Welcome my cuties i know you came from insta by watching our bound by darkness series and abhita 💖✨️ i hope you enjoy the chapter 🤌🏻✨️
It was around 3 AM.
Abeer was in his room, but the room didn't feel like his anymore.
Silence was there, as always. But tonight, something inside that silence felt off.
He was sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, eyes carrying a restlessness he couldn't name.
Sleep was not unusual for him to avoid.
His life never really gave him peace.
But tonight... it wasn't normal insomnia.
Something felt different.
Unsettled.
His mind kept pausing on something, like a thought that refused to complete itself. Not loud. Not clear. Just an irritating presence he couldn't shake off.
He didn't even feel angry.
Just... disturbed in a quiet way.
Abeer stood up and walked toward the window. Outside, everything was dark. Darkness had always been familiar to him-it was where he functioned best.
But tonight, even darkness felt unfamiliar.
Like something was missing inside it.
He reached for a cigarette... then stopped midway.
No reason.
Just stopped.
His hand froze for a second before he slowly lowered it.
"...what the hell is wrong with me," he muttered under his breath.
But there was no answer inside him.
No logic.
No control.
Only a strange pause that didn't belong to him.
And then-without warning-an image flashed in his mind.
Not fully clear.
Just fragments.
A quiet gallery... colors... and a girl's eyes meeting his for a brief second.
Abeer closed his eyes immediately.
Annoyed now, but not in control of it.
"This is nonsense," he said coldly to himself.
But even after saying it, nothing changed.
Because for the first time... something inside him didn't respond the way it always did.
Something had shifted.
Very slightly.
Very silently.
But permanently enough to be felt.
He didn't know why he went back.
Abeer found himself standing in front of that painting again.
The gallery was closed now... or maybe it felt closed in his mind. Everything around him was still, heavy, almost suffocating in its silence.
Only a single candle was lit in the room.
Small.
Fragile.
And yet it was holding back a vast darkness.
That tiny flame didn't belong in a space that large. It should've been swallowed instantly. But somehow... it wasn't.
It was glowing.
Softly.
Quietly.
Like it had its own refusal to disappear.
Abeer stood there, staring at it for a long moment.
The rest of the room didn't matter. The shadows, the emptiness, the silence-nothing was reaching him anymore.
Only that light.
Only that strange stillness inside him.
His gaze slowly shifted... and landed on the painting again.
Harshita's painting.
He didn't even realize when he moved closer.
His steps were slow, almost unconscious, like something was pulling him instead of him deciding to walk.
And then... his hand lifted.
He touched the edge of the frame.
Carefully.
Like it might break if he held it too strongly.
His eyes dropped slightly, and without thinking... his fingers moved across the corner of the canvas where a small signature was written.
Harshita.
That name.
For some reason, it didn't feel like just a name.
It felt... familiar.
His hand stayed there a second longer than it should have.
And then something strange happened.
For a man who lived in chaos... who carried silence like armor... who never slowed down for anything-
he felt still.
Not empty stillness.
Not cold stillness.
Something else.
Softer.
Almost like peace.
Abeer didn't understand it.
He didn't try to.
But for the first time in a long time... the darkness inside him didn't feel loud.
It felt... paused.
And in that pause, under the small light of a single candle in a vast room...
The moment didn't leave abeer.
Even after stepping away from that painting, even after the gallery felt like it had been left behind, something inside Abeer refused to settle.
That stillness he felt... it wasn't fading.
It was growing.
Uncomfortable.
Unnatural.
He walked through the dark corridor of his mind like he was searching for control again, but for the first time, control wasn't answering him.
His jaw tightened.
His hands clenched once... then relaxed again, like even his own body wasn't listening properly.
And then-without thinking further-he reached for his phone.
A single name.
"Viraj"
The call connected quickly.
Viraj wasn't just his bodyguard.
He wasn't just someone who followed orders.
He was the only one who understood Abeer without words... the only one who had seen him in silence, in rage, in chaos, and never stepped back.
For Abeer, Viraj was not a subordinate.
He was something closer to a younger brother... someone who stayed even when the world didn't.
There was a pause before Abeer spoke.
His voice wasn't loud.
But it wasn't calm either.
"Viraj..."
A short breath.
A moment of hesitation that didn't belong to him.
Then-
"Find out who Harshita is."
Silence on the other side.
Abeer's grip tightened slightly.
"By morning," he added, voice low but firm now, trying to reclaim control over himself. "I want everything. Everything about her."
Another pause.
Then, quieter-but heavier-
"I don't care how you do it. Just find her."
A slight exhale left his lips after he said it, like something inside him had finally broken past restraint.
And even he didn't understand why it mattered this much.
Why a name... a girl... a painting...
had started pulling him out of his own darkness without permission.
On the other side, Viraj didn't question.
