Hello, My Rosies🌹

Ye chapter me kafi kuch pata chalne wala he... or aap sabko hmari Viaana ke bhi darshan honge is chapter me😝🫠

Happy Reading.

The room was swallowed by darkness. Not the kind that felt empty… The kind that had learned to live there.

Matte-black walls stretched from floor to ceiling, softened only by warm amber lights hidden within the architecture. A king-sized bed rested at the center of the room, dressed in black Egyptian cotton sheets and a charcoal cashmere blanket that looked untouched, as though sleep rarely visited its owner.

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the glittering city, but the curtains remained drawn, shutting every ray of light outside.

Minimal.

Luxurious.

Cold.

It wasn't a bedroom. It was a fortress. A place built to keep the world out...And its owner even further away.

The bathroom door clicked open.

Ishvaan Malhotra stepped out, a dark towel secured around his waist. Tiny droplets of water traced slow paths across his broad shoulders before disappearing over the defined lines of his chest and arms. Years of relentless discipline had sculpted his frame—not for appearance, but for survival. 

Without a word, he crossed the room.

In one corner stood a private bar crafted from black walnut and smoked glass. He reached for a bottle of Château Margaux 2015, uncorked it with practiced ease, and poured the deep crimson wine into a crystal glass.

The liquid swirled lazily as he settled onto the massive leather sofa facing the city skyline.

Silence reclaimed the room. Yet his mind refused to obey it. The same words echoed again… And again...

She's alive.

She's alive.

She's alive.

He slowly leaned his head back against the sofa. His eyes closed. For the first time in years… His expression softened. Barely.

A whisper escaped his lips. So quiet… Even the walls almost failed to hear it.

"Where are you… " His fingers tightened around the crystal glass.

Another whisper. Even softer.

"...my Moonflower?"

The room fell still. Then—

His eyes opened. The softness disappeared. Replaced by something far more dangerous.

He sat upright in one swift motion. He threw the crystal glass onto the ground with a very loud crash and it shattered against the marble floor, red wine bleeding across the white stone like fresh blood.

His storm-grey eyes hardened. Every trace of vulnerability vanished. His voice returned to the one the underworld feared. Cold. Controlled. Certain.

"Wherever you are..." He stared into the darkness beyond the windows. "...I'll find you."

A dangerous silence followed. Then—

"Duniya ki koi bhi taqat…" His jaw tightened. "... mujhe tum tak pahuchne se nahi rok sakti."

[No force in this world…will keep me away from you again.]

He turned toward the bed where his phone rested. Picking it up, he dialed a number. The call was answered before the second ring. Almost as if the person on the other end had been waiting.

"Has it been done?" His voice carried no emotion. Only authority.

"Yes, Boss."

A slow… Dangerously satisfied smile appeared on his lips. "Good." He glanced at the clock. "Fifteen minutes." His tone sharpened. "Not a second more."

Without waiting for a reply, he ended the call. The smile disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Crossing the room, he stopped before the towering black wardrobe. The polished doors reflected the silhouette of a man the world called a king.

A man preparing for a hunt that had finally begun.

….

Ishvaan sat inside his private study, surrounded by the quiet grandeur of dark wood, muted lighting, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. At the centre of the room stood his imposing desk, and behind it was a massive high-backed leather chair—deep black, broad enough to make him look even more commanding, with polished metallic detailing along its edges.

Across from him stood Zayden Khanna, his right-hand man, holding a thick black file against his chest. His expression was composed, but there was something unusually cautious in his eyes.

Ishvaan leaned back into the chair, his fingers resting lazily against the armrest as his storm-grey gaze settled on Zayden. “So, you found out?” he asked.

Zayden nodded and said “yes boos, I found out everything just as you said, but boss, there is something else I discovered along with all this.”

Ishvaan's gaze sharpened. He leaned farther back, his expression unreadable, and quietly said “speak.”

Zayden opened the file and lowered his eyes to the first page before speaking.

“Boss, her name is Viaana Roy.”

The name seemed to strike something buried deep inside Ishvaan.

For a fleeting second, the coldness in his eyes softened. His fingers, which had been tapping against the armrest, stopped completely. It was almost imperceptible, but enough to reveal that the name had reached somewhere no one else could.

Viaana.

A name he had carried through years of silence.

Zayden continued, "Boss, she was twenty-three years old and had completed her degree earlier that year. But academics were only one part of her life. She was an exceptionally talented classical and ballet dancer, known for her discipline and graceful performances. Over the years, she had received several prestigious recognitions, including national-level awards for classical dance and major honours at reputed ballet competitions. Her name had begun appearing among the country's most promising young dancers."

Ishvaan listened without interrupting. Then his voice grew quieter as he asked “and her family?”

