09

SHE'LL BE MINE

The Randhawa penthouse was cloaked in quiet luxury, yet its owner found no peace within its walls.

Shivansh sat on the edge of his bed, his forearms resting on his knees, his gaze fixed on the bandage that still faintly marked his hand. The wound had healed, but the reminder remained — a strip of white cloth in memory, tied not just around his knuckles but around something he had long buried.

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