KRITI'S POV

5:00 A.M. Los Angeles

Another day.

The thought entered my mind before I even opened my eyes. It wasn't a complaint. It wasn't frustration. It was simply a fact. Another day meant another schedule, another set of responsibilities, another list of lives depending on me to remain composed regardless of what was happening inside my head. For a few seconds, I remained motionless beneath the dark grey comforter, listening to the silence surrounding me. Silence was rare in Los Angeles. The city never truly slept. Somewhere below, traffic would already be beginning. Businesses would be opening. People would be preparing for work. Yet up here, everything remained still.

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling above me. The room was dimly lit by the faint glow of the city skyline visible through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows stretching across the entire eastern wall. The first traces of dawn had not yet appeared. Thousands of lights glittered below like scattered stars, illuminating the sprawling city beneath a dark sky. Most people would have called the view breathtaking. Most people would have stood there every morning admiring it. I had lived here long enough to stop noticing.

Slowly, I pushed the blanket aside and sat up. The cold marble floor met my feet immediately. The temperature barely registered. My body had long grown accustomed to discomfort. The master suite occupied nearly an entire wing of the penthouse. Everything about it reflected luxury. The king-sized bed sat in the center of the room beneath a chandelier imported from Italy. A private lounge occupied one corner. Beyond a set of glass doors rested a terrace overlooking the city. Adjacent to the bedroom was a walk-in wardrobe larger than most apartments. Every piece of furniture had been custom designed. Every detail had been planned meticulously.

None of it mattered.

Luxury had a strange way of losing its charm once it became ordinary.

I stood and walked toward the windows. Pressing a hand against the cool glass, I looked out over the city once more. The penthouse stretched across nearly ten thousand square feet. A private library filled with rare first-edition books occupied the western wing. A grand piano sat untouched near the lounge. An infinity pool overlooked the skyline. There was a home theatre, a private spa, multiple guest suites, and a kitchen larger than some restaurants. Fresh white lilies decorated various corners of the house, replaced daily by the staff. Every object was expensive. Every detail was flawless.

The house was beautiful.

It was also empty.

My gaze lingered on the city for another moment before I turned away. Standing there any longer would serve no purpose. The day had already begun.

5:20 A.M. Private Gym

The gym occupied the entire southern section of the penthouse. Unlike the rest of the house, it contained no decorative elements. No artwork. No expensive ornaments. No unnecessary furniture. Only equipment. Functionality had always appealed to me more than aesthetics.

The treadmill started beneath my feet, gradually increasing in speed. Within minutes, my breathing settled into a familiar rhythm. Running had never been about fitness alone. It was routine. Structure. Discipline. The human mind functioned better when occupied, and mine had always worked too much when left idle. So I ran.

Minutes became an hour.

Sweat gathered along my forehead and neck as I continued moving. Outside the glass walls of the gym, the first signs of dawn finally began appearing over Los Angeles. Golden light slowly crept across the skyline, painting the city in shades of amber and gold. The view changed. The routine didn't.

When I finally stepped off the treadmill, I moved directly toward the weight section. Strength training followed. Then resistance exercises. Then core work. Every movement precise. Every repetition counted. There were no shortcuts in medicine. There were no shortcuts in life. There were certainly no shortcuts in survival.

By the time I finished, the clock displayed 6:18 A.M.

Most people would consider the workout complete.

For me, it was only the beginning.

6:25 A.M. Basement Training Area

The elevator descended directly into the private basement beneath the penthouse. Few people knew the space existed. Fewer had ever seen it. Unlike the luxury upstairs, the basement had been designed for a single purpose.

Training.

The large underground space contained a boxing ring, combat mats, multiple training stations, and a private shooting range extending across one side of the structure. Bright overhead lights illuminated every corner. There were no windows. No distractions.

Only focus.

I wrapped black tape around my hands before approaching the punching bag suspended from the ceiling. The first punch landed with enough force to send the heavy bag swinging. Then another followed. Then another. The repetitive impact echoed throughout the room. My movements flowed automatically, perfected through years of relentless practice. Left. Right. Hook. Elbow. Knee. Every strike connected exactly where intended.

Pain never bothered me.

Lack of control did.

