Pransh’s POV

I was sitting at the bar counter, drink in hand, and guess what? Every time I looked into the glass… all I could see was her face.

I let out a bitter laugh.
“You know what… you’re such a liar, Rose Petal! Every time you swore ki tum mujhe kabhi chhodkar nahi jaogi, right? You used to scream from the rooftops ki tum meri wife ho and you’ll always be with me… but look at you now. I told you to leave, and you left. Just like that. And on top of it—your mother…”

My jaw tightened, anger boiling through my veins as I made that face I knew everyone hated. I could feel eyes on me—strangers staring at the drunk man talking to his drink.

And that’s when she walked up.

“Hello,” a voice chimed.

I turned my head, and my mood soured even more.
Nisha.

The woman who had made a habit of drowning her misery in the same bar since her husband left her. She’d been laughing at me for a while, watching me break apart. And now she was close enough to touch me, her hand sliding onto my shoulder.

“You look stressed,” she purred, leaning dangerously close. “I know we had our… issues, but maybe tonight we could create some new memories? The kind that make us forget the old ones?”

I froze. Even in my half-drunk haze, I knew one thing for sure—this woman was poison.

I grabbed her hand, pushed it off my shoulder, and growled, “You bloody bitch… just leave me. Don’t you dare f***ing touch me!”

Her lips curved into a mocking smirk.
“Your wife left you, yet the attitude is still intact. Keep this up, Pransh Rana, and soon everyone else will leave too. Right now it’s just your wife, but divorce papers won’t take long. And then guess what? No girl will stay with you… but your wife? She’ll have plenty of options.”

My fists clenched. My blood boiled.
I gritted through my teeth, “Apni bakwaas band karo. My Rose Petal belongs to me… only me. No one’s taking her away. She’s not giving me a divorce, samjhi? She’s mine, just mine!”

I shot up from my seat, fury radiating off me.

Nisha tilted her head, eyes glinting with shameless challenge.
“This ego of yours, Pransh, is going to destroy you. Mark my words—one day, your wife won’t just go back to her mother’s house. She’ll go far, far away… away from you.”

Before she could smirk again, I grabbed my glass and flung the drink right in her face.

Her eyes widened in shock, whiskey dripping down her painted lips.

“Get the fuck out before I leave actual scars on that face,” I snarled, my voice low, dangerous.

She wiped her face, jaw tight with rage, but still dared to smile crookedly.
“Hmm… my words stung, didn’t they? But the real burn will be when your wife proves me right. And trust me—I’ll be waiting for that day.”

She stormed off, while every eye in the bar stayed glued to us. Whispers spread like wildfire, but I didn’t give a damn.

I turned back to the counter, staring at the empty glass.
“Where did my Rose Petal go? She was just here…”

But the moment I threw that drink on Nisha, her face in my glass disappeared.

I blinked, dizzy, until my eyes landed on a new bottle the bartender slid onto the counter. And suddenly… it wasn’t a bottle anymore. It was her mother. Shweta Grover.

(Pagla gya hai hmara Pranshu baby , biwi ki amma ko bhi imagine kr raha hai 😭)

My stomach twisted. “I don’t wanna talk to you… I want to talk to my Rose Petal! Why the hell are you here? Just go! And stop lecturing me about attitude. Pransh Rana’s attitude… Pransh Rana himself—nobody can bring that down!”

I staggered up, my steps unsteady, but my head stubborn.

That’s when I saw them. A couple, near the door, locked together in a heated kiss.

A bitter laugh escaped me.
“My Rose Petal isn’t here… toh ab main kisko kiss karun? I need her… only her. But she’s gone back to her mommy’s house. Fine. Then I’ll go to my in-laws myself. Because I need to kiss my Rose Petal. My beautiful, stubborn Rose Petal.”

With that drunken vow, I stormed out, slid behind the wheel, and sped off.

Not towards Rana Mansion.

But back to Grover Mansion.
Back to her.

After a while…

Grover Mansion

Pransh’s car stopped right outside the mansion. This time, he wasn’t wearing a hoodie, nor did he hide his face with a mask.
He walked straight inside.

