You Are My Unique Gift

Denigration Of Worlds

VIHAAN’S POV

The glorifying moonlight danced on the waves as the Bahamian night enveloped me in a cloak of shadows. I reclined on the pristine sands of a secluded beach. The distant murmur of the ocean merged with the whispers of my inner demons.

I want to see her!

Putting my head on the recliner, I closed my eyes, and instantly certain brown eyes perked up at me, glistening with tenderness and a lot of mischief.

“Stop running,” I murmured to the mocktail swirling within the exquisite crystal in my hand. “You can’t escape forever.” A soft chuckle escaped my lips as I watched the liquid dance, its movements reflecting the chaotic whirlwind of my thoughts.

To an outsider, my actions might seem eccentric, even bordering on madness.

But here, on the shores of my private Bahamian retreat, I shed the persona of Vihaan Malhotra, the tech mogul, and embraced the simple role of a man consumed by love—a love that knew no bounds, no rationality.

It was an obsession that fueled my every action, driving me to the edge of reason and beyond.

“Tauji! Tauji!” The melodic voice echoed in the distance, and in an instant, I was snapped out of my reverie. I turned slightly, and there she was – Ira Malhotra, my little princess, jogging towards me.

Her little pigtail danced with the wind, and her bright, Moorish eyes widened with excitement mingled with a touch of horror. I was instantly alarmed but relaxed when Viraj’s silhouette shadowed her tiny frame. Ira had Kratika’s eyes, Viraj’s nose, and temper. Thankfully, none of Viraj’s kids had his brains – the world could breathe a sigh of relief.

“What did your Daddy do now?” I asked as I chugged down the mocktail in one go and sat up straight. Absentmindedness or partial attention was a crime in Ira’s books. Four years with her, and you’d know better than to be her offender.

“He was trying to swallow, Mommy! Daddy’s a Dracula!” Ira shrieked, tears of panic welling up in her bright eyes.

Seconds later, Viraj jogged up to us with a wiggling Ezra in his arms. I raised an eyebrow at him, and he rolled his eyes. He put Ezra on the ground, who immediately ran to his younger sister and held her tiny hand with his own.

“I... ahem—”

“Should have locked the door! They are growing up,” I spoke firmly. It was dimly light. Still, the crimson on Viraj’s neck and cheeks was visible even from afar.

“I thought we were alone. Never knew they were playing bubbles in the bathtub. I tried explaining her that it was a kiss. She just doesn’t listen. Thinks I am a monster from some move she watched! The content they make these days! I will kill that stupid director.” Viraj ran a hand over his face and let out an exasperated sigh. He looked tired.

Good, he deserved it!

I chuckled, imagining how horrified Kratika might be. Someone was surely going to sleep on the balcony tonight. I bent forward and took Ira in my arms, settling her on my lap before scooping up Ezra for a cuddle.

“Stop using violent words before them or Tauji would end you!” I cooed, tapping on Ira’s tiny nose. She instantly fell into short giggles.

“Your Daddy is quite the monster, Ira,” I grinned mischievously as Ira’s eyes darkened, and she hurried closer. “But don't worry, he’d never eat your Momma. At least not in the way you might be thinking.”

“Alright, enough of that!” Viraj interjected urgently, disregarding Ira and Ezra's protests. “Daddy isn’t in the business of eating anyone. Now, it's time for bed. Quickly! Off to your rooms.” With a swift motion, he ushered the kids back into the bungalow, his tone tinged with both authority and concern.

We waited till the kids were out of sight before Viraj spoke again.

“So? How’s it holding up?” Viraj sank down beside me, the soft sigh of the waves the only soundtrack to our quiet night. He uncorked the bottle of wine, the hiss echoing softly in the stillness. He poured, offering a glass to me.

“Not sure!” I answered, taking the glass and swirling the wine, its ruby depths reflecting the distant fireflies. My tone was neutral, but I knew Viraj couldn’t miss the undercurrent of yearning. He knew me better than anyone else.

“Don’t you think, it’s time you show up. It has been a week already. What are you planning to do?” Viraj took a slow sip, his voice trailed off, staring at the endless expanse of the ocean.

Moonlight dripped like liquid silver onto the sand, each wave mockingly whispering the truth before retreating into the inky oblivion. But tonight, I chose to believe their murmurings were lullabies, meant to lull Komal into a false sense of security.

“Just a little longer,” I muttered, the words catching in my throat, thick with the metallic tang of unshed tears. “Just a taste of freedom before the inevitable. She is going to me mine, Viraj. Mrs. Vihaan Malhotra!”

Five years. 1,825 days of her intoxicating laughter echoing in my dreams, 1,825 nights spent tracing her phantom curves on empty sheets. Every stolen glance, every brush of fingers had fueled the inferno within me, a fire burning brighter than the moon bathing the beach in ethereal light. It wasn’t fair. Five years of slow, agonizing torture for me while she flitted through life, seemingly oblivious to the havoc she wreaked on my soul.