The training continued for nearly forty minutes before I moved toward the shooting range. The weapon rested naturally in my hand. Comfortable. Familiar. Predictable. Unlike people, weapons behaved exactly as expected when handled correctly.

The first shot struck the center of the target.

The second followed immediately after.

Then the third.

Then the fourth.

The sound of gunfire echoed repeatedly through the range as every bullet found its mark.

By the time I set the weapon down, the digital clock mounted on the wall displayed 6:58 A.M.

Which meant only one thing.

Aarush should already be awake.

Which also meant he definitely wasn't.

7:00 A.M.

The private wing was significantly quieter than the rest of the penthouse. Walking down the hallway, I stopped outside a particular room before knocking twice.

No response.

Predictable.

I opened the door without waiting.

The sight inside was exactly what I expected.

A nineteen-year-old boy lay buried beneath enough blankets to survive an Arctic winter. Only a portion of dark hair remained visible. The rest of him had completely disappeared beneath layers of fabric.

"Aarush."

Nothing.

I stepped further inside.

"Aarush."

A muffled groan emerged from beneath the blankets. "Five minutes, Didi."

The response arrived automatically, as if he had practiced it.

I folded my arms.

"You said that yesterday."

"This is a different five minutes."

"Get up."

Another groan followed. "Didiii......"

"Get up, Aarush."

"Please."

For a brief moment, silence filled the room.

Then I walked over and pulled the blanket away.

"Didi!"

His head immediately appeared.

"Now!"

Aarush sat upright, running a hand through his messy hair before looking at me suspiciously. "You're impossible."

"So, I've been told."

Before he could respond, my phone vibrated against the pocket of my training jacket.

The screen illuminated. 

Los Angeles Memorial Medical Center.

Another Hospital of KR Imperial in LA.

Immediately, the atmosphere shifted.

The teasing remark sitting on Aarush's tongue disappeared the moment he noticed the name flashing across my screen. In the years he had known me, he had learned to recognize the difference between a normal call and a hospital call.

One brought work. The other brought lives.

I answered immediately. "Dr. Kriti Rajput speaking."

The voice on the other end belonged to the Chief of Neurosurgery.

The urgency in his tone was unmistakable.

"Doctor, we have a Level One Trauma emergency."

I walked toward the window while listening carefully.

"What happened?"

"There has been a multi-vehicle collision involving a tourist bus and two commercial trucks on Interstate 10. The first patients have already arrived. Multiple traumatic brain injuries. Severe cranial fractures. Internal bleeding. We need you here immediately."

My gaze shifted toward the skyline outside.

"How many surgical cases?"

"Six confirmed. Possibly more."

The answer didn't surprise me.

Mass casualty incidents rarely stayed organized.

"Prepare Operating Theatres Three through Eight. Notify anesthesia and trauma teams. I want all scans uploaded to the central system before I arrive."

"Already done."

"I'll be there in twenty-five minutes."

The call ended.

For a moment, silence settled over the room once again.

Then I turned toward Aarush.

He was watching me quietly.

"Bad?"

"Six surgeries."

Aarush winced.

Even someone outside the medical field understood what that meant.

A single brain surgery could last several hours. Six meant I probably wouldn't leave the hospital until late evening. I glanced at the clock.

7:06 A.M.

The day had barely begun.

"Aarush."

"Hm?"

"Be ready by 9 tonight."

His eyes immediately brightened.

The excitement was instant.

"For Jaipur?"

"Yes."

"Private jet?"

"Yes."

"Can I sleep during the flight?"

"Do whatever you want. I don't particularly care."

He grinned.

"I know you care as you love me."

I ignored the comment.

Experience had taught me that responding only encouraged him.

"You have your graduation ceremony at five."

"I know."

"Your suit is already prepared."

"I know."

"Your documents are packed."

"I know."

"Your passport?"

Aarush immediately looked away.

I stared.

He stared at the ceiling.

My stare intensified.

"...I forgot."

Of course he did.

Without another word, I walked toward the wardrobe positioned against the far wall, opened the top drawer, and retrieved the passport.

Aarush looked mildly impressed.

"How did you know?"

"Because you always forget."

"I don't always forget."

"You forgot it three times this month."

"That feels exaggerated."

"It isn't."

Aarush accepted the passport with a sheepish expression.

