. Even if Vikram wasn't the one, she'd never go back to Robin. She craved power, influence—not Robin's quiet care, not a man left behind by Hyderabad's tech boom.
"Hey, gorgeous, can I get your number?" A lanky guy with spiked hair and ripped jeans—Arjun "AJ" Rao, a local troublemaker—sauntered over, his eyes locked on Aisha with a cocky grin.
Aisha raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. Before she could respond, Vikram leapt up, seizing his chance to play hero. Without a word, he slapped AJ hard across the face, the crack echoing over the DJ's beat.
AJ stumbled, clutching his cheek, stunned. Vikram puffed up, pointing at him like a low-budget villain. "Who do you think you are, punk? Get lost!" He turned to Aisha with a smug grin, convinced his heroics had her swooning. Maybe tonight she'd finally let him close.
In his head, Vikram was already imagining charming Priya next, his eyes darting to her booth. I'm leagues above Robin, he thought, basking in his own hype.
"You hit me?" AJ growled, veins popping as he glared at Vikram, his ego bruised worse than his face.
Vikram faltered, stepping back—AJ's murderous stare reminded him of Robin's old beatdowns. But he rallied, puffing up again. "Yeah, I hit you! Know who you're messing with? I'm Vikram Malhotra, London-returned, and this is Aisha Seth, CEO of Fernandes Enterprises! You're lucky I didn't do worse!"
"Vikram, that's enough!" Aisha snapped, shaking her head. She didn't need this drama.
"Malhotra? Fernandes Enterprises? Big deal!" AJ spat, his eyes blazing. "You're done. Wait and see." He stormed off, muttering threats.
"Running already? Typical!" Vikram called, grinning like he'd won a street fight. "Aisha, don't worry—I've got you. No one's touching you with me around."
Aisha nodded absently, her eyes drifting to Robin. She'd been watching him since AJ approached, hoping for a reaction. But Robin stayed cool, sipping his drink, not sparing her a glance. His indifference stung, fueling her anger. Divorced for a day, and he's already this cold? She'd misjudged him.
She softened her gaze at Vikram. "Let's leave. That guy's trouble, and you're new to Hyderabad's scene."
Vikram shook his head, ego in overdrive. "No way, Aisha. I'm here—nothing's happening. I've got too much to say to you." His plan to get her to a hotel was still alive.
"Robin once said this bar's backed by some serious players," Aisha warned.
"Robin again?" Vikram scoffed. "You're divorced! He's just a washed-up nobody. What does he know? With our status, we don't sweat small-time punks."