CHAPTER 9
RAGHAV
Usually, my mornings begin before the sun has fully risen over the valley. I ride Zephyr across the vineyard, inspecting the land, speaking with the workers, and checking production. It’s a routine I follow without fail. But today, none of that has happened.
Since last night, I have struggled to fasten the pendant to my chain, and have failed every single time.
No matter how many times I try, the hook refuses to close properly.
It slips, misaligns and refuses to hold.
Even now, I’m standing in the garden at the far end of the open lawn, away from the main area, still trying to attach the pendant.
The breakfast buffet is already set inside the restaurant, while the outdoor tables remain mostly empty at this hour. The quiet here, with no unnecessary movement or interruptions, suits me as I focus on fixing the pendant back into place.
My jaw tightens as I bring the chain forward again, lowering my chin to get a better look. I press the tiny hook with more force than necessary and try to secure it in place. For a beat, it feels like it might hold, but then it slips away again.
I exhale slowly, feeling slightly irritated. I have never liked things that refuse to obey when they should. And this is not some ordinary piece of metal that I can set aside and forget. This is special.
Just as I’m about to try again, my iPad rings.
I glance down at the table beside me, where the screen lights up with Meher’s name.
A video call. For a moment, I consider ignoring the call, but the thought disappears just as quickly as it comes.
There are some things I simply do not ignore, and my family is one of them.
I cannot dismiss them, no matter how much distance I still try to keep between us.
Closing my fingers around the pendant, I pick up the iPad and place it against the flower vase in front of me, adjusting it just enough for the frame to hold steady. Then I accept the call.
The screen flickers for a second before Meher and Ayaan appear together, both leaning into the frame, both smiling.
Meher is the first to speak. “Good morning, Raghav,” she greets me warmly with her soft and bubbly voice. “I thought you wouldn’t answer my call.”
I let out a slow breath, shifting my weight slightly as I stand beside the table. “When have I ever ignored your calls?”
She raises a brow instantly. “You didn’t reply to my last text two days ago.”
I remember the message. It was yet another one of her matchmaking attempts.
Some distant relative’s cousin who, apparently, was perfect for me.
According to Meher, she was ‘exactly my type,’ whatever that meant.
It felt as if I were just waiting to be paired with the next available option.
The moment I read it, I left it at seen and moved on.
Ayaan’s laughter pulls me back to the moment.
“Come on, Raghav,” he says, shaking his head. “You are the least active member on the family WhatsApp group as well.”
I roll my eyes because they’re right. A few months ago, Meher created a group that includes the Shergills, the Walias, and even Krish and Trisha.
It’s constantly buzzing with conversations about spouses, husband-wife issues, kids, and more.
As the only single person in the group, I hardly have anything to contribute, nor am I particularly interested.
Ayaan’s smile fades slowly as he simply looks at me, his gaze reading more than what is being said. “You okay?” he asks.
Being fraternal twins, Ayaan and I share that unique ability to sense each other’s distress. He’s the only one who can take one look at me and know exactly where I stand, what I’m carrying, and what I’m not saying. It’s always been like that between us.
I exhale slowly and lift my hand, showing him the pendant resting in my palm. “This came off last night,” I say. “And no matter how many times I tried… I couldn’t fix it back.”
Ayaan’s expression changes. He knows what that pendant means to me. I glance down at it again, pressing the tiny hook with my thumb as it slips from my fingers yet again. Before he can say anything, Meher leans closer to the screen and smiles.
“Such emotional things need a touch of love to be fixed.”
Love? Seriously?
I stare at her for a second and scoff. “Don’t give me your bookish ideas,” I say flatly. “Save them for your husband.”
Ayaan rolls his eyes and lets out another low laugh. “Raghav, don’t forget that those very ideas and bookish romance are the reason you’re about to officially become a ‘chachu’ (uncle) in three months.”
“Exactly,” Meher adds, her face lighting up. Her hand instinctively moves to her six-month baby bump as she rubs it with a glowing smile.
I look at her for a moment, and a faint smile touches my lips.
Ever since the news of her pregnancy has been out, the entire family has been overcome with joy, eagerly waiting and counting down the days for the arrival of their twins.
Yes, twins. It still feels strange. My brother’s children are about to be born.