The guards at the gate were fast asleep, so none of them noticed him slipping in.
Pransh headed directly towards the backyard—the only way that led to Pankhuri’s room.

He was completely drunk. He had already consumed way too much, and now the alcohol had taken over his senses entirely.

When he reached the staircase, he blinked hard. For him, the stairs were moving. Shaking. Dancing.
He stood there for a moment, waiting for them to stop, but when they didn’t, he walked closer, placed his hand on the railing, and muttered:

“Tum ye nagin dance kyun kar rahi ho? Seedhi khadi nahi ho sakti kya? Mujhe tumpe chadhna hai… tumpe chadhke mujhe apni Rose Petal ke paas jaana hai!”

“Why are you doing this snake dance? Can’t you stand still? I need to climb on you… climb to reach my Rose Petal!”

The moment his hand gripped the railing, the stairs seemed steady. At least, to him. But the truth was, they had never been moving. It was just the alcohol messing with his head.

He took his hand away, and again, the staircase “shook.” His jaw tightened in frustration.

“Meri Rose Petal ki mommy ko toh main adiyal ghoda lagta hoon… lekin unhe ye hilti hui stairs nahi dikhte kya? Pata nahi, what’s her problem with me!”

“My Rose Petal’s mom thinks I’m a stubborn horse… but she can’t see these wobbly stairs? I don’t know what problem she has with me!”

He pulled a face, then slapped the railing again.
“Ab agar tum phirse hili, toh main tod dunga tumhe!”
“If you dare move again, I’ll break you!”

And just like that, the stairs were “still.” Because his hand was holding them again.

Finally, he began climbing up, unsteady but determined. When he reached the corridor near Pankhuri’s room, he noticed her window… and to him, even that was moving.

Anger flashed in his eyes.
“Mrs. Grover ko na, main baad me btata hoon ki real adiyal ghoda kaun hota hai! Mere baare me sab jaanti hain, lekin apna hilta hua mansion nahi dikhta unhe.”
“That Mrs. Grover… I’ll show her what a real stubborn horse is! She knows everything about me, but doesn’t notice her own shaky mansion.”

With that, he pushed the window open and jumped inside.

His gaze instantly fell on the bed. A small smile touched his lips.
“My Rose Petal… tum mujhse naraz ho. Mujhse gussa karke tum yahan chali aayi. But it’s okay… main tumhara gussa mita dunga. I’ll love you so much!”

“(My Rose Petal… you’re upset with me. You came here out of anger. But it’s okay… I’ll erase that anger. I’ll love you endlessly).”

He staggered forward, searching for a spot on the bed, but instead slipped down and sat on the floor, holding Pankhudi’s hand.

The moment he touched her, her eyes fluttered open. She looked at him in shock.

But before she could speak, Pransh whispered hurriedly:
“Kuch… kuch mat bolna Rose Petal! Warna tumhari mom sun legi… phir aa jayegi hume disturb karne! Pehle adiyal ghoda bola… ab pata nahi aur kya banayengi mujhe. Please, tum chup raho!”
“Don’t… don’t say a word, Rose Petal! Or your mom will hear us… then she’ll come again to disturb us! She already called me a stubborn horse… I don’t know what else she’ll call me next. Please, just stay quiet!”

He leaned closer to her face, his breath heavy with alcohol.
Pankhudi just stared at him.

Pransh pouted childishly.
“Tumhe pata hai, main tumse naraz hoon! Tumne bola tha na… you’ll never leave me. But jaise hi maine kaha, tum mujhe chhodke aa gayi yahan. This isn’t fair! Tum jaanti ho na… main ek number ka khatta nimbu hoon. But iska matlab ye thodi hai ki tum mujhe chhod dogi! At least try to make me sweet, na… main ready hoon. But tum… tumne toh mujhe chhod diya!”
“You know I’m angry with you! You promised you’d never leave me. But the moment I said so, you left me and came here. That’s not fair! You know I’m such a sour lemon. But that doesn’t mean you’ll leave me! Try making me sweet… I’m ready for it. But you… you left me.”

