Love that lasts

Love that lasts

Celestial_Sesi

5.0
Comment(s)
12.9K
View
154
Chapters

Casanova, bad boy, innovator, heartless man, ruthless, perfectionist... Aryan Kapoor was called many things. Success followed him and girls chased him, thanks to the heady mix of his brilliant mind, devilish charm and hunky body. Love, commitment and happily ever after... These were not meant for him. He learnt this bitter truth seven years ago from Chandni, his supposed soulmate. He felt nothing but hatred towards Chandni now. He has moved on... Then why is he still haunted by the romantic moments and passionate nights he shared with Chandni? And why has she come back to ruin his life again, after seven years? As they stood facing each other, it was hard to define the feelings on Aryan and Chandni's faces. Hatred? Loathing? A Sense of Betrayal? Or was there somewhere a suppressed feeling of a love that lasted... despite everything.

Chapter 1 Prologue

Mumbai, India

===========

Escobar Club 10 PM

Mia's eyes were glued to his high cheekbones and mischievous eyes as he danced with the two girls who were vying for his attention, their svelte and sweaty bodies almost blurring and blocking her view of his broad shoulders and the taut muscles underneath his not so casual shirt. Her favorite drink Apricot Mojito on the bar lay long forgotten and her ears were barely registering the peppy music everyone was grooving to.

"Not a chance darling! That's Aryan Kapoor. He rejected me twice already and I don't want to see my bestie go through the same humiliation." Her best friend Shay warned, as she slid onto the stool next to her.

"That of course is never gonna happen!" Mia gulped down her drink and walked away from the bar, her high heels accentuating her tall and curvy body as she approached Aryan.

Ignoring the wannabes, she moved closer to him and wound her arms around her neck, forcing him to focus on her.

"Don't you think you need a better partner... I mean dancing partner?" She tilted her face to one side and asked, as her eyes leisurely scanned his tousled hair and dark beard.

His soft chuckle was music to her ears. She inched closer, swaying her body in rhythm to the music.

Three hours later, Mia was in Aryan's BMW car, on the pretext of wanting a lift to her home.

"I was wondering why you didn't drink in the club. Now I understand." She smiled, as he revved his car onto the Linking Road.

"I love my car too much and hate going in taxis. Alcohol isn't the only thing that can give a high!" he winked at her.

She couldn't agree more. Be it his chiselled body with its distinct sweet smell or his confident and suave manners, she was getting turned on by the minute.

Mia relaxed back in the passenger seat as their car raced through the traffic of Mumbai, the city that never sleeps.

Things were going just as she intended.

She was careful not to show how long she had been planning this and made sure she sounded casual and intelligent enough to spark his interest.

Doing her homework about him and how he rose to become a partner in Synergy Inc in such a short span, thanks to his brilliant innovations, came in handy.

She would prove to her friends once again that she always gets what she wants.

She could not wait to see how he looked without...

"So where exactly is your home in Bandra?" Aryan's question interrupted her blissful thoughts.

She bit her lower lip.

"I just remembered! My mum's sister and her entire family have come to visit. Don't you hate relatives who drop in like that? Why don't we go to your place instead? Hmm..."

She noticed how his jaw hardened and Adam's apple moved as he gulped down, his narrowed eyes still focused on the moving traffic.

Her confidence grew. She leaned sideways and slid her hand down his ripped abs till it reached the button of his Jeans.

His hands gripped the steering harder and she felt the car speeding up.

Till he moved his hands away from the steering and held her hand, she didn't realise that the car had stopped.

By the time she noticed the fury in his eyes, it was too late.

"Get out!" He pointed with his head, and proceeded to bend over and open the passenger seat. Next moment her bag was thrown out.

Blood rushed to Mia's cheeks but she forced a smile as she observed the curious glances of the taxi drivers at the taxi stand, where the car had stopped.

"Why this sudden change? I don't understand Aryan. What were you thinking when you were flirting with me all night?"

"Having a good time with you doesn't mean I want to sleep with you. There is no point explaining to someone like you. Just understand that I have better standards! Now don't make a scene and get into one of the taxis there. Don't ever try to meet me or try this on any other bloke if you respect yourself."

His words almost sounded like an ultimatum but Mia's pride was too hurt to let go of him so easily.

"What a hypocrite you are! Is this why you turned down every girl who comes after you? How can you be so cruel and heartless? I liked you. I wanted us to bond together and this is how you behave with me. How dare you? I will show you who I am. I will make your life hell." Expletives flew from Mia's mouth as she got out of the car and walked unsteadily towards the waiting taxi.

