Mohabbat ke Safed Raaste ~ A Mayra Five-Shot [Completed]

Inspired by the timeless Bollywood tale "Raja Hindustani", this story unfolds in the snowy embrace of Manali, a free-spirited taxi driver and a wealthy heir cross paths. Their playful banter soon turns into a whirlwind of love, but destiny has harsher plans. When family power and manipulation intervene, the white roads of passion lead to trials of the heart.

Chapter 1 (The Journey That Began)

Arrival in the Mountains

The winding road to Manali curled like a silver ribbon through snow-dusted pine trees. The town lay cradled in the valley, its rooftops sprinkled with white, smoke rising from chimneys into the cold, sharp air. Rudra Roy pulled his jacket tighter as he stepped out of the luxury car his family driver had left him in. He wanted to arrive alone. This place wasn’t just another destination on his map—it was his late mother’s hometown, the one place his father never spoke about, the one memory that had slipped through the cracks of his gilded childhood.

The chill stung his cheeks, but the sight of the narrow markets, lit with strings of fairy lights and crowded with stalls selling steaming momos, shawls, and woolen caps, warmed something in him. He wanted to walk, to breathe without the shadow of his father’s empire following him.

At the same time, Maya Jaisingh slammed the hood of her jeep shut, muttering under her breath as flakes of snow melted on her dark hair. She was a taxi driver by profession, but to her, the jeep was more than a vehicle—it was her survival, her freedom, her armor against a world that had given her nothing but wounds. In Manali’s maze of misty cafés and tourist chatter, Maya stood apart: sharp, distant, untouchable.

“Taxi! Taxi!” she called out, though her voice was half-hearted. Most days, the tourists avoided her stern face, choosing the men with easy smiles instead. Maya preferred it that way—fewer people meant fewer chances to be hurt.

And then he appeared.

Rudra, with his city-bred polish and an uncertainty that betrayed how out of place he was. He looked at the taxis lined along the road, then at her. Something in his gaze lingered, curious, almost drawn.

The First Ride

“You drive?” he asked, his breath fogging in the frosty air.

Maya arched a brow. “No, I just sit here for the weather. Of course, I drive. Where to?”

“Anywhere away from noise,” Rudra said honestly. “Somewhere I can see Manali… like my mother must have.”

The simplicity of his request caught Maya off guard. Most tourists demanded ‘Instagram spots’ or endless shopping detours. He wanted something different.

“Fine,” she muttered, jerking her head toward the jeep. “But my taxi doesn’t run on fairy tales. It’ll cost you double if you want silence and a view.”

Rudra grinned, slipping into the back seat. “Deal.”

The jeep rattled along steep mountain drives, cutting through fog that curled like ghosts around the road. Rudra leaned out slightly, letting the snow prick his face, while Maya kept her eyes ahead, hands firm on the wheel.

“You grew up here?” Rudra asked.

Maya didn’t look at him. “Born and raised. Why? Looking for a tour guide? That’ll cost triple.”

He chuckled softly. “No. Just… it feels like you belong to this place. The way you drive, like the road listens to you.”

For a second, Maya’s lips twitched, but she quickly masked it. Compliments had never brought her anything but pain.

Hadimba Temple

They reached Hadimba Temple, where the pines loomed tall and the world seemed to hold its breath. Rudra stepped out, staring at the ancient wooden structure dusted with snow. His chest tightened—he remembered his mother’s stories of this place, how she had once prayed here as a girl.

Maya leaned against the jeep, arms folded, watching him. She didn’t like getting attached to passengers, but something about the way his eyes softened at the temple made her curious. He wasn’t just another rich brat chasing adventure. There was longing in him, and loneliness.

“You’re different,” Rudra said suddenly, turning back to her.

“Don’t romanticize a taxi driver, Mr. Rich Boy,” Maya replied coolly. “We’re not your travel brochure.”

But when he smiled at her, something inside her stirred, something she had long locked away.

MJ Roy’s Shadow

Far away, in Mumbai, MJ Roy sat in his sprawling study, sipping whiskey as the snow report flickered on the news. He smirked when the screen mentioned heavy snowfall in Manali. His son had gone there against his will—against his carefully laid plans.

“Running back to your mother’s shadow, Rudra?” MJ murmured, his voice dripping with disdain. “Let’s see how long that lasts once I remind you where you belong.”

For MJ, control was everything. Rudra wasn’t just his son; he was his heir, his pawn. And if some stubborn mountain girl thought she could claim a place in his life, MJ was ready to crush her.

Café Moments

As the night fell and the markets glittered with fairy lights, Rudra asked Maya to stop at a tiny café tucked in a side lane. They sat across from each other, steam rising from mugs of hot chocolate. Outside, the snow fell heavier, cocooning the world in white silence.

“You’re not as icy as you pretend to be,” Rudra teased, watching her sip cautiously.

Maya raised an eyebrow. “And you’re not as spoiled as you look. But don’t push your luck.”

Their eyes held for a moment—his, warm and searching; hers, guarded but flickering with something she couldn’t name. The storm outside paled compared to the one rising quietly between them. Something had begun. And though neither of them knew it yet, MJ’s shadow loomed over their fragile spark of love, ready to turn warmth into fire.

The café’s old wooden windows rattled against the mountain wind. Inside, fairy lights strung across the ceiling cast a warm glow on the mismatched tables. Rudra stirred his hot chocolate lazily, eyes never leaving Maya, who sat opposite him with arms folded like she was regretting agreeing to sit.

