Hey my dearest readers, MY LOVEđź«Ł
Today's chapter was… intense. I know. I felt every word as I wrote it, and I can only imagine how it must've felt reading it. The emotions are raw, the tension is high, and our characters are finally starting to crack beneath the weight of everything they've been hiding.
This story isn't just about love—it's about pain, secrets, healing, and the complicated dance between power and vulnerability. And today, we took a bold step into that chaos.
Thank you so much for staying with Mine Yes! through every twist, every silence, every storm. Your support keeps me writing even when the emotions feel too much to handle. 🥺💔
If today's chapter left your heart racing or aching—let me know. I'd love to hear what part hit you the hardest.
New Update Schedule:
Monday – 3 Chapters
Saturday– 2 Chapters
Available on: Webnovel, Wattpad, Inkitt, (English Ver.)
Stay with me. The fire has only just begun. With love and intensity,
PENOLA.S đź’ś
The morning sun hovered like molten gold above the Singhaniya mansion, casting a warm halo across the garden that had transformed into a riot of colors and chaos. Holi was in full swing. Music thundered from the dhol players, powdered gulaal hung in the air like smoke, and every breath carried the scent of marigolds, thandai, and something else—something sweet, sharp, and mischievous.
The garden gleamed. Strings of multicolored flags fluttered overhead, flower garlands dipped from polished wooden beams, and tables overflowed with mithai and drinks, including pitchers of creamy, chilled lassi. It was the kind of setting that made you believe magic was real.
And yet, Ria Singhaniya was not enchanted.
She stood amid the chaos, her hand curled around a small bowl of red powder, her eyes narrowed as she scanned the crowd like a general preparing for war.
Janvi approached, brushing a streak of yellow from her sleeve. "What are you looking for?" she asked, her voice light but curious.
Ria didn't look at her. "Aarav."
Janvi's brow furrowed. "Your brother?"
"My twin," Ria corrected, frowning. "He was right here. I swear, I blinked, and he vanished like a bad magician."
Janvi laughed under her breath, but before she could respond, Ria turned suddenly and caught her wrist.
"We've got work to do."
Janvi raised an eyebrow. "Work?"
"A plan," Ria said, eyes gleaming.
"A plan for…?"
But before the question could be answered, Aarav strolled toward them, casually sipping two glasses of lassi—one in each hand. His white kurta had surrendered to Holi long ago, streaked with every shade imaginable. His hair was tousled, and there was a suspicious glint in his dark eyes.
"Looking for me?" Ravi
asked with a crooked smile.
"You're late," Ria scolded.
"I was acquiring critical assets," he replied, offering the lassi to his sister. "Or would you rather I let you drown in sugar withdrawal?"
Janvi folded her arms. "Where were you really?"
Aarav met her gaze for a long second. "Why? Did you miss me?"
Her breath caught—just a second—and then she scoffed. "As if."
He chuckled. "Then let's just say I was preparing the next phase."
Ria leaned in, her voice low. "Operation: Bhang."
Janvi froze. "What?"
Aarav pulled a small bottle from his pocket. Inside, a few round, green pastilles rattled softly. The sound alone made Janvi's stomach turn.
"Is that what I think it is?"
Ria nodded. "Just a little bhang. One tablet. Enough for fun, not a blackout."
Janvi took a step back. "Nope. Absolutely not. Count me out."
"You're the only one who can do this," Ria insisted. "If Aarav offers it, Ravi will suspect something. If I offer it, he'll know I'm up to no good."
"And me?" Janvi asked. "What makes me so special?"
"You're new," Aarav said simply, a smirk tugging at his lips. "He won't question you. You've got that innocent face."
Janvi narrowed her eyes at him. "And what happens if I get caught?"
"We'll protect you," Ria promised.
"We'll lie for you," Aarav added with a wink.
Janvi sighed, looked between the two of them, then held out her hand. "Give me the damn lassi."
Triumphant, Aarav passed her the glass. "Careful. That's a masterpiece."
Janvi turned, taking a deep breath as she scanned the garden. Her eyes landed on Ravi—Rudra's assistant —standing by the fountain in a spotless emerald, green kurta, completely untouched by the festival.
Of course he was pristine. Reserved. Unbothered.
Not for long.
Janvi made her way toward him, her steps graceful, her smile sweet. She looked like spring incarnate, radiant with sunshine and color—but underneath, she was all mischief.
"Ravi," she said, approaching him.
He turned, eyes politely curious. "Yes?"
