Torn Veil
1
The hall glittered like a palace made of lies.
Everyone was dressed in masks, but Ishaan Singhal didn’t need a mask to hide the storm inside him. Power curled around him like smoke—every glance his, every whisper afraid of his name.
Across the crowd, standing under a chandelier of crushed crystal, was the last person he wanted to see.
Zoya Rathore.
They weren’t just enemies.
They were war.
He crossed the floor toward her like a predator, calm and cold.
Ishaan Singhal
“What are you doing here, Rathore?” he asked, voice cold.
Zoya Rathore
“Enjoying the party. Why? Is your ego the only guest allowed?” she said, swirling her drink.
Ishaan Singhal
“I should throw you out.”
Zoya Rathore
“Go ahead. Let the whole room watch you admit you’re scared of a woman who lost everything.”
Ishaan Singhal
His jaw ticked. “You have no idea what you’re playing with.”
Zoya Rathore
“And you have no idea how little I care.”
Their hatred tasted like electricity.
He grab a glass of wine and gulped it down his throat.
Within fifteen minutes, the drug gripped his body like a firestorm.
Heat coiled in his stomach. His skin flushed. Breath ragged.
The room spun.
He stumbled upstairs, crashing into a guest room.
Zoya had followed him, suspicion tightening in her chest.
She opened the door—then froze.
He was on the floor. Shirt half-ripped. Eyes wild. Chest heaving.
Zoya Rathore
“Ishaan?” she gasped, rushing to him.
Ishaan Singhal
His eyes snapped to hers, unfocused. “Z-Zoya…”
He grabbed her wrist—tight, desperate.
Ishaan Singhal
“Hot—I can't—I—my head—it's too much—make it stop—”
Her heart dropped. She recognized the signs. Her father was a chemist. She knew what this was.
A drug this potent… if the pressure built too long… he could die of cardiac arrest.
Zoya Rathore
Her hands trembled. “Oh my God, you’ve been drugged. Who did this?”
Ishaan Singhal
He groaned, slamming his head back against the floor. “It hurts—Zoya—please…”
Her mind raced. No one else was here. No help would come in time. No remedy, no relief except—
Zoya Rathore
“No,” she whispered, stepping back. “There has to be another way…”
Ishaan Singhal
His fingers dug into her arm. “Zoya—please!” he choked, the last thread of control snapping in his voice.
Zoya Rathore
Tears burned her eyes. “I hate you,” she whispered. “I hate you so much.”
Zoya Rathore
In the most broken voice she said, “But I can’t let you die.”
2
Not out of desire.
But because she had no other choice. She wanted to save him.
And the moment their lips met, his grip on her tightened—rough, desperate. He pulled her down. His body over hers.
He didn’t know what he was doing.
His mind was gone.
His touches were harsh.
Each thrust made her bite back a scream.
Ishaan Singhal
“Don’t stop me,” he growled, lost in the drug. “Don’t move away from me. I can’t—God—I need this—”
Her fingers clawed the sheets.
Every movement a knife in her skin. She wanted to shove him off. To scream at the world. But she took it all.
She endured the pain, the cruelty, the humiliation.
All to save a man who would never even thank her.
When it was over, he collapsed on her—his body weak, breath unsteady. He rested his head on her shoulder.
Ishaan Singhal
"... Thankyou." he whispered.
She just lay there.
Still. Bleeding. Quiet. Alone.
The sunlight stung his eyes as he blinked awake.
His head throbbed.His limbs ached.
He stretched—then froze.
There was someone next to him.
His eyes darted to the left—Zoya.
Lying beside him. Naked.
His eyes widened. Panic rushed through his chest.
He threw the blanket off his body—and stared.
Ishaan Singhal
“What the f**k…?” whispered, breath shaky.
He jumped up and put on his pants in a rush, eyes wild.
Ishaan Singhal
“What the hell did you do?!”
Zoya Rathore
Stirred, her body sluggish, bruised, aching. "Ishaan...?"
Her voice cracked. She tried to sit up—but her body throbbed in pain.
Ishaan Singhal
He barked, “Don’t say my name!"
Ishaan Singhal
He turned her eyes away. "First, put your clothes on!"
With trembling arms, she reached for her dress, lying crumpled at the foot of the bed. She winced as she moved, her body sore and bruised.
Once she was dressed, she sat still on the edge of the bed, holding her arms to her chest.
Ishaan turned to her again, eyes full of anger, disbelief, and something deeper—something broken.
Ishaan Singhal
“What the hell did you do?" voice rising.
Zoya Rathore
Looked up at him, eyes full of confusion. “What are you saying? I didn’t—”
Ishaan Singhal
“Don’t lie to me!” he snapped. “I wake up like this, next to you, and you expect me to believe nothing happened?!”