“You’re staring,” she said flatly.

Rudra smiled. “Just making sure you don’t disappear. You seem like the kind of person who’d vanish mid-conversation and leave me with the bill.”

Maya’s lips curved in the faintest smirk. “At least you’re self-aware. That means you’d deserve it.”

From the small radio behind the counter floated the delicate melody of “Chaha Tujhe Dil Ne Mere…” The words wove into the cozy warmth of the café, soft and insistent.

Rudra stirred his drink lazily, humming along under his breath. Maya caught it.

“You’re humming?” she asked, arching a brow.

“I’m… appreciating the atmosphere,” he said smoothly, though the corner of his mouth betrayed a grin. “And maybe the company.”

Maya snorted. “Bold. You’re really going to risk a compliment while humming a love song in a café?”

He shrugged. “Risk seems more fun when you’re not the one driving the jeep.”

Her lips curved in a faint smirk. The song’s refrain lingered between them—the beginnings of something unspoken, unclaimed, and yet undeniable.

Names and First Connections

Rudra leaned forward, lowering his voice. “So, tell me, Taxi Queen of Manali… do you talk to all your passengers like this, or am I special?”

Her eyes flicked up to meet his. “Special? You’re not even on the list. Usually, I drive, they pay, and I forget their faces. But you… you’re harder to forget. Mostly because you talk too much.”

Rudra chuckled, taking the hit with ease. “Ah, so you do think about me when I’m not around.”

Maya gave him a sharp look. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re just a noise I can’t switch off.”

He grinned, resting his chin on his hand. “Better a noise than silence, right? At least I make you answer.”

Her guard slipped for a second, enough for him to catch a flicker of amusement in her eyes. She quickly masked it, sipping her drink as though it could drown the warmth creeping into her chest.

When they finished, Rudra tapped the table. “You know, you’ve insulted me six times now. The least you can do is tell me your name so I know who to blame in my diary.”

Maya raised an eyebrow. “A diary? How poetic. Fine. Maya Jaisingh.”

He repeated it under his breath. “Maya. Sharp. Dangerous. Suits you.”

She smirked. “And you?”

“Rudra Roy,” he said, extending his hand. “Not spoiled. Just selectively pampered.”

Maya looked at his hand but didn’t take it. “Roy, huh? Figures. You’ve got that ‘I-own-the-road’ smile. But in this jeep, remember—I’m the one driving.”

Rudra grinned. “And I’m happy to let you.”

The Jeep Ride Continues

When they stepped back into the snow, Rudra offered his hand instinctively as Maya adjusted her shawl.

“I don’t need help walking,” she said, brushing past him.

“I know,” he replied easily, shoving his hands into his pockets. “But sometimes it’s nice to let someone try.”

Maya stopped for half a second, caught off-guard, before climbing into the jeep. Rudra followed, that boyish grin plastered across his face.

The jeep bumped down the slope, headlights slicing through the mist. Silence stretched between them until Rudra leaned forward again.

“Can I ask you something?”

“No.”

“I’ll ask anyway.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

He smiled. “Why do you drive a taxi? You could be doing… I don’t know, a hundred other things.”

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Because this car doesn’t ask me who I am. It doesn’t judge me. I drive, it listens. That’s more than I can say for most people.”

Rudra’s smile faded into something gentler. “I’m not judging you. I just… want to know you.”

Maya’s breath hitched for a moment, but she quickly scoffed. “Big words from a tourist. You’ll be gone in a week, Mr. Roy. And I’ll still be here, driving strangers who mistake me for a tour guide.”

“Maybe,” Rudra said softly, “or maybe I’ll come back again. For the driver who doesn’t smile at anyone but still manages to look like she belongs to the whole mountain.”

Maya’s hands stilled on the wheel for a fraction of a second before she forced out a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, leaning back with a grin. “But I made you laugh.”

This time, Maya didn’t deny it. Her lips curved, just barely, and Rudra caught the victory in the rear-view mirror.

The jeep continued down the winding slopes, headlights cutting through the thickening fog. Snowflakes clung to the edges of the windshield, blurring the road ahead, but inside, a fragile warmth had settled between them.

Rudra stole another glance at Maya. She kept her eyes on the road, jaw tight, lips pressed together—but the faint curve at the corner of her mouth betrayed her amusement. He had no idea how quickly this encounter would root itself in his life, or how sharply it would challenge everything he thought he knew about freedom, love, and control.

MJ Roy’s Warning

Far away, MJ Roy sat in his study, swirling whiskey in his glass. The snow report in Manali flickered on the screen again. His son had gone to a place MJ considered irrelevant—disobedient, sentimental, dangerous. MJ’s mind worked like a chessboard, every possible move calculated, every outcome considered.

“Enjoy your fleeting freedom, Rudra,” MJ murmured, his voice cold and clipped. “The mountains won’t protect you forever. You think you can escape the Roys’ world… but every choice you make will have consequences you don’t yet see.”

Back in the jeep, Maya shifted slightly, breaking the silence. “You’re quiet,” she said, finally glancing at him.

“Thinking,” Rudra replied, with a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “About how strange it is… that meeting a stranger can feel like remembering something you never knew you lost.”

Maya said nothing, but her fingers tightened on the wheel, gripping a little too firmly. She didn’t know what lay ahead—what storms were coming—but something about the boy in her jeep made her want to drive faster, farther, and maybe… just maybe, hold on for the ride.

