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"In shadows of fate, where hearts silently break,

A masked soul vows, for her life's sake.

Love and war entwine in a fragile, cruel game,

Where hope ignites beneath sorrow's name."

MYSTERIOUS MAN'S POV:

A dimly lit room, where the faint hum of an old ceiling fan fills the silence. My figure sat in a leather chair, my silhouette sharp against the flickering glow of multiple computer screens. The monitors display grainy surveillance footage—people laughing, shaking hands, and smiling in carefully crafted masks. My eyes, cold and calculating, reflect the shifting images as I steeples my fingers.

I've had enough of the games played from behind the veil...in the dark.

He leans forward, tapping a few keys. The screen zooms in on a man in an expensive suit, laughing over a glass of scotch.

Now, they'll see me playing right in front of them—and still, they won't realize it.

The laughter on the screen freezes as the man's face is outlined with a red square.

By the time they understand what's really happening, I'll already be a step ahead, pulling another string, setting another trap.

He stands, walking toward a corkboard cluttered with photos connected by red strings. A central image shows a smiling couple: a man with warm eyes and a woman with a gentle smile. A jagged X slashes through their faces.

They think they act on their own will. No.

He yanks a string, sending one of the photos swinging.

They're just following the steps I laid out for them—like obedient pieces on a chessboard.

His gaze shifts to a small, faded photograph pinned at the bottom. A woman with tear-streaked cheeks, clutching a child's hand.

They robbed my father of his legacy. I dont care if he was right or wrong .

His voice hardens, his jaw clenching.

And they thought there'd be no price to pay.

He picks up a lighter from the table, igniting the corner of one of the photographs. The flames curl upward, devouring the smiling face of a man in a navy suit.

I'll gather them all—force them into one place. United in their arrogance.

And then...

He drops the burning photo into a steel trash can and watches the paper disintegrate into ash.

I'll take them down together. Every. Last. One.

The firelight reflects in his eyes as he steps back toward his desk. His lips curl into a cold, humorless smile.

They'll pay. 

He presses a key. The surveillance feeds shift to a grand hall being prepared for a gala.

For every stolen smile. Every tear. Every stolen moment.

He turns away from the screen, walking toward a locked cabinet.

And when it's over, when they're on their knees begging for mercy...they'll know whose game they've been playing all along.

SAISHA'S POV:

Late at night, the clock ticks past midnight. The air in the house feels heavy, suffocating. The faint rustle of curtains and the occasional creak of the wooden floor are the only sounds accompanying the dread settling in my chest. Papa had called me and Neha, downstairs. Something wasn't right. My gut twisted with the certainty that whatever was about to happen would change everything.

I descended the staircase with slow, cautious steps. Neha walked beside me, her brows furrowed. I could tell she sensed it too—this wasn't a routine family discussion. Papa sat on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees. Maa sat beside him, her eyes hollow, rimmed with exhaustion and...something else. Guilt, maybe. Or resignation.

Neha and I stopped in front of them. I clasped my hands together, my palms clammy.

"Sit," Papa ordered, his tone clipped.

We obeyed, the silence growing thicker by the second. I glanced at Maa. She avoided my eyes. My heart pounded in my chest.

Papa cleared his throat. "You both know the company's been struggling. We've faced terrible losses. I tried everything—loans, partnerships, cost-cutting. Nothing's working."

I swallowed hard. We'd heard bits and pieces about the financial issues, but Papa never discussed it with us. Now he was. That alone terrified me.

"I need your help," he said, his voice devoid of the warmth I'd grown up with. "Are you both willing to help your family?"

Neha and I exchanged a glance. We didn't really have a choice, did we? We nodded in unison.

"Neha," Papa said, turning toward her, "adjust your college schedule and join the company. I'll train you to handle some responsibilities."

Neha's eyes widened. "But, Papa...my finals—"

"You'll manage," he cut her off. "This family needs you more than your college does."

I squeezed Neha's hand as she reluctantly nodded. Her dreams of becoming a professor crumbled with that single nod.

Then Papa turned to me. For the first time in my life, I saw hesitation in his eyes. His jaw clenched as if forcing the words out.

"Saisha," he began. "You..." He exhaled heavily. "Mr. Mehra sent a marriage proposal for his son."

I froze. My pulse roared in my ears.

"Help me...help us...by marrying him," he continued, his eyes cold and detached. "That's the only way to secure the business connections we need to recover."

My breath hitched. The world tilted.

"Marriage?" My voice cracked. "You want me to marry a stranger to save your business?"