Once he made sure Mia's taxi drove away, Aryan closed his eyes tiredly .

His life was already a hell, thanks to Chandni..

Chandni and her betrayal made him heartless and his experiences made him ruthless and cruel! Chandni and her family destroyed everything that was dear to him... his family, his home and even his identity.

Aryan's eyes flew open as the face and thoughts of the person he fought so hard to suppress filled his mind again... Chandni!

****

11PM

Flight 203, Delhi to Mumbai

Chandni's heart began to thud louder as their flight descended towards Mumbai Airport. The luxurious first class seat and cabin of her flight did little to soothe her nervous heart.

"Are you okay Madam? Do you need a drink?" The Air Hostess asked her courteously.

She shook her head and smiled weakly.

"It's... nothing. I hate Mumbai!"

Air hostess smiled knowingly and went back to the pantry.

I hate the man who left me broken and shattered and he was from Mumbai.

Chandni looked out of the window as the tiny specks of city lights became brighter and nearer.

Her last trip to Mumbai all those years ago left her with such bitterness and trauma that she never dreamt that she would come back to this city.

But fate chose otherwise and she was now moving to Mumbai permanently.

She was not going to run away, no matter what!

She was no longer the broken Chandni who fled Mumbai all those years ago, cursing her fate.

She survived every trauma and challenge life threw at her and rebuilt her life. With the help of her loving and caring family, she had studied and worked hard to acquire all the skills necessary to run a home as well as a company. She had been studying the portfolios of various companies they were about to acquire, but Synergy and their niche products roused her interest.

The sweet voice of the Airhostess broke her chain of thoughts.

"Madam, we will be landing very soon. Please buckle up."

Chandni nodded and checked her seat belt.

She zipped the leather bag containing the folders brightly marked with the logo of Synergy Inc, a small but successful enterprise which specialised in selling niche electronic and security devices for the Indian Army and Navy.

The Company's portfolio and their products fascinated her so much that began to study about similar products currently manufactured in India and abroad.

She may be lacking in experience in running a company but she knew that was not the cause of her nervousness.

It was him and thoughts of him.

Why was she being so irrational? There was zero chance of ever meeting him here.

He must be abroad, settled happily with...

The plane's back wheels landed on the runway with a thud and Chandni gripped the handles of her seat.

*****

10 AM next day:

Hotel Leela, Mumbai.

"Where is Aryan?" Raj Singh, CEO of Synergy Inc, asked with gritted teeth as he walked towards the Conference room.

Namrata Joshi, their HR director shrugged helplessly.

"Sir, we've been calling his number all morning but there was no answer." Sanjay Verma, their Executive Manager replied on behalf of Namrata.

"What will I say to Vikram Mathur now? He was so keen to meet Aryan and I promised him that Aryan would be here today. I am sure he was partying all night and has not even woken up yet!" Raj Singh's tone was furious..

"Sir, you know very well that Ayan is least interested in these meetings and press conferences. He would rather be in the lab working on his new model." Namrata tried to pacify.

"But that won't do anymore. Aryan is a partner in the firm now, thanks to my insistence and he has to work with Vikram Mathur."

Sanjay Verma opened his mouth but then stopped as he saw more media people walking towards them.

*****

Around the same time, Aryan honked his car horn as it reached the tall gates of the manufacturing factory of Synergy Inc. Young Joseph, who was the night watchman at the premises, rushed to open the gates and Aryan smiled warmly at him.

Aryan parked the car and got out and Joseph followed him towards the lab.

"How are you Joe?"

"I am fine Sir! You are early today. None of the Engineers are here yet. Do you want me to call them Sir?" he asked eagerly.

"No, I want to be left alone. Please don't tell anyone I am here and If I need something I will give a shout, okay?

"Of course, I know your routine by now Sir. Just pretend that you are not here. Got it." Joe saluted and walked away, while Aryan entered the lab.

He checked his phone. There were twenty missed calls and fifty messages... from people he wanted to avoid as well as people he loved dearly. He can always apologise to Raj Singh later.

He didn't sleep a wink last night and work as usual was his solace.

Aryan switched off his phone and began to work on his prototype model.