"Thanks, Didi."

I nodded once.

"Don't be late."

Then I left the room.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

7:10 A.M. Master Suite

The shower water was hot enough to loosen the tension gathered in my muscles from training.

Ten minutes later, I stepped out and wrapped a towel around my shoulders before moving toward the walk-in closet.

Rows of clothes occupied the space.

Organized.

Categorized.

Color coordinated.

Everything arranged according to schedule and necessity.

I reached for a crisp white shirt and black tailored trousers.

Simple.

Professional.

Efficient.

Fashion had never interested me.

Functionality had.

The white shirt fit perfectly.

The sleeves were folded once above my wrists.

The black trousers paired with white sneakers completed the outfit.

No jewelry.

No unnecessary accessories.

Only a silver watch secured around my wrist.

The reflection staring back from the mirror appeared composed. Controlled. Professional. Exactly what the world expected. Exactly what I allowed them to see.

A knock interrupted my thoughts. One of the house staff entered after receiving permission.

"Good morning, ma'am."

I picked up my tablet.

"Morning."

"Breakfast has been prepared."

"No."

The woman hesitated.

"At least coffee?"

"No."

Her concern became visible immediately. Most people in the penthouse had stopped trying to convince me to eat on time. Most. Not all.

"You haven't had dinner either."

"I'll eat later."

The statement sounded convincing enough. It wasn't true. The woman knew it. I knew it.

But neither of us commented.

She simply nodded and stepped aside as I left.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

7:25 A.M. Los Angeles Memorial Medical Center

The hospital came into view moments later.

Even after years of working here, the sight remained familiar.

The towering structure dominated the city block.

Ambulances lined the emergency entrance. Doctors hurried through corridors. Patients arrived every minute. Lives changed every second.

I parked the car and stepped inside.

Immediately, the atmosphere shifted. The emergency department was overflowing. Medical personnel moved rapidly between patients. Monitors beeped continuously. Family members waited anxiously. Nurses rushed through hallways carrying reports. Controlled chaos.

A trauma coordinator approached the moment she saw me.

"Dr. Rajput."

"Status."

"Patient One is already prepped. Twenty-six-year-old male. Severe epidural hematoma."

I accepted the file.

"Patient Two?"

"Depressed skull fracture."

"Three?"

"Intracranial hemorrhage."

The list continued.

Each case more complicated than the last.

By the time we reached the operating floor, I had already reviewed every report.

Every scan.

Every complication.

Every risk.

The elevator doors opened.

The surgical team was waiting.

A dozen people stood prepared outside the first operating theatre.

The moment I arrived, conversations ceased.

Not because they feared me.

Because they trusted me.

Trust was significantly heavier than fear.

Fear demanded power.

Trust demanded responsibility.

I pushed the theatre doors open.

The patient lay unconscious beneath bright surgical lights.

Machines monitored every heartbeat.

Every breath.

Every second.

I moved toward the sink and began scrubbing in.

The familiar routine calmed my mind instantly.

Everything outside the theatre disappeared.

The city disappeared.

The penthouse disappeared.

The exhaustion disappeared.

Only the patient remained.

Only the surgery mattered.

The anesthesiologist nodded.

"We're ready, Doctor."

I extended my hand.

A surgical instrument was immediately placed in it.

Then I looked toward the monitors one final time.

"Let's begin."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

10:34 A.M.

The first surgery ended successfully.

There was no celebration.

No relief.

Only movement.

The moment the patient was transferred to recovery, I removed my gloves and headed toward the next theatre.

Another patient waited.

Another family waited.

Another life waited.

The second surgery began within twelve minutes.

Then the third.

Then the fourth.

Hours passed unnoticed.

Outside, Los Angeles continued moving.

Inside, time ceased to exist.

Every operation demanded complete concentration.

One mistake could change everything.

One moment of distraction could cost a life.

So, I allowed myself neither.

Not hunger.

Not fatigue.

Not emotion.

Nothing.

Only focus.

Only precision.

Only work.

By the time I stepped out of the fourth operating room, the digital clock mounted on the wall displayed 4:17 P.M.

The day was far from over.

And I still had two surgeries remaining.

7:28 P.M.

The clock on the wall displayed 7:28 P.M. as I stepped out of Operating Theatre Five.

