The next day, Harshita was at the gallery early.
Morning light filtered through the tall windows, touching the canvases in soft gold. Everything looked as peaceful as always. Brushes were arranged, fresh flowers near the entrance, the quiet she loved wrapped around the space.
She was speaking with a client—discussing a commissioned painting, calmly explaining colors, textures, and the final design.
Her voice was steady, patient.
But then—
the atmosphere shifted.
Suddenly.
The glass door opened with more force than necessary.
A few men entered, not like customers… like they belonged nowhere near this place.
Their shoes echoed against the floor. The calm of the gallery cracked.
The client stopped speaking.
Harshita turned.
The men moved through the room without respect for the art around them, their eyes scanning everything carelessly. One of them bumped into a display stand, nearly knocking a framed canvas down.
Harshita’s expression changed immediately.
She stepped forward.
“Excuse me. You can’t be in here like this.”
No one listened.
One man laughed under his breath. Another moved closer to one of her paintings, touching it with no care.
Harshita’s jaw tightened.
The client quietly stepped back, already uncomfortable.
The room that had always felt safe suddenly felt smaller.
The men spread out more, their voices louder, making the silence of the gallery disappear.
One of them looked directly at Harshita.
“We’re here to talk.”
His tone made it clear this wasn’t business.
Harshita stayed where she was.
Calm on the outside, though she could feel the atmosphere turning.
Her fingers tightened at her side.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
The men moved closer, their presence swallowing the calm of the gallery.
One of them looked around at the paintings and scoffed, as if everything here meant nothing.
Then he turned to Harshita.
“You need to leave this place.”
The words were blunt, like an order.
Harshita’s brows drew together.
“This gallery belongs to me.”
Another man stepped forward, voice harsher.
“Not anymore.”
The client who had been speaking to her moments ago quietly moved toward the exit, clearly not wanting to be caught in whatever this was. Within seconds, Harshita was left alone with them.
The room suddenly felt too quiet.
Too tense.
One of the men pointed around the gallery.
“This property is under dispute now. You’ll vacate it.”
Harshita stared at him, disbelief shifting into anger.
“You can’t walk into someone’s place and threaten them. If there’s any legal issue, talk properly.”
The man laughed, but there was no humor in it.
“We’re not here for legal talk.”
Another stepped too close to one of her canvases and deliberately pushed it. The frame fell against the wall with a hard sound.
Harshita flinched—not out of fear, but because it was her work.
Her hands clenched.
“Don’t touch that.”
But they ignored her.
One of them came closer, lowering his voice like he was trying to intimidate her.
“Listen carefully. This land is not yours to keep. Pack your things and leave before this gets worse.”
Harshita’s heartbeat had risen, but she refused to step back.
Her chin lifted slightly.
“No.”
The answer came firm.
The men exchanged glances, their patience thinning.
The atmosphere tightened instantly.
One of them slammed his palm onto a nearby table, making paint jars shake.
The sound echoed sharply through the gallery.
And for the first time since they entered, even the flowers near the window seemed too still.
Harshita stood there, trying not to show fear, but the tension in the room had become impossible to ignore.
The tension in the room had become unbearable.
One of the men was still standing too close, another had knocked one of her canvases aside, and the silence of the gallery had turned into something sharp enough to make breathing feel difficult.
Then—
the glass door opened with a hard sound.
The sharp click echoed through the room.
Everyone turned.
And in that chaos, something inside Harshita suddenly went still.
She didn’t know why.
She should have felt more alarmed.
But instead… a strange calm settled over her.
At the entrance, Abeer stood there.
Dark shirt, unreadable expression, the same controlled stillness—but today, it felt colder.
Behind him stood several bodyguards, silent and waiting.
The entire room shifted.
The men who had been shouting a second ago fell quiet.
Harshita stared at him.
Her thoughts stopped for a moment.
What…?
She hadn’t expected to see him.
Not here.
Not again.
Not this soon.
Her eyes stayed on him, confusion mixing with something she didn’t understand.
Is this real?
How is he here?
Why is he here?
