Hukum's Pari : A Love Written in Blood
Chapter 1
The Oberoi mansion was bathed in golden hues as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the pristine marble floors. The scent of sandalwood and mogra lingered in the air, mixing with the faint whispers of a family standing on the edge of an irreversible decision.
Anvi Oberoi sat cross-legged on the floor of her bedroom, her delicate fingers tracing the embroidered patterns of her pastel pink lehenga. The soft hum of temple bells echoed in the distance, a familiar comfort in a world that had always been predictable, safe. Until now.
Her mother’s voice trembled as she stood by the doorway.
“Pari, your father wants to speak to you in his study.”
Anvi looked up, frowning at the strained expression on her mother’s face. Ishita Oberoi was always composed, her elegance never faltering. But tonight, her eyes held something Anvi had never seen before—fear.
A strange unease settled in her chest.
---
The Oberoi study was grand, lined with mahogany bookshelves and walls filled with ancestral portraits. But tonight, it felt suffocating.
Seated behind the large oak desk was her grandfather, Harshvardhan Oberoi, his sharp eyes unreadable. To his right, her father, Veer Pratap Oberoi, stood with his arms crossed.
Anvi stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. “What is going on?”
Silence.
Then, her grandfather finally spoke, his voice carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken truths.
“You’re getting married.”
Anvi’s world tilted.
The words didn’t make sense. She had dreams—of traveling, of running her own business, of living a life on her terms. Not this.
She swallowed hard. “To whom?”
The name that followed sent a chill down her spine.
The air turned heavy, the walls of the study closing in on her.
The Rathores.
The most feared family in Udaipur. The kind of people no one spoke about unless necessary.
And Agastya?
The youngest billionaire in India. The man whispered about in hushed voices, known in the underworld as Hukum.
People said if you saw Hukum in person, it meant you were living your last day on Earth.
Anvi let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head. “This is a joke.”
No one smiled.
Her father spoke, his voice tight, controlled. “It’s not. The engagement is tomorrow.”
Tomorrow.
Her heartbeat hammered against her ribs. “You’re marrying me off to a man no one even dares to look in the eye?”
Her father’s expression didn’t change. “It’s already decided.”
“By whom?” Her voice cracked, her hands curling into fists.
“By fate,” a deep voice interrupted from the doorway.
The room fell deathly silent.
---
The air shifted, a chill creeping into the room before he even stepped inside.
Then, he did.
Tall. Dressed in a crisp black kurta with a long overcoat, his broad shoulders carried the weight of an empire built on fear and silence. His presence alone made the temperature drop.
His sharp, dark eyes settled on her, piercing, assessing.
He was colder than she imagined. More dangerous.
She had heard the rumors.
That no one was allowed to say his name.
That his silence was deadlier than a bullet.
That he never repeated himself.
And now, he was standing in front of her.
His gaze slowly swept over her before his lips parted.
“You must be Pari.”
Anvi stiffened.
No.
Only her family called her that.
And Agastya Singh Rathore was not her family. Not yet.
But the way he said it—**calm, certain, as if she already belonged to him—**made something inside her shatter.
Tomorrow, she would no longer be Anvi Oberoi, the pampered princess.
She would be Hukum’s wife.
And there was no escaping it.