For a brief moment, I closed my eyes.

Not because I was tired.

Because I needed exactly three seconds before walking into the next surgery.

Three seconds.

No more.

No less.

The surgical cap remained secured over my hair. The mask still covered half my face. My shoulders felt heavier than they had in the morning, but exhaustion had long ago become something I learned to ignore.

A nurse approached carefully.

"Dr. Rajput."

I looked up.

"There are fifteen minutes left before we start the last surgery. "

I nodded and continued walking.

"Okay"

I headed toward my office.

The corridors appeared significantly quieter than they had in the morning.

Families still occupied waiting areas.

Doctors still moved between departments.

But the chaos had lessened.

The worst of the day was over.

For most people.

My office overlooked the western side of the city.

The sunset painted the skyline in shades of orange and gold.

A beautiful view.

One I barely noticed.

The untouched breakfast still sat on my desk.

Delivered hours earlier.

Forgotten hours earlier.

I stared at it for several seconds before finally opening the container.

The first bite tasted strangely unfamiliar.

Perhaps because I couldn't remember the last proper meal I had eaten.

My phone vibrated.

Aarush.

I answered immediately.

"Yes?"

"Didi."

His voice sounded excited.

The graduation ceremony had clearly gone well.

"Congratulations."

A brief silence followed.

"You remembered."

"I attended your rehearsals."

"You also threatened three people during those rehearsals."

"They deserved it."

Aarush laughed.

I listened quietly.

His laughter had always sounded different.

Lighter.

Unaffected.

As though the world had never given him a reason to become cautious.

"Where are you?"

"Still at the venue."

"Go home."

"Bossy."

"Aarush."

"I'm leaving."

"Good."

"Love you too."

The call disconnected.

I finished the food and leaned back in my chair. Suddenly an announcement in my office echoed, "Dr. Kriti you are urgently needed; the surgery is about to start."

I rushed towards OT. My final surgery awaited. Final but complicated.

The doors of Operating Theatre Six opened automatically.

One more patient.

One more family hoping for a miracle.

One more responsibility.

The familiar feeling settled over me once again.

Focus.

Everything else could wait.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

9:55 P.M.

The final surgery ended successfully.

The tension inside the operating room eased almost immediately.

Relieved breaths escaped several members of the surgical team.

A few exchanged exhausted smiles.

I simply removed my gloves.

The patient was stable.

That was enough.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

AUTHOR'S POV

10:05 P.M.

The hospital corridors had finally begun to quiet down.

After nearly twelve hours spent moving between operating theatres, consultations, and patient reviews, Dr. Kriti Rajput was finally leaving.

Her pace remained steady as she walked through the main entrance of the hospital toward the parking lot.

The exhaustion hidden beneath her calm exterior wasn't visible to anyone.

Years had taught her how to hide it.

Years had taught her how to hide everything.

Her phone remained in one hand while she reviewed a few final reports before departing. The warm Los Angeles evening greeted her as the automatic doors slid open behind her.

At the same moment, another figure stepped through the entrance.

Both were distracted.

Both were in a hurry.

And neither saw the other coming.

Thud.

Kriti's shoulder collided with someone's chest.

He was none other than Adhiraj Singh Rathore.

The file in her hand nearly slipped.

Immediately, she stepped back.

"Sorry."

The apology left her lips automatically.

The man standing opposite her shook his head.

"No, I'm sorry. I was in a hurry."

For a brief second, their eyes met.

Brown.

Blue.

The first thing Adhiraj noticed was her eyes.

Not her appearance.

Not her clothes.

Not her status.

Her eyes.

There was something strangely captivating about them.

Something calm.

Something distant.

Something that felt entirely out of place in a crowded hospital parking lot.

Kriti simply nodded once.

No further conversation.

No unnecessary interaction.

Without another word, she walked past him.

Moments later, she entered her black car.

The engine roared.

And within seconds, the vehicle disappeared beyond the hospital gates.

Meanwhile—

Adhiraj remained exactly where he was.

Motionless.

For several seconds, he simply stared in the direction her car had vanished. A strange feeling settled over him.

Not attraction.

Not yet.

Curiosity.

Pure curiosity.