And somehow, the moment she saw him standing at that door… the fear that had started building inside her disappeared without permission.
Abeer’s gaze moved across the room once.
The fallen canvas.
The broken calm.
Then it stopped on Harshita.
Only for a second.
But that one second said enough.
His jaw tightened.
The air in the gallery changed completely.
Without saying a word to her, Abeer walked straight in.
His steps were slow, controlled, but every person in that room moved aside instinctively. The bodyguards remained near the entrance, silent, making it impossible to ignore who had just arrived.
Abeer stopped beside Harshita.
Close enough that she could feel his presence before he said anything.
He didn’t look at her immediately.
His eyes stayed on the men in front of them.
Cold.
Unmoved.
Then his voice broke the silence.
“What’s the problem?”
The men who had been aggressive moments ago changed completely.
One of them cleared his throat, forcing a nervous smile.
“Nothing, sir. Just… a misunderstanding.”
Abeer’s expression didn’t shift.
His gaze moved once across the fallen frame, the disturbed paints, the shaken room.
Then back to them.
“It doesn’t look like a misunderstanding.”
The man swallowed.
“It’s handled, sir.”
Abeer’s face remained unreadable.
He looked around the gallery once more—at the canvases, the open contracts on the table, the unfinished work, the world that clearly belonged to her.
Then he said, calmly—
“I’ll take it.”
The room went still.
The man frowned, confused.
“Take what, sir?”
Abeer finally turned his eyes toward the display boards, then toward Harshita’s work around the gallery.
His voice stayed flat.
“The exhibition.”
Silence.
For a moment, no one reacted.
Then everything seemed to stop at once.
Harshita looked at him in complete shock.
The client near the exit froze.
Even the men who had come to threaten her stared, unable to understand what he had just said.
Abeer stood there like he had simply made a normal decision.
But inside the gallery, it felt like something had just shifted entirely.
Because he hadn’t just stepped into her problem.
He had stepped into her world.
The man tried to speak again.
“But sir, this exhibition—”
Abeer didn’t even let him finish.
Without raising his voice, he said,
“Prepare the paperwork.”
There was no argument after that.
No one dared.
The atmosphere had changed too completely. Within minutes, documents were brought in, files opened on the same table where Harshita had been working just moments ago.
The people who had come to intimidate her were now standing in silence, speaking carefully, avoiding his gaze.
Abeer signed where needed, barely looking at the papers.
As if buying something like this meant nothing to him.
A little later, he stood near one side of the gallery, speaking to one of the investors in a calm, detached tone, discussing transfer details as if it were just another business decision.
Harshita had been watching from a distance, still trying to understand what had happened.
Then she walked toward him.
Abeer noticed her approach before she spoke.
She stopped in front of him.
The investor quietly stepped aside.
Harshita looked directly at him.
“Mr. Abeer… why did you buy this gallery?”
Abeer’s eyes stayed on her.
His answer came immediately.
“I had a personal reason.”
Harshita frowned slightly.
“Personal?”
There was genuine confusion in her voice.
“What kind of personal reason?”
For the first time, Abeer’s mind moved faster than his control.
His eyes remained on hers.
And before he could stop himself, the truth slipped out.
“I want you.”
The words landed between them like silence breaking apart.
Harshita froze.
Completely.
Her breath caught, her expression changing instantly.
For a split second, even Abeer went still.
He realized what he had just said.
His jaw tightened.
That wasn’t what he meant to reveal. Not like that. Not now.
Abeer looked away briefly, regaining control over himself.
Then his voice came back, steadier.
“I want you… to make paintings for my mansion.”
The sentence corrected itself.
But the damage was already done.
Because Harshita had heard the first part.
Clearly.
Harshita looked at him in disbelief.
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
Clear. Firm.
Abeer’s expression didn’t change, but he had expected that.
He watched her for a second, then said quietly,
“You don’t have another option.”
Harshita’s brows drew together.
Her voice stayed calm, but stronger.
“I don’t need one.”
For the first time, Abeer paused.