Zoya Rathore
“You were burning,” she whispered. “You were shaking. I was scared you’d—”
Ishaan Singhal
“So you decided to sleep with me?!” he shouted. “That’s your solution?!"
Zoya Rathore
“You were losing it, you were drugged,” she said shakily. “You kept begging me not to leave. I didn’t know what else to do.”
Ishaan Singhal
“You drugged me,” he spat. “Didn’t you? You planned this—took advantage of me.”
Zoya Rathore
“I didn’t!” she cried. “You collapsed—I stayed because I was scared for you!”
Ishaan Singhal
“Why would you care for me? We both know that how much I hate you. You had a choice,” he said coldly. “You chose to use me.”
Zoya Rathore
Tears filled her eyes. “You think I wanted this? That this was some plan?!”
Ishaan Singhal
“Didn’t you?” he hissed. “You’ve always wanted me, haven’t you? Well—congrats. You got me.”
Zoya Rathore
Her voice cracked. “Don’t say that.”
He turned away—and that’s when he saw it. The bloodstain on the sheet.
Ishaan Singhal
His face froze. “…It was your first time?”
Zoya looked down, silent.
She opened her mouth to speak, but—
Ishaan Singhal
“Whatever,” he said quickly, brushing it off. “I don’t care.”
She swallowed hard, blinking back tears.
Ishaan Singhal
“Just don’t get pregnant, take pills.” he muttered. “I’m not taking responsibility for whatever you planned.”
Zoya stood, holding her dress tighter around her body.
Zoya Rathore
“You don’t have to worry,” she said quietly. “I wouldn’t want anything that ties me to you.”
Ishaan Singhal
"And get this in your fucking mind," he said, threatening "This stay between us. Don't even dare to tell this to anyone." voice raised "Understand?"
He muttered, reaching for the doorknob.
Zoya Rathore
“I hope you never remember what you did.
Because if you do… it’ll break whatever’s left of your heart.”
He didn’t turn around. He opened the door and slammed it shut.
And Zoya sank to the floor.
Alone. Shaking. Heart aching.
Zoya Rathore
Her voice echoed in the stillness, “I hate him.
I hate him more than I ever thought I could.”
She regret the choice she made. She regret to save him–her enemy over her dignity.
She lost something she can't get back no matter what.
3
It was morning. The sun was already up. Everything inside me felt ruined.
I moved quietly—head down, heart heavy.
I didn’t want anyone to know I hadn’t been home all night. I didn’t want questions. I had no answers.
I waited until the hallway was clear. No one in sight.
Then I rushed upstairs, praying no one would see me. My hands trembled as I unlocked the door to my room and shut it behind me.
I walked straight to the bathroom.
Turned on the shower.
And stepped in—fully clothed.
Cold water hit me like a slap.
But I didn’t flinch.
My clothes clung to my skin.
My arms wrapped around myself. Silent tears spilled down my cheeks, mixing with the water.
I felt ruined.
Not because of what had happened… but because of what he thought of her.
I saved him. But for this I had been humiliated, Blamed, Discarded by him only.
“You drugged me.”
“Don’t get pregnant.”
“I don’t care.”
I saved him. And he threw me away like dirt.
Why does it still hurt? Why can’t I just hate him?
We hate each other. We always have. So why—why did I stay?
Why did I walk into that nightmare just to save his life?
Zoya Rathore
"I should have had let him die?"
Now I don’t even know what’s right.
Should I cry? Should I scream?
Should I break something?
Or should I hate myself for choosing him?
I sank to the floor. Pulled my knees to my chest. Pressed my forehead down. I wanted to disappear.
Zoya Rathore
“You did the right thing, Zoya.
You saved a life… even if it cost you everything.” I whispered.
I was shaking with anger.
My hands were tight on the steering wheel. So tight, they hurt.
Her face kept flashing in front of me. Tears on her cheeks.
Her voice. Her eyes… broken.
Ishaan Singhal
“She’s lying,” I muttered. “She has to be.”
Ishaan Singhal
I ran a hand through my hair, cursing under breath. "fuck.."
Ishaan Singhal
"Why I can't remember anything?" slammed my fist on the steering wheel.
She must’ve used the moment. Waited until I was weak. Until I couldn’t say no.
I hated her. I always did. Now I hated her more.
But then…
Why did she look like she was the one falling apart?
Why do I feel like I did something wrong?
Ishaan Singhal
"Why would she do it… if she hates me as much as I hate her?"
Ishaan Singhal
“No. She planned this,” I whispered. “She wanted it to happen.”
Because if she didn’t…
If she was telling the truth—
Then I did something I can never take back.
Ishaan Singhal
"Aahhh.." I growled. "Stop messing with my mind, Zoya Rathore."
Ishaan Singhal
"I hate you!... I fucking hate you!" I growled "I know you're lying."
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