ꜱʜᴀɴɢʜᴀɪ, ᴄʜɪɴᴀ
ʙᴀɪ ᴍᴀɴꜱɪᴏɴ
ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀ ʙᴇᴅʀᴏᴏᴍ
8:00 AM - WEDNESDAY
Laying in the large yet cold bed.
All i can think about the sight of him beside me in the same bed.
Wouldn't it be a heaven to have him beside me laying on bed.
While my leg brushes against him making me giggle.
His hands brush against my waist while his lips on my forehead.
He makes me laugh and I lean in his touch.
Reality isnt close to what i dream of.He isn't here even if he was.
Never would he see me as something i want him too.
This is it and this is how it always will be.
I have accepted my fate like i always do
KASHI
The morning light spilled faintly through the sheer curtains, casting long, uneven patterns across the faded walls.
The room is dim yet warm, but somehow still person lying in it feels its coldness to the core.
The Bedroom was large with a master bedroom, and the walls were painted in soft ivory. The wall bore the wedding frame with two laughing faces - where one smile was genuine but other was just a facade.
There was a huge closet, revealing neatly folded sarees and perfectly ironed suits that seemed to have been stored away for a year.
On the bedside, there was a bottle of pills and a glass of water.
On the other side of the bed, there was all empty. The only thing it had was some bangles glinting in the darkness.
Lying on the bed, Kashi - a woman in her late twenties, stared at the other side of the queen-size bed, all empty and cold.
She stared at it as if trying to create an image of him sleeping beside her, smiling at her gently.
But she knew it would never happen, it was all a myth—a dream.
Her dream that would never come true.
She traced the mangalsutra in her neck with her fingers. She shut her eyes as she remembered the time, the date, one year ago, she had been given this identity of being a wife,
His Wife.
A tear escaped her eye before she could even realise.
She had known this marriage meant nothing to him; she had done it only for the happiness of her Grandfather, who had made a promise to keep their friendship alive and turn it into a relationship with his long-time best friend, who is none other than her grandfather-in-law, Bai Yansong.
And now here she was, known as Mrs. BAI.
MRS BAI MINSHENG.....
The sound of notifications broke her train of thought as she sat down.
Her gaze straight away flickered on the large photo frame on the wall.
A wedding photo sealed behind glass, the smiles of two strangers frozen in time.
Kashi found herself lost in the beauty of Bride, who was none other than herself.
She noticed the intricate mehendi design on her hands, the heavy jewelry complementing her skin. She seemed happy? Yes. Anyone who would look at the picture would say that.
But, from inside, she was shattered that no one ever knew.
Just as she was lost in her thoughts, there came a knock on the door.
She took a deep breath, composing herself, shifting her gaze to the door, she could recognise it was none other than the head maid, Mia.
''Yes, Come in. She spoke in her usual gentle voice, the woman who was just lying in bed crying was gone.
Mia, a woman in her mid-40s, walked in. She had been here for a long time, ever since her husband was a child. There was a gentle smile on her face as she looked at Kashi.
Kashi's heart warmed seeing the smile, and she passed back the smile, it seemed so natural that no one would ever know from inside she was opposite - a broken woman that was keeping it together, all while no one knew she was suffering
'' How are you, dear? Did you sleep well? Vishakha Ma'am is calling you downstairs. Mia spoke, her voice laced with concern and a motherly gesture, but there was a hint of something else in her voice - maybe a warning telling her to come down early and hear the news.
She knew her grandmother-in-law very well; she wouldn't call so early in the morning if it weren't so important.
And at that moment, only one thought came to her mind. Did he call? And all she could think about was him.
Her mind swirled with infinite thoughts of him and only him.
Mia broke the silence as she observed Kashi. She knew that look of a woman who was desperate to see her husband or maybe hear from him ''Mrs Bai, you should come down early. Vishakha Ma'am will be waiting.
Kashi nodded, smiling brightly '' Please tell Gigi, I will be downstairs in a while. Kashi spoke, to which Mia nodded and left the room
Kashi swung her legs out of the bed and making her way to the inclosed attached closet, her thoughts once again filled with fear about what was that Vishakha had to say to her. The excitement of hearing about him, if there was any news from him.
She rushed to the large closet, her bare feet padding on the floor softly, her saree rustling with each step she took.
She picked a saree for the day - a red one with bright embroidery and made her way to the master bathroom.
Meanwhile, Mia made her way downstairs. She chuckled; she knew very well that it had been only a year since Kashi had become part of the Bai family. She knew if even she didn't show, she had always had hopes from her husband, even when he didn't give her any hopes, instead shattering them by leaving his newly bride going on a business trip.
