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Krishna had been working relentlessly, just as much as Rukmini—perhaps even more. His study was a chaotic mess, with papers strewn across every available surface, documents piled haphazardly, and a strong aroma of coffee lingering in the air. His sharp eyes scanned through files, searching for a breakthrough, his mind calculating every possible move against Jarasand.

Then, finally, a lead.

A certain company had also been opposing Jarasand—Vyom Industries—a massive corporation run by five highly skilled brothers. They had been quietly resisting Jarasand's influence, though their reasons remained unclear. Krishna's lips curled into a smile as he tapped his fingers on the desk. If he played his cards right, this could be the opportunity they needed.

But first, he needed to discuss this with Rukmini. She deserved to be the first to know.

He stretched, feeling the exhaustion settle in his bones, the muscles of his back aching from hours hunched over files. Deciding to clear his mind before meeting her, he made his way to the bathroom. As soon as the warm water cascaded down his body, he let out a satisfied sigh, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension. The steam fogged up the mirror, but even through the haze, he could make out his own reflection—calculating, focused, yet momentarily distracted.

Because, unfortunately, his brain had decided to summon the image of Rukmini's flustered face from earlier.

A chuckle escaped him before he could stop it. She really was something else—the way she tried so hard to appear unaffected when her eyes betrayed her every time.

And then—

"What the—!" Krishna flinched as the shower head sputtered violently, switching from a soothing flow to a random, chaotic spray. A sharp blast of cold water hit him square in the back like a sneak attack.

He yelped.

"Oh, come on! Treachery in my own bathroom?" he muttered, twisting the knob furiously. The shower head sputtered again in defiance before settling back into a steady stream.

Still shivering slightly, Krishna stepped out, trying to maintain some level of dignity. Just then, the sensor-activated bathroom speaker (which Ram had installed for "ambiance") randomly picked that exact moment to start playing an intense motivational speech.

"Success is what happens when you REFUSE to give up!" blared the voice.

Krishna groaned and looked toward the ceiling. "Really? Now you're mocking me too?"

He dried off with a towel, shaking his head at the absurdity of his life. With water still dripping from his hair and a defeated look on his face, he muttered, "If Rukmini finds out about this, I swear I'm never showing my face again."

And that's exactly when he opened the door—and froze.

Rukmini was in his room.

Bent over the floor, carefully arranging files into neat stacks, her brows furrowed in focus, her hair loosely tied back. She looked up just as Krishna stood at the doorway like a statue.

"You know," she said, brushing a strand of hair from her face, "I didn't expect your room to look like a hurricane passed through it."

Krishna's face flushed red—he didn't even know why. Rukmini better not find out about this. Ever. The embarrassing memory of nearly falling in the shower while grinning like a fool still lingered in his head.

To regain composure, he casually placed his hand on the nearby table, attempting to look suave and unaffected. But the posture felt awkward, and his hand slid on a stack of papers, causing him to jerk and lean against the wall instead. Smooth.

"What... what are you doing here?" he asked, trying to sound cool.

Rukmini raised an eyebrow. "I could ask the same. You walked in like you forgot this was your own room. And what's with the tomato face? Did you run here?"

"It's not red," Krishna muttered, straightening up.

"Your ears are literally the colour of ripe cherries," she said, standing up and folding her arms. "Are you having a reaction or just really embarrassed?"

Krishna coughed. "I'm just surprised, that's all. Didn't expect anyone to break into my sacred workspace."

"If this is sacred, then I fear for the rest of the house," she said, stepping over a tipped-over coffee cup. "Seriously, how do you find anything in this mess?"

"Don't diss the system," Krishna said defensively. "I know exactly where everything is."

"Really?" Rukmini challenged, crouching down and picking up a folder labeled in what looked like hieroglyphics. "Then where's part three of this file?"

Without missing a beat, Krishna pointed behind her to a stack near the window. "Second file from the bottom. Yellow tab."

She turned, raised an eyebrow again, and pulled it out. "Huh. Lucky guess."

"Not a guess," he smirked. "Genius-level intuition. Comes with being me."

Rukmini stared at him flatly. "Yeah, well, your genius-level intuition didn't help you notice the coffee you spilled last night is now gluing two reports together."

"That was... strategic. Bonding the files together for easier access," he said, feigning wisdom.

