Abhimanyu descended the grand staircase with an emotionless face, his eyes heavy from a sleepless night. Thoughts of Misha had consumed him, along with his brother Arnav's suggestion that kept echoing in his mind. But what could he do? He was at a crossroads, unable to think clearly. His life now was a far cry from what he had envisioned back in the day.
As he reached the bottom of the stairs, his gaze fell on Misha. She was busy arranging things for the upcoming wedding. The mansion buzzed with activity; preparations were in full swing for his sisters' engagement tomorrow, followed by the wedding in two days. Everyone seemed absorbed in their tasks, including Misha. But something about her caught his attention-her burnt hand.
Abhimanyu's jaw tightened as he watched her frown, her movements stiff and strained. She was placing items on the table with a cold determination, as if ignoring the pain. The sight unsettled him. Without a second thought, he strode toward her, his footsteps firm and deliberate.
Misha, engrossed in her work, suddenly felt a hand grasp hers. Startled, she turned quickly, her wide eyes meeting Abhimanyu's intense gaze. He was examining her injured hand with a deep frown etched on his face. For a brief moment, she found herself lost in his expression, but then the sharp sting in her hand jolted her back to reality. The memory of how she had gotten the burn flashed in her mind, and she instinctively tried to pull her hand away.
But Abhimanyu tightened his grip before she could escape. His eyes darkened with anger as he looked at her, the intensity of his expression making her freeze. It was a look she had never seen before-cold, unyielding, and full of restrained fury.
"Just because I listened to you last night doesn't mean I'll do it every time," Abhimanyu said, his voice low and cold, each word cutting through the air like ice.
Misha frowned, trying again to free her hand, but his grip remained firm, almost possessive.
"I only like it when people listen to me," he continued, his tone unwavering. "And you should know that by now."
Misha glared at him, her stubbornness flaring despite the fear that flickered in her chest. She tried once more to pull away, but his grip tightened even further, his knuckles turning white.
"Don't test my patience, Misha," he warned, his voice dropping to a dangerously low tone. "It won't end well for you."
Misha swallowed hard, her defiance faltering under the weight of his words. She looked away, unable to hold his piercing gaze any longer.
"Abhimanyu, I can-" she began, her voice trembling slightly, but he cut her off sharply.
"You can't," he said firmly. "First, we need to take care of this." His tone left no room for argument as he tugged her gently but firmly toward the sofa in the hall.
Misha followed reluctantly, her mind racing as she tried to process the sudden shift in his demeanor. He made her sit down, his movements brisk but careful, and then disappeared briefly before returning with the first aid kit. Sitting beside her, he opened the kit with practiced ease.
Misha sat silently, watching him as he worked. His jaw was clenched, and his brows were drawn together in concentration. For someone who often seemed so cold and distant, his touch was unexpectedly gentle as he cleaned her wound.
"You shouldn't have been working with an injury like this," he muttered, more to himself than to her.
Misha's lips parted, but she said nothing. She simply observed him, her heart conflicted. She wasn't used to this side of Abhimanyu-the one who cared, even if he masked it behind his anger and authority.
As he wrapped her hand in a bandage, he finally looked up, his eyes meeting hers. "If you can't take care of yourself, then I will," he said, his voice softer now but still firm.
Misha blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in his tone. For a moment, the air between them felt charged with something unspoken.
"Why didn't you do first aid until now? What if it gets infected?" Abhimanyu asked, his brows furrowed as he looked at her with concern.
"Because I didn't want to," Misha replied carelessly, her tone dismissive. But it was a lie. She hadn't treated the injury because, deep down, she wanted to feel the pain. It was a constant reminder of her helplessness against Aadhiran, a way to punish herself for her inability to fight back.
Abhimanyu sighed heavily, reigning in his frustration. He didn't want to yell at her, not now.
"Very well, Mrs. Rathore. You sure know how to argue, but I doubt you understand the importance of an injection if you won't even bother with basic first aid for an injury you've had since yesterday morning," he said sarcastically, his tone biting as he folded his arms.
Misha shot him a sharp glare, her patience thinning.
"And now you're the one picking a fight, huh? So, you're the reason for all our arguments, Mr. Rathore," she retorted, her voice rising in anger.
A faint smile tugged at Abhimanyu's lips despite himself. He could see glimpses of the old Misha-the fiery, unyielding woman he had waiting for-but she wasn't fully back yet. Not entirely. He could feel it, though; she was still in there somewhere.