Just two and a half years ago, I met my brother, Ayaan for the first time.
And now, the next generation of our family is already on the way into this world, whether I’m ready for it or not.
But one thing is clear. When their babies arrive, they will not just be Ayaan’s to care for. They will be my responsibility too.
Meher’s voice pulls me back. “And I want my kids’ chachu to be there when they’re born.”
I hold her gaze briefly, then nod once. “I’ll be there.”
Her smile deepens, but she doesn’t stop there.
“And I don’t want you to be alone when you see them for the first time either,” she continues. “Their chachi (aunt) should be right there beside you.”
I exhale slowly, already knowing where this is going.
“Either you tell us who she is…” she adds, tilting her head just a little, “or we choose one for you. Because I’m honestly tired of your suspense, Raghav. Who was that mysterious woman who left her ridiculously expensive sandal with you nine months ago?”
Just as the words leave her mouth, I hear the familiar voice of that very woman.
“How could you do this to me, RK?”
Siya.
Before I can even look up, she walks straight into the frame, into my space, into the call… completely unaware of what she has just interrupted. She stops in front of me, steps closer, and raises her wrists.
“How could you tie my wrists last night?” she asks angrily. “Now look what happened. I’ve got bruises, all thanks to you. And let me tell you, they are painful. In fact, my whole body is aching after last night’s struggle.”
For a brief moment, everything around me goes still.
I know exactly what she means. Every word, every moment of last night comes rushing back.
But the silence on the other end of the screen shifts into something else entirely.
I don’t even need to look at the iPad to know what Ayaan and Meher are thinking. Or worse, what they are assuming.
Night. Struggles. Bruises. Wrists tied. Whole body aching.
Those are the exact words they would latch onto… and build a version of last night that never actually happened. They’ve never seen me with a woman before. Never heard anything remotely close to this. And I’ve never given them any reason to think otherwise.
Now Siya, without realising it, has just given them a completely different picture. And my brother and his wife have no clue that she’s the same mysterious woman whose sandal they still bring up, just to get a reaction out of me.
My jaw hardens as she’s about to say something more, but I don’t let her. Before this spirals any further, I grip her jaw firmly, not enough to hurt, but enough to stop her, and turn her face towards the iPad resting on the table.
Her gaze follows where I guide it, and then she sees it… or rather, she realises that I’m on a video call. The anger on her face wavers and is replaced by sudden awkwardness as it hits her that she has walked into something she clearly didn’t expect.
“Oh… I… I’m sorry,” she says quickly, glancing at the screen.
I then release her, my fingers dropping away from her jaw. Surprisingly, she doesn’t step back. Instead, she keeps looking at the screen, confused.
At Ayaan.
“Uh… why do you look so much like RK?” she asks him, her brows pulling together slightly as she studies him.
I step in before this can go any further and hold her lightly by her upper arms, intending to pull her back out of the frame, out of this conversation, before she starts asking more questions.
But Siya doesn’t even look at me. Without a second thought, she swats my hand away, almost absentmindedly, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Anyone watching would read it for what it looks like, a sign of two people far too comfortable with each other.
Ayaan blinks once, pulled out of whatever conclusion he had begun to form. “Well, that’s because Raghav is my brother,” he says simply. “We are fraternal twins.”
Siya’s expression changes into shock, and her gaze snaps to me. “You have a brother?” she asks, clearly surprised. “That too a twin?”
I hold her gaze. This is not something the Vardhaan mafia princess was supposed to know. But she does now. And I’m not going to explain it further. Pulling her forcefully behind me, I turn back to the iPad, cutting the moment short before it can get messier. “I’ll call you later.”
“Raghav, wait.” Meher leans forward curiously, her eyes flicking between the two of us with far too much interest. “At least introduce us to her.”
“No,” I reply.
That one word is enough. Before she can argue, or Ayaan can step in, I end the call. I turn back to Siya, who is still staring at me in shock, as if she’s just uncovered news of the millennium… the Dark Prince has a twin brother. No one from the mafia world knew this, but that has changed now.
I grit my teeth, forcing the tension in my jaw to ease before it shows on my face.
“You… you have a brother?” she asks in disbelief. “How? I mean—”