Snowflakes fell heavier, blanketing the town in white. And as the jeep disappeared around a bend, the first shadows of the trials to come—family, power, secrets—lurched into motion. The warmth they’d discovered in the café was fragile, a candle flickering against the wind. And the wind, like destiny, was only beginning to rise.

-----

To be continued.

Maya is the taxi driver. I like that. Why has she been hurt in the past and by whom? Those walls are there for a reason.

They already have a connection between them. There is nothing sweet about it, but its a challenge given and accepted.

The father will be a force to reckon with. He is waiting and watching.

Chapter 2 (The Fire Beneath the Snow)

The Long Road Back

The jeep hummed softly as it wound back through Manali’s narrow, snow-slicked lanes. Strings of yellow bulbs glimmered over shopfronts, casting warm halos on piles of colorful shawls and woollen caps. The crisp night air carried the scent of roasted corn and steaming chai, mingling with the faint smoke of nearby chimneys.

Rudra leaned against the window, watching Maya maneuver through the chaos with effortless ease. His gaze lingered—on the way her fingers curled around the wheel, how her dark hair clung to her cheeks, the sharp concentration etched into her brows.

“You’re taking the long way,” he teased lightly. “Is this a detour to teach me patience?”

Maya didn’t look at him. “Long enough for you to appreciate how much control I have over this jeep. And your amusement? Entirely optional.”

Rudra chuckled, letting the jeep bump over a frozen patch of road. “Optional, yes. But impossible to resist.”

Market Lights

The flame still danced in Maya’s mind long after the jeep rolled into the heart of Manali’s market. She rubbed her fingers together, remembering the trace of wax that had dripped onto her hand—fragile proof of that fleeting warmth. Rudra, of course, hadn’t stopped teasing her.

“Careful,” he said, grinning as he leaned closer. “Get too attached to that candle, and you’ll start believing I’m the one keeping you warm.”

Maya scoffed, eyes fixed on the snow-glazed rooftops where lanterns swung gently in the wind. “You’re giving yourself too much credit, Mr. Roy. The candle had more charm than you.”

His laughter spilled out, easy and reckless, drawing curious glances from bundled-up tourists as the jeep slowed to a crawl.

“Stop here,” Rudra said suddenly.

Maya shot him a wary glance. “Why? Planning to buy me a woollen cap so I look like every other tourist?”

He grinned. “Exactly. You’d look great in pink pom-poms.”

Caps, Chai, and Laughter

She narrowed her eyes. “Try it, and I’ll drive you straight off a cliff.”

But Rudra had already hopped out, slipping into the bustle of the market before she could stop him. With an exasperated sigh, Maya followed, her boots crunching on the snow.

They wove past stalls of handwoven scarves and wooden trinkets until Rudra stopped at a counter stacked high with caps. He picked up a bright red one, holding it out toward her.

“Perfect,” he declared. “Red suits your temper.”

Maya snatched it from him, glaring. “Keep your fashion advice to yourself, Mr. Roy.”

“You mean you’ll actually wear it?” he teased.

She shoved it back onto the rack. “No. I mean don’t test me. This market has too many sharp objects lying around.”

Rudra laughed, loud enough to earn stares from passing tourists. He didn’t care. “You know, you’re the only person who threatens me every other sentence. And somehow, I still want to annoy you more.”

Maya rolled her eyes and strode away. “Then you’re stupider than I thought.”

He caught up easily, brushing snow from his jacket. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ve finally met someone who doesn’t see me as MJ Roy’s son. Just… me.”

Her sharp retort faltered. That sudden sincerity—it was disarming, and she hated how it stirred something inside her.

They stopped at a tea stall, steam fogging the air around the brass kettle. Before Maya could object, Rudra paid for two clay cups and handed her one with a cheeky smile.

“Don’t tell me you’re too tough to drink tea,” he teased.

Maya raised an eyebrow. “Only if you think you can handle it. This chai burns.”

She took a long sip without flinching, eyes fixed on him. Rudra mirrored her—and immediately hissed when the scalding liquid hit his tongue.

Maya burst into laughter, rich and unguarded, surprising even herself.

“There it is,” Rudra said, recovering with a grin. “The laugh you hide like treasure. Worth every blister.”

She shook her head quickly, embarrassed by her slip. “You’re impossible.”

“And you,” Rudra replied softly, “are unforgettable.”

For a moment, the market’s chaos faded. Snow drifted around them, children ran past with paper lanterns, and yet it felt as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of them.

Later, as the jeep rattled out of the market and into quieter roads, Maya found herself glancing at Rudra in the mirror more than once. His grin hadn’t faded, and neither had the strange flutter in her chest. She told herself it was nothing. Just another passenger. Just another night. But deep down, she knew she was lying.

Mumbai Shadows

Far away in Mumbai, MJ Roy swirled his glass of whiskey, his eyes hard as the private investigator’s voice crackled through the line.

“Your son’s in Manali, sir. With a girl. Name’s Maya Jaisingh. Taxi driver.”

MJ repeated the name slowly, as though savoring it. “Maya Jaisingh. Keep a man on them. Every move, every word. I want to know exactly who she is to him.”

“Yes, sir.”

MJ leaned back, a calculating smile tugging at his lips. “Let Rudra enjoy the mountains. Let him think he’s free. Let him fancy this girl. But when the time comes, I’ll tear it all away—from him, and from her.”

The Frozen Lake

Back in Manali, the jeep rolled higher into misty bends. Rudra pointed out toward the valley, where snow spread like a white ocean under the moonlight.

“See that? It’s so quiet you can almost hear the world breathe.”