Zayden turned another page. “She belongs to the Roy family. She is the daughter of Devraj Roy… and the younger sister of Kabir Roy.”

The moment that name left Zayden's mouth, the atmosphere inside the study changed.

Kabir Roy.

Ishvaan's eyes became distant, as though an old memory had surfaced from somewhere he had deliberately buried. His jaw tightened.

“Kabir Roy.” he repeated the name beneath his breath, almost as if testing the weight of it.

Zayden said “yes boos, Kabir Roy—the man whose influence stretched across Asia's criminal and business networks, a powerful figure whose wealth, connections, and underground reach had made his name feared in places where ordinary law held little power. And Boss, this Kabir Roy is the same man who wants to get our ships shut down in Asia."

“Kabir Roy isn't just a businessmen boss, he controls the Asian underworld. If anyone wants to enter Asia's major trade routes, they either work with him… or make an enemy of him.”

Ishvaan malhotra ruled the underworld across Europe, North America, and the Middle East- his influence stretching through the vast empire of the Nightfall Syndicate. But Asia belonged to one man- Kabir Roy.

Asia was Kabir Roy's territory- the one place where Ishvaan's influence met its strongest opposition.

Zayden continued, his expression growing more serious as he turned another page of the file. “Boss, if we are talking about the biggest threat to the Nightfall Syndicate right now, there is only one name that stands above the rest. Kabir Roy.”

The room fell silent.

Ishvaan remained seated, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the tall windows. His fingers rested against the armrest, perfectly still. After a moment, he finally spoke, his voice controlled and unreadable.

“Does anyone in the Roy family know that I have been looking for her?”

Zayden immediately shook his head. “No, boss. As far as our information goes, they have absolutely no idea that you have found her trail. We have kept everything completely under the radar.”

Ishvaan's eyes narrowed slightly. “How certain are you?”

“Hundred percent, boss. I personally verified every piece of information and had it cross-checked through multiple independent sources. Nothing in this file has been taken at face value.” Zayden replied

Ishvaan said nothing. The silence stretched between them, heavy enough to make even Zayden hesitate before speaking again.

“Sir… there is one more thing.” Zayden's hesitation was noticeable this time.

Ishvaan continued staring at the wall ahead, giving no indication that he had even heard him. Then came a quiet hum of acknowledgment, barely audible.

Zayden swallowed before continuing. “Boss, Viaana Roy is getting married tomorrow.” That finally made Ishaan turn.

His storm-grey eyes locked onto Zayden, and whatever softness had remained in them vanished. For several seconds, neither man spoke.

Then Ishvaan's voice came low and dangerously calm. “Detail?.”

Zayden opened the file again.

“She is marrying Rishan Ahuja, the only heir to the Ahuja business empire. He is Twenty-nine, highly influential in international finance and luxury real estate, and his family has maintained powerful business alliances across several countries. Rishan himself has a reputation for being calculated, ambitious, and extremely protective of his family's interests. Their engagement was kept relatively private until recently, but the wedding is scheduled for tomorrow.”

A faint, cruel curve appeared at the corner of Ishvaan's lips. “Rishan Ahuja…” He repeated the name slowly, as though committing it to memory.

Then he looked back at Zayden. “Acquire a majority stake in Rishan Ahuja's company. I don't care how influential that man believes he is. His money built his empire, and I will buy the ground beneath it.”

Zayden's expression remained professional, though he clearly understood what the order meant. “Yes, boss. I'll have it initiated immediately.”

Ishvaan rose from the imposing chair, adjusting the cuff of his black shirt with unhurried precision.

“Get the jet ready. We are leaving.” His gaze darkened as he rose from his chair. “My queen has waited long enough.”

A slow, dangerous smile touched his lips. “Prepare everything.”

“The queen of the Nightfall Syndicate is finally coming home.”

…..

A magnificent mansion standing beneath the soft glow of the evening lights. A grand silver nameplate gleamed beside the entrance—

ROY MANSION.

The enormous white-marble estate looked less like a house and more like a palace. Tall ivory pillars framed the entrance, while warm golden lights illuminated the pathways leading toward the grand doors. Every corner had been dressed for a celebration—floral arrangements adorned the railings, delicate strings of lights stretched across the balconies, and fresh white and pastel flowers covered the entrance arches.

From the outside alone, it was obvious that something grand was about to take place.

Inside, the mansion was even more breathtaking. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, reflecting warm light across the polished marble floors. The vast hall had been transformed for the wedding, with decorators moving from one corner to another, adjusting floral arrangements and perfecting every little detail.

Amidst the chaos stood a woman in her early forties.

Aruna Roy.

