Chapter 30
This chapter is not edited so read at your own risk
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Author's POV
The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint smell of cooked food and the damp earth after a heavy shower. The mansion was rather lively, its corridors echoing with the soft shuffling of servants beginning the day by bidding farewell to the young couple.
Outside, the driveway was already alive with activity. The polished black SUV stood waiting at the porch, while attendants hurried back and forth with luggage, their voices murmuring instructions to one another.
Zaviyar stood at the doorway, his tall frame outlined by the faint rays of the rising sun.
His coat was draped neatly over one arm, the other hand lifting every few moments to check his watch.
His expression was carved in annoyance yet unreadable.
He hated waking up early and now had to drive for hours.
There was nothing in his demeanor that betrayed impatience or excitement.
To anyone watching, it looked like just another routine journey.
He had, in fact, intended to take a driver along, but for some reason Riffat had been firm. Almost insistent that both of them go alone. Her reasoning had been simple, almost motherly. She wanted both of them to enjoy each other's company without any interruptions.
The wooden door creaked softly as Riffat emerged from the kitchen, Shabana trailing behind her with a packed tiffin balanced carefully in her hands.
Bhanur, after all, was a few hours away.
The Rathod residency was not in the bustling heart of the city but nestled in a quieter, secluded corner far removed from the noise of urbanization.
Riffat's pace was brisk as she approached Zaviyar.
He immediately straightened, slipping his phone into his pocket and bent slightly to hug his mother.
She patted his back warmly before pulling away, her sharp eyes already searching his face as though preparing herself for the lecture she knew he needed.
"Meri baat dhyaan se suno. Safiya ka khayal rakhna. Shaadi ke baad tum dono pehli baar kahi akele jaa rahe ho. Toh khayal rahe ki ek saath thoda waqt bitao.", Her hand rested firmly on his as she spoke, making him nod, though she knew very well his mind was already elsewhere.
(Listen to me carefully. Take care of Safiya. After the wedding, this is the first time you both are going somewhere alone. So make sure you spend some time together.)
"Aur khabardaar agar uss bacchi par chillaye toh. Purani aadat hai tumhari. Sudharo apne aap ko.", Her tone turned sharp, reprimanding, her eyes narrowing in warning.
(And don't you dare raise your voice at that girl. That old habit of yours... you need to fix yourself.)
She handed him the tiffin, her words laced with authority.
"Mene khana de diya hai, khaa lena. Aur meri bahu ka khayal rakhna.
Woh jagah uske liye nayi hai, toh uska dhyaan rakhna.
" (I've packed food, make sure you eat it.
And take care of my daughter-in-law. That place is new for her, so keep her comfort in mind.)
"Ji Ammi, dhyaan rakhunga." (Yes, Ammi, I'll take care.) His reply was flat, monotonous, as if he had repeated the same line one too many times.
Riffat clicked her tongue in disapproval.
"Haan, theek se gaadi chalana. Kisise race lagane ki zarurat nahi hai.
" (And yes, drive properly. There's no need to race with anyone.) Her finger wagged in front of him like he was still a child.
"Aur haan-Safiya ko bilkul bhi tang mat karna.
" (And don't you dare trouble Safiya either.)
"Ammi, main bachcha nahi hu." (Ammi, I'm not a child.) Zaviyar muttered, rolling his eyes in exasperation.
Her lips curved into a knowing scrunch. "Mere liye toh tum abhi bhi bachche hi ho. Kad bada ho gaya hai lekin abhi bhi chhote bachchon ki tarah naak pe gussa leke chalte ho."
(For me, you're still a child. Your height may have grown, but you still walk around with childish anger on your nose.)
She exhaled heavily, muttering almost to herself before starting again with her endless refrain, "Safiya ka khayal rakhna... aur us par gussa kiya na toh-", But Zaviyar quickly cut her off, his patience thinning.
(Take care of Safiya... and if you lose your temper on her then-)
"Aap apni bahu ko bulaye taaki hum jaldi nikal saken. Jab hum jaldi niklenge tab mujhe tez gaadi chalani nahi paregi aur hum dono sahi salamat pohonch jayenge. Kyunki agar woh aur ek minute bhi late hui-"
(Why don't you call your daughter-in-law so that we can leave quickly. If we leave on time, then I won't have to drive fast, and we'll both reach safely. Because if she's even one more minute late-)
Riffat narrowed her eyes, her voice sharp as a whip. "Ek kaam karo, tum khud jao. Koi zarurat nahi hai meri bachchi ko leke jaane ki. Ek toh subah subah uth ke bas ek shirt aur pant pehen liya.", She raised a finger threateningly.
(Do one thing-go alone. There's no need to take my daughter with you. Look at you, early in the morning, you just threw on a shirt and pants.)