With a sulk, he turned his face away. But he didn’t let go of her hand.

Hearing his drunken ramble, “Pankhudi” began to laugh softly.
But it wasn’t Pankhuri. It was her mother—Mrs. Shweta Grover—who had been watching the whole time, stunned and now amused.

She hadn’t known that Pransh had been sneaking into Grover Mansion earlier too. She was beginning to understand just how far gone this boy was.

Her laugh made Pransh look up again, offended.
“Haan haan, haso tum mujh pe! Yahan main tumhare liye pagal ho raha hoon. Tumhe pata hai… tumhari stairs bhi hil rahi thi! Tum unhe khilati pilati nahi ho kya? Apni mummy se bolna unhe khilaye… warna weakness se gir jaayengi. Bas tum… tum mere saath chalo. Rana Mansion chalte hain. I promise, ab main tumhe bahut pyaar karunga!”
“Yeah yeah, laugh at me! I’m going crazy here for you. Do you even know… your stairs were shaking too! Don’t you feed them? Tell your mom to feed them, otherwise they’ll collapse out of weakness. Just come with me… let’s go back to Rana Mansion. I promise, I’ll love you so much now!”

Mrs. Grover stopped laughing, suddenly pulling her hand away. She realized he had mistaken her for Pankhudi.

But then Pransh squinted at her hand and frowned.
“Rose Petal… tumhare hands itne mote kyun ho gaye? Pehle toh they were so soft-soft. Ab lagta hai jaise kisi billi ke chhote haathon pe yeh bade-bade haath chipka diye ho. Weird lag rahe hain. Koi baat nahi… kal tumhe salon le jaaunga. Manicure, pedicure karwana. Pukka tumhari mom ne tumse kaam karvaya hoga! But I won’t let you work… tumhare hands firse soft-soft ho jayenge.”
“Rose Petal… why have your hands become so thick? Earlier they were soft, so soft. Now they look like a cat’s tiny paws with big hands stuck on them. Feels weird. Never mind… tomorrow I’ll take you to a salon. You’ll get a manicure, pedicure. Surely your mom made you work here! But I won’t let you work… your hands will be soft again.”

And with that, he bent down… about to kiss her hands.

He wanted to kiss those hands… but before he could, Shweta ji quickly pulled them away and placed one over her chest, breathing heavily.

This was the same boy who never dared to speak in front of her… and now? He was pouring his heart out shamelessly. Shweta ji slowly started stepping back, while Pransh climbed onto the bed.

Startled, she moved aside immediately. The lights were still dim, and maybe that’s why he couldn’t see who was leaving the bed. The moment his gaze landed on the figure lying there, he mistook her for Pankhudi. His voice cracked with anger and longing.

“Why are you running away from me? Pehle you left me alone at Rana Mansion and shifted to Grover Mansion… and now when I came here, you’re trying to escape again? Ab aur kaha jaogi, Rose Petal? Please… just come into my arms! I just want to sleep with you tonight.”
(Why are you running away from me? First you left Rana Mansion, now you’re leaving even here. Where else will you go, Rose Petal? Please, just come into my arms! I want to sleep with you…)

Without hesitation, he pulled “Pankhudi” into his embrace.

Just a few feet away, Shweta ji stood frozen, watching them. And now she finally understood why Pankhudi’s face always looked so pale, so broken.

Pransh did love her… but maybe he wasn’t ready to accept it yet.

Shweta ji smiled faintly, turned around, and walked out of the room. Meanwhile, Pransh—still drowning in his emotions—tightened his arms around the girl and drifted into a deep sleep. He never realized that the one he had just poured his soul to… wasn’t Pankhudi, but his mother, Shweta ji.

The night passed in silence. By the time morning sunlight slipped through the curtains, both Pransh and Pankhudi were lying tangled in each other’s arms, unaware of how it all happened.