Most people agreed before he had to repeat himself. Fear usually made choices simple.
But she was different.
There was no fear in her eyes. Only self-respect. A quiet stubbornness that refused to bend just because someone powerful stood in front of her.
Abeer understood instantly—
she wouldn’t agree like this.
So for the first time in years, he changed his tone.
Not command.
Request.
His voice lowered.
“Thirty days.”
Harshita stayed silent.
Abeer held her gaze.
“Just thirty days. Work for me. After that… you’re free.”
The words were simple, but even he knew it sounded less like a contract and more like he was asking for time.
Harshita looked at the papers in front of her.
Then at him.
Then away again.
Her mind was crowded with questions.
Why her?
Why him?
Why did it feel like saying no should be easy… but somehow wasn’t?
There were too many conversations after that. Questions. Silence. Her refusing again. Abeer insisting, but not forcing this time.
And somehow… after all of it, she stood there still thinking.
A blank contract lay on the table.
The pen beside it.
Abeer stood very close now, just enough for his presence to be impossible to ignore.
Harshita looked at the paper.
Then at her own hand.
Inside, she whispered to herself—
Just 30 days, Harshita.
That’s all.
Her fingers tightened around the pen.
And finally—
she signed.
The moment her signature touched the page, something changed in Abeer’s expression.
A calm he had been hiding since morning settled into something deeper.
But he said nothing.
He simply took the contract papers from the table.
Turned.
And started walking toward the exit.
Harshita stayed where she was, watching him leave.
Trying to understand him.
Trying to understand why a man like him had walked into her life like a storm… only to stand so quietly in her world.
Just before stepping out, Abeer stopped.
Turned back once.
His eyes found hers again.
And in the same calm voice, he said—“Tomorrow morning. Here.”
A slight pause.
Then, softer—
“See you, Ms. Harshita.”
And before she could respond, he walked out.
Leaving behind silence.
And before she could respond, he walked out.
Leaving behind silence.
(Harshita's pov)
The gallery felt unusually quiet after Abeer left.
As if his presence had taken all the noise with him.
For several moments, I stood exactly where I was, staring at the glass door through which he had disappeared.
The contract was still in my hand.
Thirty days.
Just thirty days.
Then why did it feel as if I had stepped onto a path I couldn't see the end of?
My fingers tightened around the papers.
Almost immediately, his voice echoed inside my head
"I want you."
My heartbeat stumbled.
"No..."
I whispered under my breath.
"He didn't mean that."
But even I didn't believe my own words.
Because I had seen his face.
For a brief moment...
before he corrected himself.
And that moment refused to leave my mind.
---
By the time I reached home, the sun was setting.
The small house welcomed me with familiar warmth.
The scent of sandalwood.
Fresh tulsi leaves near the entrance.
And the tiny temple in the corner of the living room.
The sight instantly calmed my restless heart.
My eyes automatically moved toward the idol of Lord Krishna.
The peacock feather.🦚
The gentle smile.
The flute resting against His lips.
For a moment, all the confusion inside me softened.
I removed my sandals and walked directly toward the temple.
Folding my hands.
"Radhe Govind."🪷
My voice was barely a whisper.
Yet it felt enough.
As always.
I closed my eyes.
"Govind ... mujhe samajh nahi aa raha maine sahi kiya ya galat."
(Govind... I don't know whether I made the right decision or the wrong one.)
Silence.
But it wasn't an empty silence.
It never was.
Somehow, praying always felt like talking to someone who was listening.
Even when no answer came.
---
That night sleep didn't come easily.
Every time I closed my eyes-
I saw grey eyes.
Cold eyes.
Dangerous eyes.
Abeer's eyes.
And for some strange reason...
the memory made my chest tighten.
I turned on my side.
Then the other.
Then back again.
Nothing worked.
Finally, frustrated, I sat up.
"Govind ..."
I sighed.
"Yeh aadmi itna pareshan kyun kar raha hai?"
(Why is this man bothering me so much?)
If my best friend had heard me, she would've laughed.
But at two in the morning...
nothing felt funny.