"You haven't had a drink yet," she said, extending the lassi.
He hesitated. "Oh, I—"
"It's Holi," she said, her voice soft but firm. "You can't skip tradition. One sip."
He smiled faintly, took the glass from her, and drank without another word.
Janvi watched every swallow.
Across the garden, Aarav and Ria waited like conspirators behind a row of marigolds.
"Ten minutes," Aarav whispered.
"And the real Holi begins," Ria said with a grin.
Janvi returned to them, brushing her hands together with dramatic flair. "Mission accomplished."
"You're a legend," Ria whispered.
"You owe me," Janvi said. "Gulab jamun. Daily. For a week."
"I'll make it two," Aarav offered, stepping in close, just enough to make Janvi pulse stutter.
Janvi tried to glare at him, but her voice came out breathy. "You think I'm that easy to buy?"
He leaned a fraction closer. "I think... you're curious what else I could offer."
Her heart skipped.
She opened her mouth to retort, but Ria's sudden laughter broke the moment.
"Look!" she hissed.
Ravi was laughing—louder than anyone had ever heard. And dancing. Terribly. Off-beat. Shirt slightly askew. His hands in the air like he had just discovered freedom.
Janvi blinked. "It's working."
"It's working," Aarav said, grinning, but he wasn't watching Ravi.
He was watching her.
And in the wild, golden chaos of Holi—colors flying, laughter exploding, music beating like a second heart—something shifted.
Not just the prank.
Not just the rhythm of the garden.
But them.
Because maybe Holi wasn't just about the color on your skin.
Maybe it was about the stain someone left on your heart without touching it at all.
đź“š.______..______..______..______.đź’•.______..______.
Ravi wiped the corner of his lips, blinking slowly as the world around him began to shimmer at the edges. The garden still bustled with color and music, but the bhaang was doing its work—quietly, steadily, like a tide rolling in.
"You okay?" Ria asked, stepping directly into his path.
He tilted his head, slightly off-balance, but charming in his disarray. "Yeah… why wouldn't I be?" he replied, the faintest slur trailing behind his words like a secret.
Ria tried to hide the tension coiled in her shoulders. "Nothing happened, right? Sab normal hai?"
Ravi's lips curved into a smirk. "You're acting weird, Ria. Should I be worried you're about to start scolding me again?"
"Scold? Main kab se daantne lagi aapko?"
He let out a breathy laugh. "Always. You flare up like a volcano."
She scoffed, half amused, half nervous. "I'm not angry."
And then, almost without thinking, she reached out and brushed her fingers against his wrist.
Barely a touch.
But it was enough.
Heat flared under her skin where their hands met. Ravi blinked, startled by the spark.
Ria quickly pulled back. "I'm sorry—"
He stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time, something quiet and curious rising in his eyes.
"Sorry? You?" His voice dropped into something rich, almost teasing. "Ria Singhaniya and sorry? This moment needs to be carved in history."
She tried to roll her eyes, but a soft laugh betrayed her. "Stop it. Let's play Holi."
She reached behind her to a brass plate filled with crimson gulaal, scooping some of the silky powder into her hand. She held it out, her expression unreadable—but her eyes said everything.
Hope. Challenge. Maybe… something deeper.
Ravi didn't move at first.
"You want to play Holi… with me?"
She nodded. "Yes. Like everyone else is doing."
His gaze dropped to her fingers. Then slowly, so slowly, he stepped forward, closing the distance between them until they shared the same breath.
His voice came low, barely audible over the music and celebration. "Holi toh sabke saath kheli jaati hai... par kisi ke rang mein rang jaana... woh baat alag hai, Ria."
Ria swallowed hard.
He dipped his fingers into the red powder, gently coating them in the color. Then, without breaking eye contact, he raised his hand and brushed it across her cheek.
It wasn't just color.
It was something else.
His thumb lingered a moment longer than necessary, grazing the corner of her jaw like a question left hanging in the air.
"Happy Holi, Ria," he whispered.
She froze.
Her breath hitched. Her heart thundered in her chest. The heat on her cheeks now had nothing to do with the sun or the color.
She blinked once, maybe twice, then let out a shaky breath—and smiled.
And then she flung a fistful of bright pink powder at him with theatrical flair, laughing as it exploded across his chest and neck.
"Happy Holi, Mr. Assistant!"
The powder burst in the air like fireworks. For a second, everything around them stilled—the music, the crowd, the chaos. It all blurred.
And then Ravi laughed.
Not the polite chuckle she was used to.
