CHAPTER 13! THE WEDDING DATE #2
Pure, dangerous matriarchal silence dropped over the dressing room. Mrinalini slowly looked up at him over the gold rim of her glasses, her eyes narrowing.
Aryav finally stopped his movements and looked directly at her.
And there it was-the exact reason she remained the only human being alive capable of speaking to Aryav Rai Shinghania like that and surviving comfortably afterward.
Because she had raised him. Because beneath all the accumulated global power and terrifying calmness, she still vividly remembered the little boy who once refused his vegetables with equal, stubborn intensity.
Aryav studied her quietly for one long, silent second. Then, he exhaled once through his nose.
Controlled surrender.
"I'll go in the evening," he said finally, his voice level. "After my final meeting."
Mrinalini nodded once, entirely victorious without showing it openly. "As you should."
Aryav picked up his car keys from the counter, then paused briefly before heading out. "Dadi."
"Hm?"
"Aap emotional blackmail bohot efficiently karti hain."
His grandmother smiled peacefully, smoothing her silk saree. "Experience."
Meanwhile-several kilometers away-inside the Agrawal mansion, an absolute tragedy was unfolding near the kitchen refrigerator.
Aadhira sat in front of her vanity mirror, attempting to mentally prepare herself for surviving public exposure beside Aryav Rai Shinghania without accidentally combusting from sheer stress.
Her wardrobe lay completely destroyed across the bed behind her.
Three rejected designer kurtas.
One major saree crisis.
Two miniature emotional breakdowns. And one expensive hair clip sacrificed to pure frustration.
Finally, after forty-seven minutes of intense suffering, she settled on a soft rose-pink chikankari suit paired with delicate silver jhumkas.
It was simple, elegant, and just breathable enough to accommodate sudden panic attacks.
She had just finished applying a thin line of kajal to her eyes when-
"Yeh kiski ice cream hai?" (Whose ice cream is this?)
Shaurya's voice echoed casually from downstairs, cutting through the quiet house.
Silence. Then-immediate, unadulterated sibling violence.
"CHHUNA MAT!" (DON'T TOUCH IT!)
Aadhira was out of her room in seconds.
Downstairs, Shaurya stood near the wide-open refrigerator holding absolutely nothing while looking deeply, profoundly exhausted already.
Aadhira rushed into the kitchen, looking thoroughly horrified. "You always eat my things! I'm going to complain to Papa today!"
Shaurya blinked once slowly behind his glasses. "I literally just asked whose it was."
"Because you were actively PLANNING a theft!"
"Aadhira, tu psychologically unstable hai." (Aadhira, you are psychologically unstable.)
She immediately snatched the dark chocolate ice cream tub from the freezer shelf possessively and hugged it to her chest like protected national property.
Shaurya looked at her blankly.
"Sirf poocha tha, moti." (I only asked, fatty.)
Aadhira gasped dramatically, her eyes widening. "Body shaming? In this fragile economy?"
Shaurya watched her leave, then muttered quietly toward the ceiling, "Bhagwan Aryav ki raksha karna."
Twenty minutes later-Aadhira descended the grand staircase again, fully dressed and finally ready.
Well, externally ready.
Internally, she was panicking.
Her soft pink outfit flowed elegantly around her ankles while the tiny silver bangles around her wrists chimed softly with every anxious, hesitant step downward.
She looked beautiful. Not loudly or aggressively beautiful-but a dangerously soft, timeless kind of beautiful.
The exact kind that stayed in a man's memory significantly longer than intended.
She reached the living room, adjusting the embroidered edge of her dupatta nervously.
No one was there.
Complete silence.
Aadhira frowned. "Bhai?"
Shaurya appeared near the dining area, checking an urgent contract on his phone.
Aadhira: "Kaisi lag rahi hoon?"
Shaurya: "Aisa lag raha hai jaise hanger pe kapde tang diye ho."
Aadhira: Papaaaaa....
Shourya: "majak kar hu moti- "
"He's already outside."
"What?"
"your fiance, Car ke paas khada hai. Ja." (He's standing by the car. Go.)
Aadhira immediately looked highly suspicious. "Are you guys emotionally sacrificing me for a business merger?"
"Bilkul." (Absolutely.)
"Bhai!"
"Relax. Aryav isn't going to eat you alive."
Aadhira looked deeply, profoundly unconvinced by that statement.
Slowly-very slowly-she walked toward the massive front doors of the mansion.
Her fingers tightened around the edge of her dupatta.
Not fixing it. Not adjusting it. Just holding it-like it could anchor her.
Outside, the evening air carried the faint, crisp scent of rain and wet earth, while soft golden security lights glowed along the length of the driveway.
And there-near the sleek, midnight-black Rolls-Royce parked beneath the mansion lights-Aryav stood waiting.
One hand was tucked into his trouser pocket, the other holding his phone loosely beside him.
Black shirt, dark charcoal trousers, sleeves rolled up once to his forearms. Calm. Still.
The private driver stood several feet away, already masterfully pretending not to exist.
The moment she stepped outside, Aryav looked up.
Precise.
Immediate.
Like he had already been aware of her.
The driver immediately looked away the second Aryav lifted his eyes.
He registered her before she fully reached the steps.
Not the outfit. Not the movement.
The hesitation.
Aadhira's footsteps slowed unconsciously beneath the sheer weight of that gaze..
The driver moved automatically to open the rear door.
Aryav stopped him with a single glance.
No words.
The driver stepped back immediately.
He didn't wait for instructions.
He already knew better.
Then Aryav opened the door himself.
The air between them felt deliberately unoccupied, as if neither of them wanted to be the first to fill it.
His gaze didn't move to her face first.
It paused-briefly-where she hadn't noticed herself yet.
The ice cream stain.
Without a word, he pulled out a folded handkerchief and held it toward her.
Not helping.
Not softening.
Just waiting.
Aadhira stared at him.
"...You noticed that from there?"
"Clearly."
For a moment, neither of them moved.
The car door stayed open.
Neither of them claimed the moment inside it.
Then-
"Five minutes late."