Maya followed his gaze, her voice dropping softer than she intended. “It’s beautiful. But beautiful things don’t last.”

Rudra looked at her, the snowfall reflecting in his eyes. “Sometimes the moment itself is enough. Even if it’s fleeting.”

For the first time, her walls faltered. Something vulnerable stirred behind her guarded stare.

And then, low and hushed, Rudra hummed the refrain that had been stuck in his head since the café—“Chaha Tujhe Dil Ne Mere…”

Maya caught it, lips twitching in spite of herself. “You really like that song, don’t you?”

He shrugged, playful but earnest. “Maybe. Because it’s about wanting something you can’t have yet.”

She looked away, gripping the wheel tighter. “Or maybe it’s about chasing illusions.”

“Maybe,” he said softly. “But sometimes illusions turn into reality.”

The snow fell heavier, cloaking the road in white. Their words grew fewer, but the silence between them was no longer empty. Somewhere in the rhythm of laughter, glances, and a song half-hummed, something had begun.

Far away in Mumbai, MJ Roy’s voice echoed coldly down the marble hall as he ended the call, watching the flame of a single candle flicker on his desk. He leaned back with a predator’s patience.

“Rudra thinks he’s found freedom in Manali. But what he doesn’t know,” he murmured, his smile sharp as glass, “is that freedom always comes at a price. And I decide how much he pays.”

The candle dimmed as if on cue, leaving MJ’s face in shadow.

And in the mountains, as the snowfall thickened into a storm, Maya’s chest ached with an unease she couldn’t name. Two storms had begun to gather—one in her guarded heart, and one in MJ Roy’s ruthless plans.

The road narrowed as the last of the market lights faded behind them. Pines pressed close on either side, their branches sagging under the weight of fresh snow. A pale moon hung low, silvering the mountains.

“Still not telling me where we’re going?” Rudra asked, peering out at the winding turns.

Maya’s eyes stayed on the road. “You’re the passenger. Sit back and let me drive.”

He grinned, leaning closer to the window. “Fine. But if this road leads where I think it does… there’s a frozen lake ahead, isn’t there? My mother brought me there once.”

Maya’s hands tightened on the wheel. She hadn’t expected him to know. “Maybe. Depends if the lake’s frozen this year.”

Minutes later, the jeep rolled to a stop at a small clearing. Beyond it, the world opened into a stretch of glassy ice—an almost frozen lake, its surface reflecting the scattered stars. The mountains loomed dark around it, peaks glowing faintly in the moonlight.

Rudra stepped out first, boots sinking into snow. His breath misted as he smiled. “I knew it. She used to call this place the still heart of Manali.”

Maya followed, hugging her shawl tighter. The cold bit sharper here, the kind that stung lungs with every breath. She hated how easily his words unsettled her defenses.

“You talk about her a lot,” she said quietly.

Rudra nodded. “She’s the only one who ever saw me as more than MJ Roy’s heir. Just me.” His gaze lingered on her, softer now. “Kind of like how you look at me.”

Maya’s chest tightened, but she kept her face unreadable. “You imagine too much.”

“Maybe,” he said, his smile fading into something more honest. “Or maybe I just recognize it.”

The silence stretched, fragile as the lake beneath them. A breeze drifted across the ice, scattering flakes into her hair. Rudra reached up instinctively, brushing one from her cheek. She stiffened but didn’t step away.

For a moment, the world was only the frozen lake, the cold air, and something unnamed between them.

Then Maya moved back, slipping behind her walls again. “We should go. Roads will ice over if we wait too long.”

Rudra let his hand fall, nodding though disappointment flickered across his face. “Yeah. You’re right.”

As the jeep started again, Maya kept her eyes on the road, refusing to glance at him in the mirror. Not now. Not when her pulse was still racing.

Nightfall

They drove back in near silence, the jeep’s headlights cutting through falling sheets of snow. The frozen lake disappeared behind them, but the weight of the moment lingered like the frost on the windshield.

Rudra leaned back, hands resting loosely on his knees, stealing one last glance at Maya as she focused on the winding road. He wanted to say something—anything—but the words tangled in his throat.

By the time they reached the lodge, the clock above the reception desk was inching toward midnight. Most of the lights were out, save for the dim glow of a lantern at the porch. Rudra stepped out slowly, reluctant to break the fragile spell the evening had woven.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice softer than before. “For the drive. For… all of it.”

Maya’s eyes flicked to him, unreadable in the dark. “Don’t thank me yet. Tomorrow, you’ll probably call me bossy again.”

He smiled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “And you’ll threaten to throw me off another cliff. Balance restored.”

For the first time, she didn’t deny it—only shook her head with the faintest hint of a smile. Then, without another word, she shifted the jeep into gear and drove off, taillights glowing red against the snow before vanishing into the night.

Rudra lingered a moment on the porch steps, watching his breath curl into the cold air. The stillness of the mountains pressed around him, serene, almost protective. He turned toward the lodge doors.

He didn’t notice the shadow across the road.

A man stood half-hidden behind a cluster of pine trees, breath clouding the air as he raised a phone to his ear. His eyes never left Rudra.

“Sir,” he whispered. “The boy just returned. The girl dropped him off. I’ll keep watch.”

The line crackled with silence before MJ Roy’s voice bled through, low and sharp:
“Good. Don’t lose them. Not for a second.”

The man pocketed his phone, blending back into the darkness as Rudra disappeared inside.

The storm outside grew heavier, but the one waiting in Mumbai was already on its way.