"Khabardaar jo meri beti ko daanta toh. Woh dekho, aagayi. Enwayi chillate rehte ho tum."
(Don't you dare scold my daughter. Look, she's here. You're always yelling for no reason.)
Zaviyar's words froze mid-air as his gaze followed his mother's pointing finger. Safiya was descending the staircase.
The world seemed to tilt for a moment.
She was radiant, draped in a simple red saree that hugged her figure with an effortless grace, the fabric's deep hue glowed under the soft morning light.
The blouse matched perfectly, modest yet alluring, her gold jewellery glinting faintly with every step.
Her damp locks fell to one side of her shoulder, dark and heavy, and with each sway they left a trail of temptation in their wake.
Zaviyar's mind flickered to last night, the memory still raw, still dangerously close to the surface.
( I'm confused both of these sarees are so pretty ????????? )
Safiya's hands delicately held the front pleats of her saree, her steps careful as though each one demanded her full concentration.
Despite wearing sarees on past occasions, the drape always challenged her.
She needed Rida's help this morning just to get it right.
Even now, her eyes remained cautious, silently praying she wouldn't trip on the way down.
But what Zaviyar saw was far removed from her own anxieties.
To him, she looked ethereal. The red fabric clung to her in all the right ways, tracing her curves with a quiet boldness.
Sleep still lingered faintly in her eyes but her spine was straight, her steps deliberate, her chin lifted ever so slightly.
She refused to appear reluctant before him, no matter how heavy her heart felt.
By the time she reached the bottom, Riffat's maternal instincts took over.
She immediately began warding off the evil eye, circling her hand near Safiya's face, muttering protective words.
Then, with a softness reserved only for her daughter-in-law, she squeezed Safiya's hand reassuringly near the door, her eyes glancing briefly toward Zaviyar before returning to the girl she adored like her own.
Safiya finally lifted her gaze, her eyes locking with Zaviyar's, only to find his own already fixed on her with an unsettling intensity.
Her breath caught for a second, her body shifting uncomfortably under the weight of his stare.
His eyes didn't simply look at her. They scanned, tracing her slowly from head to toe taking in each delicate details.
His gaze growing dark each passing second.
That's when her mind clicked back to the words he had spoken the night. The scene replaying in her memory.
'Red looks good on you, wife.'
Heat rushed instantly to her face. Her cheeks burned crimson, the shade almost matching the saree wrapped around her body.
A sudden wave of warmth rose inside her as if the morning breeze had ceased to exist. She shifted on her feet, trying to compose herself but there was no hiding the color that betrayed her.
Zaviyar, at first, narrowed his eyes at her, curious, but soon the corner of his lips twitched fighting against a smirk. He had caught it. He had seen the way her earshells turned pink, the way her composure cracked.
"Tum laal kyun ho gayi ho? Bukhaar ho gaya hai kya?" Riffat's concerned voice broke through, her sharp eyes immediately noticing her daughter-in-law's flushed cheeks.
(Why have you turned red? Do you have a fever?)
Safiya quickly shook her head, her lashes fluttering down as she moved closer, placing herself beside Zaviyar as if that alone could shield her from further scrutiny.
But Riffat wasn't done. She turned back to her son with the same commanding firmness. "Safiya ka khayal rakhna.",Her tone was stern, a reminder laced with authority.
(Take care of Safiya.)
Zaviyar barely flicked his gaze in her direction, his eyes stubbornly drawn back to his wife. "Ji, Ammi." The reply slipped out, polite yet dismissive, more like a reflex than sincerity.
That subtle indifference didn't sit well with Riffat. Her expression sharpened as she stepped closer, lowering her voice so it cut deeper.
"Main mazaak nahi kar rahi. Safar door hai. Aurat ke liye thakaan dugni hoti hai. Tumhari zimmedari hai ke uski sahulat ka dhyaan rakho." (I'm not joking. The journey is long. For a woman, the fatigue doubles. It is your responsibility to make sure she is comfortable.)
Safiya shifted awkwardly, her eyes flickering between the two. The tension between mother and son pressed heavily in the air. Zaviyar's jaw flexed, a faint spark of irritation flashing in his eyes before he smoothed it over with a practiced calm.
"Ammi, main meri biwi ka khayal rakh sakta hoon.", His voice was steady, but there was steel underneath.
(Ammi, I can take care of my wife.)
But Riffat wasn't easily convinced. Her gaze lingered on him, hard and knowing, as though she could strip away every layer of his composure. "Aisa ho toh achcha hoga... tumhare liye."
(It will be better if you do... for your own sake.)
Safiya blinked, surprised by the blunt edge of Riffat's warning. Zaviyar's fingers curled tightly around his coat, knuckles whitening for a second before he gave her a curt nod.