She carried herself with the elegance of a woman accustomed to luxury. She wore a rich, wedding-appropriate silk saree in a deep wine shade, its intricate golden embroidery catching the light whenever she moved. Her jewellery was equally elaborate—delicate earrings, layered bangles, and a traditional necklace resting gracefully against her neckline.

She glanced around the hall before turning toward one of the decorators. “Please make sure the entrance looks absolutely perfect. I don't want a single flower out of place, and check the lighting near the staircase again. Everything has to be ready before the guests start arriving.”

The decorator immediately nodded and hurried away. Aruna's gaze then shifted toward the grand staircase.

“I'll go and check on her.” She gathered the edge of her saree and walked upstairs, her footsteps echoing softly through the corridor.

At the end of it stood a beautifully carved white door. Aruna opened it.

Inside, sitting quietly on the edge of the bed, was Viaana.

Unlike the extravagance downstairs, there was something strikingly simple about her. She wore a soft, pastel-coloured kurti with delicate embroidery, her long hair falling naturally around her shoulders. Her face was free of heavy makeup, yet there was an effortless grace in her features that made her look beautiful without trying.

She looked up at the sound of the door. “Maa? You're here?”

Aruna stepped inside, her eyes immediately narrowing when she saw her daughter still sitting there. “Yes, I'm here. And can you tell me why you're still sitting here when your wedding preparations are already underway? The baraat could arrive at any moment, and you're still dressed like this.”

Viaana lowered her gaze, her fingers slowly tightening around the fabric of her kurti. “I was just…” The words barely left her lips before Aruna interrupted.

“Whatever it is, Viaana, leave it for later. Go and get ready immediately. Today is your wedding day, and everything has already been arranged. Finally, hamare sar se ek bala to tali.” The words landed harder than Aruna seemed to realize.

[Finally, one burden has been lifted from our side as well.]

Viaana's eyes shimmered. A tear gathered at the corner of her eye, but she quickly lowered her face, refusing to let it fall. She said nothing.

Aruna didn't wait for a response. With one last glance at her daughter, she turned and walked out of the room.

For a few seconds, Viaana remained completely still.

Then the door opened again. This time, several makeup artists, hairstylists, and wedding stylists entered carrying large professional kits filled with brushes, palettes, hair tools, jewellery cases, and carefully arranged cosmetics.

The room that had been silent only moments ago suddenly filled with movement. Yet Viaana remained seated quietly in the middle of it all.

A little while later, Viaana was finally ready.

The stylists made their way around her one last time, adjusting the fall of her dupatta, fixing a strand of hair, and checking every tiny detail before stepping back with satisfied smiles.

One of the older stylists looked at her through the mirror and smiled warmly. “Ma’am, you look absolutely breathtaking. I don't think there could be a bride more beautiful than you today. Your husband is going to forget how to breathe the moment he sees you.” A few of the women laughed softly.

The stylist gave Viaana one last affectionate smile before leaving the room with the others.

The door closed. Silence returned.

Viaana remained where she was.

She didn't smile.

She didn't blush.

She didn't react to the compliment.

Her eyes slowly lifted toward the mirror. For a moment, even she barely recognized the girl staring back at her.

A deep red bridal dupatta rested gracefully over her head, its delicate golden embroidery framing her face. Her red-and-green lehenga shimmered beneath the soft lights, its intricate work making every movement look almost dreamlike.

Her wrists were adorned with layers of red and green bangles that whispered softly whenever her fingers moved. Her hair had been styled into an elegant bridal bun, decorated with delicate flowers and tiny ornaments. A maang tika rested at the centre of her forehead, while traditional earrings framed her face. A necklace adorned her neck, and delicate anklets circled her feet, their tiny bells barely making a sound against the marble floor.

She looked like a bride from a beautiful dream. The kind of bride people couldn't look away from. And yet, behind all that beauty was a face completely devoid of excitement.

No anticipation. No nervous happiness. Nothing.

Just emptiness.

Viaana stared at her reflection for a long moment.

Today was supposed to be the day every girl waited for. The day she met her prince charming. The day she walked toward a new life with a heart full of dreams.

So why did her heart feel so unbearably heavy?

A faint smile slowly appeared on her lips. It wasn't a happy smile. It was bittersweet. Almost painful.

She looked at her reflection and whispered, “Today is my wedding day… so why am I not happy?” Her fingers lightly touched the edge of her dupatta. “I should be happy, shouldn't I?” Her voice trembled slightly, but she quickly swallowed the emotion.

Then she drew in a deep breath, forcing her lips into another small smile. “Everything will be alright.”

She paused, staring at herself as though waiting for the reflection to believe her. “Shaadi ke baad to wese bhi sab thik ho hi jayaega.”

[After the wedding… everything will be alright anyway.]

She wasn't speaking to the girl in the mirror. She was trying to convince herself.

The silence in the room was broken when the door opened again.