-----

To be continued.

The father knows all. Every move is under watch. He knows her name too. He can be quite dangerous.

The father is all about control. He would not care for love and affection. His wife meant nothing to him. What was dear to her means nothing. The son means nothing too. Only his plans matter.

Originally posted by: Aleyamma47

Chapter 1 (The Journey That Began)

Arrival in the Mountains

The winding road to Manali curled like a silver ribbon through snow-dusted pine trees. The town lay cradled in the valley, its rooftops sprinkled with white, smoke rising from chimneys into the cold, sharp air. Rudra Roy pulled his jacket tighter as he stepped out of the luxury car his family driver had left him in. He wanted to arrive alone. This place wasn’t just another destination on his map—it was his late mother’s hometown, the one place his father never spoke about, the one memory that had slipped through the cracks of his gilded childhood.

The chill stung his cheeks, but the sight of the narrow markets, lit with strings of fairy lights and crowded with stalls selling steaming momos, shawls, and woolen caps, warmed something in him. He wanted to walk, to breathe without the shadow of his father’s empire following him.

At the same time, Maya Jaisingh slammed the hood of her jeep shut, muttering under her breath as flakes of snow melted on her dark hair. She was a taxi driver by profession, but to her, the jeep was more than a vehicle—it was her survival, her freedom, her armor against a world that had given her nothing but wounds. In Manali’s maze of misty cafés and tourist chatter, Maya stood apart: sharp, distant, untouchable.

“Taxi! Taxi!” she called out, though her voice was half-hearted. Most days, the tourists avoided her stern face, choosing the men with easy smiles instead. Maya preferred it that way—fewer people meant fewer chances to be hurt.

And then he appeared.

Rudra, with his city-bred polish and an uncertainty that betrayed how out of place he was. He looked at the taxis lined along the road, then at her. Something in his gaze lingered, curious, almost drawn.

The First Ride

“You drive?” he asked, his breath fogging in the frosty air.

Maya arched a brow. “No, I just sit here for the weather. Of course, I drive. Where to?”

“Anywhere away from noise,” Rudra said honestly. “Somewhere I can see Manali… like my mother must have.”

The simplicity of his request caught Maya off guard. Most tourists demanded ‘Instagram spots’ or endless shopping detours. He wanted something different.

“Fine,” she muttered, jerking her head toward the jeep. “But my taxi doesn’t run on fairy tales. It’ll cost you double if you want silence and a view.”

Rudra grinned, slipping into the back seat. “Deal.”

The jeep rattled along steep mountain drives, cutting through fog that curled like ghosts around the road. Rudra leaned out slightly, letting the snow prick his face, while Maya kept her eyes ahead, hands firm on the wheel.

“You grew up here?” Rudra asked.

Maya didn’t look at him. “Born and raised. Why? Looking for a tour guide? That’ll cost triple.”

He chuckled softly. “No. Just… it feels like you belong to this place. The way you drive, like the road listens to you.”

For a second, Maya’s lips twitched, but she quickly masked it. Compliments had never brought her anything but pain.

Hadimba Temple

They reached Hadimba Temple, where the pines loomed tall and the world seemed to hold its breath. Rudra stepped out, staring at the ancient wooden structure dusted with snow. His chest tightened—he remembered his mother’s stories of this place, how she had once prayed here as a girl.

Maya leaned against the jeep, arms folded, watching him. She didn’t like getting attached to passengers, but something about the way his eyes softened at the temple made her curious. He wasn’t just another rich brat chasing adventure. There was longing in him, and loneliness.

“You’re different,” Rudra said suddenly, turning back to her.

“Don’t romanticize a taxi driver, Mr. Rich Boy,” Maya replied coolly. “We’re not your travel brochure.”

But when he smiled at her, something inside her stirred, something she had long locked away.

MJ Roy’s Shadow

Far away, in Mumbai, MJ Roy sat in his sprawling study, sipping whiskey as the snow report flickered on the news. He smirked when the screen mentioned heavy snowfall in Manali. His son had gone there against his will—against his carefully laid plans.

“Running back to your mother’s shadow, Rudra?” MJ murmured, his voice dripping with disdain. “Let’s see how long that lasts once I remind you where you belong.”

For MJ, control was everything. Rudra wasn’t just his son; he was his heir, his pawn. And if some stubborn mountain girl thought she could claim a place in his life, MJ was ready to crush her.

Café Moments

As the night fell and the markets glittered with fairy lights, Rudra asked Maya to stop at a tiny café tucked in a side lane. They sat across from each other, steam rising from mugs of hot chocolate. Outside, the snow fell heavier, cocooning the world in white silence.

“You’re not as icy as you pretend to be,” Rudra teased, watching her sip cautiously.

Maya raised an eyebrow. “And you’re not as spoiled as you look. But don’t push your luck.”

Their eyes held for a moment—his, warm and searching; hers, guarded but flickering with something she couldn’t name. The storm outside paled compared to the one rising quietly between them. Something had begun. And though neither of them knew it yet, MJ’s shadow loomed over their fragile spark of love, ready to turn warmth into fire.

The café’s old wooden windows rattled against the mountain wind. Inside, fairy lights strung across the ceiling cast a warm glow on the mismatched tables. Rudra stirred his hot chocolate lazily, eyes never leaving Maya, who sat opposite him with arms folded like she was regretting agreeing to sit.

“You’re staring,” she said flatly.

Rudra smiled. “Just making sure you don’t disappear. You seem like the kind of person who’d vanish mid-conversation and leave me with the bill.”

