Chapter 2
The moment he said her name,
something inside Anvi snapped.
It sounded wrong from his lips-too foreign, too possessive, as if he had already decided that she belonged to him.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, ignoring the weight of his stare. The room was filled with people who claimed to love her, yet not a single person was standing up for her.
Her gaze flickered to her father. Veer Pratap Oberoi did not waver.
Her grandfather sat still, as if this decision had been sealed years ago.
And her mother? Her mother wouldn't even meet her eyes.
The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating, until Agastya spoke again.
"I will send my men to fetch her tomorrow. The wedding will be in a week."
Anvi's nails dug into her palms.
Fetch.
As if she were nothing more than a possession.
Her body stiffened as he turned on his heels, walking out as effortlessly as he had entered, his presence disappearing like a ghost in the night.
---
That night, Anvi cried for the first time in years.
She had grown up believing in love, in choice, in the warmth of a family that always put her happiness first. But now? Now, she was just a pawn.
"Ma..." her voice cracked as she turned toward her mother. "How could you let them do this?"
Ishita Oberoi's eyes glistened with unshed tears, but her fingers only caressed Anvi's hair. "Sometimes, we don't get to choose our fate, Pari."
Anvi pulled away. "That's not an answer!"
Her mother flinched.
Her father's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "This is for your own good."
Good?
Marrying a man feared by the entire country?
A man who didn't ask for her hand-he simply took it?
"This is not my fate, Papa," she whispered, her voice laced with quiet defiance. "This is my punishment for being born into this family."
And with that, she turned away, locking herself in her room.
---
Love, fear, regret-they were all weaknesses.
Yet, as he sat in his dark study, nursing a glass of whiskey, his mind kept circling back to her.
The girl who dared to look him in the eye.
She hadn't bowed her head like everyone else. She hadn't trembled or gasped when he spoke. She had stood there, frozen but unbroken.
Interesting.
His fingers drummed against the glass as his right-hand man, Kabir Rathore, leaned against the bookshelf.
"So," Kabir smirked, swirling his own drink. "You're finally taking a wife?"
Agastya's gaze flickered to him. "It's a business deal."
Kabir chuckled. "Then why do you look like she's already under your skin?"
Agastya ignored him.
He didn't know why he had said her name like that. Why he had let the word Pari slip past his lips so easily.
Maybe because he had seen something in her eyes-fire, defiance.
He should have hated it. He should have dismissed her as just another spoiled princess being thrown into his world.
But instead, something about her had intrigued him.
And that was dangerous.
Very, very dangerous.
---
The next evening, the Oberoi mansion was transformed into a grand celebration.
The engagement of Agastya Singh Rathore and Anvi Oberoi was an event that no one would dare to miss.
Gold curtains draped the marble halls, fairy lights flickered like tiny stars, and the soft melody of Rajasthani folk music filled the air. Guests whispered, wondering what kind of girl would dare marry Hukum.
But Anvi?
Anvi felt like a prisoner dressed for execution.
Her ivory lehenga shimmered under the chandelier, her long dark hair cascading down her back in soft waves. Bangles jingled softly on her wrists, but she felt their weight like shackles.
And then, he arrived.
The moment Agastya walked in, the room fell into a hushed silence.
Dressed in a black bandh gala, his presence sucked the air out of the space. Every gaze dropped, every conversation halted.
Everyone feared him.
Except for her.
She refused to lower her head.
And when he stepped in front of her, dark eyes locking onto hers, she finally spoke.
"I don't want this."
Gasps filled the room.
Veer Pratap Oberoi stiffened, his hand gripping his glass tightly.
But Agastya?
Agastya just smirked.
And then, he leaned in, his lips inches from her ear.
"You don't have a choice, Pari."
Her breath hitched.
His voice was dangerously soft, but his grip on her wrist was unrelenting.
With quiet dominance, he turned her wrist, sliding his family's emerald engagement ring onto her finger.
The final seal.
The moment it was done, he lifted his gaze to hers.
And for the first time, a dark promise glimmered in his eyes.
"You may not want this, Pari." He paused, voice smooth as silk, sharp as a blade. "But you will be mine."