---
Meanwhile...
Miles away.
Inside a mansion where silence felt colder than winter.
Abeer wasn't sleeping either.
(Abeer's pov)
The study was dark.
Only a single lamp illuminated the room.
I sat behind my desk.
A glass of untouched whiskey resting nearby.
Paperwork spread across the table.
Yet I hadn't read a single page.
Because my mind was elsewhere.
Again.
I hated that.
Control was important.
Necessary.
Weak men lost control.
Powerful men didn't.
Yet somehow...
a painter had managed to become the biggest distraction of my week.
My jaw tightened.
Annoying.
Very annoying.
I opened a file.
Tried reading.
Failed.
Closed it again.
My gaze drifted toward the gallery contract.
Her signature.
Harshita chauhan.
Simple.
Neat.
Nothing special.
So why the hell had I looked at it three times already?
A knock sounded.
"Come in."
The door opened.
Viraj entered.
My most trusted man. Not man he's my little brother my buddy.
He immediately noticed my mood.
"Bhai."
"What?"
"Everything is prepared for tomorrow."
I nodded.
Then something occurred to me.
"Did you get the information?"
"Yes."
He handed over a file.
I opened it.
Age.
Education.
Business records.
Gallery history.
Everything.
A complete report.
Normal procedure.
I read through it silently.
Then stopped.
My eyes narrowed slightly.
"Krishna devotee?"
Viraj
nodded.
"Very religious."
I leaned baback.
Interesting.
The irony almost made me laugh.
A woman who believed completely
man who believed in nothing.
What a ridiculous combination.
Yet somehow...
I wasn't walking away.
---
The next morning.
Harshita arrived exactly at nine.
Not a minute late.
Not a minute early.
A black luxury car was already waiting outside.
She stopped.
Her stomach tightened.
Abeer.
Of course.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward.
One of the guards opened the car door.
"Ma'am."
Harshita frowned.
The title felt strange.
She entered.
And immediately found him sitting inside.
Calm.
Silent.
Looking at something on his phone.
Not even glancing up.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then finally-
Harshita broke first.
"Aap hamesha itne chup rehte hain?"
(Are you always this quiet?)
Abeer finally looked up.
His expression unreadable.
"Aap hamesha itne sawaal poochti hain?"
(Do you always ask this many questions?)
Harshita blinked.
Then narrowed her eyes.
Was that sarcasm?
For the first time-
she wasn't sure.
And for the first time-
Abeer almost looked amused.
Almost.
---
The car started moving.
Neither of them knew it yet.
But those thirty days...
were about to change everything.
For Harshita.
For Abeer.
And perhaps even for the beliefs they carried inside their hearts.
One trusted Krishna completely.
The other trusted no one at all.
And fate...
And a contract that somehow already felt like much more than business. 📝✨️
Hey readers❤️
i know books has different world.
But if you all want to see it visually, here's the series.
And before she could respond, he walked out.
Leaving behind silence.
(Harshita's pov)
The gallery felt unusually quiet after Abeer left.
As if his presence had taken all the noise with him.
For several moments, I stood exactly where I was, staring at the glass door through which he had disappeared.
The contract was still in my hand.
Thirty days.
Just thirty days.
Then why did it feel as if I had stepped onto a path I couldn't see the end of?
My fingers tightened around the papers.
Almost immediately, his voice echoed inside my head.
"I want you."
My heartbeat stumbled.
"No..."
I whispered under my breath.
"He didn't mean that."
But even I didn't believe my own words.
Because I had seen his face.
For a brief moment...
before he corrected himself.
And that moment refused to leave my mind.
---
By the time I reached home, the sun was setting.
The small house welcomed me with familiar warmth.
The scent of sandalwood.
Fresh tulsi leaves near the entrance.
And the tiny temple in the corner of the living room.
The sight instantly calmed my restless heart.
My eyes automatically moved toward the idol of Lord Krishna.
The peacock feather.
The gentle smile.
The flute resting against His lips.
For a moment, all the confusion inside me softened.