Because despite the brief interaction, those brown eyes had stayed with him. The kind of eyes that looked like they carried stories they would never tell. The kind of eyes that didn't belong to ordinary people.

A honk from behind finally broke his thoughts.

Adhiraj blinked.

Then exhaled quietly before turning toward the hospital entrance.

He had work to do.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A few minutes later, Adhiraj entered the reception area.

Unlike most visitors, he wasn't here as a patient.

Nor as a family member.

He was here for business.

His company was currently negotiating a major international healthcare infrastructure project.

And the owner of KR Hospitals happened to be one of the most influential names in the global medical industry.

The chain operated across multiple countries.

Its reputation was unmatched. And today he had intended to meet its owner personally.

Approaching the reception desk, Adhiraj offered a polite nod.

"Good evening."

The receptionist immediately straightened.

"Good evening, sir. How may I help you?"

"I came regarding a healthcare contract. I'd like to meet the owner of KR Imperials."

A look of regret crossed the woman's face.

"I'm sorry, sir, but that won't be possible."

Adhiraj frowned slightly.

"Why?"

"The owner already left the hospital."

His expression remained unchanged.

"When will the meeting would be possible?"

The receptionist checked her system.

"Not anytime soon, sir."

Adhiraj waited.

The woman continued.

"She departed earlier this evening and is flying to Jaipur, India tonight. She'll be handling several projects there for the foreseeable future. You can meet her there if it's possible for you, sir."

For the first time, something flickered in his eyes.

She?

The owner was a woman? And she was flying to Jaipur? His thoughts immediately connected the information.

Interesting. Then I'll meet her there.

The contract wasn't urgent enough to require immediate discussion.

His Jaipur office could easily arrange another meeting.

Adhiraj leaned against the reception counter slightly.

"What is her name?"

The receptionist smiled professionally.

"Dr. Kriti Rajput."

For a brief moment, silence followed.

Something about the name felt familiar.

Then suddenly—

Brown eyes.

The woman from the parking lot.

The realization settled instantly.

The same woman who had bumped into him less than ten minutes ago.

The same woman who had apologized and walked away without another glance.

Adhiraj stared at the reception desk for a second before letting out a quiet breath.

Of all the people he expected to meet today—

The owner of KR Hospitals certainly hadn't been one of them.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, sir."

Adhiraj nodded once before turning toward the exit.

A faint thought lingered in the back of his mind as he stepped outside.

Jaipur, huh?

A strange coincidence.

Or perhaps not.

Either way—

He had a feeling this wouldn't be their last meeting.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

KRITI'S POV

10:32 P.M. Penthouse

The elevator opened directly into the penthouse.

The moment I stepped inside, the silence felt familiar again.

Comfortable.

Predictable.

A maid approached immediately.

"Welcome back, ma'am."

I nodded and handed her my keys.

"Everything packed?"

"Yes."

The luggage had already been arranged near the entrance.

Three suitcases.

Two carry-ons.

Documents.

Personal belongings.

Everything prepared.

Efficient.

Exactly how I preferred it.

I walked toward the living area.

Aarush occupied the couch.

One leg hanging over the armrest.

Graduation photographs spread across the coffee table.

The sight was oddly domestic.

Ordinary.

Something my life rarely allowed.

He immediately sat upright.

"Didi. You're late."

"Six neurosurgeries, Aarush."

"How was it?"

"Good."

Aarush narrowed his eyes.

"You missed the entire ceremony."

"I was operating."

"I know."

The disappointment lasted exactly two seconds.

Then disappeared.

Because Aarush understood.

Perhaps better than anyone.

"You saved lives."

I remained silent.

He wasn't wrong.

But somehow the statement never made the sacrifices feel smaller.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

10:40 P.M.

The city glowed outside the windows as I stood near the terrace.

Los Angeles looked different at night.

The lights stretched endlessly into the distance.

Skyscrapers illuminated the horizon.

Cars moved like streams of gold beneath the dark sky.

Beautiful.

Temporary.

Just like everything else.

My gaze lingered there longer than necessary.

Perhaps because I knew I wouldn't be seeing the city again for several months.

Perhaps because departure always carried a strange weight.

Even when you had no intention of staying.

Behind me, Aarush continued talking about graduation.

About friends.