"Mhm. Tell me more about your chaos theory, Einstein."

"You mock it now, but when the system saves the day, don't come crying to me."

"I won't. I'll be too busy saving the day myself," she shot back.

"With your colour-coded tabs and alphabetised folders? Please."

"Organisation is underrated," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Unlike your method of... what is this?" She held up a file that had a doodle of a sword fight in the margins.

"Mental exercise," Krishna replied coolly. "It keeps the brain sharp."

"It makes you look like a bored school kid."

"Says the woman who makes angry faces while sorting paper. I saw you furrow your eyebrows like you were trying to mind-control the stapler."

"That stapler bit me," Rukmini snapped.

Krishna laughed, genuinely amused. "Of course it did. Everything in this room is a little dangerous. Including me."

Rukmini gave him a deadpan look. "Yeah. You're terrifying. Just a walking threat with a broken shower and bad handwriting."

"Hey! My shower is... going through something, okay?"

"Sure, sure. Let me know when it stops having its midlife crisis."

Their banter crackled in the air, playful and electric. Rukmini rolled her eyes, but the faintest smile tugged at her lips.

Krishna cleared his throat, pulling out the folder he had brought with him. "Anyway, I actually wanted to tell you something important. Found a lead. A company—Vyom Industries. They've been opposing Jarasand quietly for a while. Could be useful."

Rukmini's eyes lit up with interest. "Now that's more like it. Finally something we can use."

"You're welcome," he added smugly.

"Don't push your luck," she replied, snatching the folder from his hand.

"Admit it. You missed me."

"I missed peace and silence."

"You say that, but look how lively the room got when I showed up."

And though they went back to work, a grin lingered on both their faces, neither willing to admit how much they enjoyed the sparring match disguised as casual conversation.

After sorting the conversation with Rukmini—complete with bickering, witty comebacks, and maybe a few fluttery moments neither would admit to—Krishna finally turned his attention to the next phase of the plan. He was due for a meeting, one that could very well change the tide of their battle against Jarasand.

The destination? A sleek, glass-panelled corporate office in the heart of the city. The headquarters of Vyom Industries.

There, Krishna was to meet Arjun—the most formidable of the five brothers who ran the company. Arjun was known for his precision, his no-nonsense attitude, and most of all, his unwavering belief in only what he could see and touch. Unlike others, Arjun wasn't easily swayed by charm or reputation. And Krishna? Well, he was the personification of both.

So naturally, Arjun wasn't quite sure what to make of him.

He sat at the head of a long mahogany table, arms folded, sharp eyes assessing Krishna the moment he walked in.

"You're late," Arjun said, voice calm but edged.

Krishna gave a relaxed shrug, strolling in like he owned the place. "Only by a few minutes. Time is relative, my friend. Especially when your coffee machine doesn't cooperate."

Arjun blinked, unimpressed. "We have a lot to discuss. I don't believe in wasting time on theatrics."

"And yet, here you are. Watching me instead of asking your first question," Krishna replied with a smile which was rather a mix of taunting and mischief, sliding into the chair opposite him. "Curious minds are more theatrical than they'd like to admit."

There was a pause. Then, a twitch at the corner of Arjun's mouth—whether from amusement or irritation, it was hard to tell.

"Let's talk business," Arjun said. "Why should we align with you in this war against Jarasand? You have passion, yes. But Vyom doesn't run on sentiment. We operate on strategy. On results."

Krishna leaned forward, fingers steepled. "You want results? I'm not here to sell you dreams, Arjun. I'm here to show you that what you're fighting for—your autonomy, your ethics, your empire—is already under threat. Jarasand is playing the long game. You're just too close to the fire to see the smoke."

Arjun's jaw tightened slightly.

Krishna continued, "And here's the thing about people like you—you only believe what you can see. But what if I told you that belief itself can be the weapon your enemy doesn't account for?"

"Belief doesn't sign contracts or win lawsuits."

"No," Krishna said, smiling faintly. "But belief makes people get up when they're knocked down. It's what rallies allies. It's what turns logic into revolution."

Arjun leaned back, skeptical but thoughtful. "That sounds dangerously poetic."

"You know what else sounds poetic? The fall of an empire. And that's exactly what Jarasand's planning—for all of us."

There was a beat of silence.

