Mornings at Happy Delights by Ishiya were supposed to be calm. Sunlight, warm muffins, soft music—everything peaceful.
But today the universe decided otherwise.
The moment we opened the shutters, we walked straight into World War 3.
Because as soon as I stepped inside, I heard Ishita shouting at the top of her lungs:
“GET OUT, AARAV! GET—OUT!”
I froze mid-step.
Our muffins froze in their trays.
Even our fridge started humming like it was nervous.
Aarav stood in front of Ishita holding the saddest bouquet in the world—petals falling off like they were trying to escape, stems drooping, his love life dying.
“Ishitaaa please, listen! I love you!” he cried, looking like a rejected TV serial hero.
Ishita stormed toward him like a goddess of destruction, her ponytail swishing with righteous fury.
“For the LAST TIME, you CHEATED!” she yelled, plucking a rose from the bouquet and snapping it clean in half.
“Your bouquet died just like your loyalty,” she added sharply, making everyone around suppress giggles, including me.
Aarav only whimpered helplessly.
“Ishu, baby… I swear I can change!” he pleaded dramatically.
Ishita rolled her eyes so hard they almost hit the ceiling.
“You can’t even change your bedsheet without your mother reminding you!” she snapped.
Aarav immediately dropped to his knees, holding her hand like she was about to give him one last chance at life.
“Baby! I was drunk! Please take me back!”
Ishita scoffed loudly.
“Oh really? So your alcohol took your clothes off? HOW KIND OF IT!” she shot back.
The customers giggled behind their cups, whispering among themselves.
Aarav clutched his chest.
“I only made one mistake!” he insisted.
Ishita repeated slowly, as if translating for a toddler, “One mistake, he says.”
“You cheated on me with a girl who filters herself so much she looks like a WiFi signal!” Ishita screamed, hitting him with the ultimate roast.
Aarav stood up, wiped his tears dramatically, and puffed his chest.
“I know you will forgive me,” he said confidently.
“You always do.”
That moment froze the entire bakery.
Ishita’s eye twitched.
Her jaw clenched.
And I swear, in that moment, I heard the Mahabharat background music in my head.
She grabbed his full glass of orange juice.
Aarav smiled nervously.
“I knew it. You still care—”
SPLAAAAAASHHHHH!
The juice drenched him like Holi had arrived early.
“ISHIII!!!” he screamed.
The entire bakery went SILENT.
Every customer froze mid-bite, eyes wide, jaws hanging open like someone had paused them with a remote.
Aunty in the corner clutched her chai and whispered, “Hai Bhagwan, ye toh asli Holi hai.”
I had just taken a sip of hot chocolate—and the next second it shot out of my mouth in a full-on shocked fountain.
I slapped a hand over my lips, but laughter still escaped in loud, uncontrollable bursts as Aarav stood there dripping like a soaked biscuit.
“FORGIVE YOU MY FOOT!” Ishita shouted back, her voice echoing through the bakery.
Aarav, still dripping, held her hand desperately and started begging again.
Just then, the door chimed softly.
A tall man entered—wearing a black hoodie, black mask, messy hair, and broad shoulders.
His eyes were sharp like midnight knives.
He didn’t look like he belonged in a bakery.
More like someone who belonged in a crime documentary.
The moment he saw Aarav holding Ishita’s hand—juice dripping, begging like a lost puppy—he froze.
His eyes turned DARK, his jaw flexed, and something violent flickered beneath the mask.
Then he marched forward with long, powerful steps.
His boots thudded against the floor, the air turning heavy as he approached.
Without hesitation, he reached Aarav and PUSHED HIM AWAY.
Aarav fell on his butt again.
“BRO WHAT—?!” he yelped.
But the masked man didn’t even glance at him.
His gaze stayed fixed solely on Ishita.
His voice, when he spoke, was deep, low, and commanding.
“Take my order.”
Ishita jumped back, her hand flying to her chest.
“Wh—where did YOU come from?!” she stammered, stunned by his sudden appearance.
For a moment, her heartbeat stumbled.
She pushed the strange feeling aside and forced herself to speak.
“W-what do you want to order?”
The response came instantly.
“Crème Brûlée Croissant,” he said.
I quickly nodded from behind the counter.
“Yes sir! Right away!”
I ran to prepare his order while Ishita shot Aarav one final glare and followed me to the kitchen.
Meanwhile, Aarav tried to stand up again, groaning.
The masked man extended a hand to him.
Aarav grabbed it, relieved.
“Thanks, bro—” he began, but that was his biggest mistake.
The masked stranger squeezed his hand.