At around 8:30 a.m., Pransh’s eyes finally fluttered open. His head was pounding. He groaned, staring at the ceiling before turning to his side—only to see Pankhuri peacefully resting her head on his chest. His eyes widened.

That’s when realization struck: he wasn’t in Rana Mansion… he was still at Grover Mansion.

Relief washed over him for a second—at least she was asleep. But he needed to leave before she woke up. He glanced at his hand resting on her waist, her smaller hand placed over his. He bit his lip, carefully trying to slip out.

But the moment he moved, she stirred and held his hand tighter.

He froze, staring at her face. A few seconds passed, his heart hammering. Two minutes later, he tried again. This time, she slowly opened her eyes and smiled sleepily at him.

“I thought I woke up… but maybe I’m still dreaming. Chal, theek hai… let me dream a little longer.”
(I thought I woke up… but maybe I’m still dreaming. Okay fine, let me enjoy this dream for a while.)

She closed her eyes again.

Pransh frowned.
“Seriously? Kab samjhegi yeh ladki? For her, I’m always just a dream… am I not real enough to stand in front of her?”

(Seriously? When will this girl understand? For her, I’m always just a dream… am I not real enough?)

Her lips curled into a playful smile as she opened her eyes.
“Since you’re already talking in my dream… say it once na, Rose Petal I love you.”

She shut her eyes again with a smirk.

Pransh couldn’t help but smile faintly but stayed quiet.

After a long silence, she pouted.
“See? I knew it! You won’t say it. Kyun kahoge? Even if this is my dream, you’ll still remain that khatta nimbu."

Her words made him snap. He growled, his voice dropping low.
“Mera naam Pransh Rana hai… khatta nimbu nahi! Aur agar tumne mujhe dobara yeh kaha… I won’t spare you.”

She laughed softly.
“Even in my dreams, you just can’t stop showing off your attitude.”

Pulling his hand away, he muttered darkly,
“This is not a dream, Pankhudi. It’s real. Open your eyes properly and look at me… but then again, tumhe toh sirf do jagah rehna pasand hai—ek khwaab mein aur ek apni galatfahmi mein.”

( This is not a dream, Pankhudi. It’s real. But you only like living in two places—your dreams and your misunderstandings.)

He got off the bed, but Pankhuri just stared at him, speechless.

Then his voice deepened, almost daring her.
“If you don’t believe me, you can touch me. You’ll know whether I’m your dream… or your reality.”

Her voice trembled as she whispered,
“Matlab… matlab you came back last night? But… I was with Mom… so how—”

Before she could finish, he cut her off sharply.
“I was drunk… maybe that’s why I ended up here. Agar hosh mein hota, I would’ve never come.”

Her lips quivered.
“But why do you only love me when you’re drunk? Hosh mein kyun nahi aata aapko mujh par pyaaf?”

Pransh arched his brows coldly.
“I told you already—you live in dreams and misunderstandings. Aur ek baar phir tum galat samajh rahi ho. I wasn’t loving you… I was furious. The way your mom insulted me last night—I just came here to vent my anger. Don’t know how I fell asleep. But now… I need to leave.”

With that, he turned toward the door, leaving her stunned and speechless.

Pankhuri instantly spoke up, her voice trembling yet firm.
“Aap mumma ki baaton ka bura mat maaniye na… unhe shayad gussa tha aur gusse mein unhone kuch bhi bol diya. But unka wo matlab bilkul bhi nahi tha.”

(Please don’t take mom’s words to heart. She was angry and said things she didn’t mean.)

Pransh’s eyes darkened as he snapped back, his tone sharp.
“Matlab chahe jo bhi ho… keh toh diya na unhone? Aur jab keh hi diya hai ki main ziddi hoon, toh ab main unhe ziddi ban kar bhi dikhata hoon!”

(Whatever the meaning… she still said it, right? And now that she’s called me stubborn, I’ll show her just how stubborn I can be!)

His chest rose and fell as his rage tightened every word. “Coming here was your decision, your choice. You know very well that when I lose my temper, I lose control. If you think I’ll run behind you like others do—beg you, plead in front of you—you’re living in a huge misunderstanding, Pankhudi Grover!

