CHAPTER 13! THE WEDDING DATE
Two weeks.
Fourteen entire days since Aadhira Agrawal had officially returned to Mumbai.
And somehow, against all known laws of emotional stability and basic human physics, the world had actually continued functioning.
Barely.
The Agrawal mansion had slowly, carefully adjusted to her vibrant presence again.
Her clear, unfiltered laughter had finally returned to the cavernous marble hallways.
Her chaotic charcoal sketches and colorful fabric swatches once again covered the formal dining table whenever Padmini wasn't looking.
Vaani now visited the estate often enough for the entire security detail to recognize the distinct sound of impending structural destruction from three rooms away.
And Ayaan-Ayaan had simply attached himself to her entire existence with terrifying emotional efficiency.
He called her every single night without fail before sleeping. He complained about his mundane school homework exclusively to her now, bypassing his father's staff entirely.
And once, highly horrifyingly for the Shinghania legal team, he had informed his senior mathematics teacher during class: "My mother says your worksheets lack basic analytical creativity."
Aadhira still heavily suspected Aryav had enjoyed that specific incident far more than he ever should have, which was deeply, profoundly concerning for her future sanity.
Currently-Aadhira sat cross-legged near the massive, arched bay window of her bedroom while the late afternoon sunlight spilled softly across the polished wooden floor around her like liquid gold.
Her laptop remained open on a velvet cushion beside scattered Italian fabric samples, haute couture fashion sketches, and half-finished embroidery designs she had brought back from Milan.
On the video call screen, Kashvi stared at her from across the world with the exhausted, profound disbelief of a woman witnessing premium, high-society chaos from another continent.
Aadhira pointed a pencil immediately at the screen.
"Tujhe kaise pata? Tune kab dekha usse ?"
So kashvi rolled her eyes and said
"Magazine mein dekha tha.literally ice statue lag raha tha."
So addhira said " are karta hai...
Par maine bhi nahi dekha."
" Kyuki yeh sach hai , Haan theek hai handsome hai. Rich hai. Personality bhi annoyingly acchi hai. But still-Aryav Rai Shinghania hi hai woh."
Kashvi said.
"Thoda psycho vibe deta hai, par itna bhi bura nahi hai vo kashvi."
aadhira said
Than kashavi said. "yeh tum bol rahi ho tum, jo usse aakhe bhi nahi milati."
"Aadhira, He gave you a contract."
"It was not a contract."
"Aadhira usme clauses the."
"There were only four pages."
"ONLY FOUR?"
"Wow! he gives you clause instead of Ring."
Aadhira let out a loud sigh, flopping backward against her massive pile of silk cushions, staring at the ceiling. "You are not helping my current mental state."
So kashvi said " jese ki main tujhe baga ke le jane vali thi na."
Before Aadhira could formulate a defense, her bedroom door clicked and swung open softly.
Padmini entered the room, carrying a stack of heavy, gold-embossed Banarasi saree catalogues in one hand and absolute maternal authority in the other.
Immediately, Kashvi's posture straightened on the laptop screen, her voice shifting into standard polite mode.
"Hello, aunty!"
Padmini smiled warmly toward the camera, adjusting her diamond bangles. "Kashvi beta. Hello. Still surviving Milan?"
"Emotionally? Absolutely not."
"Good," Padmini noted sagely, stepping further into the room. "That means your design mentors are making you work properly."
Aadhira snorted loudly into a cushion.
Padmini ignored her daughter's lack of sophistication, smoothing the edge of her heavy silk saree with graceful, practiced precision.
"Aadhira, stop what you're doing. I need to talk to you."
The tone.
The exact, unmistakable shift in the air that signaled immediate, existential danger.
Aadhira narrowed her eyes suspiciously before glancing back toward the laptop screen. "Kash, I'll call you later?"
Kashvi's eyes widened instantly with a delighted, primal hunger for family scandal. "No, no, absolutely not. Call mat kaat. Mujhe bhi sunna hai."
Aadhira reached out and ended the video call immediately.
Kashvi ko gossip mil jaata toh woh kabhi nahi chhodti.
The bedroom became remarkably quieter after the laptop screen went black. Outside the expansive bay windows, the Mumbai evening sky had begun melting into soft, bleeding shades of golden-orange and dusky violet beneath the fading monsoon clouds.
Padmini sat down beside her daughter on the edge of the mattress, her expression turning uncharacteristically gentle before she spoke carefully.
"Mrinalini ji talked to the Panditji this morning."
Aadhira's fingers went completely still over the ivory fabric sample in her lap.
"There is an exceptionally auspicious wedding date," Padmini continued, her voice low and steady. "Exactly fifteen days from now."
Silence settled heavily, softly between them.