Areallaugh. Deep. Joyful. From his gut, from his chest. Free.
It hit her like a gust of spring wind.
She just stared.
"Wait… did you just laugh?" she asked, wide-eyed.
He nodded, still grinning. "I did. First time in weeks."
Near the pool, Aarav leaned against a palm tree, watching the scene unfold with a look of smug satisfaction. He nudged Janvi with his elbow.
"Told you. This was the only way."
Janvi smiled, arms folded, her eyes trained on the couple now coated in red and pink, caught in their own world.
"Maybe," she whispered, "this was all meant to be."
And in that moment, something gentle settled over the garden. Not just the hues of Holi—but something softer. The beginning of something that hadn't existed between them before.
A new color.
Unseen.
Undeniable.
đź’–.______.đź’®.______.đź’–.______.đź’®.______.đź’–________.
They say love isn't always loud. Sometimes, it whispers. Sometimes, it waits. Sometimes… it hides behind secrets, until it's too full to stay buried.
That was Rudra Singhaniya.
And this—this secret room with no windows, no interruptions, no noise but their shallow breaths—was where everything finally cracked open.
Anaya stood frozen, her body still reeling from his touch. His thumb had barely grazed the corner of her lips, but it left a trail of fire that crawled across her skin, down her throat, and into her bones.
The red powder on her face wasn't just gulaal anymore.
There was something dangerously tender in the air. A stillness that didn't come from silence but from restraint. From everything they weren't saying.
Anaya stood in the heart of Rudra Singhaniya's secret room, and the walls could have crumbled around her and she wouldn't have noticed. Because Rudra was there. Looking at her like she was gravity and destruction all at once.
His thumb brushed the corner of her lips—a whisper of touch, but it hit her harder than any storm ever could. Her breath stuttered, caught between her chest and her lips. Her heart beat loud. Too loud. And then he said it.
"Ab toh rang lag gaya," he murmured, his voice deep and wrecked. "Aur main haar gaya."
Now that you're covered in my color... I've already lost.
Lost what, Anaya didn't dare ask. She was too caught up in the look in his eyes—like she was both a memory and a prayer.
"Kya?" she whispered, unsure if she even wanted the answer.
He didn't give it. Not directly.
Instead, his hand slid down her arm as he walked past her. His fingers traced the line of her wrist like he was memorizing the shape of her. She turned to follow him, eyes drawn to the photograph on the wall—the one she'd seen just minutes ago. The one that had cracked something open in her chest.
"Yeh tasveer... yeh main hoon, na?" she asked, voice shaking.
He stopped, hands in his pockets. His shoulders tense.
"Tum ho," he said after a beat. "Bahut pehle se ho."
(It's you. You've been there... for a long time.)
Anaya stepped closer, eyes burning. "Par yeh photo... tumhare paas kaise aayi?"
He didn't turn. Just kept staring at the photograph, as if afraid it would vanish if he blinked.
"The first time I saw you… you were in the orphanage," he said, voice low, almost reverent. "You were eight. Laughing. Playing tag with the younger kids like you had the whole world in your tiny hands."
Anaya's breath hitched.
"I was fourteen. Visiting with my grandfather. I wasn't supposed to be there long... but I couldn't stop watching you. Barefoot. Wild. Happy. Like nothing in the world could break you."
He finally turned toward her, and for once, his walls weren't up. His gaze was bare. Wounded. Haunted.
"This photo… it was given to me by someone I Trust the most in this world. But the girl in it—" he paused, his throat working hard. "I never forgot her. Years passed. Life happened. But that face… those eyes… that innocence…"
Anaya stepped closer, her voice trembling. "So you knew me… back then?"
He gave a slow nod."Naam nahi. Kahani nahi. Sirf tumhara chehra. Maine tumhe dhoondha, Anaya. Saalon tak. Bina jaane ki main kya dhoondh raha hoon." ("Not your name. Not your story. Just… your face. And somehow, I kept searching for you, Anaya. For years. Without even knowing what I'd lost.")
She couldn't breathe.
Everything he was saying... it didn't feel real.
"Aur jab tumhe pata chala?" she asked, voice shaking. "Ki main wahi ladki hoon?"
"Main dar gaya tha," he admitted, quietly.
She blinked. "Mujhse?"
"Nahi. Sach se. Tumse sach bolne se. Kyunki main jaanta tha ki yeh sach... tumhari poori duniya hila dega."
Anaya felt her throat close. "Tumne fir bhi mujhse shaadi ki?"