About plans.

About memories.

I listened quietly.

Contributing only when necessary.

The role suited me.

Listening had always been easier than speaking.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

10:52 P.M. Private Airport

The private terminal remained significantly quieter than commercial airports.

Security procedures were completed within minutes.

Staff members greeted us politely before guiding us toward the aircraft.

The private jet waited beneath bright floodlights.

Large.

Elegant.

Powerful.

Aarush immediately looked impressed.

As always.

"One day I'm getting my own."

I glanced at him.

"You don't even remember your passport."

"Details."

The staff opened the aircraft door.

We boarded.

Within minutes, the jet began preparing for departure.

Los Angeles slowly disappeared behind us.

Another city.

Another chapter.

Another beginning.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

11:27 P.M. Somewhere Above the Pacific

The cabin remained quiet.

Aarush had fallen asleep less than thirty minutes after takeoff.

I wasn't surprised.

He could sleep almost anywhere.

The laptop resting before me displayed medical reports, research data, and administrative documents.

Work.

Always work.

Hours passed unnoticed as I reviewed files and responded to messages.

The darkness beyond the window remained endless.

Occasionally city lights appeared below.

Then vanished again.

The silence felt different up here.

Almost peaceful.

Almost.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2:31 A.M. Jaipur

The aircraft touched down smoothly.

Aarush woke moments later.

Disoriented.

Sleepy.

Confused.

"Are we dead?"

"No."

"Oh."

He nodded.

"Good."

The cabin crew opened the doors.

Warm air immediately greeted us.

Jaipur.

Home?

Was.

The private terminal remained nearly empty at this hour.

Only a handful of staff members occupied the area.

And one familiar figure.

Ashok Singhania.

The moment he saw us, he straightened.

"Kittu."

I nodded once.

"Bhai sa."

His gaze shifted toward Aarush.

"Congratulations on graduation."

Aarush grinned.

"Thank you."

Ashok picked up the luggage effortlessly.

"Cars are ready."

Nothing else needed to be said.

He already knew the routine.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

3:05 A.M. Jaipur Penthouse

Unlike Los Angeles, the Jaipur penthouse, felt colder. More private. More secure. The staff greeted us quietly before disappearing.

Aarush yawned. "I'm sleeping."
"Good night, dii."

I nodded once.

Within minutes, he vanished toward his room.

The penthouse returned to silence. Once again.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

3:18 A.M. Master Suite

The hot water poured over my shoulders as I stood beneath the shower. The tension accumulated throughout the day slowly eased. Not disappeared. Eased.

There was a difference.

The surgeries.

The travel.

The responsibilities.

Everything felt heavier at night. Perhaps because there were fewer distractions. Perhaps because silence left more room for thoughts. I closed my eyes briefly before turning off the water.

A fresh set of clothes waited on the bed.

The city lights illuminated the room softly.

Everything appeared peaceful.

Appearances were often misleading.

I opened the drawer beside the bed.

The familiar bottle rested inside. For a moment, I stared at it. Then picked it up. One pill. A glass of water. A routine I hated. A routine I needed. The medication would quiet the anxiety before it had the opportunity to grow into something worse. Because panic attacks didn't care whether you were strong. They didn't care whether you were successful. They simply arrived.

Uninvited.
Relentless.

The pill disappeared down my throat. I placed the glass back on the table and switched off the lamp. Darkness immediately filled the room. My body relaxed against the mattress. The city outside continued moving.

Cars.
Lights.
People.
Lives.

The effects of the medication began settling in gradually.

Sleep slowly approached.

And for the first time in nearly twenty-four hours, I allowed myself to stop.

Tomorrow would bring new responsibilities.

New expectations.

New challenges.

But tomorrow could wait.

Tonight, exhaustion finally won.

And as darkness consumed the room completely—

Sleep claimed me.

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Hii my lovely readers! 💕🥹
After at least 5 edits, here is the chapter total of 3877 words. Pheww!!

So... what do you think of our Kriti Rajput so far? 👀🖤

A woman who seems to have everything—success, wealth, respect—yet carries a silence that speaks louder than words. And what about that tiny little encounter between Kriti and Adhiraj? 🤭🔥

Do let me know your thoughts because I love reading your comments! 

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💌 Author