Hard.
Then harder.
And even harder.
Aarav yelped, “BROOO—IT HURTS!” his voice cracking.
The masked man leaned closer, his voice colder than winter steel.
“If you love your life… stay the FUCK away from her.”
Aarav trembled violently.
“S-sir—” he whimpered.
The man’s eyes darkened further.
“Otherwise they won’t even find your body.”
Then he shoved Aarav brutally to the side.
Aarav bolted out of the bakery like his life depended on it.
The masked man was no stranger.
He was REYANSH OBEROI, the silent shadow and right hand of Rudraksh Singh Rathore—the man people whispered about with fear.
Siya carefully placed the croissant in front of him.
“Enjoy your order, sir,” she said politely with a smile.
He didn’t respond.
He didn’t even blink in her direction.
Instead, he stared once—just once—at Ishita.
Something dark, possessive, and dangerous flashed in his eyes before he looked away again, jaw tight.
Nobody noticed.
Nobody understood.
But something had shifted in the air.
And none of us realized… this was the beginning of a storm.
The bakery gradually settled again after the chaos with Aarav, though the air still buzzed with whispers and suppressed laughter.
Ishita scrubbed her hands furiously, Siya cleaned the counter while giggling, and the customers kept replaying the splash moment with dramatic reenactments.
But then the door chimed, and the atmosphere shifted instantly.
Two men walked in—men who didn’t belong in a sweet-smelling bakery filled with pastel walls and pastries.
One had a scar slicing through his eyebrow.
The other looked like a walking refrigerator wearing sunglasses indoors.
Danger entered with them.
They scanned the room quickly—left to right, back to front—assessing every face with predatory sharpness.
They had no idea Reyansh Oberoi was already in the room.
He didn’t move or look directly, but his senses sharpened instantly.
This was why he had come.
These men were connected to Jack—the snake hiding for months.
Jack fed Rudraksh Singh Rathore’s secrets to his enemies while pretending loyalty.
A man too clever to corner.
Reyansh had waited for the weakest link.
And finally… these two had arrived.
They sat in the far corner, whispering in low voices, unaware of the shadow listening to every word.
Reyansh sat perfectly still, body carved from stone.
Scar-guy ordered casually, “Two cappuccinos and a chocolate tart.”
Then he leaned in, voice dropping.
“Jack finally contacted me.”
The other stiffened.
“After all this time?”
Scar-guy nodded slowly.
“Yeah. He’s ready for tomorrow. The handover will happen behind the Shiv temple.”
Reyansh’s eyes flickered briefly beneath the mask.
The Shiv temple—isolated, forest-covered, perfect for illegal exchanges.
Scar-guy continued softly, “He’ll give the diamonds tomorrow—Rudraksh’s diamonds—straight to the enemy.”
His partner smirked with satisfaction.
“Good. That’ll destroy Rathore’s next deal.”
Reyansh’s jaw clenched.
Jack wasn’t just betraying—he was trying to cripple Rudraksh’s empire.
Scar-guy leaned closer.
“He’ll also hand over intel on Rathore’s new weapons deal. Enemy wants everything.”
The other chuckled darkly.
“After this, Rathore will be crushed.”
Reyansh’s fist curled beneath the table.
Crushed? They didn’t know what that word meant.
But tomorrow, they would.
Just then, Ishita walked past them carrying a tray, still fuming about Aarav.
Her brows were furrowed, lips pressed tight, irritation radiating off her like sparks.
The men’s gaze lingered far too long, their eyes filled with cheap, hungry interest.
Reyansh noticed immediately.
“Hey sexy lady,” Scar-guy called, leaning back with a greasy smirk.
“Come spend some time with us, sweetheart.”
Ishita didn’t bother looking amused.
“This isn’t a zoo,” she said flatly.
“Stop behaving like escaped animals.”
She walked away sharply, unfazed.
At that moment, Siya walked out with a tray of their order, unaware of the tension.
“Here’s your cappuccino and chocolate tart,” she said softly, placing them on the table.
Scar-guy’s eyes dragged slowly over her face, then lower, his stare filthy and lingering.
Siya stiffened instantly.
Refrigerator-guy grinned.
“Wow… you’re sweeter than this tart.”
Siya backed away quickly.
“I’ll get the bill—” she said, trying to leave.
But Scar-guy blocked her path with his arm.
“Why the rush, sweetheart? Sit with us for a minute.”
Siya’s breath hitched nervously.
“No… I’m working… please move,” she said, voice trembling.
He leaned closer, breath disgusting.
“We don’t bite. Unless you want us to.”