Maya’s lips curved in the faintest smirk. “At least you’re self-aware. That means you’d deserve it.”

From the small radio behind the counter floated the delicate melody of “Chaha Tujhe Dil Ne Mere…” The words wove into the cozy warmth of the café, soft and insistent.

Rudra stirred his drink lazily, humming along under his breath. Maya caught it.

“You’re humming?” she asked, arching a brow.

“I’m… appreciating the atmosphere,” he said smoothly, though the corner of his mouth betrayed a grin. “And maybe the company.”

Maya snorted. “Bold. You’re really going to risk a compliment while humming a love song in a café?”

He shrugged. “Risk seems more fun when you’re not the one driving the jeep.”

Her lips curved in a faint smirk. The song’s refrain lingered between them—the beginnings of something unspoken, unclaimed, and yet undeniable.

Names and First Connections

Rudra leaned forward, lowering his voice. “So, tell me, Taxi Queen of Manali… do you talk to all your passengers like this, or am I special?”

Her eyes flicked up to meet his. “Special? You’re not even on the list. Usually, I drive, they pay, and I forget their faces. But you… you’re harder to forget. Mostly because you talk too much.”

Rudra chuckled, taking the hit with ease. “Ah, so you do think about me when I’m not around.”

Maya gave him a sharp look. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re just a noise I can’t switch off.”

He grinned, resting his chin on his hand. “Better a noise than silence, right? At least I make you answer.”

Her guard slipped for a second, enough for him to catch a flicker of amusement in her eyes. She quickly masked it, sipping her drink as though it could drown the warmth creeping into her chest.

When they finished, Rudra tapped the table. “You know, you’ve insulted me six times now. The least you can do is tell me your name so I know who to blame in my diary.”

Maya raised an eyebrow. “A diary? How poetic. Fine. Maya Jaisingh.”

He repeated it under his breath. “Maya. Sharp. Dangerous. Suits you.”

She smirked. “And you?”

“Rudra Roy,” he said, extending his hand. “Not spoiled. Just selectively pampered.”

Maya looked at his hand but didn’t take it. “Roy, huh? Figures. You’ve got that ‘I-own-the-road’ smile. But in this jeep, remember—I’m the one driving.”

Rudra grinned. “And I’m happy to let you.”

The Jeep Ride Continues

When they stepped back into the snow, Rudra offered his hand instinctively as Maya adjusted her shawl.

“I don’t need help walking,” she said, brushing past him.

“I know,” he replied easily, shoving his hands into his pockets. “But sometimes it’s nice to let someone try.”

Maya stopped for half a second, caught off-guard, before climbing into the jeep. Rudra followed, that boyish grin plastered across his face.

The jeep bumped down the slope, headlights slicing through the mist. Silence stretched between them until Rudra leaned forward again.

“Can I ask you something?”

“No.”

“I’ll ask anyway.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

He smiled. “Why do you drive a taxi? You could be doing… I don’t know, a hundred other things.”

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Because this car doesn’t ask me who I am. It doesn’t judge me. I drive, it listens. That’s more than I can say for most people.”

Rudra’s smile faded into something gentler. “I’m not judging you. I just… want to know you.”

Maya’s breath hitched for a moment, but she quickly scoffed. “Big words from a tourist. You’ll be gone in a week, Mr. Roy. And I’ll still be here, driving strangers who mistake me for a tour guide.”

“Maybe,” Rudra said softly, “or maybe I’ll come back again. For the driver who doesn’t smile at anyone but still manages to look like she belongs to the whole mountain.”

Maya’s hands stilled on the wheel for a fraction of a second before she forced out a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, leaning back with a grin. “But I made you laugh.”

This time, Maya didn’t deny it. Her lips curved, just barely, and Rudra caught the victory in the rear-view mirror.

The jeep continued down the winding slopes, headlights cutting through the thickening fog. Snowflakes clung to the edges of the windshield, blurring the road ahead, but inside, a fragile warmth had settled between them.

Rudra stole another glance at Maya. She kept her eyes on the road, jaw tight, lips pressed together—but the faint curve at the corner of her mouth betrayed her amusement. He had no idea how quickly this encounter would root itself in his life, or how sharply it would challenge everything he thought he knew about freedom, love, and control.

MJ Roy’s Warning

Far away, MJ Roy sat in his study, swirling whiskey in his glass. The snow report in Manali flickered on the screen again. His son had gone to a place MJ considered irrelevant—disobedient, sentimental, dangerous. MJ’s mind worked like a chessboard, every possible move calculated, every outcome considered.

“Enjoy your fleeting freedom, Rudra,” MJ murmured, his voice cold and clipped. “The mountains won’t protect you forever. You think you can escape the Roys’ world… but every choice you make will have consequences you don’t yet see.”

Back in the jeep, Maya shifted slightly, breaking the silence. “You’re quiet,” she said, finally glancing at him.

“Thinking,” Rudra replied, with a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “About how strange it is… that meeting a stranger can feel like remembering something you never knew you lost.”

Maya said nothing, but her fingers tightened on the wheel, gripping a little too firmly. She didn’t know what lay ahead—what storms were coming—but something about the boy in her jeep made her want to drive faster, farther, and maybe… just maybe, hold on for the ride.

Snowflakes fell heavier, blanketing the town in white. And as the jeep disappeared around a bend, the first shadows of the trials to come—family, power, secrets—lurched into motion. The warmth they’d discovered in the café was fragile, a candle flickering against the wind. And the wind, like destiny, was only beginning to rise.