Mia felt a pang of guilt and sadness, she couldn't help Kashi anyway, but today she saw that smile on Kashi face. She knew well that Kashi had guessed it; news from her husband had come.
And she knew the news would make Kashi feel scared, excited, and happy at the same time. It was something she would not have expected.
It would make her feel emotions.
Such, she never thought she could feel again.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆
ꜰʀᴀɴᴄᴇ, ᴘᴀʀɪꜱ
ʟᴀ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇ ᴘᴀʀɪꜱ - ᴘᴇɴᴛʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ ꜱᴜɪᴛᴇ
9:23 PM - MONDAY
The study was cloaked in the soft gloom of a day that had long forgotten the sun. Despite it being night, it didn't feel any different to the study or the man sitting there, because what a difference would it make to a person who kept himself buried in work 24 hours.
The distant hum of the city could be heard through the window, which he would barely pay attention to.
Dust clung to the air like breath held too long. Yellowed papers blanketed the desk in wild disarray—notes scribbled in margins, formulas scrawled in haste, diagrams half-drawn and aborted mid-thought. Books stood like sentries on the shelves behind him, spines cracked, pages bloated with age and ink and silence.
He was dressed in an Armani suit, his large hands clasped together - a gesture for him, he does when he is lost in thought. His muscles bulging out of his suit, showing off his dangerous curves - that women would die for.
A muscle ticked in his jaw, making him look dangerously handsome.
His eyes were bloodshot but alert, fixed on the cluttered desk as if meaning might finally rise from the chaos if he just looked hard enough.
He knew very well he wouldn't stop until he got his work done. He was a man of his word; he made promises rarely, but when he did, he would complete them at any cost
There was no clock in the room—he had removed it months ago. Time only mocked him here. He didn't need to see time, not until he got his work done; the wristwatch was enough to let him know.
A half-empty cup of baiju had gone cold at his side. He hadn't touched it. He never did anymore. The sharp smell of ink, of paper, of overworked brain cells filled the room.
Still, he didn't stop.
He runs his hands through his hair roughly - a sign of his frustration.
Thud.
The door burst open by his right man, Li, his most loyal and trained man.
He doesn't look up. He didn't have to; he knows it must be something very serious and important. He can see it by the way li burst in.
''What is it, Li. He spoke without lifting his gaze from the papers. His voice was cold and stern.
''Boss, it's from your Grandfather - the call. Li said in a neutral tone
''Again?'' His Boss said, voice full of frustration and annoyance.
''Yes boss'' Li muttered, knowing this conversation only and only frustrated his boss more.
''What did he say''. His Boss asked, already knowing the answer.
''He said you should come back home and also.....'' Li paused, not knowing how to say it.
''And what else, Li, speak right now..... His boss's voice rose a little.
''And your grandpa also said that he knows there is no work, it's just your excuse to not get back home,'' Li spoke hesitantly
Thud....
A hand slammed on the wall in the form of a fist. Li didn't flinch; he didn't have to - it wasn't new, it was something he was used to, the gesture too common that his boss did.
''How did he know, Li tell me, wasn't it you and me only who knew. Huhhhhhh......'' His boss's voice came dangerously cold.
''Boss, I have no idea, maybe your grandfather hired a spy on you......'' Li said again, hesitatingly, knowing it might anger his boss more.
''What the fuck'' His boss muttered angrily, he stood up from his chair abruptly making it scraping against the floor.
Li stood quietly, his gaze low, knowing well to never interrupt his boss when he is in such a mood.
''Shit...Shit....Shit........'' His Boss again slammed his hand against the wall, making a crack in it.
Thud........
The door once again burst open his four men rushed in.
One of the men spoke '' Boss, Zhang is not agreeing with the deal, he says he will meet you only''
Another man spoke '' Yes, boss he said that he will start a war if you don't meet him.... The other two men nodded, trying to gauge their boss's reaction, but they knew there was going to be a blowout.
Their boss looked at Li for a moment, a moment of shared anger passing between them.
Their boss looked like he was about to strangle someone.
''A meeting? With me? He scoffs, his voice dripping with disdain. ''They think they can waste my time with some trivial meeting?
His men fell silent, listening as he grew increasingly angry and enraged.
''Fine... Arrange a meeting, he spoke running his hands through his hair. Frustration evident in his voice.''And yes, let him know I won't be taking any of his nonsense. He spoke as his men nodded.