He just responded softly, with that familiar loyalty:
"Done, bhai
Call ended.
But Abeer didn't move.
He just stood there in silence, staring at nothing now... as if waiting for something he himself had just set into motion.
And somewhere far away, without knowing it yet...
Abeer didn't sleep.
He tried. He really did.
But sleep wasn't something his body was willing to give him anymore.
It was already 5 AM when the sky outside had started to lose its darkness, turning into that dull grey in-between phase of night and morning.
And Abeer was still awake.
Sitting in the same room.
Same silence.
But now it didn't feel empty... it felt restless in a way he couldn't explain.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.
"Why does it matter?" he muttered to himself.
His voice was rough.
Almost irritated.
"This has never happened before..."
A pause.
His jaw tightened slightly.
"I don't even know her."
But that was the problem.
He didn't know her.
And still... she wasn't leaving his mind.
That feeling from last night-the pause, the stillness, the candle-like softness in a world that never slowed down for him-it kept replaying in fragments.
Like his mind refused to drop it.
And Abeer hated things he couldn't control.
Before he could think further, his phone rang.
Viraj.
Abeer picked up immediately.
No greeting.
Just silence on both sides for a second.
Then Viraj's voice came through-calm, direct, as always.
"Bhai... I found her."
Abeer's eyes sharpened instantly.
"...Who?" his voice lowered.
"Harshita," Viraj replied. "Artist hai. Painter. Ek art gallery se linked hai. Mostly exhibitions aur private work karti hai."
Abeer didn't move.
Not a single expression shifted... but something inside him did.
Viraj continued,
"I've sent you her address."
Silence.
Abeer looked at his phone screen now, as if the message itself had weight.
For a few seconds, he didn't speak.
Then quietly-
"...send it again."
Viraj paused slightly.
"Bhai-"
"I said send it again," Abeer interrupted, voice firmer now.
A second later, the message came through.
An address.
A real place.
A real person.
Harshita.
Abeer stared at it.
Long.
Unmoving.
And for the first time in a long time... it wasn't power, fear, or control running through his mind.
It was something else.
Something unfamiliar.
Something that didn't ask permission before entering.
He closed his eyes for a second.
Then opened them again.
"...artist," he muttered under his breath.
Almost like he was trying to understand why that word mattered.
But even he knew-
this wasn't just curiosity anymore.
Something had already started pulling him in.
It was 7 AM.
Abeer looked at the clock in his room and stayed still for a moment.
The night had not ended for him.
Sleep still hadn't found him.
And the restlessness from last night... it was still there, unchanged.
He walked into the shower.
Cold water hit his skin, droplets sliding down his body, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.
Like his body was present... but his thoughts were stuck elsewhere, tangled in something he couldn't name.
A silent conflict was going on inside him.
"What is happening to me..." he muttered under his breath.
"Seriously... a girl?"
He closed his eyes as water kept falling on his face, but even then, her image didn't leave.
Not clearly.
Just a presence.
A pause in his chaos.
He wanted to get irritated. He was used to controlling everything inside him.
But this time... he couldn't.
After the shower, he stepped out.
Opened his wardrobe.
Black shirt.
Black pants.
He wore them without thinking too much.
For the first time, he didn't choose what to wear-he just wore it.
Standing in front of the mirror, he looked at himself.
Same Abeer-controlled, dangerous, unreadable.
But something was different.
There was an unusual calm on his face.
A kind of stillness that didn't belong to his world.
Like something inside him had quietly settled... without asking for permission.
He stared at himself for a moment longer.
"...belonging?" he thought, almost irritated at the word crossing his mind.
Then he looked away.
Picked up his car keys from the table.
No driver.
No bodyguards.
For the first time, he didn't take anyone with him.
He walked out of the mansion.
Outside, multiple luxury cars were parked-power, control, identity... all tied to his name.
But today, he ignored all of them.
He chose one black car.
Opened the door.
Sat inside.
Started the engine.
And for the first time...
Abeer Singhania drove himself.
No loud destination in his mind.
No clear plan.
Just an address sitting somewhere in the back of his thoughts-sent by Viraj.
Harshita.
That name came back again.
And as the car moved forward on the empty morning roads...
the strange unrest inside him moved with it.
But this time...
he wasn't fighting it.
He was just going
The car slowed down.
And then stopped.
Abeer looked up.
He was standing in front of it.
Her world.
Harshita's gallery.
For a moment, he didn't move.
The air here felt different... almost unreal.
Not loud. Not heavy.
Soft.
Like something alive but quiet.
Flowers lined the entrance, small plants placed carefully around the space, and butterflies moving like they belonged there.
A strange calmness spread around him, something he couldn't logically explain.
Abeer stepped out of the car slowly.
The moment his feet touched the ground, he felt it again.