Misha stood abruptly, her expression determined. Abhimanyu frowned and quickly stepped in front of her, blocking her path. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked, his voice firm, his eyes narrowing as he studied her face.
"To work," Misha snapped, her tone defiant. "There's a celebration tomorrow-Isha and Ishani's engagement-and there's a mountain of work to be done," she added, giving him a pointed look. Then, as if struck by realization, she gasped dramatically. "Don't tell me you forgot, Mr. Rathore!" Misha was shocked at that thought of he forgetting his own sister's marriage.
Abhimanyu sighed again, this time with an air of annoyance. "I didn't forget," he said, his tone clipped. "I do remember."
"Then where do you think I'm going?" Misha challenged, crossing her arms as a sarcastic smile played on her lips.
"To work. I know," Abhimanyu replied dryly, matching her sarcasm. "But don't."
"Don't?" Misha repeated, her brows knitting together. "What do you mean, don't?" Her eyebrows rised.
"You don't have to work," Abhimanyu clarified, his voice carrying a note of finality. He gestured toward her injured hand. "Your hand is burnt, Misha. It'll hurt, and if you keep stressing it, the wound will get worse. So sit down and rest."
Misha blinked at him, her lips parting slightly as she stared. For a moment, she was caught off guard by the concern in his voice. But then her stubbornness kicked in. "And who, pray tell, will handle all the preparations?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and planting her hands on her hips.
"I will," Abhimanyu said simply.
Misha froze, staring at him as if he'd grown another head. "What?" she exclaimed, her shock evident.
"I'll do it," Abhimanyu repeated, his tone casual as if it were no big deal. "Just tell me what needs to be done."
For a moment, Misha didn't know how to react. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of his sudden offer. Then, a sly thought crept in. "Misha If he's so insistent on doing everything, let him. Maybe this is my chance to make him pay for how he's been treating me". She thought in her mind with irritated face.
"Alright then," Misha said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "If you insist." She moved back to the sofa and sat down, crossing her legs as she prepared to issue her instructions.
Abhimanyu exhaled slowly, bracing himself for the list of tasks she was about to unload on him. As Misha began explaining the work, he listened intently, his jaw tightening with each new responsibility.
Misha, meanwhile, watched him with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. She wasn't sure if he could handle it all, but one thing was certain-this was going to be interesting.
Abhimanyu stood on ladder with annoyed expression, hanging a flower garland on the wall. His expression was neutral, but his movements were slightly stiff, clearly showing he wasn't used to such tasks. Meanwhile, Misha stood below, giving instructions in a tone that alternated between irritation and amusement.
"Abhi, not there! God, what am I going to do with you? Move to this side!" Misha exclaimed, her hands on her hips as she directed him with an exasperated sigh.
Abhimanyu grunted and shifted slightly, adjusting his position to where she was pointing.
"Higher, Abhi! A little higher!" she ordered, now standing beside him, her eyes squinting critically at the garland.
Abhimanyu obediently raised his hand higher, the garland brushing against the wall.
"Not there, you idiot! Lower-no, wait, higher! Ugh, God, move to the left-no, the right! Yes, there, a little higher-no, no, not that much!" Misha's voice was a mix of controlled laughter and frustration as she kept barking instructions.
Abhimanyu followed her every word, his brows furrowing deeper with each command. His patience was wearing thin, and he couldn't help but wonder what she was trying to accomplish.
"What is she doing?" he thought, his jaw tightening as he adjusted the garland for the tenth time.
Finally, Misha's voice softened. "Abhi, not there, baba! Okay, now a little higher..... yes, right there! You've got it!" she said, smiling brightly as if she had just won a battle.
Abhimanyu fixed the garland in place, his movements precise. As he stepped down from the ladder, he turned to face her, his expression a mixture of annoyance and suspicion. Misha stood there, trying to suppress a grin but failing miserably.
"What do you think you were doing, Mrs. Rathore?" Abhimanyu asked, his tone low and irritated, his arms crossed over his chest.
Misha's smile disappeared as she quickly straightened her face, adopting an innocent expression. "What? I didn't do anything," she said, her voice laced with faux cluelessness.
Abhimanyu narrowed his eyes at her, his gaze sharp. "You know exactly what I'm talking about," he said,the his voice calm but laced with warning.
Misha coughed fakely, attempting to deflect. "Abhi, we don't have time for this! Just check if the garland is in the right place or not," she said quickly, waving her hand dismissively as she changed the subject.
