The sun bathed the Mumbai skyline in a golden hue as Shivaraj stepped out of the luxury sedan, his eyes scanning the crowd in search of a familiar face. He had returned quietly, without alerting the media or his corporate circles. This visit wasn't about business or technology. It was about her—Aishwarya Rai. The stunning woman who had momentarily paused his whirlwind life.
He had thought of her often during his intense weeks in Bangalore. Amid business deals, foundation inaugurations, and setting up billion-dollar enterprises, her smile, voice, and laughter kept drifting into his mind like a melody that refused to fade.
He checked into the Taj Mahal Palace under a discreet alias. The suite was regal, but his mind wasn't on comfort. He asked his assistant to make a gentle inquiry to Aishwarya's team—one that wouldn't raise eyebrows.
To his pleasant surprise, she responded within hours.
That evening, dressed in a white linen shirt and grey slacks, Shivaraj sat in the private lounge of the Sea Lounge Cafe. Aishwarya arrived in a flowing blue dress, elegant yet casual, with her signature grace. Her eyes sparkled when she saw him.
"I had a feeling you'd come back," she said, sliding into the seat opposite him.
"And I had a feeling you'd be waiting," he replied with a warm smile.
Their evening was lighthearted. No media, no entourage. Just two souls, talking about everything and nothing. They laughed, flirted, reminisced about their unexpected meeting on the plane. He asked about her films, her dreams, and she, in turn, asked about his mysterious rise.
"You seem... different," she said. "Everyone talks about you, but no one really knows you."
"Maybe because I'm not from here," he said cryptically, brushing a strand of her hair away. "I've walked a different path."
Over the next week, Shivaraj and Aishwarya lived in their own private world. He rented an entire oceanfront mansion in Bandra for their stay. The days were filled with shopping sprees across Colaba and Bandra, luxurious dinners at rooftop restaurants, and yacht cruises in the Arabian Sea.
He pampered her with designer dresses, perfumes, rare jewelry, and even bought her a vintage Rolls Royce Phantom as a surprise gift. Though she playfully scolded him for being too extravagant, her eyes lit up with every gesture.
"You spoil me too much," she said one evening as they relaxed on the villa balcony, the sea breeze rustling her hair.
"You deserve more," he replied. "This world doesn't appreciate beauty and grace enough."
Their intimacy grew deeper—not just physically but emotionally. They spoke of fears, regrets, childhood memories. She confessed her fatigue with the industry's pressures. He shared his burden of knowing too much, too soon.
On their last night together, they walked barefoot along Juhu Beach, hand in hand. The city lights twinkled behind them. Aishwarya paused and looked at him.
"Will you come back again?"
Shivaraj smiled. "Soon. But I have to go. Something big is coming. Something that will shake the world's economy. I need to be ready."
"And what about us?"
He gently cupped her face. "We're not ending. Just pausing. I've built companies, empires... But with you, I found something personal. Something real. When the storm passes, I'll come back."
She nodded, her eyes moist. "Then I'll wait."
The next morning, they had a quiet breakfast. No words were needed. His flight to America was in the afternoon. She came to the airport, sunglasses hiding her eyes.
He kissed her forehead before boarding. "Stay strong. And stay away from the media. I'll always be a call away."
She smiled. "Go change the world. But don't forget this one."
As the private jet soared into the sky, Shivaraj closed his eyes. The image of her standing at the terminal, waving goodbye, burned into his mind.
He had spent a magical week with the most enchanting woman he'd ever met. Now, he had to return—not just to business, but to history itself. The Asian Financial Crisis loomed on the horizon.
And Shivaraj Jay was ready to face it.