Papa's face hardened. "It's not just business. It's family survival. I've given Mr. Mehra my word."

I shot to my feet. "You promised me without asking me?" My vision blurred with tears. "You're practically selling me off! And you don't even feel guilty about it?"

His nostrils flared. "Watch your tone, Saisha."

"No! You call yourself my father, but you're ruining my life like I'm just...some pawn!"

The crack of his palm against my cheek echoed through the room. My head snapped to the side. My skin burned, but the sting in my chest hurt more.

"How dare you talk back?" he hissed. "This is not up for discussion. The engagement is in two weeks. Everything is finalized."

Tears streamed down my face as I clutched my cheek. Maa remained silent, her head bowed, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

I turned and ran—ran upstairs, ran from the nightmare unfolding around me. I slammed my bedroom door shut, slid down against it, and buried my face in my knees.

Dreams of having a job, of exploring the world, of marrying for love—all crushed in mere minutes. My life wasn't mine anymore.

Nobody cared. Not Papa. Not Mama. Not even Neha, who hadn't uttered a word.

I was alone. Completely, devastatingly alone.

VIHAN's POV:

A sleek corporate boardroom, sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I sat at the head of the table, dressed sharply in a tailored suit. My eyes are focused on the presentation flashing across the screen—profits, strategies, expansion plans. The usual. Until my phone vibrates on the glass table.

I don't usually check my phone during meetings, especially not when we're discussing an upcoming merger. But the name flashing across the screen made my heart skip a beat.

Gummy Bear.

She never texts me during the day. Never. Our conversations are sacred, reserved for late nights when the world sleeps, and we can talk about everything—her dreams, my frustrations, the silly jokes that make her laugh until she forgets the loneliness in her voice.

I swipe the screen. One unread message.

Gummy Bear: They have decided to marry me off...my engagement is in two weeks.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My hand tightens around the phone as my pulse races.

No. This can't be real.

Before I can reply, the message vanishes. Deleted. My mind goes into overdrive. Why would she delete it? Was someone watching her? For her to reach out in broad daylight...it had to be bad. Really bad. or was it something or someone else behind it? It was suspicious. But my whole attention was on the news than who had sent it.

The voices around me fade into a dull hum. The presentation continues, but I can't process a single word. My knuckles turn white around the phone.

"Mr. KHURANA?" A voice tries to pull me back. "Would you like us to proceed with—"

I stand abruptly, the chair scraping against the marble floor. "Meeting's over," I snap. "Reschedule."

Murmurs of confusion ripple through the room, but no one dares question me. I stride toward the door, tension coiling in my chest.

Shekhar, my right-hand man, catches up with me in the hallway. "Boss?"

I stop, turning to him. My voice is ice-cold. "Get me everything—everything—about Rakshit Saksena. I want details down to what toothpaste he uses. No mistakes."

Shekhar's eyes widen slightly but he nods. "On it."

I rake a hand through my hair, my jaw clenched so tightly it aches. The name alone makes my blood boil. Rakshit Saksena. I've heard of him—a businessman who'll do anything for profit. Apparently, even sell his daughter.

My Gummy Bear.

The thought of her sitting alone somewhere, scared and heartbroken, makes the fury in me ignite like gasoline to fire.

He's waged a war, I think, and he has no idea who he's dealing with.

Later that evening – 

The city glitters beneath me as I pace the length of my living room. My mind replays her message over and over. Two weeks. Two weeks before she's forced into a life she doesn't want.

I open our chat. Her last message is gone, but I remember every word. My thumb hovers over the keyboard before I start typing.

Me: Gummy Bear...you okay?

No reply. something was definitely wrong.

Damn it.

I throw the phone onto the couch and grip the edge of the marble countertop to steady myself. Shekhar better come through with that information. I won't sit by while she's handed over like a business deal.

I promised I'd protect you, Saisha. And I will.

The phone buzzes again. I lunge for it, hoping it's her. It isn't. It's Shekhar.

"Tell me you have something," I bark into the phone.

"Rakshit Saksena," Shekhar says, reading from his notes. "Owner of Saksena Industries. Heavy debts. Lost a major deal . He's been trying to secure alliances to stabilize the business."

"An alliance through marriage," I mutter, pacing again. "Who's the groom?"

"Rohan Mehra. Son of Vikram Mehra. Family's old money, big in textiles. And..." He hesitates.

"What?" I snap.

"Rohan's got a reputation. Gambling, drinking...a few assault allegations that never reached court."

I stop dead. My stomach churns. He's marrying her off to that bastard? My chest burns with rage.