Abhimanyu sighed, shaking his head. Without another word, he stepped back to inspect the decoration, his sharp eyes scanning his handiwork. As he walked backward, still focused on the garland, he suddenly collided with someone.
The impact made him stop abruptly, and he turned to see who it was. Misha's eyes widened as she watched the scene unfold, her hand instinctively covering her mouth to hide her reaction.
Arnav descended the staircase, adjusting the strap of his watch, his steps measured and composed. He was lost in thought, planning his day ahead, when he abruptly collided with someone at the bottom of the stairs. The impact was enough to jolt him, and irritation immediately flashed across his face.
"Idiot! Don't you have any manners? Who even hired-" Arnav started, his voice cold and sharp as he looked up, ready to scold one of the house staff.
But his words froze mid-sentence when his gaze landed on Abhimanyu.
Abhimanyu stood there, his broad shoulders burdened with a flower garland draped haphazardly over one side and a pile of other decorative items balanced awkwardly in his hands. His expression was a mixture of annoyance and exasperation, his eyebrows raised as he stared down at Arnav with a piercing glare.
For a moment, Arnav was stunned into silence, blinking as if trying to process the sight in front of him. Behind Abhimanyu, Misha stood with her hand over her mouth, clearly trying-and failing-not to burst out laughing.
"Bhai..... you? What?!" Arnav finally managed to stammer, his confusion evident. "I mean, what are you doing?"
Abhimanyu rolled his eyes, his annoyance only growing. "Working, of course. Can't you see?" he snapped, his tone sharp as he shifted the garland higher on his shoulder.
Arnav frowned, his confusion deepening as he looked from Abhimanyu to the decorations and back. "I get that, but why are you doing this? We have staff for this sort of thing," he said, his tone laced with disbelief.
Before Abhimanyu could respond, Misha interjected, her voice light and teasing. "Well, Arnav, your Bhai wanted to do it, so here we are," she said, a faint smile playing on her lips as she tried to suppress her laughter.
Arnav glanced at her, noticing the glint of amusement in her eyes and the way her lips twitched as if she was holding back a laugh. He immediately caught on to what was happening. His gaze shifted back to Abhimanyu, whose scowl had deepened, and Arnav's lips curved into a smirk.
"Alright, Bhai," Arnav said, nodding slowly as if he were indulging a child. "Do your best, then. We want everything perfect for the engagement, okay?" His expression serious for out.
Abhimanyu's glare could have pierced through steel, but Arnav, unbothered, turned on his heel and walked toward the door.
As soon as Arnav was out of earshot, Misha couldn't hold it in any longer. She burst into laughter, clutching her stomach as tears pricked the corners of her eyes.
Abhimanyu turned to her, his glare unwavering. "This is your fault, Misha," he said, his voice dripping with irritation.
Misha wiped at her eyes, still laughing. "Oh, come on, Abhi. You have to admit that was hilarious!" she said between giggles as she almost forgot her all fear of Aadhiran.
Abhimanyu sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Hilarious for you, maybe. For me, it's just another reason to question my choices," he muttered under his breath, turning back to hang the decorations.
Misha smiled to herself, enjoying every moment of the chaos she had unintentionally-or perhaps intentionally-caused.
As Arnav walked out of the mansion, he heard a familiar voice calling out to him-a voice he secretly loved to hear.
"Arnav ji!" Arthi called out, her tone laced with urgency as she hurried toward him, her steps quick but graceful.
He stopped in his tracks and turned to see Arthi hurrying toward him, her expression a mix of determination and mild irritation. Her hair bounced with every step, and the faint sunlight highlighted her features.
Arnav raised an eyebrow, his frown softening into a curious expression. "What happened, sweetheart?" he asked, his tone laced with gentle amusement as he observed her approaching.
Arthi came to a halt in front of him, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. She fixed him with a stern look, her hands on her hips. "Where are you going?" she asked, her voice firm but tinged with concern.
Arnav glanced back at his car parked in the driveway and then back at her.
"Had some work, so I'm heading to the office, of course," he replied casually, shrugging as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Arthi's glare intensified, and her lips pressed into a thin line. "What work could possibly be so important, Arnav ji, that you feel the need to disappear for the entire day?" she said, her adorable pout making her anger look far less threatening.
Arnav chuckled, stepping closer to her until their faces were only inches apart. Lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, he said with a smirk, "Trust me, sweetheart, you don't want to know about this work. It's terrifying."