Riffat turned softer only when her eyes found Safiya again. She pressed a gentle smile into her features, squeezing Safiya's hand briefly in reassurance before letting go. Safiya held onto that comfort like a shield as she slipped into the car seat beside Zaviyar.
With one last wave from Riffat, Zaviyar pressed his foot on the pedal, guiding the car out of the haveli's grand iron gates.
The early sun filtered through the mist, fields stretching endlessly on either side of the road.
The SUV rolled smoothly but inside, the silence weighed heavier than the steady hum of the engine.
Safiya sat stiffly, her hands folded tightly in her lap. The moment the gates of the mansion disappeared behind them, she lowered her gaze and whispered softly under her breath.
Her lips moved in prayer, the verses she had recited since childhood, each syllable steady despite the unease tightening her chest. With every word, a fragile comfort wrapped itself around her, reminding her that even here, trapped in his presence, under his shadow, she wasn't completely alone.
When she finished, she inhaled deeply, pressing her head slightly against the cool glass of the window. For a brief moment, calm settled inside her chest.
Until his voice cut through it like a blade.
"Aakhir mein tumhe maan na hi pada.", Zaviyar spoke without sparing her a glance, his hands firm on the steering wheel.
(In the end, you had to agree.)
"Main apne Baba ke liye maani hoon. Nahi toh main kabhi nahi jaati.", Her jaw tightened as she turned her face away.
(I agreed for my father. Otherwise, I would have never gone.)
A shiver coursed through her as the cold morning air slipped in through the slight crack in the window. The thin material of her saree did little to shield her. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep warm, until her eyes widened when Zaviyar suddenly pulled the car over.
Her heart skipped. Is he going to leave me here? Her brows furrowed as she watched him unbuckle his seatbelt. She almost gasped when he leaned toward her, his tall frame closing the distance in seconds.
Instinctively, her eyes squeezed shut as she shrank back, her body pressing against the car door. The air around her thickened, his scent overwhelming, his presence too close. Seconds stretched painfully until curiosity pried one eye open.
And there he was, his face mere inches from hers, their breaths mingling, his lips dangerously close to hers. Her heart slammed inside her chest.
But then, he moved. With a simple, practical motion, he pulled her seatbelt across and clicked it into place. Before she could even recover, he reached into the backseat, retrieved his coat and laid it gently across her lap.
Without a word, he straightened and resumed driving.
"Don't fall sick. Wear it." His voice was low, steady, but his eyes never left the road.
Safiya clutched the coat in her fingers. The warmth radiated immediately, and for a fleeting second, an involuntary smile brushed the corner of her lips. But just as quickly, she masked it. Tossing it back onto his side, she spoke with a sharp roll of her eyes.
"Tumse juri hui koi bhi cheez mujhe nahi chahiye.", Her voice was crisp as she turned her face back to the window.
(I don't want anything that belongs to you.)
Zaviyar's lips curved faintly, the smug sarcasm slipping effortlessly into his tone.
"Aap bhi humse juri hui hain, lawyer sahiba. "
(You also belong to me, lawyer sahiba. )
Safiya ignored him cringing at the choice of words and the nickname, unlocking her phone and opening a game to distract herself. Minutes passed but boredom settled in quickly. With a sigh, she reached forward and switched on the car radio, filling the silence with the crackle of music.
The radio crackled softly before the melody swelled, and the car filled with the words of a song that seemed to echo the storm inside her.
Dil kahe... kahaaniyan, pehli dafa
Armaano mein rawaniyan... pehli dafa
Ho gaya begana main hosh se pehli dafa
Pyaar ko pehchana, ehsaas hai yeh naya...
Safiya's eyes slid to her right almost involuntarily. Zaviyar's profile stood framed against the faint light seeping in through the glass. His jaw was taut, his focus unwavering on the road but the quiet intensity around him was impossible to ignore.
She wondered how their dynamics had shifted so abruptly. Strangers once... then family, then enemies... and now married. Married! The word twisted inside her chest. He was her husband. The thought alone was enough to stir emotions she didn't want to name.
Her bangles clinked softly as her hand moved, almost absentmindedly, to the power window switch on the center console. But instead of the cold plastic, her fingers landed against something warm Zaviyar's hand.
Her head jerked toward him at the exact moment the lyrics swirled around them-
Kabhi dard si, kabhi zard si
Zindagi benaam thi...
Kahin chahatein hui meherbaan
Haath badh ke thaamti...
The touch was accidental, fleeting but it jolted through her like lightning. A shiver ran down her spine, her skin prickling. She snatched her hand away as though burned, her breath sharp in her throat. But his hand lingered, steady on the console, unmoved, as though he hadn't minded at all.
The silence thickened, wrapping around them heavier than words. Every breath felt charged, every glance stolen.
