He believed in discipline. She believed in heart.

Vihaan Rajput is a man built on logic, rules, and control — India’s top criminal lawyer with a reputation as cold as the marble floors of his office. Emotions are distractions. Relationships are weaknesses. And the past? He keeps it locked away like a sealed file.

Then she walks in — again.

Anaya Sharma, once the quiet junior in his college batch, now returns as a confident intern stepping into the same firm where he reigns. She's soft-spoken but unshakable, with ideals that challenge his cynicism and a smile he’s trying hard not to remember.

Five years ago, they barely spoke.

Now, every glance feels louder than words.

Every case they work together chips away at the distance between them.

But with Vihaan haunted by secrets he refuses to share, and Anaya standing at the edge of everything she’s ever wanted — both professionally and emotionally — the line between mentor and something more begins to blur.

How do you stay heartless… when her heart refuses to leave yours alone?

[Present – Law Firm, Mumbai]

The click of heels echoed against the marble floor. Anaya Sharma adjusted her blazer, trying to calm her racing heart.

Anaya: (whispering to herself) It’s just another senior advocate… just another case… right?

A deep, clipped voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

Vihaan: “You’re late.”

She looked up, straight into those familiar dark eyes — eyes that hadn’t changed in five years.

Anaya: “Two minutes past nine. That’s hardly late.”

Vihaan: (cold) “In court, two minutes can cost you the case. Or your client.”

Her lips twitched into a smile, even though his tone was pure steel.

Anaya: “Still quoting the rulebook, Senior?”

Vihaan: (raising an eyebrow) “Always. That’s why I win.”

---

[Flashback – 5 years ago, College Law Library]

Anaya sat at the far end of the library, buried in constitutional law notes. A shadow fell over her desk.

Vihaan: “That’s the wrong section.”

Anaya: (startled) “Excuse me?”

Vihaan: “Article 21 is about the right to life, not equality. You’re mixing them.”

Anaya: (narrowing her eyes) “I wasn’t mixing them. I was… cross-referencing.”

Vihaan: (smirking) “Sure. Just don’t quote the wrong thing during moot court. Judges love tearing apart mistakes.”

He started to walk away. She hesitated, then called after him.

Anaya: “Senior Rajput?”

Vihaan: (turning slightly) “Yes?”

Anaya: “Thank you. I guess.”

He didn’t reply, just gave her the smallest nod and walked out. She didn’t know why her chest felt lighter after that.

---

[Back to Present – Conference Room]

Vihaan: “Sit. We’re discussing the Mehra case. You’re assisting me.”

Anaya: “Direct orders. No ‘please’ or ‘good morning’? You’ve gotten ruder.”

Vihaan: “You’ve gotten slower.”

She bit back a retort. He was still the same — precise, intimidating, unreadable.

Anaya: “What’s the case about?”

Vihaan: “Corporate fraud. High stakes. High pressure. You’ll shadow me, prepare the briefs, and speak only when necessary.”

Anaya: (smiling faintly) “Your rules.”

Vihaan: “Exactly.”

---

[Anaya’s POV]

She watched him explain the case, his voice calm, controlled. She remembered sitting in the last row of his courtroom skills workshop in college, stealing glances at the way he spoke — confident, unshakable.

He hadn’t changed, except… maybe there was something heavier in his gaze now. Like life had given him more battles than victories.

---

[Flashback – College Moot Court Competition]

Judge: “Defence, you have two minutes left.”

Anaya was fumbling with her notes when Vihaan, her team’s senior, leaned over.

Vihaan: (low voice) “Breathe. Look at them, not your paper. You’ll lose them otherwise.”

Anaya: “I can’t—”

Vihaan: “Yes, you can. Start with the evidence on page five.”

She did. And when the round ended, they’d won.

Anaya: “Thanks… for not letting me embarrass myself.”

Vihaan: “You were never going to embarrass yourself. You just didn’t know it yet.”

She had never forgotten that line.

---

[Present – Vihaan’s POV]

He watched her jot down notes. She still had that sharp focus, that fire in her eyes. He remembered the girl who stayed back after lectures, who worked twice as hard because she didn’t want anyone’s pity for being ‘too soft’ in law school.

Vihaan: (thinking) She’s still the same. Sunshine wrapped in discipline.