Till today, Pransh Rana has never bowed down in front of anyone, and bowing to you is out of question. You came here on your own… and when you return to Rana Mansion, you’ll come on your own. I will neither come to take you… nor ask you to walk with me. It will always be your choice. If you want to return, then you will. Otherwise…”

He paused mid-sentence, his silence thundering louder than his words. That unfinished “otherwise” struck Pankhudi’s heart like a blade, her heartbeat faltering in fear.

She kept staring at him helplessly, but Pransh didn’t wait. He turned and walked out. Last night he had entered through her window, but today… he was walking out through the door.

As he descended the staircase, Mr. and Mrs. Grover were seated in the lounge.

Mrs. Grover already knew he was there, but she hadn’t expected him to walk right in front of everyone. Mr. Grover’s brows furrowed in shock.

“Pransh? You here?”

Before he could say more, Pransh strode straight outside, climbed into his car, and drove away.

Mr. Grover turned to his wife with confusion. Mrs. Grover lowered her head, guilt washing over her.
“I knew he was here last night… maybe drunk.”

Mr. Grover’s eyes sharpened. “But if he came here… why is he leaving alone? Did he come for Pankhuri or—”

Before he could finish, Mrs. Grover interrupted softly. “That I don’t know. Because if he truly wanted to take her back, he would’ve never left without her. But he went alone… and there’s something else I must tell you.”

Her voice dropped as she recounted fragments of last night’s conversation. She didn’t reveal every word but enough to make it clear—Pransh did love Pankhuri. He just hadn’t realized it yet, but his feelings were undeniable.

Mr. Grover clenched his jaw, anger bubbling. “Feelings alone aren’t enough, Shweta ji. One must express them! Love isn’t about staying silent while humiliating the other again and again. Why should our Pankhuri only keep guessing about his emotions while he breaks her down? I’ve decided… until Pransh himself comes to take her, until he promises me that he’ll care for her and not hurt her again, I will not send Pankhudi back. That’s my last decision!”

He stormed off, leaving Mrs. Grover frozen in place, her heart heavy. On one side, Pransh had sworn he wouldn’t come for Pankhuri. On the other, Mr. Grover had vowed not to send her back. But in all this… why was no one thinking about Pankhudi’s heart? That thought burned Mrs. Grover from within.

Meanwhile upstairs, Pankhuri sat on her bed, Pransh’s words echoing in her mind like poison. Her chest felt heavy, her tears refusing to stop. Had she done right by listening to him and coming here? Or was it the biggest mistake of her life? The distance between them, already wide, had only grown impossibly farther.

And at Rana Mansion…

Pransh’s car screeched into the driveway. He stepped out, his face stormy, and strode into the hall. Srishti was seated with Ragini, her heart skipping a beat when she saw him. For a moment, hope flickered—that maybe he had brought Pankhuri back. But the sight of him walking in alone extinguished that light instantly. She said nothing, didn’t even look at him again, and continued talking with Ragini.

Pransh, annoyed, scoffed under his breath and marched upstairs to his room.

The moment he entered, he threw open his closet and muttered furiously,
“Samajhti kya hai apne aap ko? Ek baar bhi nahi keh sakti thi ki haan, galti ho gayi mujhse… I left you but now I want to come back?!”

(What does she think of herself? Couldn’t she say even once that yes, I made a mistake… I left you but now I want to return?)

He slammed the door harder.
“Main pagal thodi na hoon jo uske saamne jhuk jaaun! Kyun jhukoon main? Maine gusse mein bola tha… insaan gusse mein kuch bhi bol deta hai! Gusse mein toh main yeh bhi keh sakta tha—divorce de do mujhe. Kya woh divorce bhi de deti?!”

(I’m not crazy to bend before her! Why should I? I said things in anger… everyone says things in anger! I could’ve even said ‘give me a divorce’ in anger… would she really give it to me?)