-----

To be continued.

This is a brilliant premise.And I love Maya,the no nonsense taxi driver.

Originally posted by: Aleyamma47

Chapter 2 (The Fire Beneath the Snow)

The Long Road Back

The jeep hummed softly as it wound back through Manali’s narrow, snow-slicked lanes. Strings of yellow bulbs glimmered over shopfronts, casting warm halos on piles of colorful shawls and woollen caps. The crisp night air carried the scent of roasted corn and steaming chai, mingling with the faint smoke of nearby chimneys.

Rudra leaned against the window, watching Maya maneuver through the chaos with effortless ease. His gaze lingered—on the way her fingers curled around the wheel, how her dark hair clung to her cheeks, the sharp concentration etched into her brows.

“You’re taking the long way,” he teased lightly. “Is this a detour to teach me patience?”

Maya didn’t look at him. “Long enough for you to appreciate how much control I have over this jeep. And your amusement? Entirely optional.”

Rudra chuckled, letting the jeep bump over a frozen patch of road. “Optional, yes. But impossible to resist.”

Market Lights

The flame still danced in Maya’s mind long after the jeep rolled into the heart of Manali’s market. She rubbed her fingers together, remembering the trace of wax that had dripped onto her hand—fragile proof of that fleeting warmth. Rudra, of course, hadn’t stopped teasing her.

“Careful,” he said, grinning as he leaned closer. “Get too attached to that candle, and you’ll start believing I’m the one keeping you warm.”

Maya scoffed, eyes fixed on the snow-glazed rooftops where lanterns swung gently in the wind. “You’re giving yourself too much credit, Mr. Roy. The candle had more charm than you.”

His laughter spilled out, easy and reckless, drawing curious glances from bundled-up tourists as the jeep slowed to a crawl.

“Stop here,” Rudra said suddenly.

Maya shot him a wary glance. “Why? Planning to buy me a woollen cap so I look like every other tourist?”

He grinned. “Exactly. You’d look great in pink pom-poms.”

Caps, Chai, and Laughter

She narrowed her eyes. “Try it, and I’ll drive you straight off a cliff.”

But Rudra had already hopped out, slipping into the bustle of the market before she could stop him. With an exasperated sigh, Maya followed, her boots crunching on the snow.

They wove past stalls of handwoven scarves and wooden trinkets until Rudra stopped at a counter stacked high with caps. He picked up a bright red one, holding it out toward her.

“Perfect,” he declared. “Red suits your temper.”

Maya snatched it from him, glaring. “Keep your fashion advice to yourself, Mr. Roy.”

“You mean you’ll actually wear it?” he teased.

She shoved it back onto the rack. “No. I mean don’t test me. This market has too many sharp objects lying around.”

Rudra laughed, loud enough to earn stares from passing tourists. He didn’t care. “You know, you’re the only person who threatens me every other sentence. And somehow, I still want to annoy you more.”

Maya rolled her eyes and strode away. “Then you’re stupider than I thought.”

He caught up easily, brushing snow from his jacket. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ve finally met someone who doesn’t see me as MJ Roy’s son. Just… me.”

Her sharp retort faltered. That sudden sincerity—it was disarming, and she hated how it stirred something inside her.

They stopped at a tea stall, steam fogging the air around the brass kettle. Before Maya could object, Rudra paid for two clay cups and handed her one with a cheeky smile.

“Don’t tell me you’re too tough to drink tea,” he teased.

Maya raised an eyebrow. “Only if you think you can handle it. This chai burns.”

She took a long sip without flinching, eyes fixed on him. Rudra mirrored her—and immediately hissed when the scalding liquid hit his tongue.

Maya burst into laughter, rich and unguarded, surprising even herself.

“There it is,” Rudra said, recovering with a grin. “The laugh you hide like treasure. Worth every blister.”

She shook her head quickly, embarrassed by her slip. “You’re impossible.”

“And you,” Rudra replied softly, “are unforgettable.”

For a moment, the market’s chaos faded. Snow drifted around them, children ran past with paper lanterns, and yet it felt as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of them.

Later, as the jeep rattled out of the market and into quieter roads, Maya found herself glancing at Rudra in the mirror more than once. His grin hadn’t faded, and neither had the strange flutter in her chest. She told herself it was nothing. Just another passenger. Just another night. But deep down, she knew she was lying.

Mumbai Shadows

Far away in Mumbai, MJ Roy swirled his glass of whiskey, his eyes hard as the private investigator’s voice crackled through the line.

“Your son’s in Manali, sir. With a girl. Name’s Maya Jaisingh. Taxi driver.”

MJ repeated the name slowly, as though savoring it. “Maya Jaisingh. Keep a man on them. Every move, every word. I want to know exactly who she is to him.”

“Yes, sir.”

MJ leaned back, a calculating smile tugging at his lips. “Let Rudra enjoy the mountains. Let him think he’s free. Let him fancy this girl. But when the time comes, I’ll tear it all away—from him, and from her.”

The Frozen Lake

Back in Manali, the jeep rolled higher into misty bends. Rudra pointed out toward the valley, where snow spread like a white ocean under the moonlight.

“See that? It’s so quiet you can almost hear the world breathe.”

Maya followed his gaze, her voice dropping softer than she intended. “It’s beautiful. But beautiful things don’t last.”

Rudra looked at her, the snowfall reflecting in his eyes. “Sometimes the moment itself is enough. Even if it’s fleeting.”