Arthi blinked, caught off guard by his teasing tone, and swallowed nervously. Her reaction only deepened Arnav's amusement, and he chuckled softly.
"Arnav ji!" she exclaimed, recovering quickly, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Stop teasing me! I know you enjoy messing with me, but not today!" Her voice carried a firmness that made Arnav raise his eyebrows, impressed.
Arthi crossed her arms over her chest, her expression serious. "You're not going anywhere today. We have a huge celebration coming up! What kind of brother are you, running off to work when your sisters' engagement is tomorrow?" Arthi tone was at most ordering him.
Arnav sighed, running a hand through his hair as he glanced toward his car longingly. "The engagement is tomorrow, sweetheart. We still have plenty of time," he replied, his tone nonchalant.
Arthi's eyes narrowed further, her patience wearing thin. "Arnav ji....." she began, her voice trailing off in a warning tone.
The unspoken threat in her voice made Arnav chuckle nervously, and he raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, sweetheart. You win," he said, leaning closer to her again. "Now, tell me, what do I have to do?" His eyes fixed on her.
Arthi's cheeks turned a soft shade of pink at his proximity, but she quickly masked her reaction with a serious expression.
"First of all, you're not going anywhere today," she said firmly, though her voice faltered slightly, betraying the effect he had on her.
Arnav smirked, leaning back with a faint smile. "As you say," he replied smoothly, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment longer than necessary.
Arthi's lips curved into a wide smile, her earlier irritation melting away. Seeing her happy brought an unexpected sense of relief to Arnav, though he would never admit it aloud.
But as they began walking back toward the mansion, Arnav's tone shifted to a more serious note. "Sweetheart, I do have to step out in the evening. There's some really important work I can't ignore," he said, glancing at her carefully to gauge her reaction.
Arthi paused, turning to face him with a small sigh. "Fine," she said after a moment, her smile softening. "But for now, you're staying put." As Aranv signed.
"Deal," Arnav said with a faint smirk as they entered the house together.
Arthi immediately spotted Misha and excused herself to discuss the ongoing preparations for the engagement. Arnav watched her walk away, her energy focused on the tasks at hand, her presence lighting up the room.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he walked to the hall and sank into the sofa. His eyes lingered on Arthi as she coordinated with Misha, her smile radiant and her gestures animated. For a moment, Arnav found himself smiling too, a fleeting thought crossing his mind: maybe staying home wasn't such a bad idea after all.
Arnav sat in the hall, his phone pressed to his ear as he spoke with his assistant. His tone was calm but firm. "I won't be able to visit the office today. Reschedule the meeting for this evening. Make sure everything is ready by then," he instructed before ending the call.
Placing the phone on the table, he leaned back on the sofa, exhaling slowly. His gaze shifted to the approaching figures of Misha and Arthi, who were walking toward him, their conversation animated. They were likely discussing the engagement preparations, their hands gesturing as they talked.
The two women sat on the sofa beside him, still engrossed in their discussion, when Aavyan walked in, carrying his laptop. He looked visibly annoyed as he plopped down on the armchair nearby, muttering under his breath.
"Such a chaotic day," Aavyan grumbled, running a hand through his hair as he opened his laptop.
Both Arthi and Misha turned to look at him, their brows furrowing.
"Aavyan, what is this?" Arthi asked, her tone sharp with disapproval.
Aavyan looked up, confused by her sudden question. "What happened, Bhabhi?" he asked, his brows knitting together.
"Why are you working today, of all days?" Misha chimed in, her tone carrying a mix of frustration and concern. "At least take a break until the engagement is over! You brothers are always buried in work-it's so annoying."
Aavyan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to find the right words. "Bhabhi, I'm not interested in working today either, but-"
Before he could finish, Arnav shot him a sharp glare, his eyes narrowing in silent warning. Aavyan's words faltered as he swallowed nervously, realizing the trap he almost walked into.
"But... but... what can I do?" Aavyan stammered, forcing a sheepish smile. "Without me, this work won't get done properly."
Misha sighed, her irritation softening as she nodded in reluctant acceptance. "Fine, but don't overdo it, okay?"
Arthi, however, narrowed her eyes at Aavyan, her intuition telling her there was more to the story. Yet, she chose not to press the issue-for now.