Viraj’s concern flickered across his face, a mirror reflecting the doubts gnawing at his own heart.

“But Vihaan,” he began, his voice laced with the weariness of shared burdens, making me chuckle.

“Stop grinning, you asshole. You knew how it ended with Kratika. I still regret it with every cell in my body. Love shouldn't be built on force! I can’t believe, we are having this conversation. Time indeed changes everything!” He huffed.

My chuckle turned into a guffaw. Viraj’s worry was justified. Because he didn't understand it. He didn't understand the storm that raged within me, the way Komal's name was a prayer on my lips, a melody in my veins. Love like this wasn’t gentle; it was a tempest, a primal hunger that refused to be quelled.

“There's no other way,” I growled, the words scraping against my raw throat. “She has done it to herself, Viraj. Even if the heavens themselves conspire against me, she’ll be mine.”

My gaze locked on the moonlit waves, each surge carrying an image of Komal, her eyes sparkling with laughter, her lips curved in a smile that was meant for someone else. But soon, very soon, those eyes would look only at me, that smile would bloom for me alone. I would paint her world with shades of my love, so intense, so absolute, that she would drown in it, willingly, happily but before that—I’d have her suffer the sweet taste of revenge.

“When is he coming?” I asked, rising up from the recliner.

“Tomorrow! He’s prepared, waiting for your command!” Viraj answered with a sharp inhale as if preparing himself to repeat the history.

“Go and take rest. Tomorrow is going to be a long day. I want my old Viraj—reckless, fearless…careless!”

“Think about it again. We can still—”

“This isn't just about Komal. It's about the legacy, the Malhotra name. We cannot allow our empire to be tarnished, and we certainly won't let a woman dictate our fate. Go, don’t keep Kratika waiting! Suraj would be here soon. We’ll have to up early. Everything should be flawless.” The thought of tomorrow sent a tremor through me, a delicious anticipation that chased away the shadows of doubt.

Tomorrow, the game changed. No more waiting, no more yearning. Tomorrow, I would claim what was rightfully mine, and the firestorm of my love would consume her, leaving only ashes of resistance, only embers of surrender. Komal would be mine, and the moon, the waves, the very universe would bear witness to my passionate possession.

Each wave carried fragments of a plan—a strategy to dismantle the impending union of the woman I’d once called mine.

My fingers traced patterns in the sand, each intricate line a cruel masterpiece against the moonlit canvas. The stars, silent witnesses to my torment, gleamed down as I etched the blueprint of a game only Malhotras could play. This wouldn't be mere revenge, it would be a symphony of retribution, conducted by the maestro of heartbreak. Komal's gilded cage awaited, but the prince wouldn't be her captor. I, Vihaan Malhotra, would claim that dubious honor.

A low chuckle escaped my lips, the sound as chilling as the ocean breeze whispering secrets to the shore. “She thinks she's found solace,” I murmured to the night, “but solace is a mirage in the desert of my design.”

“Stop standing in there like a ghost.” I spoke as soon as Viraj was out of earshot. It was dirtier than he thought. I’d never want him to know all the details.

“I thought you didn’t want—”

“I don’t pay you to deduce my wants, Rajeev. I pay you to work.” I spoke.

A shadow detached itself from the darkness, coalescing into the familiar form of Rajeev, my most trusted confidante.

“The pieces are set, Sir,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Your word is all that's needed. Prince Divirath won’t see tomorrow’s sunset if you command.”

I met his gaze, the moonlight highlighting the steely glint in his eyes. “Tomorrow, Rajeev,” I rasped, the word heavy with anticipation. “Let the curtain rise on Komal's tragedy.”

He inclined his head in silent understanding, then melted back into the shadows, leaving me alone with the ghosts of my past.

Rajeev was best in the business. If he said, it’d happen—it would happen!

As dawn bled across the horizon, painting the sky in hues of hope and betrayal, I rose from the sand, the imprints of my resolve fading with the tide.

The devil had indeed awakened, a predator stalking his prey. Nassau, bathed in the golden light of a new day, remained blissfully unaware of the storm brewing beneath its tranquil surface.

My phone, cold and metallic in my hand, pulsed with a life of its own. A single, chilling message composed itself on the screen:

“Your fairytale ends at midnight, Komal. Remember, the prince isn't always the hero.” The timer ticked off and without a tap of my finger, the message sped across the airwaves, a viper slithering into the heart of Komal's world..

I had to wait for seconds before the ticks turned blue. She was anxious, perhaps tosing and turning in her bed.

The game had begun, and the prince's happily ever after would crumble to dust beneath the weight of my love, twisted and dark.

As the sun crested the horizon, casting long shadows across the beach, I turned and walked away, a predator returning to his lair, leaving behind a single, venomous thread to unravel the tapestry of Komal's life. The silence was deafening, pregnant with the promise of chaos, and I reveled in it.