Fifteen days.
Just fifteen.
Not months.
Not a vague, comfortable 'someday' in the distant, misty future. Fifteen real, ticking days until she officially became a permanent fixture of the Shinghania empire forever.
And immediately-without her permission, without her mind's consent-her memory dragged him forward.
Aryav.
His voice. That unbearable calmness. The way he looked at her like nothing escaped him.
Your body answers honestly.
Radha Rani.
Kya kar rahi ho yr.
Aadhira immediately wanted to throw herself into the Arabian Sea.
But then-another memory arrived right behind it, quiet and anchoring. Ayaan fast asleep beside her under the cream blankets. Small, warm fingers curled tight around the edge of her sleeve.
"Goodnight, Mama."
Something deep inside her chest softened, aching with a protective, fierce warmth.
Slowly-very slowly-Aadhira lowered her head and nodded once.
"Yes," she said quietly. "Okay."
Padmini's entire face lit up instantly with a massive surge of maternal victory and profound emotional relief.
"Oh, thank God," she exhaled dramatically, pressing a well-manicured hand against her heart as she stood up.
"These families make even a simple wedding feel like a military operation."
Aadhira laughed weakly, her chest tight.
Padmini moved happily toward the center of the room, her brain already mentally planning seventeen thousand different traditional ceremonies simultaneously with terrifying speed.
Then-halfway toward the bedroom doorway-she stopped.
Too casually.
Dangerously, strategically casually.
"Waise..." Padmini said lightly, her back still turned.
Aadhira's eyes narrowed into absolute slits immediately. "Maa?"
Padmini turned around, her face wearing the absolute innocence of a woman who was seconds away from committing high-level emotional terrorism against her own daughter.
"Maine pehle hi haan kar di thi." (I already told them yes.)
Absolute silence. Aadhira stared at her mother as if she had just spoken in a foreign dialect.
"...What."
" Pucha kyu fir mujhse."
"Aur shaam ko Aryav khud tumhe lene aa raha hai shopping ke liye."
One heartbeat. Two. Then-
"Mummy aap meri dushman ho kya?!"
But Padmini had already executed a flawless, high-speed retreat, fleeing the bedroom at impossible maternal velocities.
Her mother's muffled voice echoed faintly from somewhere deep downstairs, entirely unbothered: "Tu mana bhi nahi karti!" (You wouldn't have said no anyway!)
"Ready rehna!" (Be ready!)
And then-nothing. Silence. Padmini had vanished into the vast architecture of the mansion like a high-profile criminal escaping federal prosecution.
Aadhira sat completely frozen in the dead center of her bed, looking thoroughly horrified.
Shopping. With Aryav Rai Shinghania.
Alone. Publicly. For actual wedding clothes.
She stared down at her pastel blue dress, her brain completely short-circuiting at the sheer logistical nightmare of the evening ahead.
Radha Rani...
Seeda upar bula lo na yeh baar baar atteck dene ka kya matlab hai .
Meanwhile-across Mumbai-the Rai Shinghania mansion stood in absolute, intimidating silence beneath the rapidly darkening evening sky.
Unlike the Agrawal estate, which breathed warmth, light, and emotional chaos into its marble hallways, the Shinghania mansion felt colder. Sharper. Every echoing corridor carried the polished, heavy stillness of old power and inherited authority.
Inside the master wing-Aryav Rai Shinghania adjusted the platinum cuff of his watch slowly while standing before the massive floor-length mirror of his dressing room.
Black suit. White shirt. No tie. Minimal effort, maximum intimidation.
His phone rested on the dark marble counter nearby.
Several unopened financial files still waited beside it, abandoned for the first time all day.
Aryav picked up his coat calmly, his mind already halfway inside tomorrow's high-stakes board meeting.
Then-
"Tumhari shaadi ho rahi hai ya annual audit?" (Is this your wedding happening or an annual audit?)
Mrinalini Devi entered the room without warning.
Naturally. Because women like her had spent entire lifetimes terrifying powerful men into absolute obedience using only strategic silence and profound disappointment.
Aryav glanced toward his grandmother once, his voice a low, respectful baritone. "Dadi."
She ignored his greeting completely, settling onto the velvet armchair near the center of the room with supreme, unshakeable authority.
"Panditji finalized the auspicious date today."
"I know."
"Good. Then you also know you are taking Aadhira shopping this evening."
Aryav reached for his watch calmly, checking the time. "I don't have room in my schedule."
"Time bana lo." (Make time.)
"There's a major Singapore acquisition meeting in evening."
"Singapore bhaag nahi raha." (Singapore isn't running away.)
Aryav's expression remained entirely unreadable. "I'll send the driver."
Silence.