Broken dreams,Twisted Vows By Maher Hayat mystery romance novel NovelM80092 Broken dreams,Twisted Vows (Episode -3)

Broken dreams,Twisted Vows By Maher Hayat

Episode -3 Shadow of judgment

Aryan was unconscious. His eyes fluttered open, heavy and disoriented. The first thing he saw… was a girl leaning over him. She was saying something — he could tell by the movement of her lips — but he couldn’t hear a word. Everything around him felt muffled, like he was underwater. Suddenly, he realized how close she was. And in one swift movement, he shot upright. Too fast. His head reeled, a wave of dizziness crashing over him. “Mr. Aryan, please be careful,” the girl said, steadying him gently. She offered him a glass of water. “No, thanks,” he muttered curtly, brushing her off as he stood. “Where am I? And why did you bring me here?” His tone was sharp, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar room. “You’re at my house, Mr. Aryan.” Her words made him stop. His gaze swept the room — luxurious interiors, elegant furniture, large open windows. Everything screamed wealth. “This is your house?” he asked, still trying to piece things together. “Yes.” “And you are…?” “Oh! Finally,” she smiled. “It’s time to introduce myself. Hello, Mr. Aryan. I’m Srishti Malhotra. And as for how I know you — well, who doesn’t? You’re the Aryan Singh Rathore, the great business tycoon.” “And me? I’m no one special… just someone who doesn’t like watching people suffer when I can help,” she added softly, her voice like silk — hiding strength beneath gentleness. Srishti Malhotra. About 5’11″, glowing fair skin, soft brown curls that framed her face, and large hazel-brown eyes — confident, stunning, and graceful. She wore chic, modern clothes, but nothing flashy. Classy, not loud. “Would you like some tea or coffee?” she asked politely. “No, thanks.” His voice was cold. “And how dare you bring me here?” He looked around again, confusion turning to suspicion. A dancer owns a mansion like this? he thought. If she has all this wealth, why would she perform in bars? Maybe character is something money can’t buy. “Mr. Aryan, are you feeling okay? Should I call a doctor?” Srishti asked, a hint of concern in her voice. “You don’t need to care so much,” Aryan snapped. “I don’t take anything from dancers.” Her expression froze. “What do you mean by that?” “You’re not important enough for me to explain myself to. Nor do I have the time.” With that, Aryan turned and walked out, leaving a stunned — and now furious — Srishti behind.

“Unbelievable!” she muttered. “Help someone, and this is what you get. Arrogant jerk.” “But one day, Mr. Aryan… you’ll wish you had seen me beyond your judgments,” she whispered under her breath. In just one encounter, both had judged each other — harshly, blindly, and entirely wrong. —— Aryan drove aimlessly, his shirt damp, head throbbing. He had to go to the office, but in this state, that wasn’t happening. So he headed home. Meanwhile, Viraj was searching for him like a madman. Aryan’s phone was off. No one knew where he was, and tracking him was impossible. At home, Aparna was panicking. “Viraj, where’s my Aru? He didn’t come back last night,” she cried.

His aunt tried to calm her. “Hey ‘ Aparna, shut up , nothing happened to our son…” Narmada turned to Viraj. “Viraj, did you find anything?” He was about to make another call when— “Sir!” Viraj’s eyes locked onto the figure at the door. Aparna rushed forward. “Aru! Where were you, beta? And what have you done to yourself?” Narmada scolded him too. “See your mom, what she doing with her in your consult they crying hard and hard . “I’m fine, Ma… Aunt… Just tired. Can I rest for a while?” Aryan asked quietly.

“Of course, dear. You need anything? Something to eat?” “Not now… please. I just need to be alone.” He looked at Viraj and signaled him silently. The two of them went into Aryan’s room. —— Meanwhile – Malhotra Enterprises Kartik Malhotra sat in his grand office, conducting interviews — or rather, dismissing them. The moment one interview ended, he stood. “Sir, one candidate is still left—” his manager said. “If she doesn’t value time, she’s not worthy of being my employee,” Kartik said sharply, walking off. “Talent is wasted without discipline. Time is my goddamn religion,” he muttered under his breath, cold and precise. His manager sighed. Harsh. Kartik Malhotra — brother-figure and maternal uncle to Srishti — was 25, tall (6’2″), sharp-featured, with piercing eagle eyes — a faint blue. A commanding personality. Ruthlessly punctual. He was as capable and successful in business as Aryan, but unlike Aryan’s mysterious aloofness, Kartik was direct — and sometimes explosive. For three days now, one girl had been trying to attend the interview. And every time, she arrived late. “Miss Naina, you may leave,” the manager said. “What…? Again?!” Naina shouted, almost heartbroken.

“Seriously, Miss Naina?” the manager snapped. “You still don’t get it? If this job was so important to you, why couldn’t you be on time even once? You know very well, sir hates delays. I’ve told you repeatedly, but you never listen.” He wasn’t wrong. He had seen her talent. He had stood there every day, hoping to get her in. But now, there was nothing more he could do. Outside the office, Naina whispered to herself — “If only they knew… it’s not just a job for me. It’s my survival.” —— Back in Aryan’s room, Viraj was pacing. “Sir, where were you? Are you okay? What happened?” he asked, worried sick. Aryan sat on the edge of his bed, silent. What had happened the previous night? Why had he ended up at Srishti’s house? And most importantly, why had he been so rude to her? And elsewhere… Will Naina ever get this job? “Who is Naina, really? “And why does she need this job so desperately ? ” Like Some stories begin with a dream. Hers began with desperation. —To Be Continued—