Broken dreams,Twisted Vows By Maher Hayat mystery romance novel NovelM80092 Broken dreams,Twisted Vows (Episode -2)

Broken dreams,Twisted Vows By Maher Hayat

Episode -2 Storm before the
storm

Next Morning…

Aryan sat in his office, head bowed over a file,
reading intently, when a knock interrupted the
silence.

Aryan: “Coming.”

The door creaked open, and a young man in a sharp
grey suit entered, a file in his hand. He walked
straight to Aryan’s desk and stood silently.

Aryan looked up and said calmly:
“Sit down, Viraj.”

This was Viraj—28 years old, around 5’11” in height,
fair skin, soft brown eyes that made his smart,
decent appearance all the more striking. Viraj
wasn’t just Aryan’s assistant; he was like a younger
brother. After Aryan’s mother, Viraj was the only
one he ever confided in.

Viraj:
“Sir, we’ve secured the project from the Mishra
Group of Legacy, but due to the shortage of
employees, the progress is slow. Completing it on
time may be difficult.”

Aryan glanced at the file, sat up straight, and spoke
in his firm, composed tone.

Aryan:
“Open up recruitment. Ask the manager to accept
applications and screen every candidate thoroughly
before hiring.”

Viraj nodded.
“Okay, sir.”
He stood up but didn’t leave. Something was clearly
on his mind. He lingered, lost in thought.

Aryan noticed.
Aryan:
“Sit. And speak. What is it?”

Viraj sat down hesitantly. He looked torn, gathering
courage as if what he wanted to say required more
than just words.
Aryan (a little impatient):
“Come on, Viraj. What’s got you so tangled up? Just
say it—I have a meeting in ten minutes.”
Finally, Viraj took a deep breath and blurted it out
quickly:
Viraj:
“Sir… that girl. You shouldn’t have disqualified her.
Everyone goes there to chase their dreams. She
didn’t do anything wrong.”
Aryan’s eyes narrowed. A flicker of irritation passed
over his face.

Aryan:

“And how exactly do you know whether she was
wrong or not? And now you’re going to explain that
to me—for some random so-called girl?”

Viraj (softly):
“Sir, I’m not explaining. It’s just… she was crying.
She didn’t deserve that.”
Viraj had a kind heart. He couldn’t bear injustice.
But before he could say more, Aryan stood up
sharply, grabbed his coat, and turned away.
Aryan:
“You’re beginning to doubt my decisions now,
Viraj?”
Then, more curtly—
“Enough. Don’t bring this up again.”
And just like that, he left for the meeting.
Viraj stood up too, following silently behind.

“Dhruv! Dhruv! Dhruv!”

The crowd was roaring.
It was a racing spot—crowds screaming and
cheering for one name alone.
Dhruv Singh Rathore.
There he stood, one leg casually over the other, both
hands in his pockets, a smirk playing on his lips,
chewing gum beside his bike.
He was Aryan Singh Rathore’s younger brother—but
you’d never guess by looking at them.
Where Aryan was calm, disciplined, and dignified…
Dhruv was bold, arrogant, and flirtatious.
The classic spoiled son of a rich father.

While Aryan was a hardworking businessman,
Dhruv was famously lazy. Everyone around him told
him to join the office, share Aryan’s burden. But
Dhruv had no interest in the business world. He
found it boring.

Dhruv had no dreams of success, no ambition. What
he did have was a passion—parties, outings, fights,
and bike racing.
Racing was his obsession.
And today was no different.

The top racing ground in Lucknow was buzzing. A
race was about to begin, and the name on
everyone’s lips was his. He was the undefeated king
of the track. No competitor had ever come close.
Dhruv Singh Rathore
Height: 6’1

Wheatish skin
A perfectly trimmed beard
A dash of charm, oozing cool confidence
The flirting king—girls were crazy about him.
And those hypnotic blue eyes? Deadly.
Dressed in a white shirt with three buttons open,
black jeans, silver bracelet, and sunglasses perched
coolly on his face—he looked nothing less than a
Bollywood hero.

He wasn’t just a racer — he was the storm that
made hearts race.

The countdown had begun.
3… 2… 1…

The race was about to begin.

Back at the office…

Aryan’s meeting was over. Viraj was still busy with
the clients, and Aryan was preparing to leave for the
day.

It was already 8 PM. Almost all his work was done.
He was tired—exhausted, in fact—and a dull ache
throbbed in his head.
Without informing Viraj, he left for home. Perhaps
he was still annoyed.

The weather had turned gloomy. Thunder cracked
across the sky, and light rain began to fall.

As he drove, Viraj’s words haunted him.
They echoed over and over in his mind.
“Maybe that girl really wasn’t at fault…”
The thought stuck.
On impulse, he considered calling Viraj. He wanted
her details. He didn’t know why—but for the first
time in years, he felt like saying sorry.
Rain poured harder, beating relentlessly against the
windshield. He turned on the wipers, but visibility
kept blurring.
The storm intensified.
It became impossible to drive. Aryan pulled over to
the side. He didn’t want to risk it.

He didn’t know fate had parked something darker
down this road…

For the first time… he felt regret.
There was no signal.
He couldn’t contact anyone.
He wished he had brought Viraj along.
Through the sheets of rain, he spotted something.
A bar.
He usually avoided such places—too indecent for a
man like him.
But desperate situations…
He had no idea that stepping into that bar would be
the biggest mistake of his life.
What storm was waiting for Aryan now?
To find out, stay tuned for the next episode…