"Dig deeper," I order. "Find me something I can use against them."

"Got it."

I hang up and exhale shakily.

Stay strong, Gummy Bear. If Saksena wants a war to save his company, I'll give him one.

Because she's mine. My love. My everything.

And I'll burn down his empire before I let him ruin her life.

SAISHA'S POV:

My bedroom, dimly lit by the faint glow of my phone screen. Tear-soaked pillows and crumpled tissues litter the bed. The echoes of my father's harsh words and the sting of his slap still linger in the air. My heart ache, my dreams shattered, and the weight of helplessness presses down on my chest.

After the storm of emotions finally settled, I lay curled up in bed, my eyes swollen from crying. The silence around me was deafening. I had friends—yes—but how could I explain to them that my father was selling me off like a business deal? My own family had turned against me. The one person I needed now was him.

Masked Man.

The only one who truly understood me, even without knowing who I really was. His masked profile picture matching the air of mystery that surrounded him. I didn't know his name, his face, or his life. But he was my safe place, my escape from the harsh reality I lived in.

I unlocked my phone and opened our chat. My fingers trembled as I typed.

Me: Hi

The response came faster than I'd expected. Almost instantly.

Masked Man: Are you okay?

I frowned. How did he know something was wrong? My fingers hovered over the keyboard.

Me: How do you know I'm not okay?

Masked Man: Umm... just a guess. Tell me what's wrong, Gummy Bear.

I bit my lower lip. The nickname always made me smile—except tonight, when nothing could chase away the suffocating dread.

My fingers trembled as I typed the words that made my situation painfully real.

Me: Everything is wrong. I wish I had a way out...or maybe if death took me away before I face this cruel reality.

I hit send, then immediately regretted it. Would he think I was being overly dramatic? But my chest tightened with hopelessness, and the tears started again.

His reply came swiftly.

Masked Man: Hey, hey! Calm down. Please. Tell me what's going on.

I drew in a shaky breath. My heart felt like a fragile piece of glass teetering on the edge.

Me: My father lost a business deal. And now...to fix it...he's marrying me off to some stranger.

The tears returned with full force. I could barely see the screen through the blur. My father's cold voice echoed in my head: I've given my word.

Masked Man: I swear...there's always a way out, Saisha. You need to trust that. Maybe someone will save you.

A hollow laugh escaped me. Save me? Who would? I was nothing more than a pawn in a ruthless business game. My father had already set the pieces.

Me: No one will save me, Masked Man. No one cares. If I died tomorrow, my family would probably feel relieved to be rid of a burden like me.

The seconds stretched after I sent that message. The typing bubble appeared...then disappeared...then appeared again. The silence was deafening.

Finally, his reply came.

Masked Man: Don't say things like that, Gummy Bear. You're not a burden. You matter—to your friends, to me. We're here for you.

I wiped my cheeks with the sleeve of my hoodie. His words touched something deep inside me, but they couldn't erase the truth.

Me: Maybe. But even you can't save me from this nightmare.

The conversation ended there. I stared at the screen for a while, waiting for him to respond. He didn't. Maybe I'd scared him with my negativity. Maybe he'd finally realized what a mess I was.

Eventually, exhaustion pulled me into a restless sleep, the phone still clutched in my hand, my heart still aching. I remember maa telling us bed times stories of prince saving their princess.

But i totally forgot those were stories this what i am facing is reality. Aur  Aam si ladkiyon ke liye shehzade nahi aya karte.

(no savior prince comes for ordinary girls)

AUTHOR'S POV(VIHAN):

Vihan  sat at his desk, his phone in hand, reading Saisha's messages over and over again. His jaw clenched with every word she'd typed. The woman he adored, the girl he'd promised himself he'd protect—even if she didn't know who he truly was—was being treated like a commodity by the man who should've protected her.

When he asked her about how she was her reaction was off which confirmed his doubt that the earlier text about the engagement was not send by her ....then who? who was it? the question lingered. He stared at her last text.

Even you can't save me from this nightmare.

His grip tightened around the phone. His heart ached at the hopelessness in her words. But she was wrong.

He would save her.

Even if it meant going to war with her entire family.

Vihan (muttering): "You're mine, Gummy Bear. And I'll tear down anyone who tries to cage you."

With steely determination, he picked up his phone and dialed Shekhar.

"Get me everything on the Mehra family," Vihan ordered, his voice cold and sharp. "If that bastard Rohan so much as looks at Saisha, I want to know about it."

War had been declared.

And Vihan was ready to fight. FOR HIS QUEEN.

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