Her lashes fluttered as she risked another glance at him only to catch his eyes flick toward her from the corner.
That single look was enough to set her nerves into chaos.
His gaze returned quickly to the road, yet every line of his face betrayed a tension she wasn't supposed to see.
He was looking, stealing glimpses of the woman who, by fate's cruel twist, sat beside him as his wife.
Ik woh nazar, ik woh nigaah
Rooh mein shaamil iss tarah
Ban gaya afsana ik baat se pehli dafa
Paa liya hai thikana
Baahon ki hai panaah...
Her thoughts betrayed her, dragging her to moments she had tried to forget. The way he had cornered her against the pool, how his breath had brushed her skin, the way his arm had lifted her up as though she weighed nothing.
She hadn't realized her gaze was fixed on him until she traced his face, his eyes, his sharp nose that had grazed her nape last night, down to his lips. Those perfectly pink, plush lips.
A blush climbed unbidden up her neck, her cheeks warming as her mind replayed the way those lips had pressed against her skin, her neck, the shell of her ear. Suddenly, the air conditioning wasn't enough as heat spread across her body leaving her restless in her seat.
Lage bewajah alfaaz jo
Woh zaroorat ho gaye...
Her mind echoed back to his words earlier - "Meri biwi ka khayal main khud rakh sakta hoon." He had said it casually, almost dismissively, yet the word wife had lodged deep inside her, stirring something she couldn't ignore no matter how hard she tried.
(I can take care of my wife myself.)
Taqdeer ke kuch faislay
Jo ganimat ho gaye...
As they passed by a toll gate, she remembered how she had crossed it when day she had first come to Azamgarh, never knowing she would leave it branded as someone's wife.
She remembered when they had gone to buy bangles, how she had teasingly said the seat beside him belonged to his wife.
And perhaps she had been right. That seat.
.. it did belong to his wife. Only to his wife.
Badla hua har pal hai
Rehti khumari har jagah
Pyaar tha anjaana
Hua saath mein pehli dafa...
Love was never something she had searched for.
She had long buried such fragile wishes in the corners of her heart.
From the very first day of this marriage, she had expected nothing but endurance.
Yet here she was, her heart racing with emotions she refused to admit, the music pulling every buried feeling closer to the surface.
Meanwhile, Zaviyar's grip tightened on the steering wheel.
He could feel her gaze lingering on him, heavy, intense, impossible to ignore.
His throat worked as he forced himself not to turn, not to give in.
But the tension in his body betrayed him.
Driving was a bad idea, he realized with a dry swallow.
Yeh asar ab jaana
Kya rang hai yeh chadha...
Suna hai, suna hai
Yeh rasm-e-wafa hai
Jo dil pe nasha hai
Woh pehli dafa hai...
As the final note faded, Zaviyar exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Relief swept through him, brief and shallow.
But then, the next song began. Its opening beats slicing through the fragile calm. Zaviyar groaned mentally.
Honthon pe beimaaniyan...
Kar le, kar le, thodi nadaaniyan...
Honthon pe manmaaniyan...
Kar le, kar le, thodi nadaaniyan...
Safiya was still caught in a trance, her eyes unfocused, her body lost in the echo of emotions she couldn't rein in. Zaviyar, however, felt the coil of restraint inside him tighten to a breaking point.
The song's words dragged him back to last night, to the image he couldn't shake. Safiya in red lingerie, her damp hair, her flushed skin. The sight burned into his memory.
Fuck, he cursed under his breath, jaw clenching.
Mujhe aadhi raat ko satane lage
Mujhe apne saath tadpane lage
Tu aa jaa paas, yeh bulaane lage
Tujhe chhoona chaah-
Before the lyrics could carve any deeper, he reached out abruptly and switched off the music system. The sudden silence rang loud inside the car. His hand fell back against the wheel and then he dropped his forehead onto it, his breath ragged, trying to wrestle back control.
Safiya blinked, startled out of her trance by the sudden cut of music. Confused, her eyes darted around until they found him.
And when Zaviyar finally lifted his head, his gaze met hers across the narrow space.
"Wh-what's wrong?" Safiya asked, immediately pressing herself back against the seat when she saw Zaviyar lean closer.
His breath brushed her face, hot, uneven. "I know I said red looks good on you, sweetheart..." His voice dropped low, husky, every word deliberate. "...but that doesn't mean you get to tempt me by wearing it in front of me."
Her chest rose sharply. "I-I did no such thing. I didn't wear red for you."
A dark chuckle escaped him, his eyes lingering on her lips before sliding back to the road. "Hmm... then do me a favor-don't wear a red dress next time. Because if you do, I swear I won't stop myself from tearing it to pieces... straight off your skin."