Siya stepped back again, trying to escape, but they shifted closer, trapping her.
That was when Ishita saw everything—and snapped.
Ishita marched toward them—not walking, but charging—anger blazing hotter than fire.
“MOVE AWAY FROM HER!” she shouted, her voice shaking the entire bakery.
Customers froze mid-bite.
Even the fridge hummed nervously.
Siya immediately hid behind her like a frightened kitten.
Scar-guy frowned.
“What’s your problem?”
Ishita took another step.
“My problem is YOU misbehaving with my best friend.”
Refrigerator-guy scoffed.
“We were just talking.”
Ishita snapped back, “Then talk to a wall. It’s more interested than we are.”
The customers snickered.
Scar-guy slammed his hand on the table.
“Watch your mouth—”
Ishita leaned forward.
“You watch your manners. Or better—get OUT OF MY BAKERY!”
His ego cracked instantly.
His face twisted with rage.
“How dare you talk to me like—” he started.
But he didn’t finish.
Before she could respond, he grabbed her wrist—hard, cruel, meant to punish.
Siya gasped, “Ishi!”
The man snarled, “You think you can disrespect me? You girls need to learn how to talk to men.”
Ishita clenched her jaw.
“Let. Me. Go.”
But he only pulled her closer.
“Or what? You’ll scream? No one here can even—” he began, but a brutal punch cut his words.
The masked man—Reyansh—was on his feet now.
Eyes dark.
Posture rigid.
Presence lethal.
He didn’t warn.
Didn’t speak.
He pulled Ishita behind him protectively.
Only then did Ishita actually look at him—and her heart skipped a beat.
Reyansh grabbed the dealer’s wrist and squeezed with merciless strength.
The man’s breath hitched.
His knees buckled.
Pain shot through him violently.
And Reyansh didn’t stop.
Not until—CRACK.
The horrible sound echoed through the bakery.
Scar-guy screamed, collapsing to his knees, clutching his broken wrist.
Refrigerator-guy stared at Reyansh in pure horror.
Reyansh didn’t blink.
Didn’t move.
He stood still—calm, dark, and soaked in danger.
Ishita clung to Siya, trembling.
Refrigerator-guy suddenly shouted, “You—You bastard! Who the hell do you think you are?!”
He lunged toward Reyansh.
Bad decision.
Reyansh stepped aside smoothly, and before the man regained balance, Reyansh’s knee slammed into his stomach.
The man flew backward into a table.
The table shattered, cups broke, customers screamed, and aunty dropped her chai again.
Siya hid behind Ishita, trembling.
Scar-guy staggered up, holding his wrist.
“You’re DEAD! BOTH OF YOU! Wait till our boss hears—” he began.
Reyansh turned his head slowly.
Just his eyes.
That alone silenced the man.
Reyansh stepped forward once.
It wasn’t a warning.
It wasn’t a threat.
It was a quiet promise of violence.
“Come outside,” he said softly.
The alley behind the bakery was empty—silent—perfect for what was coming.
The men stumbled outside, still trying to act brave.
Refrigerator-guy spat blood.
“You think you can do this to us? You think—”
But his words ended when Reyansh’s punch hit his jaw.
One deadly blow.
One body collapsing instantly.
Scar-guy tried to run, but failed.
Reyansh caught him by the collar and slammed him against the wall.
“You touched her,” he said quietly—not loud, not angry, just deadly calm.
The man trembled violently.
“S-Sorry—please—don’t—”
Reyansh tightened the grip.
“You don’t get to look at them. Or talk to them.”
His eyes darkened.
“And you DEFINITELY don’t get to touch them.”
Scar-guy whimpered.
“Pl—please! Leave us—”
Reyansh punched him once—clean, final—sending him crashing to the ground like a broken puppet.
Both dealers lay groaning, gasping, unable to stand.
Refrigerator-guy pushed himself up halfway and screamed,
“WE’LL SEE YOU! YOU’RE DEAD!”
He grabbed Scar-guy and dragged him away, limping, terrified, disappearing down the street.
Reyansh stood still, breathing steady behind his mask.
Inside the bakery, Siya and Ishita watched from the doorway—Siya trembling, Ishita stunned.
Neither understood what this man was… or why he protected them.
Reyansh didn’t look back.
Not even once.
He adjusted his mask, took a controlled breath,
and walked away into the shadows as if nothing had happened.
But Ishita’s eyes followed him.
Confused.
Shaken.
Drawn toward a man she didn’t know… yet couldn’t look away from.
And that was the moment—
though none of them realized it—
their destinies had collided.
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