Vihaan: “Stop scribbling. Listen. In court, the most important skill is not writing, but watching.”

Anaya: “Yes, Senior.”

Vihaan: “And don’t call me Senior. We’re not in college.”

Anaya: “Then what should I call you? Sir? Mr. Rajput?”

Vihaan: (dryly) “Just Vihaan will do.”

Anaya: “Hmm. That feels… wrong.”

Vihaan: “Get used to it.”

As they left the conference room, she felt the weight of the past pressing against the present. He was still the man she had looked up to… but now, she wasn’t the same girl who hid her feelings in quiet glances.

Anaya: (softly, almost to herself) “This time… I’ll stand beside you. Not behind.”

Vihaan didn’t hear it — or maybe he did. But he didn’t look back.

[Present – District Court, Mumbai]

The hum of chatter filled the courtroom. Anaya smoothed the front of her black gown, clutching the thick file in her hands.

Anaya: (whispering) “First day on a case with him. Don’t mess it up, Anaya.”

She turned when Vihaan approached, expression sharp, voice low.

Vihaan: “Focus. The judge won’t care if it’s your first day.”

Anaya: “You think I don’t know that?”

Vihaan: “I know you do. But nervous people forget the obvious.”

Anaya: (smiling faintly) “Are you… encouraging me? That’s new.”

Vihaan: (deadpan) “Don’t get used to it.”

---

[Hearing Begins]

The judge, stern-eyed and impatient, took his seat.

Judge: “Counsel for the plaintiff, proceed.”

Vihaan leaned forward, his voice firm, slicing through the air.

Vihaan: “My lord, this is a clear case of deliberate misrepresentation by Mehra Industries, designed to defraud our client—”

Anaya followed his lead, passing him documents without being asked. But then—

Opposing Lawyer: “Objection! The learned counsel is speculating without evidence.”

Vihaan: “The evidence is right here, my lord. Page twelve, Exhibit C. Perhaps my colleague on the other side hasn’t read it.”

Gasps rippled through the gallery. Anaya bit her lip to hide a grin.

Judge: “Overruled. Continue.”

---

[Mid-Hearing Whisper]

Anaya: (softly, to Vihaan) “That was savage.”

Vihaan: (without looking at her) “This isn’t college, Ms. Sharma. It’s war.”

Anaya: “And here I thought law was about truth and justice.”

Vihaan: “Truth is a weapon. Justice is the win. Everything else is strategy.”

She wasn’t sure if she admired him or wanted to argue with him.

---

[Her Turn]

Vihaan: “You’ll handle the cross-examination of their junior witness.”

Anaya: (eyes widening) “What? You didn’t tell me that!”

Vihaan: “Do you need a written invitation?”

The opposing side called the young finance officer to the stand. Anaya stood, her heartbeat loud in her ears.

Anaya: “Mr. Bhatia, you’ve testified that the signatures on the disputed contract belong to our client, correct?”

Witness: “Yes.”

Anaya: “Would you kindly confirm… is this your signature on page eight of your own employment contract?”

Witness: (frowning) “Yes, it is.”

Anaya: “Interesting. Because the handwriting expert states both signatures match… and yet, you’ve claimed they don’t belong to the same person.”

The witness stammered. The opposing lawyer objected. The judge overruled. Vihaan’s eyes glinted like he’d just watched a student ace an impossible test.

---

[Break – Outside the Courtroom]

Anaya: “You didn’t warn me you’d throw me in like that.”

Vihaan: “If I had, you’d have over-prepared and lost your edge.”

Anaya: “So you tricked me.”

Vihaan: “I tested you. And you passed.”

She tried not to smile, but failed.

Anaya: “Still the same manipulative Senior Rajput.”

Vihaan: “Still the same stubborn Ms. Sharma.”

---

[Vihaan’s POV]

She was better than he remembered — sharper, quicker, unafraid to challenge a witness. And she looked him straight in the eye when she spoke. Most juniors didn’t dare.

Vihaan: (thinking) She’s not just here to learn. She’s here to prove something.

As they walked back into the courtroom, Anaya caught her reflection in the glass doors. For the first time in years, she wasn’t the girl following his lead — she was walking beside him.

Anaya: (whispering to herself) “Let’s see how you handle me now, Vihaan.”