Then Krishna added, tone softer but firmer, "You don't have to trust me completely. I don't need you to. But you will see results. And when you do, I won't say 'I told you so.' I'll just welcome you to the team."

Arjun stared at him for a moment longer, then finally cracked a smile. A real one, this time.

"You're not what I expected."

"I usually aim higher than expectations," Krishna said, rising from his seat.

As he turned to leave, Arjun's voice stopped him.

"One meeting doesn't make me a believer."

Krishna glanced back with a glint in his eye. "Good. Keep doubting. It makes the results that much sweeter."

And with that Krishna was about to leave the meeting hall but made a halt when some men entered hurriedly inside the meeting room, running towards Arjun.

The doors flung open, and a group of men rushed in, their suits disheveled and faces pale with panic. They made a beeline for Arjun, barely catching their breath.

"Sir!" one of them gasped. "He's back. Rudraaksh... he's made his move."

Arjun's expression darkened instantly. "Where? What did he do?"

"Our satellite division in Pune—obliterated. The tech labs too. He didn't even bother hiding it. Sent us a message directly. He said... he said he wants everything turned to ash. Especially you."

The entire room went silent. Krishna tilted his head, watching the trembling men, then glanced at Arjun—whose jaw was clenched, shoulders taut. But then, Arjun turned to look at Krishna. That single glance carried weight. Not desperation. Not helplessness. But hope. A silent request.

And Krishna?

He grinned.

"Well," he said smoothly, adjusting his collar, "I was just thinking the day needed a bit more drama."

—

Within the hour, Krishna was in motion.

"I need a line to Balthazar," Krishna said into his phone. "And get me contacts from the southern corridor—those who owe me favors. We're going old school."

"Is this about Rudraaksh?" a voice on the other end asked.

"Bingo. He wants ashes? I'll give him fireworks first."

Krishna moved fast, the kind of fast that made seasoned strategists blink twice. Arjun watched in stunned silence as Krishna wove together an underground operation in minutes—contacts from the black market, ex-cybercriminals, vigilantes with codes of honor, and even a few double agents from Rudraaksh's own system. Every move Krishna made was deliberate, like a grandmaster rearranging pieces on a chessboard no one else could even see.

When Arjun and Krishna finally pulled up to Rudraaksh's facility—an abandoned industrial estate turned fortress—it was storming.

"Dramatic weather. How poetic," Krishna murmured, stepping out of the car and staring up at the looming structure. "Let's make this quick. I'm hungry."

The takedown wasn't an all-guns-blazing assault—it was art.

Krishna's team infiltrated the security grid in under five minutes. He used an old blueprint from a demolition crew, paired with intel from a hacker who once dated Rudraaksh's assistant. While Arjun was preparing for a head-on confrontation, Krishna had already predicted Rudraaksh's routes, slipped a fake transmission through the system, and sent Rudraaksh's own guards scattering in confusion.

Smoke bombs created the illusion of chaos. Meanwhile, Krishna and Arjun slipped through the lower corridors like ghosts. They hacked doors, avoided detection, and made their way to the central command.

Inside, Krishna and Arjun confronted Rudraaksh—tall, imposing, with a gaze sharp enough to cut steel.

Rudraaksh's voice was laced with venom. "So they sent a clown."

Krishna smiled and said with a shrug. "No, I came on my own. Clowns are too noisy."

Rudraaksh narrowed his eyes. "You think your charm will save you here? I've crushed empires. I've watched kings beg. You're just a parasite dressed in silk."

"Maybe," Krishna said, walking slowly around the room, hands in his pockets, as if he had all the time in the world. "But parasites survive. Know why? Because they're underestimated. You, Rudraaksh... you're too used to bulldozing through people. But someone like me? I slip through the cracks."

Rudraaksh stepped forward, furious. "You're playing a fool's game. I built this empire on fear. Loyalty. Power."

"And I just hacked it with a smile," Krishna replied.

Suddenly, the screens in Rudraaksh's control room lit up. A video started to play—a live broadcast. Rudraaksh's own voice, his plans, his threats, his confessions. Everything.

Krishna leaned against the wall, smug. "You should really vet your tech team better. You've got a leaky firewall... and a very talkative server."

Rudraaksh lunged, but Arjun stepped between them, firm and calm.

"It's over," Arjun said. "You're done."