Continue Reading

You'll also like

The $300 Husband Is A Zillionaire

The $300 Husband Is A Zillionaire

Nap Regazzini
4.6

I woke up in a blindingly white hotel penthouse with a throbbing headache and the taste of betrayal in my mouth. The last thing I remembered was my stepsister, Cathie, handing me a flute of champagne at the charity gala with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Now, a tall, dangerously handsome man walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his hips. On the nightstand sat a stack of hundred-dollar bills. My stepmother had finally done it—she drugged me and staged a scandal with a hired escort to destroy my reputation and my future. "Aisha! Is it true you spent the night with a gigolo?" The shouts of a dozen reporters echoed through the heavy oak door as camera flashes exploded through the peephole. My phone lit up with messages showing my bank accounts were already frozen. My father was invoking the 'morality clause' in my mother’s trust fund, and my fiancé had already released a statement dumping me to marry my stepsister instead. I was trapped, penniless, and being hunted by the press for a scandal I hadn't even participated in. My own family had sold me out for a payday, and the man standing in front of me was the only witness who could prove I was innocent—or finish me off for good. I didn't have time to cry. According to the fine print of the trust, I had thirty days to prove my "rehabilitation" through a legal marriage or I would lose everything. I tracked the man down to a coffee shop the next morning, watching him take a thick envelope of cash from a wealthy older woman. I sat across from him and slid a napkin with a $50,000 figure written on it. "I need a husband. Legal, paper-signed, and convincing." He looked at the number, then at me, a slow, crooked smile spreading across his face. I thought I was hiring a desperate gigolo to save my inheritance. I had no idea I was actually proposing to Dominic Fields, the reclusive billionaire shark who was currently planning a hostile takeover of my father’s entire empire.

The Scars Behind My Golden Dress

The Scars Behind My Golden Dress

Catherine
5.0

I spent four hours preparing a five-course meal for our fifth anniversary. When Jackson finally walked into the penthouse an hour late, he didn't even look at the table. He just dropped a thick Manila envelope in front of me and told me he was done. He said his stepsister, Davida, was getting worse and needed "stability." I wasn't his wife; I was a placeholder, a temporary fix he used until the woman he actually loved was ready to take my place. Jackson didn't just want a divorce; he wanted to erase me. He called me a "proprietary asset," claiming that every design I had created to save his empire belonged to him. He froze my bank accounts, cut off my phone, and told me I’d be nothing without his name. Davida even called me from her hospital bed to flaunt the family heirloom ring Jackson claimed was lost, mocking me for being "baggage" that was finally being cleared out. I stood in our empty home, realizing I had spent five years being a martyr for a man who saw me as a transaction. I couldn't understand how he could be so blind to the monster he was protecting, or how he could discard me so coldly after I had given him everything. I grabbed my hidden sketchbook, shredded our wedding portrait, and walked out into the rain. I dialed a number I hadn't touched in years—a dangerous man known as The Surgeon who dealt in debts and shadows. I told him I was ready to pay his price. Jackson and Davida wanted to steal my identity, but I was about to show the world the literal scars they had left behind.

Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance

Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance

Roderic Penn
5.0

I stood at my mother’s open grave in the freezing rain, my heels sinking into the mud. The space beside me was empty. My husband, Hilliard Holloway, had promised to cherish me in bad times, but apparently, burying my mother didn't fit into his busy schedule. While the priest’s voice droned on, a news alert lit up my phone. It was a livestream of the Metropolitan Charity Gala. There was Hilliard, looking impeccable in a custom tuxedo, with his ex-girlfriend Charla English draped over his arm. The headline read: "Holloway & English: A Power Couple Reunited?" When he finally returned to our penthouse at 2 AM, he didn't come alone—he brought Charla with him. He claimed she’d had a "medical emergency" at the gala and couldn't be left alone. I found a Tiffany diamond necklace on our coffee table meant for her birthday, and a smudge of her signature red lipstick on his collar. When I confronted him, he simply told me to stop being "hysterical" and "acting like a child." He had no idea I was seven months pregnant with his child. He thought so little of my grief that he didn't even bother to craft a convincing lie, laughing with his mistress in our home while I sat in the dark with a shattered heart and a secret life growing inside me. "He doesn't deserve us," I whispered to the darkness. I didn't scream or beg. I simply left a folder on his desk containing signed divorce papers and a forged medical report for a terminated pregnancy. I disappeared into the night, letting him believe he had successfully killed his own legacy through his neglect. Five years later, Hilliard walked into "The Vault," the city's most exclusive underground auction, looking for a broker to manage his estate. He didn't recognize me behind my Venetian mask, but he couldn't ignore the neon pink graffiti on his armored Maybach that read "DEADBEAT." He had no clue that the three brilliant triplets currently hacking his security system were the very children he thought had been erased years ago. This time, I wasn't just a wife in the way; I was the one holding all the cards.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book