A girl stepped inside, dressed in a pastel lehenga that shimmered softly beneath the warm lights. Its delicate embroidery, subtle floral detailing, and flowing dupatta gave her an elegant, almost effortless appearance.

She was beautiful— beautiful just enough to resemble Viaana in features— but where Viana carried a natural warmth in her eyes, this girl's expression held an unmistakable edge of attitude.

She is Myra Roy, Kabir Roy’s Second sister.

Myra glanced at her once before immediately pulling out her phone. Her fingers began scrolling through the screen as she spoke without looking up. “Come downstairs, Viaana. Everyone is waiting, and the baraat has already arrived. You’re still sitting here?”

She finally lifted her eyes from the phone, clearly irritated when Viaana didn't respond. “Did you not hear what I just said? Everyone is waiting downstairs.”

Viaana slowly turned toward her. “Where are Dad and Bhai? Why haven't they come to see me yet?”

There was something almost childlike in the way her eyes searched for the two people she had been waiting for.

Myra sighed dramatically. “Oh, God. It's a wedding at home, Viaana. They must be somewhere downstairs, probably busy handling everything. Now come on before someone comes looking for us.”

Before Viaana could answer, the door opened once again.

A man stepped into the room.

He wore a perfectly tailored pastel sherwani embroidered with understated gold detailing. At nearly six feet tall, he carried himself with an effortless confidence, his broad shoulders and composed posture making him instantly noticeable. He appeared to be around thirty, with sharply defined features, neatly styled dark hair, and calm eyes that softened the moment they landed on Viaana.

This was Kabir Roy.

His gaze stopped on his sister. For a moment, the rest of the room seemed to disappear.

Then, without taking his eyes away from Viaana, he spoke to Myra. “Myra, you go downstairs. I'll bring my Viaana myself. Everyone can wait a few more minutes.”

Myra looked mildly annoyed but slipped her phone back into her hand and walked out without another word.

The moment the door closed, Viaana's composure broke. She stood and rushed toward her brother, wrapping her arms around him. Kabir immediately embraced her, one arm settling protectively around her back while his other hand gently stroked the top of her head.

His voice softened. “What happened to my little Vyu? When did my little girl grow up so much that I didn't even notice?” Viaana gave a small, emotional laugh against his shoulder.

Kabir pulled back just enough to look at her. “And listen to me. Jo bhi ho, chahe tumhari shaadi hi kyu na ho jaaye or chhoti si ek or Vyu bhi aa jaaye to bhi tum mere liye meri wahi pyari si chutki hi rahogi.”

[No matter how grown-up you become, no matter if you get married today or someday a little Vyu into this family, you will always be my little sister.]

A faint smile finally reached Viaana's face. She wiped her tears quickly beneath one eye before stepping back. “Haa Bhai, Mujhe bhi nahi badalna he… mujhe bhi aapki chutki hi bane rehna he hamesha”

[Yes bhai, I don't want to change either… I too want to remain your little sister forever.]

Kabir smiled and gently placed his hand over her head. “Aaj meri behen kitni pyari lag rahi hai. Kisi ki bhi nazar na lage tumhe or tumhari khushiyon ko”

[Today, my sister looks more beautiful than ever. May no one's evil eye ever touch you or your happiness.]

His gaze lingered on her for a moment before he extended his hand toward her.

“Come on now. Tumhare dulhe raja bechain ho rahe he apni dulhan ko dekhne ke liye.”

[Your groom must be impatient waiting downstairs to see his bride.]

Viaana looked at his outstretched hand. For a brief moment, her expression went blank again. The nervousness returned—the same heaviness that had been sitting quietly inside her chest all morning. Still, she forced herself to breathe.

Then she placed her hand in his. Kabir gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze.

Together, they walked toward the door. Neither of them noticed the faint uneasiness still hidden behind Viaana's bridal smile.

Outside, the sounds of celebration grew louder. The baraat had arrived.

And somewhere beyond those decorated walls, fate was already moving toward her.

Kabir's hand remained wrapped around hers as they walked down the grand staircase, the sounds of the celebration growing louder with every step.

Viaana lowered her gaze, unaware of what awaited her beyond those decorated doors.

She thought she was walking toward her wedding.

She didn't know she was walking straight into the past she had forgotten.

And somewhere beyond those walls, the man who had spent two decades searching for her was already on his way.

The hunt was over.

But the war had just began.

Thankyou for reading My Rosies!🌹

How was the chapter cutie patooties.?🥹

To kya lagta aap sabko kya Ishvaan ye shaadi hone dega ?😝Apni apni theories share krke jaroor jaana.🤍

See you in the next chapter.🫶
Until then... take care, My Rosies. 🌙

With love,
Heaven rose🖤 

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