I removed my sandals and walked directly toward the temple.
Folding my hands.
"Radhe Govind."
My voice was barely a whisper.
Yet it felt enough.
As always.
I closed my eyes.
"Govind ... mujhe samajh nahi aa raha maine sahi kiya ya galat."
(Govind... I don't know whether I made the right decision or the wrong one.)
Silence.
But it wasn't an empty silence.
It never was.
Somehow, praying always felt like talking to someone who was listening.
Even when no answer came.
---
That night sleep didn't come easily.
Every time I closed my eyes-
I saw grey eyes.
Cold eyes.
Dangerous eyes.
Abeer's eyes.
And for some strange reason...
the memory made my chest tighten.
I turned on my side.
Then the other.
Then back again.
Nothing worked.
Finally, frustrated, I sat up.
"Govind ..."
I sighed.
"Yeh aadmi itna pareshan kyun kar raha hai?"
(Why is this man bothering me so much?)
If my best friend had heard me, she would've laughed.
But at two in the morning...
nothing felt funny.
---
Meanwhile...
Miles away.
Inside a mansion where silence felt colder than winter.
Abeer wasn't sleeping either.

(Abeer's pov)
The study was dark.
Only a single lamp illuminated the room.
I sat behind my desk.
A glass of untouched whiskey resting nearby.
Paperwork spread across the table.
Yet I hadn't read a single page.
Because my mind was elsewhere.
Again.
I hated that.
Control was important.
Necessary.
Weak men lost control.
Powerful men didn't.
Yet somehow...
a painter had managed to become the biggest distraction of my week.
My jaw tightened.
Annoying.
Very annoying.
I opened a file.
Tried reading.
Failed.
Closed it again.
My gaze drifted toward the gallery contract.
Her signature.
Harshita chauhan.
Simple.
Neat.
Nothing special.
So why the hell had I looked at it three times already?
A knock sounded.
"Come in."
The door opened.
Viraj entered.
My most trusted man. Not man he's my little brother my buddy.
He immediately noticed my mood.
"Bhai."
"What?"
"Everything is prepared for tomorrow."
I nodded.
Then something occurred to me.
"Did you get the information?"
"Yes."
He handed over a file.
I opened it.
Age.
Education.
Business records.
Gallery history.
Everything.
A complete report.
Normal procedure.
I read through it silently.
Then stopped.
My eyes narrowed slightly.
"Krishna devotee?"
Viraj
nodded.
"Very religious."
I leaned back.
Interesting.
The irony almost made me laugh.
A woman who believed completely.
man who believed in nothing.
What a ridiculous combination.
Yet somehow...
I wasn't walking away.
---
The next morning.
Harshita arrived exactly at nine.
Not a minute late.
Not a minute early.
A black luxury car was already waiting outside.
She stopped.
Her stomach tightened.
Abeer.
Of course.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward.
One of the guards opened the car door.
"Ma'am."
Harshita frowned.
The title felt strange.
She entered.
And immediately found him sitting inside.
Calm.
Silent.
Looking at something on his phone.
Not even glancing up.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then finally-
Harshita broke first.
"Aap hamesha itne chup rehte hain?"
(Are you always this quiet?)
Abeer finally looked up.
His expression unreadable.
"Aap hamesha itne sawaal poochti hain?"
(Do you always ask this many questions?)
Harshita blinked.
Then narrowed her eyes.
Was that sarcasm?
For the first time-
she wasn't sure.
And for the first time-
Abeer almost looked amused.
Almost.
---
The car started moving.
Neither of them knew it yet.
But those thirty days...
were about to change everything.
For Harshita.
For Abeer.
And perhaps even for the beliefs they carried inside their hearts.
One trusted Krishna completely.
The other trusted no one at all.
And fate...
And a contract that somehow already felt like much more than business. 📝✨️.
Hey readers❤️
i know books has different world.
But if you all want to see it visually, here's the series.
This scene appears in Episodes (episode 10 )✨️
And don't forget to vote🌟💫 and leave a comment.
Thank you for your support! ❤️
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