Arnav silently observed the exchange, his mind racing. He knew exactly why Aavyan was overworking: it was because of the unspoken rule he had set for his younger brother. If Arthi discovered that Arnav had been pushing Aavyan to meet deadlines before the engagement, she would undoubtedly scold him. Worse, she would get upset with him-and Arnav hated the thought of upsetting her.
Besides, Aavyan had become the baby of the family, adored and fiercely protected by his sisters-in-law. If Arnav and Abhimanyu ever dared to cross the line by overburdening Aavyan, Arthi and Misha would likely gang up on them without mercy.
That was why Arnav's glare was so sharp, silently commanding Aavyan to keep the truth to himself.
Aavyan groaned internally, his irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. He narrowed his eyes at Arnav, clearly annoyed by the pressure to keep quiet.
Arnav, however, remained unfazed, his expression cool and indifferent as he turned his attention elsewhere. It was as if Aavyan's silent protests didn't exist.
Muttering under his breath, Aavyan shifted his focus back to his laptop, resigned to his fate. Meanwhile, Arthi and Misha resumed their conversation, occasionally casting curious glances at the two brothers, both of whom seemed to be hiding something.
Aavyan was sitting in sofa with his laptop, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he worked with intense focus. He was determined to finish everything today since he knew that starting tomorrow, the engagement celebrations would leave him no time for work. His brows furrowed in concentration, and his irritation grew as he heard footsteps approaching.
Without looking up, Aavyan waved a dismissive hand when a coffee tray was extended toward him. "I don't want it," he said curtly, his tone dripping with indifference. He assumed it was one of the house staff and didn't even bother sparing a glance.
But the tray didn't move away. Instead, he heard soft chuckles, followed by a low, ominous mutter.
Aavyan frowned and reluctantly looked up with irritation to snap at whoever that was, only for his heart to nearly stop. His mouth fell open, and he stammered, "B-Bhai... Bhai!" His expression was worth watching.
There stood Abhimanyu, holding the coffee tray with a glare so fierce it could melt glaciers. His stance was imposing, and the way Abhimanyu glared at him, his expression so intense it almost seemed like he was debating whether to serve the coffee or pour it all over Aavyan.
"Take the coffee," Abhimanyu said, his voice low and dangerous, "or I swear, you won't be able to drink any of this ever again." his tone low with whisper.
Aavyan gulped, realizing he had unknowingly signed his own death warrant. "Y-Yes, Bhai," he stammered, hurriedly grabbing a cup from the tray like it was a lifeline.
Misha and Arthi, who had been watching the exchange from the sofa, burst into laughter, their giggles echoing through the room.
Abhimanyu ignored them and walked over to Arthi, offering her a cup with a stiff but polite nod. She took it with a warm smile, trying not to laugh again as she thanked him.
Next, he turned to Misha, who raised an eyebrow at him, her lips twitching in amusement. She reached for the cup, but before letting go, Abhimanyu leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"I'll deal with you later, Mrs. Rathore," he said, his tone laced with mock danger, his eyes narrowing in warning.
Misha's playful smirk faltered for a moment, and she gulped, clearing her throat awkwardly. "Thank you," she said, her voice suddenly too sweet, before taking the cup and sitting back like a chastened child.
Finally, Abhimanyu approached Arnav, who was engrossed in his phone. Before Abhimanyu could say anything, Arnav waved him off without looking up.
"I don't need-" Arnav began, but a sharp glare from Arthi made him freeze mid-sentence.
Arnav cleared his throat and offered a sheepish smile. "Actually, I'll take it, Bhai," he said quickly, grabbing a cup and taking a small sip to avoid further scrutiny.
Abhimanyu glared at him for a moment before turning away, his lips twitching in suppressed amusement. He returned to the sofa, setting the tray aside and taking his own coffee cup. He plopped down beside Misha, who was desperately trying to avoid eye contact with him.
As the day wore on, Abhimanyu found himself roped into Misha's endless instructions for the engagement preparations. From hanging flowers to adjusting lights, she seemed to have him running in circles.
"Abhi, move that garland a little to the left-no, not that much! Now higher! Oh, wait, back to the right!" Misha called out, her voice filled with mock seriousness as she fought to keep a straight face.
Abhimanyu, balancing precariously on a stool, turned his head to glare at her. "Misha, I swear, if you don't stop changing directions-" his patience thinned.
"Just a little more to the left," she interrupted, biting her lip to keep from laughing.
He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse, but he complied, grumbling as he worked.