Her lips parted but no words came. Her mind froze, caught between horror and something that burned deep in her stomach. She clamped her mouth shut instantly, face flushed, eyes wide. She shifted closer to the door, desperate for distance.
"Keep moving away like that," Zaviyar's smirk curved, his tone sharp enough to cut. "And I'll toss you straight out of this car myself."
" You wouldn't dare. ", Safiya's breath hitched.
She forced herself to sit still, her face turned towards the window.
But her eyes betrayed her, sliding back to him.
To the veins running along his forearm as his hands flexed on the steering wheel.
To the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders, his presence too consuming to ignore.
'Uparwale ne shakal touh achchi di hai... kaash thodi akal bhi de dete,' she thought, yet her gaze lingered far too long.
( God has given him a good face, should have given him some brains as well. )
"Safiya..." His voice broke the silence. She hummed absentmindedly, eyes still on him.
"Stop looking at me like that," Zaviyar's tone dropped to a dangerous murmur, thick with heat. "Or I'll make sure we're much later than planned."
Her entire body stiffened, his implication hitting her like fire. She quickly turned away, her cheeks burning, her heart slamming against her ribs.
She closed her eyes, pretending to sleep, anything to escape the wild storm he had stirred within her. Anything to silence those traitorous butterflies that refused to die.
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Safiya's POV
We finally reached Bhanur after what felt like an endless three-hour drive.
As the car slowed down, I took a moment to fix my makeup in the small mirror, smoothing the smudges of kohl under my eyes and adjusting a strand of hair that had slipped out of place.
I needed to look presentable, collected even if inside my nerves were coiling tightly at the thought of meeting new people.
The huge iron gates of the Rathod Mansion creaked open with a grand weight, revealing a driveway that seemed to stretch forever.
Zaviyar guided the car forward, the tires crunching against the stone pathway until we reached a flight of wide staircases.
At the top stood massive wooden doors, carved with intricate patterns, tall and intimidating like the kind one only ever sees in grand old family dramas on television.
The mansion itself loomed proudly, a perfect mix of tradition and power.
Zaviyar stepped out first, his movements fluid and commanding.
Crossing over to my side, he pulled the door open.
I was about to climb down on my own when, unexpectedly, he extended his hand.
For a brief second, I hesitated. But before my mind could catch up, my hand had already slipped into his.
His palm was warm, his hold firm yet careful, completely enveloping my smaller hand.
After handing the car keys to the chauffeur, he bent his arm slightly, offering it to me.
The gesture was so old-world, almost princely, that I faltered.
Still, I slid my hand onto his bicep. The hardness of his muscles under the fabric startled me, and I gripped just lightly, enough to keep balance.
Without a word, we walked together up the stairs toward the heavy doors, every step echoing with quiet tension.
Inside, the mansion opened into a vast hall that smelled faintly of sandalwood and polished oak.
My eyes immediately caught the broad back of a man standing in front of the grand fireplace, his stance confident, his hands clasped behind him.
Hearing the soft sound of our footsteps against the marble floor, he turned.
My breath caught. Recognition hit me like a sudden storm.
Even he seemed momentarily startled. For a second, his eyes widened before he quickly masked it with composure.
He strode forward and his face broke into a smile as he embraced Zaviyar in a firm, brotherly hug.
Their voices carried the weight of camaraderie, the kind built over years of business or brotherhood.
But the moment Zaviyar turned to introduce me, Akshat Singh Rathod extended his hand first.
"Miss Shah, we meet again. And this time... outside an office." His tone was smooth, but I could sense a flicker of something else hidden beneath it.
I curved my lips into a polite smile, slipping my hand into his.
His grip was strong but the polite warmth on his face didn't reach his eyes.
A strange chill spread through me, almost instinctively, and I turned slightly only to catch Zaviyar's expression.
He is a cunning man, in and out of boardrooms.
The way his gaze burned at our joined hands, it was as if flames licked at our skin. If his eyes had any more power, Akshat's hand would have turned to ash for daring to touch mine. I withdrew immediately, the polite smile frozen on my lips, feeling the heat of Zaviyar's silent fury.
Small world indeed. The realization struck with a cruel irony that the Mr. Rathod Zaviyar had spoken about is none other than Akshat Singh Rathod. The same man with whom I was secretly conspiring against Sisodia and Adeel.
"Safiya Zaviyar Khan," Zaviyar said suddenly, his voice sharp, proud, his tone as if he was correcting Akshay and a little possessive as his hand slid against my waist, his fingers slightly pressing on my exposed back. "My wife."
I blinked, his words sinking in, the name hanging between us with authority. Akshat raised a brow, amusement flickering in his eyes as if Zaviyar's declaration had given him more entertainment than surprise.
"It's a pleasant surprise meeting you here, Mr. Rathod," I said, trying to keep my composure steady.