Krishna added softly, "You think you're the storm, Rudraaksh. But you forgot something very basic. Lightning never announces itself. It just strikes."

And strike he did.

—

Later, back at Vyom HQ, Arjun stood beside Krishna, silent for a long time.

"You didn't just fight him," Arjun finally said. "You dismantled him. Without rage. Without panic. You... planned the chaos."

Krishna turned, eyes soft but firm. "People like him thrive on fear. You don't beat them by roaring louder. You beat them by whispering exactly what they never expected to hear."

Arjun nodded slowly. "I thought I had seen enough to know who's capable and who's just talk. But you... you flipped my definition."

Krishna chuckled. "You're not the first to underestimate me. But I like proving people wrong."

Arjun extended a hand. "From today—if ever you call—I'll show up."

Krishna took the hand, a smirk playing on his lips. "Good. Because this is just the beginning."

And as they stood by the window, city lights glowing in the distance, a new alliance was forged—not by words, but by respect.

The kind that lasts lifetimes.

.

.

.

Krishna leaned back in his car seat, a quiet smile tugging at his lips—and for once, he didn't even try to hide it.

He didn't know why, but something about the possibility of Rukmini telling him he did a good job had his chest doing somersaults. He had tried to brush the thought off all morning. But there it was again—nagging at the edges of his mind like a stubborn tune. "She'll probably roll her eyes and say 'finally' instead," he muttered to himself. Still... that didn't stop the smile stretching across his face like a kid who just topped the class and was pretending he didn't care about the gold star.

He shook his head. "Ridiculous," he mumbled. "Get a grip, man."

But before he could spiral any further into the mess of butterflies he refused to acknowledge, his phone rang.

Manager (calling)

"Yeah?" Krishna answered, tone switching instantly.

"Sir, it's urgent," came the clipped voice of his manager. "Jarasand's moved against us. International this time. He's targeting Valmiera."

Krishna's expression darkened. "Valmiera? That's one of our most sensitive markets."

"He's already stirred up the media. Three investment houses have pulled out in just the last hour. He's spinning false narratives—fraud, internal instability—you name it. He wants to ruin us."

Krishna sighed, his smile vanishing. "Get me on the first flight out. Make sure the board is briefed. I'll handle him."

"Yes, sir."

He hung up and immediately dropped his head back onto the headrest.

"To hell with timing," he muttered.

Then, louder, to his chauffeur: "Take the fastest route to the airport. No pit stops."

"Yes, sir."

He stared out the window for a moment, then unlocked his phone again. He hovered over Rukmini's contact for an embarrassingly long second before finally texting:

Krishna: "Just closed that deal we talked about. But something's come up—have to leave for Valmiera. Jarasand's playing dirty there. I'll be gone a few days."

He hit send, dropped the phone on the seat beside him like it was radioactive, and groaned dramatically into his palm.

"Why am I updating her like she's family? She's just... she's just Rukmini."

That sounded wrong even in his own head.

—

Later, at the airport, Krishna's manager was walking him through the situation as they moved toward the jet.

"The local media in Valmiera has already picked up the fake reports. Our PR team is trying to suppress it, but we need an on-ground presence. And fast. Your appearance might be the only thing that reassures our allies there."

Krishna nodded distractedly, scrolling through his phone. And there—it came.

A reply from Rukmini.

Not a text. Not a long paragraph or a checklist of what he should and shouldn't do. No lecture.

Just a sticker.

A silly one, too.

A little animated fox with sunglasses, giving a dramatic thumbs-up, sparkles flying in the background.

That was it.

And yet—his heart actually skipped. A stupid fox with sunglasses made him blush.

He caught himself grinning like a moron, and instinctively tried to wipe the expression off his face.

His manager blinked at him, caught off-guard. "Sir? Did you... see something funny?"

Krishna cleared his throat, locking the phone quickly and sliding it into his pocket. "No. Just... altitude prep."

"Altitude... prep?"

Krishna gave him a flat look. "It's a thing. Don't question it."

And as he climbed the steps into the jet, wind tugging at his coat and the weight of global sabotage on his shoulders, all he could think of was that fox sticker.

He shook his head to himself, baffled.

She didn't even send a sentence. Just a sticker. And I'm out here catching feelings like an amateur.

The worst part?

He didn't even mind.

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