Arthi watched the scene unfold, shaking her head in amusement. "Poor Abhi Bhai," she said, chuckling.
"Poor?!" Abhimanyu exclaimed, turning to glare at her too. "I've been promoted from CEO to unpaid decorator in my own house!" He said with cold tone as Arthi and Misha giggled together at his state.
Everyone laughed at that, and even Abhimanyu couldn't hold back a smirk. Despite his grumbling, he couldn't deny the warmth that filled the room as they all worked together, teasing and laughing in preparation for the big day.
The rest of the day continued with the preparations for whatever lay ahead, and Abhimanyu, though still irritated, worked diligently under Misha's instructions. Meanwhile, Misha couldn't help but enjoy every moment of his struggle and gave him innocent smile whenever he glared at her, a smirk tugging at her lips as she watched him squirm.
The tension between them simmered beneath the surface, unspoken but palpable, as the day dragged on, each interaction more charged than the last.
Ishani stood in front of the mirror, reluctantly getting ready to go shopping with her fiancé. She had managed to escape the ordeal the other day by coming up with an excuse for her grandmother, but today there was no getting out of it. With the engagement scheduled for tomorrow, she had no choice but to go.
Her mood darkened further as she caught her sister, Isha, watching her with a mischievous glint in her eyes and a smirk that screamed trouble.
"Well, well, Miss Ishani Rathore is going shopping with her fiancé. What a delightful piece of news!" Isha drawled, stretching out her words more than necessary.
Ishani sighed and turned to glare at her sister.
"What? Why are you looking at me like that? Come on, Ishani, youâre going out with your fiancé. Smile a little, enjoy the moment!" Isha teased, her tone dripping with mockery.
"Isha, can you not?" Ishani snapped, irritation lacing her voice.
"Why? Oh, wait, I get it. Youâre worried youâll be late, arenât you? Jiju must be waiting for you," Isha said, feigning innocence while barely holding back her grin.
"I am not married to him yet, so stop calling him Jiju," Ishani retorted, her tone sharp with irritation.
"Well, you will be soon," Isha shot back without missing a beat, crossing her arms as she smirked triumphantly.
Ishani groaned, rolling her eyes. "Alright, alright, I teased you the other day, so- as she spoke Isha cut her sentence off in middle with smirk.
"Exactly!" Isha interrupted firmly, cutting her off. "Just like how you teased me when I was going shopping with my so-called fiancé. Itâs my turn now." Her tone was full of revange.
Ishani sighed heavily, knowing she wasnât going to win this battle. "Fine, I apologize. Can we not fight right now? Iâm getting late." She gave Isha a faint smile.
She grabbed her handbag, ready to leave, but Isha wasnât done yet.
"Oh, look at you, Ishani! Already so eager to meet your fiancé," Isha teased with a smirk, her voice laced with mischief.
Ishani shot her a glare, but she didnât have the time to argue anymore. "Iâll see you later," she muttered before walking out of the room.
As Ishaniâs footsteps faded, Isha burst out laughing, clearly pleased with herself.
"Finally, Iâve taken my revenge," Isha said with a satisfied sigh, leaving the room in a happy mood.
As Ishani stepped out of the car, her heels clicked against the pavement, her eyes flicking to the watch on her wrist. A small smile of satisfaction curled her lips. Right on time. She smoothed the folds of her dress and sighed.
"At least I managed to make it," she muttered under her breath, her thoughts wandering to her younger sister. "That little menace nearly made me late. I really need to teach her a lesson about not teasing her elder sister so much."
The automatic doors of the mall slid open as she entered, her gaze sweeping over the polished interiors. A staff member greeted her warmly, and she returned the gesture with a polite smile before her eyes darted around, searching for her fiancé. But as the seconds ticked by, it became clear he was nowhere to be seen.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. He should be here, she thought. After all, wasnât this engagement shopping? Surely, he could spare the time.
As she stood in the middle of the bustling mall, a woman in a crisp formal suit approached her, her movements sharp and precise.
"Good afternoon, ma'am. You must be Ishani Rathore?" the woman asked, her tone professional yet warm.
Ishani hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yes, thatâs me."
The woman extended a polite smile. "Iâm Mira, Mr. Vikramâs assistant. He sent me to assist you with todayâs shopping."
Ishani frowned, her brows knitting together. "He sent you?" she repeated, her tone laced with disbelief. "Heâs not coming to accompany me?"