''And Li arrange a flight, we will soon go back to China''... He sighs, taking a deep breath.
''There are some things I can't escape anymore, no matter how much I try....'' He spoke, making Li and his men freeze, but they knew very well what their boss meant.
Yes, Boss, I will arrange a flight right away...... Li said, already turning towards the door, taking his phone out to make the preparations.
His men too left, making their way to inform Zhang that their boss would come; he better be prepared.
He stood up, making his way to the suite master bedroom.
It was large, lavish, yet cold..
Just like his heart.
He unbuttoned his suit jacket, throwing it away on the floor, recklessly revealing his crisp white shirt
He made his way to the master bathroom, his Italian shoes clicking against the floor.
He stood in front of the sink, his hands leaning on it. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his muscular arms.
He stared in the MIRROR as if trying to see himself, but all he saw was a ruthless mafia boss. His hands clenched against the edge of the skin, his knuckles turning white.
He washes his face as if trying to wash away the blood, which was gone physically but imprinted on every inch of his skin.
But no matter how much he tried, it wouldn't go away.
He stared at his reflection in the mirror. It seemed to be mocking him - as he saw himself as something he hated to be.
He stared at himself in the mirror for a little more, finally whispering
''Would she hate me now?'' He whispered to himself
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆
ᴍᴜᴍʙᴀɪ, ɪɴᴅɪᴀ
ᴅᴇᴇᴡᴀɴ ᴍᴀɴꜱɪᴏɴ
12:00 PM - WEDNESDAY
The hour was thick with silence—a velvet kind of stillness, where time seemed to slow and sound became a fragile thing.
The door opened with a whisper, revealing the master bedroom with intricate indian interior design.
The master bedroom exuded a timeless elegance, steeped in the soul of Indian artistry.
As the door creaked open, a warm, amber glow spilled across the room—soft light from intricately carved jaali-patterned lanterns suspended from the ceiling, their shadows dancing across the walls like silent storytellers.
He walked in his Armani suit, rustling with every step, his expensive shoes clicking against the floor.
He sighed as he walked inside, a moment of weakness.
The room was too large, and the walls were painted with Madhubani art on one side, while the other wall featured dark, intense art.
Almost as if contrasting with two personalities.
And for sure, they were represented as his masculine beauty fit perfectly with her feminine.
He walked inside, trying not to make a sound.
The mattress was layered in plush handloom linens, draped in soft cotton sheets dyed in block-printed patterns—indigo paisleys and muted maroons.
Silk bolsters and embroidered pillows in jewel tones—ruby, emerald, and gold—lay in a careful mess, the kind that looked effortless but intentional.
His gaze landed on the small figure in bed, curled up.
There she was. His wife. His Undoing - the one who made him weak, always without even trying.
She made him kneel, and that's how he felt his dangerous aura crumbling.
He saw her arms tucked around herself as she left - a habit of hers he had observed over the years.
Her saree rustling around the bed like a halo, he couldn't help but smile at the sight, something rare for a man like him.
Air had a scent with a mixture of jasmine and sandalwood, it was hers, he knew it well - it was something which always seemed to calm him down, no matter what.
He inhaled deeply, calming his nerves. His muscles relaxing, the features on his face softened, making him look more boyish.
He removed his suit jacket, putting it away on the chair, trying not to make a sound, revealing his crisp white shirt that made him look nothing like the 57-year-old man he was.
Instead, it made him look handsome.
Dangerously handsome - almost like a devil who was unraveled by the sight of his angel.
A brass urli bowl filled with floating marigold petals and rosewater stood in one corner near a traditional jhula—a small wooden swing suspended from the ceiling by thick brass chains, creaking gently in the stillness.
He stared at the jhula, remembering when she would swing on it all the time - the way her saree would flow swirling around her legs, the way she would giggle swinging on it. The way she would smile at him swinging on it, but now it was all gone.
He crossed the distance and stopped until he reached to bed where she was sleeping, not touching, but close enough for him to inhale her scent.
He stared at her sleeping figure, his gaze fell on the sindoor in her forehead and mangalstura in her neck, clinging to her like a second skin. ''God, she is beautiful like an apsara..... He paused for a while, still staring, his eyes softening with every moment.
''My Apsara,'' He murmured hoarsely, barely audible.
Without thinking, he kneeled to the end of the bed, and he moved the blanket a little; her small feet came into his sight.
He stared at the payal wrapped around her ankles. He touched them carefully; he knew they were the same ones he had gifted her on their wedding night.
