CHAPTER 10! SAMOSA
The atmosphere inside the Agrawal mansion shifted slowly after the chaos upstairs settled into explanation instead of scandal.
Slowly being the operative word.
Because even after the absolute truth came out-a lizard, a blind panic, and some highly unfortunate furniture destruction-nobody in that room had entirely recovered from the image of Aryav Rai Shinghania emerging from Aadhira's bedroom beside a fractured bed.
He had looked perfectly composed, like a man who had just concluded a standard board meeting, while Aadhira looked completely, spiritually disconnected from the earth.
Some things simply stayed with people, burned into their retinas forever.
The rain outside had softened now, no longer violent enough to rattle the glass panels.
The monsoon storm had settled into a quieter, rhythmic hum against the city, leaving behind long, silver streaks across the massive windows surrounding the mansion.
Mrinalini Devi rose first.
The movement alone shifted the entire room's attention instantly, anchoring the space back to reality.
"I will speak with Panditji tomorrow morning," she said calmly, adjusting the edge of her heavy silk shawl with elegant, practiced precision. "Once the dates are finalized, we will inform you."
Veer nodded respectfully, his posture impeccable. "Of course, Mrinalini ji."
There was no excessive excitement.
No dramatic celebration.
Just the quiet, heavy finality of two powerful families concluding something irreversible.
Aadhira sat very still beside Ayaan on the plush sofa.
Marriage.
The word should have felt heavier. Permanent.
Terrifying.
Instead, Aadhira's exhausted brain focused on something far more immediate.
There were exactly three samosas left on the silver platter.
And Shaurya had already seen them.
Before she could plot her logistics, Ayaan wrapped his tiny arms around her neck, immediately reclaiming total priority over fried food and psychological collapse alike.
"Mama," he mumbled softly, burying his face against her shoulder.
The word still caught her off guard every single time, sending a strange, warm ache straight to her core.
Aadhira's entire defensive expression softened instantly. She wrapped her arms around his small frame, kissing his cheek carefully. "You'll come back to see me again soon, baby?"
Ayaan pulled back, nodding with complete, unshakeable confidence.
"You're coming home anyway."
The absolute innocence behind the statement landed differently on every single adult in the room.
Aryav stood nearby in complete, terrifying silence. One hand was tucked smoothly inside his coat pocket while the other held his car keys loosely between his long fingers.
His expression remained an absolute mask of arctic stone, but his heavy obsidian gaze shifted once-just once-toward Aadhira's face the exact millisecond Ayaan said the word home.
It was a fraction of a second. Then it disappeared again beneath layers of perfect, impenetrable control.
Ishani noticed.
Of course she noticed.
Mothers like Ishani Rai Shinghania missed very little when it came to the men they raised.
"Come, Ayaan," Vikrant said gently, breaking the spell.
The child finally released his grip on Aadhira and allowed Reyansh to dramatically scoop him up, carrying him away like a kidnapped prince despite loud, frantic protests.
"CHACHU, I CAN WALK."
"Absolutely not. Future emperors don't walk."
"You're going to drop me!"
"Sacrifices must be made for luxury, my boy."
"For God's sake, Reyansh," Myra muttered under her breath, trailing after them.
A small, restrained smile touched Veer Agrawal's face briefly at the display.
Near the doorway, Shaurya automatically stepped slightly aside, allowing Aryav to pass first before moving himself-a tiny, systemic gesture that almost nobody noticed anymore because it happened as naturally as breathing between them.
Hierarchy.
Instinct.
Years of unwritten rules.
Aryav paused only once before leaving the threshold. His dark eyes shifted toward Aadhira briefly across the expanse of the room.
They weren't soft.
They weren't warm.
Worse.
They looked... deliberate.
Like he had already decided she was something worth observing closely.
Then, his black shirt vanished into the corridor, and he walked out.
And only after Aryav left did the mansion remember how to breathe normally again.
The massive front doors closed behind the departing Shinghanias with a soft, heavy thud.
Silence settled over the living room for approximately three seconds.
Then-Aadhira lunged bodily across the sofa for the samosa plate.
"SHAURYA BHAI, DON'T YOU DARE-"
"MOVE."
Shaurya moved at the exact same millisecond, his reflexes lightning-fast as he snatched two samosas directly from the silver tray with combat-level efficiency, stepping back well out of her reach.
"Aap cheater ho!" she yelled, scrambling off the cushions.
"You hesitated," Shaurya replied, his voice entirely flat and analytical.