That same presence.
The same feeling from that night.
"...what is this place," he muttered under his breath.
His eyes scanned around.
Everything here felt... gentle.
Like the world had lowered its voice.
For a brief second, a thought crossed his mind-sharp, uninvited.
Goddess.
He frowned immediately.
"What the hell..." he scoffed softly to himself.
"There is no such thing."
But even as he rejected it, his eyes kept moving through the space... slower now.
The plants, the flowers, the butterflies-
everything felt like it was quietly reacting to something he couldn't see.
As he walked forward, each step felt slightly heavier... not because of fear, but because of awareness.
Something was here.
Something he didn't understand.
Then he saw it.
The glass door.
Clean. Transparent. Simple.
And right beside it-
a name plate.
Harshita Chauhan
Abeer stopped.
Completely.
His gaze fixed on it.
The name didn't feel like just letters anymore.
It felt... like a point of arrival.
Like something his mind had been moving toward without even knowing.
For a few seconds, he just stood there.
Still.
Silent.
And for the first time in his life...
Abeer Singhania didn't feel like he had entered a place.
He felt like he had entered someone's existence.
He pushed the glass door open.
And stepped inside.
The moment Abeer entered, the atmosphere changed again.
Outside was calm... but inside felt like a different language entirely.
Quiet, but not empty.
Alive, but not loud.
Paintings covered the walls-each one different, each one carrying a feeling instead of just an image.
Abeer stood still for a second.
His eyes moved slowly from one frame to another.
It wasn't just art.
It felt like stories.
Unspoken emotions.
Fragments of someone's inner world spread across the walls like they were breathing.
He took a step forward.
Then another.
His fingers lightly touched the edge of a canvas.
Rough texture. Real strokes. Human emotion frozen in colour.
"...what is this place," he muttered again, lower this time.
Each painting felt like it was speaking without words.
Some felt soft... like silence.
Some felt heavy... like pain that had nowhere to go.
And strangely... some felt familiar.
Like he already knew them before seeing them.
Abeer's gaze narrowed slightly.
He moved closer to another painting.
Then another.
His hand hovered over one frame... and then gently touched it.
No hesitation.
Just instinct.
It felt like every piece was trying to tell him something about her... before he even met her properly.
Like Harshita was already here.
In the air.
In the colours.
In the silence.
His mind tried to process it logically.
It's just art.
But something inside didn't agree.
He turned slightly, looking around the space again.
Plants near the corners.
Soft natural light falling through the glass.
A few butterflies near the open window outside.
Everything here felt... unforced.
Alive in a way the rest of his world never was.
Abeer exhaled slowly.
"This place..." he muttered under his breath.
He didn't finish the sentence.
Because even he didn't know what to call it.
All he knew was-
he had stepped into something that didn't belong to his world of control and chaos.
And yet...
it felt like it was already affecting him.
For a moment, Abeer forgot why he came.
He had been walking through the gallery, absorbing the silence, the colours, the strange calm that didn't belong to his world... when a single thought cut through everything.
Where is she?
Harshita.
His steps slowed.
Then shifted.
He moved deeper inside, following an instinct he couldn't explain. The space opened into a larger art room.
And then he stopped.
A huge window stood there-light pouring in softly, almost like the sun itself had slowed down for this place.
The air carried lavender fragrance... light, natural, almost unreal.
Birds could be heard faintly outside.
Everything felt too calm.
Too perfect.
Abeer stood at the entrance.
And then he saw her.
Harshita.
She was standing near her canvas, completely focused. A lavender floral Anarkali suit flowed softly around her presence. Her long hair fell naturally over her shoulders, slightly moving with the breeze coming from the window.
She wasn't aware of him.
Not even slightly.
She was lost in her painting... as if the world outside didn't exist.
Abeer didn't move.
Didn't speak.
For the first time, something inside him went completely still.
Not the calm he knew.
Something deeper.
He blinked once.
Then again.
"...is this real," he thought quietly.
"Or is my mind playing something..."
He took a slow step forward.
Then another.
Not consciously.
Just drawn.
Harshita still didn't notice him.
She was focused, brush moving with precision, completely in her own world.
And Abeer just... watched.
Like time had paused around him.
He didn't even realize how long he had been standing there.
Then suddenly-
something shifted.
A subtle awareness.
Harshita stopped.
Not fully.
Just a pause in her movement.
Her fingers froze slightly on the brush.
A feeling.
Someone was there.
She slowly turned.
And her eyes landed on him.
A stranger.
Standing in her space.
Quiet.
Still.
Intense in a way she couldn't ignore.
Harshita straightened slightly, confusion in her expression.
"...who are you?" she asked softly, voice controlled but firm.
"And why are you here?"
Abeer didn't answer immediately.
Because for a moment-
he forgot what words were supposed to do.
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