5
I sat in the backseat of the car, leaning comfortably into the seat as Sheraa nuzzled deeper into my lap, purring softly.
My fingers absentmindedly ran over his small, fuzzy ears, and he gave a pleased little sigh - a sound only I was allowed to hear.
Papa sat in the passenger seat, going through some call logs, while Bhairava bhaiya was driving in his usual calm, commanding silence.
Utsav leaned against my shoulder, one earbud in, scrolling through something on his phone with that soft smile he always wore when he was around me.
Everything was peaceful.
Everything was normal.
But...
My fingers froze for just a second on Sheraa's ear.
I couldn't shake off the feeling - the way Dattatriya Agnivanshi had looked at me.
Not with anger.
Not with rivalry.
Not even with curiosity.
It was something else.
Like... worship.
As if I were some untouchable goddess carved out of stone and power, and he - he wanted nothing more than to be destroyed by me.
I'd caught the way his eyes never left me - not even when Bhairava bhaiya was speaking, not even when Dyan almost lunged at him.
His gaze... it wasn't lust.
It wasn't even admiration.
It was devotion.
The kind that's dangerous.
The kind that builds temples out of obsession.
I frowned slightly, focusing back on Sheraa's ears, scratching behind them the way he liked.
"Kya hua?" Utsav asked softly, without looking up.
"Hmm?" I blinked.
"You're scratching Sheraa like he insulted you," he smirked.
I rolled my eyes and leaned back. "I'm fine."
But I wasn't.
Because for the first time in a long time... I felt seen.
And I didn't know if that was thrilling -
or terrifying.
We reached home just as the sky started glowing in shades of dusty gold and rose.
I stepped out of the car with Sheraa cradled in my arms, his tail lazily swaying as he purred against my chest. Utsav jumped out after me, already texting someone - probably bribing someone at college to do his assignment.
As I walked into the Choudhury mansion, the familiar scent of sandalwood and espresso welcomed me - along with the sound of the television blaring some racing match.
And there they were.
Gyan bhaiya and Dyan bhaiya, slouched dramatically on the couch like two giant kids caught red-handed. I narrowed my eyes instantly.
"You two are early," I said slowly, shifting Sheraa to one arm and raising an eyebrow. "Tell me you didn't ride above the speed limit again."
Gyan bhaiya looked up, smirking with zero remorse.
Dyan bhaiya, on the other hand, was still pouting like someone had stolen his favorite knife.
"We followed the rules," Gyan said with the most fake innocence I'd ever heard. "We just... bent time."
I gave him the look and turned to Dyan bhaiya, who hadn't even acknowledged my sarcasm. His arms were crossed, hair messy from the ride, and lips pressed in a sulk that was almost adorable - if he weren't a man who could end a hundred people with one glare.
Sighing, I walked over and gently sat next to him, Sheraa climbing down to curl at our feet.
I leaned into Dyan bhaiya's arm, resting my head on his shoulder.
"What happened, bhaiya?" I asked softly.
He grunted. Didn't respond.
Gyan bhaiya chuckled. "He's still mad we didn't get to rip Agnivanshi's smug face apart."
"I would have," Dyan muttered under his breath. "You held me back."
I smiled, brushing a bit of hair off his forehead.
"No," I corrected gently. "I held you back."
He finally looked at me, eyes softening just a little. "I don't like him looking at you like that."
My fingers paused.
Just for a second.
Because I didn't expect that.
"You saw that too?" I asked quietly.
"Everyone saw that," Gyan bhaiya replied, walking over and flopping beside us. "It was like he wanted to drop everything and worship you like a goddess from his broken mandir."
Dyan didn't say anything.
But he didn't deny it either.
I sat in silence, sandwiched between the two men who'd protected me like walls since I was born.
And for the first time today, I let my own guard drop just a little.
Because if Dattatriya Agnivanshi thought he could look at me like that -
He better be ready to play by my rules.
I was in my office, sprawled across my favorite leather chair with a pile of documents in front of me. Sheraa was curled on the rug near my feet, chewing lazily on one of his toys while I skimmed through the contract I had drawn for Mr. Worshipping Eyes, aka Dattatriya Agnivanshi.
The moment I finished highlighting the final clause, I heard the familiar sound of footsteps - the kind that didn't try to hide, didn't tiptoe, because they owned every place they walked into.
Bhairava bhaiya.
He stepped in, shoulders broad, face unreadable... but something was definitely off.
I looked up. "What happened, bhaiya?"
He gave me a sheepish smile - sheepish - and that alone made me blink. The man who stared down killers without flinching looked like a guilty schoolboy right now.
"Your bhabhi," he began, scratching the back of his neck, "is mad at me. And... she isn't picking up my calls."
I blinked once. Then again. "You mean Arya bhabhi? As in the love of your life, the lioness who threatened to stab you with a pen when you first proposed? That one?"
He nodded miserably.
"And you... want me to call her?" I asked, just to confirm the comedy I was hearing.
"Yes," he said, like a lost puppy. "She listens to you."
I couldn't stop the grin that broke out across my face. I leaned back in my chair and burst into laughter.
"Oh my god," I cackled. "The great mafia king of India is scared of his to-be-wife. This should be carved on a marble plaque at our mansion entrance."
Sheraa let out a little mrrr like he agreed with me.
Bhairava bhaiya just gave me a deadpan look. "Are you done?"
"Nope," I giggled, wiping tears from my eyes. "But I'm enjoying this too much."
He groaned like I was torturing him and muttered, "She threatened to block me if I call again."
That made me laugh even harder. I finally took my phone from the table and handed it over.