For the first time, her walls faltered. Something vulnerable stirred behind her guarded stare.

And then, low and hushed, Rudra hummed the refrain that had been stuck in his head since the café—“Chaha Tujhe Dil Ne Mere…”

Maya caught it, lips twitching in spite of herself. “You really like that song, don’t you?”

He shrugged, playful but earnest. “Maybe. Because it’s about wanting something you can’t have yet.”

She looked away, gripping the wheel tighter. “Or maybe it’s about chasing illusions.”

“Maybe,” he said softly. “But sometimes illusions turn into reality.”

The snow fell heavier, cloaking the road in white. Their words grew fewer, but the silence between them was no longer empty. Somewhere in the rhythm of laughter, glances, and a song half-hummed, something had begun.

Far away in Mumbai, MJ Roy’s voice echoed coldly down the marble hall as he ended the call, watching the flame of a single candle flicker on his desk. He leaned back with a predator’s patience.

“Rudra thinks he’s found freedom in Manali. But what he doesn’t know,” he murmured, his smile sharp as glass, “is that freedom always comes at a price. And I decide how much he pays.”

The candle dimmed as if on cue, leaving MJ’s face in shadow.

And in the mountains, as the snowfall thickened into a storm, Maya’s chest ached with an unease she couldn’t name. Two storms had begun to gather—one in her guarded heart, and one in MJ Roy’s ruthless plans.

The road narrowed as the last of the market lights faded behind them. Pines pressed close on either side, their branches sagging under the weight of fresh snow. A pale moon hung low, silvering the mountains.

“Still not telling me where we’re going?” Rudra asked, peering out at the winding turns.

Maya’s eyes stayed on the road. “You’re the passenger. Sit back and let me drive.”

He grinned, leaning closer to the window. “Fine. But if this road leads where I think it does… there’s a frozen lake ahead, isn’t there? My mother brought me there once.”

Maya’s hands tightened on the wheel. She hadn’t expected him to know. “Maybe. Depends if the lake’s frozen this year.”

Minutes later, the jeep rolled to a stop at a small clearing. Beyond it, the world opened into a stretch of glassy ice—an almost frozen lake, its surface reflecting the scattered stars. The mountains loomed dark around it, peaks glowing faintly in the moonlight.

Rudra stepped out first, boots sinking into snow. His breath misted as he smiled. “I knew it. She used to call this place the still heart of Manali.”

Maya followed, hugging her shawl tighter. The cold bit sharper here, the kind that stung lungs with every breath. She hated how easily his words unsettled her defenses.

“You talk about her a lot,” she said quietly.

Rudra nodded. “She’s the only one who ever saw me as more than MJ Roy’s heir. Just me.” His gaze lingered on her, softer now. “Kind of like how you look at me.”

Maya’s chest tightened, but she kept her face unreadable. “You imagine too much.”

“Maybe,” he said, his smile fading into something more honest. “Or maybe I just recognize it.”

The silence stretched, fragile as the lake beneath them. A breeze drifted across the ice, scattering flakes into her hair. Rudra reached up instinctively, brushing one from her cheek. She stiffened but didn’t step away.

For a moment, the world was only the frozen lake, the cold air, and something unnamed between them.

Then Maya moved back, slipping behind her walls again. “We should go. Roads will ice over if we wait too long.”

Rudra let his hand fall, nodding though disappointment flickered across his face. “Yeah. You’re right.”

As the jeep started again, Maya kept her eyes on the road, refusing to glance at him in the mirror. Not now. Not when her pulse was still racing.

Nightfall

They drove back in near silence, the jeep’s headlights cutting through falling sheets of snow. The frozen lake disappeared behind them, but the weight of the moment lingered like the frost on the windshield.

Rudra leaned back, hands resting loosely on his knees, stealing one last glance at Maya as she focused on the winding road. He wanted to say something—anything—but the words tangled in his throat.

By the time they reached the lodge, the clock above the reception desk was inching toward midnight. Most of the lights were out, save for the dim glow of a lantern at the porch. Rudra stepped out slowly, reluctant to break the fragile spell the evening had woven.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice softer than before. “For the drive. For… all of it.”

Maya’s eyes flicked to him, unreadable in the dark. “Don’t thank me yet. Tomorrow, you’ll probably call me bossy again.”

He smiled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “And you’ll threaten to throw me off another cliff. Balance restored.”

For the first time, she didn’t deny it—only shook her head with the faintest hint of a smile. Then, without another word, she shifted the jeep into gear and drove off, taillights glowing red against the snow before vanishing into the night.

Rudra lingered a moment on the porch steps, watching his breath curl into the cold air. The stillness of the mountains pressed around him, serene, almost protective. He turned toward the lodge doors.

He didn’t notice the shadow across the road.

A man stood half-hidden behind a cluster of pine trees, breath clouding the air as he raised a phone to his ear. His eyes never left Rudra.

“Sir,” he whispered. “The boy just returned. The girl dropped him off. I’ll keep watch.”

The line crackled with silence before MJ Roy’s voice bled through, low and sharp:
“Good. Don’t lose them. Not for a second.”

The man pocketed his phone, blending back into the darkness as Rudra disappeared inside.

The storm outside grew heavier, but the one waiting in Mumbai was already on its way.

-----

To be continued.

Has Rudra already fallen for Maya or is it just infatuation?He has just met her right?

Originally posted by: themasked

Has Rudra already fallen for Maya or is it just infatuation?He has just met her right?

He is attracted towards her the falling in love phase is yet to come.