Chapter 1
Reeva
Two years later
Standing before the full-length mirror, I smooth the pleats of my crimson-orange saree, ensuring every fold falls perfectly into place before draping the pallu over my shoulder.
My gaze lingers on my reflection as my fingers instinctively rise to the delicate streak of sindoor nestled in the parting of my hair.
A soft smile curves my lips before my hand trails lower, lightly brushing the mangalsutra resting against my collarbone.
Mrs. Reeva Shaurya Rajvansh.
Even now, after eight months of marriage, those four words still make my heart skip a beat.
Turning away from the mirror, I sweep my gaze across the spacious, earth-toned bedroom.
Morning sunlight pours through the floor-to-ceiling windows, spilling across the polished wooden floor as sheer white curtains sway gently in the breeze.
At the centre of the room sits a king-sized bed dressed in crisp white linen, while a cosy seating area near the balcony overlooks the lush gardens below.
Our wedding photograph rests on the bedside table.
Little by little, pieces of me have found their place here.
My books now line the shelves, my favourite scented candles sit on the dresser, fresh flowers brighten the windowsill, and my clothes occupy half the wardrobe.
Each small addition is a quiet reminder that, over the past eight months, this room has slowly become as much mine as it is Shaurya’s.
Smiling, I step out of the bedroom and descend the marble staircase, making my way to the family mandir, tucked away in the quiet eastern wing of the house.
The moment I step inside, I pause. The family temple never fails to steal my breath.
Crafted entirely from pristine white Makrana marble, it radiates a quiet serenity that instantly calms my heart.
Fresh marigold and jasmine garlands adorn the exquisitely carved idols of Radha and Krishna, while silver bells hang from the intricately carved wooden ceiling.
My gaze then settles on my mother-in-law. Dressed in an elegant ivory Kanjivaram silk saree with a muted gold border, she stands before the altar with her back to me, carefully arranging fresh flowers around the idols.
I walk over to her and bend to touch her feet in greeting. “Good morning, Maa.”
I wait.
One heartbeat. Two. Three.
Nothing. No hand comes to rest upon my head.
No blessing follows. Slowly, I straighten, forcing the smile on my lips despite the familiar ache settling deep within my chest. I turn towards the altar, fold my hands in prayer, and quietly swallow the disappointment, just as I have every day since becoming a part of this family.
“You can pray all you want, Reeva, but winning my wholehearted acceptance will take far more than prayers,” my mother-in-law says.
I open my eyes and turn towards her. The coldness in her gaze makes it painfully clear that, in her eyes, I will never be worthy of the Rajvansh name, of her son, or this family. And the hardest part is that I still don’t know what I have done to deserve her contempt.
“I know, Maa. I haven’t earned your acceptance yet. But I’ll keep trying... for as long as it takes.”
“Try all you want, Reeva, but don’t forget that marrying my son may have made you a Rajvansh by name, but that doesn’t make you my daughter-in-law.” Her lips press into a thin line. “And I don’t see that ever changing.”
Without another word, she turns and walks out through the carved teakwood doors, leaving me alone with the sting of her words.
I turn back to the idol and blink away my tears.
No matter how many times she rejects me, it never hurts any less.
I should be used to it by now. Yet every day, hope quietly finds its way back into my heart, telling me that today she’ll smile at me, place a blessing on my head, and see me as more than just her son’s wife.
That today she’ll finally accept me, just for that hope to be crushed once again.
The only reason I refuse to let her indifference stop me from trying is because I know what it feels like to grow up without a mother’s love.
I was only four when my parents died in a car accident.
Overnight, my brother, Rudra Singhania, who was just nine at the time, became my protector.
With the help of Meena Aunty, our devoted caretaker, he raised me with all the love and care our parents were no longer there to give us.
“One day she’ll come around,” Dadiji’s warm, reassuring voice reaches me from behind, gently pulling me from my thoughts.
I turn, unable to stop the smile that spreads across my face.
Shakuntala Devi Rajvansh isn’t just the matriarch of this family, she is its heart.
In her late seventies, she carries herself with quiet grace, her silver-white hair always swept into a neat bun and her petite frame draped in elegant handloom sarees.
Fine lines crease her face, each one telling a story of the life she has lived, while her warm, kind eyes filled with wisdom, compassion, and unconditional love, have a way of making everyone around her feel cherished.