"Just call me Akshat," he replied, lips tugging in a stiff smile. "After all, you are my friend's wife."
Before I could respond, a melodious voice floated from the staircase, accompanied by the soft tinkling of payal.
"Akshat ji, aapne mujhe uthaya kyun-" The words stopped midway when her eyes landed on us. She froze, then quickly pressed her lips shut, as though she had revealed more than intended.
Descending the stairs gracefully was a woman who looked almost ethereal. Draped in a white and red davani-style saree, her long hair cascading in waves down her back, she looked every bit like a vision from an old painting. She was gorgeous.
Akshat immediately walked towards the stairs, extended his hand for her to hold as he guided he to us.
As she stood before us, i noticed the delicate kamarband rested on her waist, her glass bangles and payal clinking.
The red sindoor on her hair partition was bright, hinting that she was none other than the lady of the house.
She wore simple jewellery, a set of beautiful jhumkas, a fresh gajra made from real flowers (one which I would die to wear because it looked ethereal ), and a gold Mangalsutra.
"Hello," she said softly, almost shyly, her voice laced with sweetness peeking from Akshat's shoulder.
"Aadhira," Akshat murmured, his gaze softening instantly as he looked at her. The change in his expression was undeniable, almost tender. His hand slipped naturally around her waist, pulling her closer with an intimacy that made her blush crimson.
I couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips. The contrast was striking Akshat Singh Rathod, all sharp lines and ruthless confidence in business, now transformed into a lovestruck man, undone by the presence of his wife.
"Ch-chhodiyein... sab yahan hain," she squeaked, whispering as she gently tried to step away from his hold.
( Leave me, everyone Is watching)
Finally composing herself, she turned to us. "i'm Aadhira Sarma," she introduced politely, smiling. Then, with a quick glance at Adhira, Akshat corrected, while her fingers fiddling with the golden mangalsutra resting against her chest. "Aadhira Sharma Singh Rathod."
We all moved toward the couch where refreshments were laid out.
Soon, the atmosphere softened. I found myself seated beside Aadhira, and what began as small talk quickly turned into easy conversation.
She had a warmth that disarmed me, her words flowing with a sincerity that made it feel like we had known each other for years.
It wasn't long before she revealed something that surprised me further-she was Ira, the celebrated novelist whose name was making waves across literary circles.
I had devoured one of her thriller novels not long ago and it had left me spellbound.
To now sit across from her, laughing and talking like friends, felt surreal.
Meanwhile, Akshat and Zaviyar excused themselves, disappearing into another room, no doubt to discuss matters of business.
"Would you like a tour of the house?" Aadhira asked suddenly, her eyes gleaming with excitement.
I nodded eagerly, my curiosity piqued. The mansion was breathtaking, adorned with a fusion of modern sophistication and traditional artistry. There was something magnetic about its walls, as if every corridor whispered stories of old wealth and deeper secrets.
And as I rose to follow her, she held my wrist and guided me along. I couldn't shake the lingering awareness that in this house between Zaviyar's watchful eyes, Akshat's hidden intentions, and Aadhira's charm every step I took would matter.
Aadhira led the way, her graceful stride confident yet gentle, and I followed closely behind, trying to keep pace without seeming too eager.
At first, she showed me the display shelves in the foyer.
Every book, every award, was arranged with meticulous care.
The golden plaques gleamed under the soft lighting and the framed photographs seemed to capture both achievement and warmth.
It was impossible not to admire the effort she had put into curating this space.
Each item told a story, each shelf a fragment of her life.
We walked up the grand staircase to the first floor, the polished wooden railing cool beneath my hand.
On the wall, a striking portrait caught my attention- a regal, almost royal depiction of Akshat and Aadhira together, smiling in perfect harmony.
Their presence in the painting exuded power and elegance, yet there was a softness to their connection that immediately drew me in.
Aadhira paused, brow furrowed in thought. "Akshat ji... do you know him from before?" she asked hesitantly, glancing at me.
"Not much," I replied casually, trying to sound neutral. "Just met for some business work. He wanted a lawyer for a lawsuit against the Sisodia Corp..."
Her reaction was immediate and almost visceral. I watched her complexion drain as her knuckles turned white, the grip on her dupatta tightening so fiercely that I could see the tension in her arms.
"B-but why?" she stammered, voice trembling.
I frowned, confused, and took a cautious step closer. "Why would Akshat go against the Sisodia company? Did he... mention Es-eshaan?"
Her hands froze mid-motion, the faintest tremor running through them as she turned to me. Her eyes, usually calm and composed, had widened, and her lips parted slightly, as if words were failing her.
"Eshaan Sisodia... the Chairperson of Sisodia Corp?" I asked slowly, letting the name hang between us.