He walked toward her slowly, every step heavy.
"Maine shaadi ki... kyunki main tumhe kisi aur ke saath soch bhi nahi sakta tha," he said, voice low. "Main sirf haq nahi chahta tha, Anaya. Main tumse pyaar karta hoon."
.______..______.đź’•.______..______.đź’•.______..______.
I didn't just want a right to you. I love you.
Her chest ached. Her knees wobbled.
She reached out and grabbed his kurta, fingers curling into the soft fabric. "Don't say it unless you mean it."
He took her face in both hands.
"Main har lafz ka matlab samajhta hoon. Har pal. Har saans mein. Har wajah se. Bina wajah ke bhi."
I mean every word. Every moment. Every breath. For every reason... and even without one.
And that was it.
The last thread snapped.
Her hands slid into his hair. Her forehead pressed against his.
"Then kiss me," she whispered. "Rudra... agar yeh sab sach hai... toh kiss me."
His breath hitched. His grip on her waist tightened.
Then he leaned in—slow, sure—and kissed her.
It wasn't soft.
It wasn't hesitant.
It was fire. Pent-up, repressed, desperate.
His mouth crashed onto hers with years of need behind it. His hands moved from her waist to her back, pulling her closer, until there was no space between them. Her fingers tugged his hair, drawing a groan from his chest that made her knees weak.
She gasped, and he took advantage, deepening the kiss. The red powder on her cheek smeared across his face. She didn't care. He didn't either. All that mattered was this. Now. Them.
His lips moved against hers like he knew every curve. Every sigh. Every unspoken word she couldn't say.
When he pulled away, just barely, his eyes were dark. Wild.
"Tum meri ho," he said, breathless.
She nodded, heart thudding. "Main teri hoon."
He smiled—not the polite kind. The kind that felt like victory. Like surrender.
His lips brushed her jaw. Her neck. Her shoulder. She shivered, clutching him tighter. "Rudra..."
"Bolna band karo," he whispered into her skin. "Feel karne do."
Stop talking. Just feel.
And she did.
She let herself feel everything. His lips. His breath. The warmth of his touch through the thin fabric of her blouse. The way he murmured her name like it was holy.
There was no more doubt.
This wasn't duty. Or guilt. Or fate.
This was them. Finally breaking.
Finally becoming.
And outside, Holi raged on.
But inside this room, a different kind of color exploded.
The color of truth.
The color of love.
The color of forever.
I didn't just want a right to you. I love you.
Her chest ached. Her knees wobbled.
She reached out and grabbed his kurta, fingers curling into the soft fabric. "Don't say it unless you mean it."
He took her face in both hands.
"Main har lafz ka matlab samajhta hoon. Har pal. Har saans mein. Har wajah se. Bina wajah ke bhi."
(I mean every word. Every moment. Every breath. For every reason... and even without one.)
And that was it.
The last thread snapped.
Her hands slid into his hair. Her forehead pressed against his.
"Then kiss me," she whispered. "Rudra... agar yeh sab sach hai... toh kiss me."
His breath hitched. His grip on her waist tightened.
Then he leaned in—slow, sure—and kissed her.
It wasn't soft.
It wasn't hesitant.
It was fire. Pent-up, repressed, desperate.
His mouth crashed onto hers with years of need behind it. His hands moved from her waist to her back, pulling her closer, until there was no space between them. Her fingers tugged his hair, drawing a groan from his chest that made her knees weak.
She gasped, and he took advantage, deepening the kiss. The red powder on her cheek smeared across his face. She didn't care. He didn't either. All that mattered was this. Now. Them.
His lips moved against hers like he knew every curve. Every sigh. Every unspoken word she couldn't say.
When he pulled away, just barely, his eyes were dark. Wild.
"Tum meri ho," he said, breathless.
She nodded, heart thudding. "Main tumhari hoon."
He smiled—not the polite kind. The kind that felt like victory. Like surrender.
His lips brushed her jaw. Her neck. Her shoulder. She shivered, clutching him tighter. "Rudra..."
"Bolna band karo," he whispered into her skin. "Feel karne do."
Stop talking. Just feel.
And she did.
She let herself feel everything. His lips. His breath. The warmth of his touch through the thin fabric of her blouse. The way he murmured her name like it was holy.
There was no more doubt.
This wasn't duty. Or guilt. Or fate.
This was them. Finally breaking.
Finally becoming.
And outside, Holi raged on.
But inside this room, a different kind of color exploded.
The color of truth.
The color of love.
The color of forever.