His voice cracked with stubborn pride. “Fine. If she wants to keep her stubbornness, let her. Yesterday I went to her drunk… but from now on, I won’t even drink. No alcohol. No weakness. And no going back to her!”

Snatching his clothes, he stormed into the washroom, his rage refusing to let him breathe.

After taking a quick shower, he stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped only in a towel. His eyes scanned the room in irritation. Clothes. He had completely forgotten to carry them in.

Muttering under his breath, he yanked open the closet, pulled out a fresh set, and dressed in haste before storming downstairs. His steps were sharp, his mood darker. At first, he headed straight for the door, ready to leave Rana Mansion without a word. But then he abruptly halted and turned toward the dining table.

“Koi hai kya jo mujhe breakfast serve karega ya phir main bina breakfast ke hi chala jaaun?”
("Is there anyone who’s going to serve me breakfast or should I just leave without eating?")

Kusum ji walked out of the kitchen, her face calm but her words sharp.
“My age doesn’t allow me to work that much anymore. There are plenty of servants around—tell one of them to serve you breakfast.”

Pransh’s jaw tightened, his voice cutting through the silence.
“What do you mean by your age? Until now, you never remembered you were old—especially when you went to your kitty parties! But the moment I ask you to serve me breakfast, suddenly your age becomes an issue? And you know I don’t like anyone touching my things. How the hell do you expect me to eat something served by a servant?”

Kusum ji shot back instantly, her eyes burning with authority.
“Then tell your mother or your wife. Oh wait—your wife left you, didn’t she? So figure it out yourself. And don’t you dare comment on my kitty parties. Show that attitude to your wife, not me. I’m your grandmother, remember that. Watch your tongue when you speak to me!”

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Pransh glaring, his anger unspoken but burning.

Srishti, who had been silently watching him, immediately looked away, hiding the faint guilt in her eyes. After all, she was the one who had fueled Kusum ji’s anger.

Pransh’s gaze shifted toward her. Before he could say a word, Ragini got up. For a moment, he thought she was walking over to serve him breakfast. But her words slapped him harder than silence.
“Last night I barely slept, and now I’m sleepy again. I’m going back to bed.” She walked away without a glance.

His frustration only deepened. Then Pareeksha rushed by.
“I’m late for college, bhai. I’m leaving!” And she disappeared too.

Finally, Aashray entered with a smirk that instantly annoyed him.
“Good morning, bro!” he said cheerfully, taking a seat at the dining table.

Pransh didn’t reply, only glared at him as a servant served Aashray breakfast. He watched silently, his own plate still empty.

Aashray picked up a toast, took a bite, and then chuckled.
“By the way, bro, I didn’t really get this new style of yours. I mean, one shoe from one pair and the other from another? Fashion hai ya galti?”
(“Is this fashion or just a mistake?”)

Confused, Pransh glanced down at his feet—and froze. His shoes didn’t match. In his rage earlier, he had left his room wearing two different ones. His ears burned as he heard Aashray’s laughter.

Pransh snapped, his temper exploding.
“Mera pair, mera joota, meri marzi! Who the hell are you?”
(“My foot, my shoe, my choice! Who the hell are you?”)

He shoved back his chair and stormed out, his face twisted in fury.

Aashray leaned back, still laughing, and looked at Srishti.
“Your Pranshu baby is turning into a volcano these days. Better bring his wife back before he goes completely insane.”

Srishti’s eyes flashed as she snapped at him.
“Stop talking nonsense! Maybe you should learn something from your bro—because when your wife leaves you one day, you’ll be doing the same crazy things. So better take care of her before that happens.”

His laughter faded, and his expression turned serious as he stared at her.
“But I don’t have a wife. And from what I see in my future… I’ll never have one either.”

He turned to leave, but just then, an uninvited face flickered in his mind—Pankti’s.

Meanwhile, Pransh reached his office, still fuming. The moment he stepped out of the car, his assistant was already waiting with a brand-new pair of shoes. But when his assistant’s eyes fell on Pransh’s mismatched ones, he burst into laughter.

Pransh’s face darkened even more. The last thing he needed was another reason to lose his control.

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