Her entire body seemed to stiffen. Blood drained from her face, leaving it almost ghostly pale.
"I-I'm sorry. Let's forget about it," she murmured, though her hands still shook slightly. She looked like she had seen a ghost from the past. I placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, urging her to steady herself.
When she turned to me, I could see it clearly, her eyes were red, glimmering with the hint of unspilled tears.
"What's wrong, Aadhira? Are... are you alright?" I asked softly, my voice betraying concern. She took a few shaky breaths, finally beginning to regain composure and wiped her clammy palms with the end of her pallu.
Her confession came out in a rush, almost as if she feared saying it slowly. "Esh... Eshaan Sisodia was my first husband."
I nearly let out a gasp. The revelation hit me like a storm. Akshat was sworn to destroy Sisodia Corp and yet here he was, married to the former wife of the very man he considered his rival. The complexity of the situation made my head spin. I needed answers, and I needed them soon.
"I didn't cheat on him, if that's what you're thinking," she hurried to clarify, panic flashing across her features.
"It's a long story," she continued, voice soft but filled with quiet strength. "Eshaan and I... we were married because of family relations. I tried, I really did, but he never considered me his wife. He told me to stop expecting anything from him."
Her words struck a deep chord within me. Not only did her story mirror mine in certain ways but it also reflected the suffocating feeling of being trapped, of giving more than was ever reciprocated. I felt as though I were staring into a mirror.
"I left him," she said, voice steadying slightly, though her sigh carried the weight of years. "I couldn't continue living as a shadow of him... And then I met Akshat Ji. One thing led to another, and we got married."
Her expression softened, the faintest smile gracing her lips. The blush that tinted her cheeks, the glimmer in her eyes as she spoke of him. It was impossible not to notice. In that moment, it was clear how happy she was with Akshat snd how deeply he had changed her world.
I felt like someone was dragging a sharp knife along my neck, which would dig deep into me as soon as I let out a breath. She had to leave him to get the life she wanted and here I am, living the same life.
We continued walking and I found myself stopping in front of a pair of massive wooden doors, curiosity stopping me in my tracks. Aadhira glanced back at me and smiled softly.
"It's the library," she said, her voice carrying both pride and excitement. She tapped in a code and the doors swung open smoothly, revealing a haven of books.
The scent of paper, leather and ink enveloped me the moment we stepped inside.
It was intoxicating, the smell, the rows and rows of book spines.
I wanted to stay there forever, to lose myself in the world of stories that stretched from the polished floor to the high ceiling.
The library looked pristine, almost untouched each shelf perfectly aligned as if the space itself wss a portal to another world.
I walked over to one of the shelves and pulled out a book at random, a romance novel. The delicate design of the cover, the promises of passion within, made me smile.
Moving to another section, I realized something astonishing.
.. every shelf seemed devoted entirely to romance.
Fantasy romance, Classical romance and conntemporary romance.
Every conceivable sub-genre had its own carefully curated section, each row inviting the reader to escape into a different world of love.
I ran my fingers over the spines, a sense of awe and quiet delight washing over me.
In that moment, surrounded by books and the quiet hum of the mansion, I understood why Aadhira loved this place so dearly.
It wasn't just a library, it was a sanctuary, a world of endless possibilities and for a brief moment, I felt like I had found a safe corner of it just for myself.
"They're all romance books?" I asked, turning toward Aadhira, curiosity getting the better of me.
She bit her tongue mischievously, her fingers lightly scratching the nape of her neck and I could see the faintest pink tint across her cheeks.
"Uh-uhm... I'm a hopeless romantic," she admitted, her voice soft, almost shy.
"I love reading romance books, you know.
" Her fingers brushed absentmindedly over the headrest of a nearby chair, tracing its curve as if grounding herself.
The flush on her face suggested she was recalling something sweet or perhaps embarrassing.
I tilted my head, studying her. "But it would take months, maybe years, to make a library filled entirely with romance books."
She nodded, eyes sparkling. "I know... I casually mentioned it to Akshat one day, how I dreamed of having a library full of them.
Back in my previous apartment, I managed a small shelf with a few romance novels.
But then, after marriage... uhm, my ex..
." She paused, the memory souring her smile for a fraction of a second.
"He didn't like romance books. Called them a nuisance, said they were a waste of space. So, I let go of that little dream."
Her hands twisted the pallu of her saree, and when she looked at me again, her smile had softened, warmth radiating in her eyes. "But then... Akshat surprised me. He built this for me."
It was clear, so clear that the affection she felt for her husband was unspoken but absolute. She didn't even realize the depth of her love yet. My lips curved in a smile, but inwardly, I felt a twinge of envy.
"It's giving me Beauty and the Beast vibes," I said softly. "You're living the dream, Aadhira."