"Here. Use mine. Try not to sound like you're dying inside."
He took the phone with a dramatic sigh, but I could already see the corners of his mouth twitching. Arya bhabhi had him wrapped around her little finger, and honestly, it was adorable.
As he walked out dialing, muttering strategies to calm her down, I turned back to my contract.
Love made even devils dance.
And that... was priceless.
I was still working, eyes scanning the clauses of the contract when Bhairava bhaiya's phone - which he'd left carelessly on my desk - started buzzing.
I frowned and glanced at the screen.
Dattatriya Agnivanshi.
The name flashed boldly in the middle of the screen, and I stilled.
Sheraa raised his head from the rug, sensing the sudden shift in my energy. I let the phone ring for another few seconds, debating whether to answer or not. It wasn't my phone. And it was him.
But curiosity - or maybe something else I didn't want to name - got the better of me.
I exhaled sharply and received the call.
"Hello," I said, voice clipped and emotionless.
There was a pause on the other end.
Then his deep voice, calm and as composed as ever, slid through the speaker. "You're not Bhairava Choudhury."
"No," I said simply, leaning back in the chair. "But you called his phone, and I picked up. So, what do you want, Mr. Agnivanshi?"
He was quiet for a moment. Then:
"I was calling to confirm tomorrow's meeting to sign the contract," he said. "But since you're on the line... make sure the terms haven't changed."
My fingers tapped lightly on the desk. "If they had, you'd be the first to know. We don't play games, Dattatriya."
Another pause.
Then, so soft I almost didn't hear it, he said, "Except with me."
I froze. Just for a second. My fingers stopped tapping. My breath hitched.
But I recovered quickly.
"Your paranoia is showing," I said coolly.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, ignoring my jab.
And then the line disconnected.
I stared at the screen for a few seconds longer, before tossing the phone gently back onto the table.
Sheraa purred and jumped up onto my lap, curling himself there like a fluffy guardian of secrets.
I stroked his fur absently, eyes narrowed in thought.
That man...
He never says things without meaning them.
And somehow, that one cryptic line stayed in my head longer than it should have.
I walked down the staircase, holding Sheraa securely in my arms, his tail lazily flicking as he nuzzled into my shoulder. Bhairava bhaiya's phone was still in my hand - and the faint sound of him pleading echoed through the living room.
"Arya... listen na, jaan. It wasn't my fault... okay fine, maybe a little, but you also overreacted-"
I paused mid-step and burst into laughter. "Oh god, this man is still negotiating peace terms with his own wife."
Gyan bhaiya looked up from his place on the couch, smirking. "Karma. He acts like a lion in the mafia but whimpers like a kitten at home."
I laughed again and walked over, gently lowering myself onto the couch and resting my head in Gyan bhaiya's lap while Sheraa hopped down and curled up at my feet.
Utsav, who was scrolling through his phone on the adjacent couch, immediately got up, came over, and plopped himself on top of me - right on my stomach.
"Ufff, Utsav! What are you made of, concrete?" I groaned, ruffling his hair.
"Nope," he mumbled, eyes already fluttering shut. "Just your emotional support baby brother."
Gyan bhaiya chuckled, adjusting the blanket on us like a protective father. Sheraa gave a tiny yawn and blinked sleepily up at us.
Dyan bhaiya walked in with a glass of juice and snorted. "This entire mafia household looks like a sleepover."
"Shut up," I muttered without opening my eyes. "You were the one sulking two hours ago."
"And you cuddled me, so now we're even."
Everyone chuckled softly, the rare moment of peace settling over the Choudhury mansion.
Then I remembered. I opened my eyes slowly, gazing up at the ceiling.
"Oh, by the way," I said casually.
"Hm?" Gyan bhaiya asked, stroking my hair absentmindedly.
"Dattatriya called."
Everyone stilled.
Bhairava bhaiya paused his pleading on the phone. Dyan bhaiya's smirk dropped. Utsav peeked open one eye.
I smirked.
Now that got their attention.
I looked at everyone - all frozen like I had just dropped a nuclear bomb in the middle of our peaceful mafia sleepover scene - and arched a brow.
"What?" I asked innocently. "I said he called. I didn't say I danced with him."
Bhairava bhaiya was the first to recover. "You picked up Dattatriya's call?"
I gave him a sarcastic look. "Well, you left your phone on my desk and someone had to be the responsible adult in the room."
Utsav was now sitting up, blinking rapidly. "Wait... you talked to him?"
"Yes," I said lazily, playing with a strand of his hair. "He just said he was reminding us about tomorrow's meeting. Confirming the time. That's it. Then he hung up."
Gyan bhaiya raised a brow, looking far too smug. "And you didn't blast him on call? Our Katha was being civil?"
"I'm always civil," I replied, deadpan. "That doesn't mean I didn't want to verbally destroy him."
Dyan bhaiya narrowed his eyes. "That man gives me the creeps."
I smirked. "That man gives everyone the creeps."
Sheraa stretched at my feet with a low grumble, clearly not a fan of the topic. I bent down to scratch behind his ears.
Bhairava bhaiya finally sighed and plopped down on the armchair. "Alright. So tomorrow, we sign the contract. This alliance starts officially."
"I'll get everything printed tonight," I said, stretching. "And no, Dyan bhaiya, you're not allowed to carry knives to the meeting. We're pretending to be civilised people, remember?"
Dyan bhaiya crossed his arms with a pout. "Fine."
Utsav grinned. "This is going to be interesting."
And as I leaned back into Gyan bhaiya, Sheraa resting his head on my foot, I whispered under my breath, "More than you know..."
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