The Unveiling of the hidden truth

He slipped into his car, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel. The bitterness in his chest remained, unchanged. The betrayal of Chitrakshi Sen still gnawed at his soul, and no amount of business success could silence it.

Tomorrow. The day after. And the day after that.

He would find the truth.

And if that truth was what he feared—if Kiaan Roy was still in Chitrakshi’s life—then Akash Pal would not sit in silence.

The Unveiling

The city was eerily silent that Sunday morning, as if the universe itself was holding its breath. Akash Pal sat in the driver’s seat of his friend’s car, his fingers gripping the steering wheel with an iron grip. The car was parked a short distance from Bipin Sen’s house, in the exact spot he had staked out the previous Sunday. His heart pounded in his chest, anticipation mingling with the rage that had been simmering inside him for weeks.

And then, like clockwork, she appeared.

Chitrakshi Sen stepped out of the grand gates, dressed in a black saree that clung to her body like the shadows of the night. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back, her earrings swaying with each graceful step. She walked with an air of quiet confidence, completely unaware that she was being watched.

Akash’s eyes darkened as he watched her slip into the driver’s seat of her car. He had expected this. He had felt this moment coming. Without hesitation, he started his engine and followed, keeping a safe distance.

The drive was short. She was heading to the Sen Publishers office.

Akash’s grip on the wheel tightened. Why would she go there on a Sunday?

He parked discreetly outside the office building, his gaze locked onto Chitrakshi as she entered the premises. The parking lot was almost empty—of course, it was. No staff would be here today. Just her. And whoever she was waiting for.

Minutes passed.

Then, another car pulled in.

Akash’s pulse roared in his ears as he watched Kiaan Roy step out, dressed in a casual shirt, looking far too comfortable as he strode into the office like he owned the place.

It was all the proof Akash needed.

His rage boiled over, raw and uncontrollable. His teeth gnashed together as he slammed his fist against the dashboard.

“You bitch!” he growled through clenched teeth, his entire body trembling with fury.

For a few moments, he just sat there, breathing heavily, his mind whirling with thoughts of betrayal. His hands itched to storm inside, to grab Kiaan by the collar, to demand answers from Chitrakshi. But he forced himself to wait. To watch.

After a few minutes, he got out of the car, moving like a shadow. His footsteps were silent as he made his way toward the office. He slipped inside the building, navigating the familiar halls until he reached the meeting room.

Loud music pulsed through the walls.

Through the slightly open door, he caught a glimpse inside.

There they were.

Chitrakshi Sen and Kiaan Roy, seated opposite each other. A chilled beer bottle sat on the desk between them, condensation dripping onto the polished wood. Kiaan leaned back in his chair, saying something that made Chitrakshi laugh—a soft, intimate sound that sent a dagger straight into Akash’s heart.

His fingers curled into fists. His vision blurred with red-hot rage.

But instead of barging in, he took a step back and pulled out his phone. He dialed her number.

His eyes never left her face as he heard her phone ring inside the room.

And to his surprise—she picked up.

“Hello?”

Akash’s voice was ice-cold. “Where are you?”

There was the briefest hesitation. And then, her voice came through the receiver, smooth and unbothered.

“I’m in my bedroom.”

A lie. A blatant, effortless lie.

Akash inhaled sharply. His fingers trembled with fury as he reached for the door handle.

And then, with one sharp push—he opened it.

The music seemed to fade into the background as Chitrakshi Sen’s face drained of color. Her phone was still pressed to her ear, her wide, startled eyes locking onto him in shock. Kiaan, too, froze mid-sip, his expression shifting from amusement to disbelief.

For a long, excruciating moment, silence reigned.

And then, Akash took a step inside, his voice like thunder in the storm.

A Dance with Deception

The air inside the meeting room grew heavy, thick with the unspoken storm that loomed between them. Chitrakshi Sen’s eyes locked onto Akash Pal’s face—the dark circles beneath his eyes, the sweat glistening on his forehead, the way his jaw tensed with barely contained rage. His face had turned a deep shade of red, his fingers twitching ever so slightly at his sides.

And yet, something held him back.

Something restrained the fury she knew was bubbling beneath the surface.

She swallowed, her lips parting as she hesitated. How much did he see? How much did he hear?

“Akash, we are just—” she started, her voice uncertain.

But before she could finish, Akash Pal’s lips curled into a slow, almost eerie smile. His eyes, dark and unreadable, met hers with an intensity that sent a strange shiver down her spine.

“Hush, my baby,” he murmured, his voice smooth—too smooth. It was almost a whisper, laced with something she couldn’t quite place. “I wanted to surprise you.”

Chitrakshi blinked, confusion flickering across her face.

Akash took a step closer, closing the distance between them, his presence overwhelming.

“I think you forgot,” he continued, his tone deceptively gentle, “that we were supposed to go on our last date as bachelors. Am I correct, Chitrakshi?”

Her breath caught in her throat.

Something was wrong.

The man standing before her was not the Akash Pal she knew. He was not the man who stormed into rooms with fire in his eyes, nor the man who let his emotions spill over like a raging river. No—this Akash Pal was different. Colder. Calculating. Dangerous.

Her fingers clenched into fists on her lap, her mind racing.

Behind her, Kiaan Roy shifted uneasily in his chair, sensing the strange shift in energy. The playful arrogance he had carried moments ago was gone, replaced with cautious silence.

Akash’s hand reached out, his fingers brushing against hers with the tenderness of a lover. But Chitrakshi knew—she felt—that beneath that touch lay something far more volatile.

He didn’t yank her. He didn’t drag her.

Instead, he took her hand as if leading her into a slow, intimate dance.

A perfect act of devotion.

A perfect lie.

Without sparing Kiaan another glance, Akash guided her out of the meeting room, his grip firm but gentle, his expression unreadable. His movements were precise—controlled. Not a single trace of rage, hatred, or anger remained in the room they left behind.

But inside Akash Pal, the fire burned hotter than ever.

And this was only the beginning of the end.