AUTHOR'S POV
MORNING — 5 AM
The alarm was ringing on one side.
She woke up, turned it off, and freshened up.
Heading to her closet, she pulled out baggy pants and a half T-shirt, then made her way to the gym room.
She grabbed her boxing gloves, slipped them on, and started hitting the punching bag — her mind clouded with confusing thoughts.
After an hour of relentless punching, she began panting heavily.
Her father stood silently nearby, watching his daughter with a proud yet concerned gaze.
With a final, powerful punch, she broke the bag — sand spilled out, making a mess on the floor.
"Oh shit!!" she backed up in shock.
"Well done," her father applauded.
She hadn't even noticed he had been standing there all along.
She never kept her defensive senses up around her family.
"Woah, you startled me, Dad!! Good morning!"
He smiled warmly. "Morning."
"I want to talk to you, Angel."
She removed the boxing gloves from her hands and placed them aside.
"What is it, Dad?"
She grabbed a towel and started wiping the sweat from her forehead.
"Did you... go out for a murder last night?"
She was drinking water when she heard that.
She immediately put the bottle down and burst into a childish laugh.
"Dad, meh tumhara angel hu, Satan nahi hei."
(Dad, I'm your angel, not a devil!)
"Don't say it in Hindi — I know exactly what you mean," he replied, crossing his arms.
"Ohhh? And what did I mean, Dad? You don't like Mum's language, do you?" she teased.
"Not much," he admitted, shrugging.
"Oww, what the hell!"
"Baby!"
It was Angel's mom, who had smacked Dad playfully from behind.
"Tumko mera basha pasand nahi hei, mujhe bhi tumhara basha pasand nahi!"
(You don't like my language? I don't like yours either!)
Angel chuckled watching them argue, full of love and mischief.
"Both of youuu, stop arguing!" she laughed.
Her mother handed her a cup of coffee.
"Angel, go freshen up. Breakfast is getting ready."
She nodded, taking a sip of the coffee before heading back to her room.
After a refreshing shower, she slipped into her formal black and cream attire.
Her long hair cascaded down her back, captivating anyone who would lay eyes on her.
Her honey-brown eyes shimmered with life, and her flawless curves could make any man fall for her without a second thought.
ANGEL'S POV
I pulled my hair into a sleek high ponytail and slipped my gun into my pocket, the weight of it reassuring.
My gaze lingered on the table, where the black rose lay—its dark petals stark against the tablecloth.
A symbol of mystery, power, and maybe a warning.
I took the rose, gently adjusting it into my hair, then fastened my watch, syncing it to my phone with practiced ease.
Time was always moving, and I never let it slip away.
I descended the stairs with purpose.
The dining room was calm, almost too calm, with everyone seated at the table, servants moving quietly in the background.
***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***
Comments