I walk towards her and bend to touch her feet. Instantly, both her hands come to rest lovingly on my head.
“May you always be happy, my child.”
Those seven simple words mend a tiny piece of my heart.
When I straighten, she cups my cheeks with both hands and smiles. “Don’t lose hope, my child. One day, my stubborn bahu will stop fighting her own heart and bless you with the very love she’s trying so hard to hide.”
“I hope you’re right, Dadiji.” I frown, unable to keep the doubt from creeping into my voice.
“Because sometimes I wonder if she’ll ever accept me.
No matter what I do, it never seems to be enough.
I keep telling myself to be patient… but some days, it feels like I am trying to unlock a door that was never meant to open. ”
“Listen to me, my child. There are people who speak through words, and there are those who speak through silence. Your mother-in-law belongs to the second kind.” Her thumb brushes lightly over my cheek.
“Don’t let her silence make you question your place in this family, my child.
Rajeshwari notices far more than she lets on.
She sees how effortlessly you balance running your company while taking care of this home.
She notices that every servant smiles when you speak to them, that you’ve memorised everyone’s tea preferences, that you’re in the kitchen before sunrise, and that you’ve embraced every Rajvansh tradition without a single complaint. ”
A knowing smile tugs at her lips. “Love has a way of reaching even the most guarded hearts. One day, yours will reach Rajeshwari’s too. Until then, keep being exactly who you are. The rest will follow in its own time.”
Hope flickers inside me. “Do you really think she’ll ever accept me wholeheartedly?”
“I know she will.” Dadiji’s smile softens as she lovingly tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “Now, enough worrying about my stubborn bahu.” She waves a dismissive hand. “Tell me about my equally stubborn grandson.”
Heat instantly rushes to my cheeks.
“Is he keeping you happy, or is he giving you as much trouble as his mother?”
I lower my gaze, unable to hide the smile spreading across my face as the heaviness in my heart eases, if only a little.
Dadiji chuckles. “That blush answers my question.”
She gives my cheek an affectionate pat before glancing at the antique grandfather clock standing just outside the temple.
“We’d better get moving. At this rate, breakfast will be cold before everyone makes it to the table.”
I nod. “I’ll go check if Shaurya is back from his jog.”
“You do that while I go check on my bahu and give her a little hard time for troubling you.” She presses a gentle kiss to my forehead before turning towards the dining room.
Drawing in a quiet breath, I make my way back upstairs.
By the time I reach our bedroom, the sound of running water drifting from the en-suite bathroom tells me Shaurya is back from his jog. Not wanting to interrupt his routine, I quietly slip out onto the balcony to wait for him.
Stepping outside, I rest my hands on the wrought-iron railing and close my eyes, letting the crisp morning air wash over me.
Before I know it, my thoughts drift back to the day we first met.
“You remembered the agenda?” Rudra Bhai asked as we stepped into the grand ballroom of the Imperial Grand Hotel for the annual India Business Excellence Charity Gala.
At just twenty-seven, Rudra Bhai had already become one of the youngest CEOs in the country. As for me, at twenty-two, I had recently joined him at Singhania Group as an executive, learning the business under his guidance while slowly carving out a place of my own.
I rolled my eyes. “Pune township, expansion funding... and don’t agree to anything until you’ve gone over the numbers.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “So, you do listen when I talk.”
“Occasionally.”
He shook his head, and together we stepped inside. The next hour passed in a blur of introductions, polite smiles, handshakes, and endless business conversations.
I accepted a champagne flute from a passing waiter while speaking with an investor when a flicker of movement across the room caught my attention. Instinctively, I looked up. The man who had just walked in was, without question, the most striking man I’d ever seen.
He stood well over six feet tall, was broad-shouldered, and effortlessly commanding in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit. His dark hair was swept back, revealing striking features and a jawline so sharply defined it looked almost sculpted.
“That’s Shaurya Rajvansh,” Rudra Bhai said, following my gaze. His voice carried unmistakable disapproval. “One of the most ruthless businessmen in the country.”
“You don’t sound like a fan.”
“I’ve dealt with him enough to know better. He’s brilliant, but he’ll do whatever it takes to win. I’d rather keep my distance.”
I nodded before looking back across the ballroom.