Would it be selfish to admit it? Somewhere deep inside, I longed for that too.
That undivided attention, that feeling of being cherished.
.. treated like a princess. Instead, my own life had been.
.. chaotic, suffocating, dominated by Zaviyar's relentless presence, his sharp words, his cold temperament.
He was more like the villain in my story than a prince charming.
We finally left the library, the scent of old pages still lingering in the air like a gentle perfume and headed toward the main hall. The mansion seemed to breathe around us, silent but alive, each corner whispering stories of the people who lived here.
My eyes landed on a photograph hanging on the wall.
It was their wedding picture. Aadhira sat with her head bowed slightly, her expression troubled, almost melancholic.
Akshat, on the other hand, looked composed, cold yet with a glimmer of triumph hidden in his gaze.
It was an entirely different one than the one in the main hall.
I studied it closely, trying to interpret the emotions captured in the still image.
Moving along, I noticed another photograph. This one of three boys. At first, I couldn't recognize them. Then Aadhira spoke up, breaking my thoughts.
"Akshat told me it's him, Agastya, and Zaviyar."
Zaviyar. The name made my stomach twist slightly.
In the photo, he looked no older than twelve or thirteen.
His hair was neatly cut, soft and short, his face still rounded with the innocence of childhood.
He had the kind of chubby cheeks that made him look endearingly adorable, completely different from the commanding presence he now exuded.
I found myself staring at him, caught in a strange wave of nostalgia. If I ever have a son... would he look the same?
I shook my head quickly, chastising myself for even thinking such thoughts. What am I even thinking? That too about that sadu...
Before I could spiral further, a staff member appeared, politely announcing that the food was ready. Aadhira and I turned toward the dining room and began walking.
Just as we approached, voices carried from inside, an argument, the low thrum of bickering. One of the voices... unmistakable. It belonged to Agastya. My head jerked slightly at the sound, recognition sharp and immediate.
The air seemed to thicken around me, tension curling at the edges of my nerves. Whatever awaited us in that dining room was bound to be... interesting.
Just then, I felt a sudden tickle on my back, sharp and unexpectedand I almost let out a scream as something heavy pressed against me.
"Surprise, Bhabi!"
My eyes widened and for a split second, my heart raced in disbelief. Then, the weight on my back resolved into someone very familiar. I spun around and engulfed Khwaish in a bone-crushing hug, laughter and relief spilling from me uncontrollably.
"You-how? When?" I stammered, barely able to contain my shock and delight.
Khwaish giggled, a musical, mischievous sound that immediately put me at ease.
"Mein touh kabka Agastya ke saath aagayi thi.
Aap aur bhai ne der kardi. Pta nhi hain kitni der se chhupi hui hu," she said, whining lightly, her words tumbling out in the way only Khwaish could manage when she was excited.
I couldn't resist, I reached out and pinched her cheeks with affection. She squealed, mock-whining, wriggling in my grasp, and I couldn't stop myself from laughing at her antics.
Meanwhile, I caught Adhira's gaze and she was watching us with the sweetest, fond smile, her eyes warm as they followed our interaction. There was something comforting in seeing her calm presence, her serenity grounding me in the whirlwind of emotions Khwaish had just stirred.
"Let's go have dinner," Adhira suggested softly, her voice steady yet inviting.
We moved toward the door together, still chuckling from Khwaish's energy, when we reached the threshold. The sight that greeted us made all three of us freeze in place, our breaths catching at once.
The dining room... it was breathtaking. Chandeliers shimmered above, casting a golden glow over the long, polished table adorned with fine china and sparkling glassware. But our eyes were focussed on something else entirely.
The scene before us left us collectively stunned. Each of us gasped softly, the sound almost merging with the hum of the mansion around us.
Khwaish clutched my arm lightly, her wide eyes mirroring my own. Adhira's serene smile faltered for a fraction of a second, just enough for me to realize that whatever awaited us in that room, it was going to change the night and perhaps the dynamic between all of us- forever...
Before we could react, Zaviyar was lying back on the couch, his body tense yet strangely still as if time itself had slowed around him.
Akshat had somehow ended up leaning over him, their faces inches apart, breaths mingling in the narrow space between them.
The flickering light from the chandelier above caught the sharp lines of Akshat's jaw and the warmth in Zaviyar's eyes, making the moment feel charged, almost impossibly intimate.
Every tiny movement, Akshat's hand brushing against Zaviyar's arm, the faint rise and fall of his chest.made the air crackle, like the room itself was holding its breath.
For a second, it felt like the world outside had ceased to exist, and all that mattered was that fragile, magnetic space between them.
And just as the tension reached its peak, their lips so close you could almost feel the heat between them, the moment shattered into silence...
"Zaviyarrrrrrr-"
"Akshat-jiiiii-"
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Author's note