Mira maintained her composed demeanor, her tone unwavering. "Iâm afraid not, maâam. Mr. Vikram has an important meeting that he couldnât reschedule. He asked me to ensure you have everything you need."
The words stung more than they should have. Ishani clenched her fists momentarily before forcing herself to relax. Why does it bother me so much? Isnât this what I wanted? To keep him at armâs length?
Still, she couldnât stop the bitterness from creeping into her voice. "I see. Well, itâs an engagement. I assumed heâd be here."
Mira, ever the professional, gave a small bow of her head. "I understand, maâam. Mr. Vikram instructed me to inform you that you may choose whatever you like, and he will take care of the expenses." Ishani rised her eyebrows at this particular word.
Ishaniâs jaw tightened. Her gaze flicked to the assistant, and then to the storeâs lavish interior. Whatever I like? she thought with a humorless chuckle. Letâs see if his ego can handle that.
A smirk tugged at her lips as she stepped forward, her eyes scanning the racks of high-end designer collections. She selected items with purpose-silks, embellished gowns, and accessories that carried eye-watering price tags. Her actions were deliberate, a challenge to his offhanded declaration. If he thinks Iâm some meek, docile fiancée, heâs mistaken. Iâm a Rathore, and I donât come cheap.
After what felt like hours, Ishani finally walked out of the store, her arms full of shopping bags. Mira trailed behind her, her professional mask firmly in place. Ishani slid into the car, her face a rigid mask of indifference, though her mind was anything but calm.
As the car glided through the city streets, her thoughts drifted to Vikram. The irritation sheâd suppressed earlier began bubbling to the surface. How could he prioritize a meeting over this? she wondered, her fingers gripping the edge of her seat. Isnât this supposed to be important? Or does it not matter to him at all?
She shook her head, frustrated with herself for even thinking about it. "Why am I even dwelling on this?" she muttered under her breath. "I donât even want to face him. This should feel like a win." She sighed with smile.
But the nagging thoughts refused to leave her alone. As the car pulled into the driveway of the Rathore mansion, Ishani leaned back in her seat with a sigh. She could pretend all she wanted, but the truth was undeniable-Vikramâs absence bothered her far more than she was willing to admit.
All of you
I want to sincerely thank all of you for continuing to read this story. I know the progress has been slow, but Iâm truly grateful that youâve stayed with it from the beginning. Donât worry-I promise to deliver the best development for this story as it unfolds.
The upcoming stories Iâm working on will be thrilling and exciting. Unlike this one, Iâve already written the scripts for those stories, so thereâs a lot more to look forward to!
The Ruthless Veils
The cast
Mr. Evander Grayson Rossi
"Power is not given; itâs taken. Trust is not earned; itâs shattered and rebuilt on my terms. If you think you can control me, youâre already losing. I donât play games-I end them. And if you stand in my way, Iâll make sure you never stand again."
Avara Rajvanshi
"I wasnât trained to follow orders blindly or to fear powerful men hiding behind their empires. I uncover the truth, no matter how deeply itâs buried. And if you think your secrets are safe, youâre about to learn-I donât stop until I burn everything youâre hiding."
The Ruthless Desire
Aiden smirking, unbothered for now
"Oh, Aadhiran, youâre always so possessive. Whatâs she to you? Just another prize to claim?"
Aadhiran stepping closer, his eyes narrowing with lethal calm
"Sheâs my wife. And if you ever come near her again, I will make sure you regret it in ways you canât even begin to imagine."
Aiden laughing, though there's a flicker of unease
"You think you can scare me off? Iâve been after her long before you even noticed her."
Aadhiran his gaze unwavering, his voice low and dangerous
"I donât need to scare you, Aiden. Iâll destroy you. Stay away from her, or Iâll make you wish youâd never been born."
Aiden seeing the menace in Aadhiranâs eyes, finally sensing the threat
"Weâll see, Aadhiran. But remember, I never back down."
Aadhiran his voice now a cold whisper
"Then prepare to lose everything."
Ahem, ahem... Looks like someone is about to taste their own medicine, side-eyeing Aadhiran.
Upcoming stories
Entanled destinies
And the series of this.
The Ruthless Desire
I am more excited for the Ruthless veils.
Many of you have asked for my Instagram ID-it's bluewrites7. If you'd like, feel free to message me for any edits youâd like for this story or the upcoming ones. I haven't uploaded anything related to this story yet because I was worried there might not be many readers there, and it might feel awkward.
Have a great day