He leaned down until his lips brushed against her skin. He paused, trying to memorize the softness of her skin on his lips. Finally, he kissed her feet.
Repeating the same process with her other feet. He stared at her for a while, taking in her beauty.
But quickly stood up, knowing if she woke and looked at him with those hateful eyes, he would not be able to take it.
He sighed and left the room silently. It was shocking to see the MAFIA BOSS - ANSH DEEWAN himself kept his gaze low on the floor. Vulnerability all over his face, that too because of a tiny woman.
''Kalyani,'' He whispered her name like a prayer
He closed his eyes, imagining the time she used to lean into his touch, tiptoe to reach his height, and kiss his cheeks. The way she would wait every night for him, the way she would scold him for not taking care of himself.
He sighed sadly, knowing it was nothing but a memory now.
He disappeared into his study, sitting down on his chair, burying himself in work, the cold mafia again showing no sign of the broken man he was minutes ago.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆
(ꜱᴏʜᴏ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ ᴍᴜᴍʙᴀɪ)
12:00 PM - WEDNESDAY
The dim hum of curated jazz laced the air, blending effortlessly with the low murmurs of old money and new ambition. Soho House Mumbai — a sanctuary of velvet sophistication — perched like a secret above the city's frenetic pulse.
There was no doubt that Soho was the best club in Mumbai, famous for its design and ambience. Every day, different celebrities, businessmen, and rich people with dark secrets.
It wasn't just a luxury, perhaps it whispered it.
Just then, there stood none other than Ekaksh - the youngest mafia heir to Deewans.
Perhaps being only 24, he was mature than most people his age. His presence was so commanding that it made people shiver, women threw themselves at him, and men grew jealous.
He knew it very well and found pride in it.
Inside, the air was thick with curated charm — leather armchairs aged like wine, walls wrapped in earthy tones, low lighting spilling across terrazzo floors with deliberate softness.
His gaze lingered around as if looking for someone, but he didn't spot anyone.
The club's iconic pool glowed under hanging lanterns, reflecting the moon in broken pieces. Around him, voices floated — artists discussing exhibitions no one had seen yet, producers murmuring deals that would never hit the papers, and women who dressed like they didn't care, but always noticed who was watching.
He watched women staring at him, but he paid no attention to them; he knew women all well ,they wanted was women and sex; that is what he thought so nobody and nothing could change his mind.
It was nothing knew, he was used to women throwing it at him, after all, why wouldn't they every women wanted a man like him - tall, handsome as hell, dark brown eyes intense that made women go mad, a muscle ticking in his jaw each time making him look handsome as hell.
Soho House didn't ask questions. It offered corners to disappear in, velvet chairs to collapse into, and a world where the past and present drank quietly together.
And Ekaksh, like the club, was a mystery few could enter — and even fewer could understand.
Ekaksh was everything a woman would want in a man but he didn't give a shit about women because according to him, loyal women didn't exist and even if they did but not for him.
The bar itself was a sleek marble counter veined like a thunderstorm, manned by bartenders who remembered faces, not names. Behind it, rows of aged spirits gleamed like temptation — whisky, mezcal, gin, all labels that never advertised.
Every man who passed by tilted their head in a nod, a gesture of respect to him they gave. After all, why wouldn't they?
SOHO was owned by none other than Ekaksh's father, Ansh Deewan - it wasn't just this club but many that were owned by his father, Ansh, and Ekaksh looked after them.
He was the spitting image of his father, yet due to his such habits of rarely coming home worried Ansh the most.
And to prove himself today, here he was to finalise a deal which his father gave him - a way to prove himself and his worth.
All he had to do was finalise the deal with the Malhotras and make his father proud. He knew very well how to convince them and get the deal finalised, and today he would go home only if he finalised the deal.
Just then, the energy shifted — not loudly, but unmistakably.
Aksh walked in.
He was none other than his elder brother, Ekaksh sighed as Aksh walked in.
He knew why Aksh was here.
The deal.
Ekaksh's jaw flexed for the briefest second. He hated interference — even from blood. Especially from blood. But he said nothing. Because as much as it grated, he knew something else, too.
If it blew up, if someone tried to double-cross, if money turned dirty or talk got dangerous — Aksh would clean it up. Quietly. Entirely.
And he knew Aksh wouldn't leave him alone, no matter what.
Because the deewans never left their own to die.
When one Deewan took the fall, and the other stood beside him — bruised, but unbroken.
That was the truth no outsider understood.
And they never left their own alone, no matter what.
It was about a vow. One, they had seen before they ever understood it.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆
By InkandIvoryWritess
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