"Weakness kills on the field."
"Don't behave like him!"
"Aryav?
Aadhira grabbed the remaining samosa, clutching it protectively against her chest like a war survivor securing precious national resources. "You already had three !"
"You were emotionally occupied upstairs breaking furniture. I adapted to the changing market."
"BHAAIII!"
Both siblings froze instantly, locking in mid-motion.
Ishani Rai Shinghania had just walked back inside the mansion.
Dead, absolute silence returned. Aadhira slowly, smoothly hid her grease-stained samosa completely behind the folds of her ivory dupatta.
Shaurya lowered his right hand, which contained the stolen evidence, with the calm, unbothered dignity of a high-profile criminal caught mid-robbery.
Ishani looked at both of them quietly. Then her eyes drifted down to the empty plate. Then back up to their faces.
The image before her was deeply unfortunate. One future daughter-in-law clutching snacks like classified state secrets. One great lawyer openly hiding stolen food with military precision.
Neither child looked remotely sophisticated.
For one dangerous second, nobody spoke. Then Ishani said calmly, "I forgot my phone."
Shaurya immediately picked up the expensive device resting near the armrest beside the sofa and handed it to her with a respectful, flawless nod. "Here it is."
"Thank you."
Her gaze shifted once more toward the siblings. Aadhira forced a tight, incredibly nervous smile while still desperately pinning the samosa against her waist.
Shaurya, absolute tactical traitor that he was, subtly tilted his thumb toward the visible corner of the pastry sticking out from behind her silk dupatta.
Aadhira looked at him with a face of pure, unadulterated betrayal.
Something dangerously close to genuine amusement flickered deep in Ishani's eyes. Then, she turned on her heel and walked out of the house again without another syllable.
The exact second the front doors clicked shut-Padmini stared at both of her adult children in absolute, shattering disbelief.
"Jahil ho tum dono. Utterly uncivilized."
And with a dramatic flick of her saree pallu, she walked away toward the inner hallway.
Veer blinked once, staring at the empty doorway. Then, almost entirely to himself, he murmured, "Tumhare hi toh bachche hain." (They are your children, after all.)
Padmini turned around instantly from the corridor mouth, her eyes narrowing. "What did you say?"
"Main? Kuch bhi toh nahi." (Me? Nothing at all.)
Liar.
Veer looked toward Aadhira first, who was currently and aggressively eating her samosa before any further divine interventions could occur.
Then he looked toward Shaurya, who looked entirely unrepentant as he took a bite of his own.
"Nalayak," Veer muttered, though the sheer, protective affection beneath his voice was impossible to miss.
He shook his head and followed his wife upstairs.
The second their parents' footsteps disappeared from the landing-Aadhira and Shaurya looked at each other silently.
A beat passed. Then, both reached for the final, remaining crumb on the plate at the exact same time.
"CHHODO!"
"TUM CHHODO."
"This is my house!"
"My reflexes are simply faster, Aadhi."
"Thief!"
"Emotionally unstable."
Outside, inside the long, sleek black Mercedes idling beneath the rain-softened night, Ishani finally laughed quietly.
The sound was low and rare, surprising Vikrant enough that he actually looked away from the financial reports on his phone.
"What happened?" he asked, adjusting his glasses.
Ishani adjusted the elegant edge of her shawl, still smiling faintly back toward the glowing windows of the Agrawal mansion. "Aadhira."
Vikrant's stern expression softened slightly at the name. "You like her."
"Yes," Ishani said simply. There was no corporate hesitation in her voice. No calculation of net worth.
Then, after a small, thoughtful pause, she added quietly,
"She still feels things openly," Ishani said softly. "Your son doesn't."
Vikrant understood her immediately.
In their high-society world of cold steel, blood-soaked contracts, and manufactured smiles, real people were incredibly rare.
Untouched, vibrant people were rarer still.
And somehow, despite her obvious fear, despite the chaos of the evening, despite standing directly inside Aryav's suffocating, heavy orbit-Aadhira still reacted with absolute honesty.
She still laughed loudly.
She still panicked over lizards.
She still fought her own brother over a piece of fried food minutes after signing a contract to marry one of the most dangerous, ruthless men in the country.
Ishani looked out toward the dark, rain-slicked streets of Mumbai passing by the tinted glass window.
Then she said softly, "She brings humanity into rooms that have completely forgotten how to keep it."
By the next afternoon, the rain had stopped, but city still felt damp and heavy beneath the fading monsoon clouds.