010.

"How did you come here?” he asked. Niyati looked much more in control of herself now, sitting beside him in a comfortable chair with their clasped hands between them.

He had loudly protested against their seating arrangement, but this time, Niyati held her ground. “No... I won’t,” she told him firmly, dragging the chair beside him and sitting down.

It was important—she couldn’t even form thoughts, let alone talk, when in such close proximity to him.

So sitting where she was now was a much better choice, no matter what this prince charming had to say about it.

“Public transport,” she giggled aloud, noticing his gaze.

He rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything, preferring her cheerful self over the gloomy one. “No, really! I changed two buses and then took an auto, and ta-da! I’m here. Do you know how far this place is from my college?”

“Very funny.”

“I am,” she said proudly. “Everyone says so.”

He was tempted to ask who exactly these people were, but that could wait. He needed to get his original question answered first.

He pulled their hands together, and her smile faded, replaced by a shy expression—something Achintya enjoyed very much. “I meant, how did you really come here?”

The girl who was too afraid to even stand close to him in fear of being seen by others had somehow gathered the courage to visit the hospital in broad daylight. The fear of what others might think seemed to have vanished.

Grumbling, she looked away. Hadn’t she just poured her heart out to him moments ago? Did he forget already? Or maybe that wound on his shoulder had affected his brain. Could be that.

His question brought another thought to mind. "You’re not the first one..." What did that woman mean? If she wasn’t the first to visit, who else had come to see him?

It could be his friends, she thought. But then why had the nurse phrased it so oddly? Maybe it was other girls. Yes, that must be it.

Something hot bubbled inside her—much different than the usual warmth he stirred within her.

“Who came to see you before me?” she blurted out. He raised an eyebrow at her abrupt question.

“I asked first—”

“Ladies first, you know—”

“Your comebacks are getting as good as mine,” he smirked lazily. She slapped him playfully.

“Stop,” she muttered, trying to focus. Even here, on a hospital bed, with his messy hair, white t-shirt, and gray joggers, he still managed to outshine anyone. “Answer my question.”

God, when would this man stop affecting her so much?

“Well, let’s see. My family, my friends—”

“Which friend exactly?” Her glare sharpened, daring him to answer carefully.

“What?”

“Which one?”

“What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?” he finally asked, puzzled by her rapid-fire questions and intense glare. She looked like she was ready to douse him in gasoline and set him on fire.

“Nothing. I just asked you something.”

“Mayank. He’s my friend from college—”

Like a balloon deflating, she suddenly quieted down, the jittery feeling subsiding. So, a friend named Mayank had visited him. Fine, she could live with that.

“A relative of my friend's heard the guard talking about the hospital’s name,” she explained. “That’s how I found out.”

He looked at her in disbelief. This girl was something else. That interrogation she had just launched into? It wasn’t a normal conversation.

Tugging her closer, he pulled her face near his, her elbow digging into the mattress as she hovered over him. “What’s gotten into you?” he asked softly, noticing the red blush spreading over her cheeks. It was subtle, but from this close, he could see it clearly.

Shyly, she ducked her head. “Nothing. Just... wanted to know.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he let it go for now. She had come all this way to see him. He could give her some leniency. Besides, he’d have plenty of time later to figure out the cause of her sudden change.

“Fine,” he said, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead. He realized he liked her better with her hair down rather than tied in a simple braid.

“I love your scent,” he breathed, the smell of coconut calming him, quieting the noise in his head.

He watched as the blush deepened, spreading down her neck. He smirked. He wouldn’t admit it, but now that he had seen her, his heart was finally at peace.

_

Time flew by in a blur.

The lunch trolley rolled around at 1 p.m. and then left. She served him hot soup and lunch, and he insisted on feeding her a decent portion of his meal. He only stopped when she reminded him that her mother had sent her a tiffin, and she needed to finish that too.

Niyati would never confess it to anyone, but Achintya might just be the sweetest person she had ever met. Despite his wealthy background, he showed no signs of entitlement—at least not with her.

He demanded she open her lunch box and then ate two cold chapattis with her sabzi, ordering her to finish the hot meal on her plate. After the trolley was gone, she sat by him, their hands intertwined, talking about everything and nothing.

He even told her about the men who had attacked them the day before.

When she asked what he had done to them, he smoothly replied, “I promised you, so I didn’t kill anyone.” Was she supposed to feel relieved? She wasn’t sure.

Before long, the clock on the white wall showed it was past 2:30, and with a jolt, she stood up, rambling about how she’d miss the 3 p.m. bus if she didn’t leave soon.

“How long will you be in the hospital?” she asked, standing by the door, half-turned towards him. Achintya wasn’t thrilled that she’d be taking public transport and insisted—demanded—that he take her home. It took Niyati practically begging him to "think about yourself. Get well soon, so I can see you every morning,” before he finally relented and lay back down.

“Why? You’re going to visit me every day?” he teased.

“If you say so.” She smiled. If Niyati played her cards right, she could manage a visit tomorrow too. Her teacher had already seen her condition today, so a day off wouldn’t be a problem. She could simply tell Shivu dii that she went to the local library, explaining her absence from college.

It was a foolproof plan. This part of the city was far from her home, and Niyati was sure no one here would recognize her.

But all that could wait.

Right now, the man in front of her was her concern. The way he looked at her with a deadpan expression made it clear how little trust he had in her words.

“What? You think I can’t come?”

“Won’t it look weird if someone sees you—”

“They won’t. I’m sure my family isn’t familiar with this part of the city. It’s a commercial area, right?” she answered confidently, already weighing her pros and cons.

Impressed by her thought process, he beckoned her closer. Their hands were no longer connected, but he realized he missed the heady feeling of being able to read her so easily. Her face, always so expressive, was like an open book.

Blushing, she took small steps toward him, still maintaining a slight distance between them.

“I won’t bite,” he teased, and she frowned. He might not bite, but he did have a habit of holding her hand and not letting go. It had taken immense effort to free herself earlier.

Not that Niyati didn’t like it. But being so close to him made her brain short-circuit. She couldn’t afford to blush any more; if she didn’t get home soon, her whole plan for tomorrow would be ruined by her dearest mother.

“Yeah, well, I think I can hear you perfectly fine from here,” she retorted, crossing her arms.

“What if what I want to say is something I want to do?” he asked, pulling her wrist closer.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” he whispered, before pushing her away. But not before she caught it—the unmistakable tension in his clenched jaw, the hard look in his eyes.

Dazed, she turned and headed for the door, but not without a final glance back.

He was already watching her, a storm of emotions brewing in his eyes. With a sharp click, she opened the door and stepped out.

When would her heart stop pounding so much in his presence?

__

Mithilesh barged into the room, ready to curse the hell out of his brother.

The little shit—

“What is this I’m hearing?”

“How would I know, bhaisahab? I’m here, confined in this cabin.” His brother replied lazily, looking far too comfortable lying in bed, scrolling through his phone.

Clenching his teeth, Mithilesh continued, “You gave orders to the doctor so you can stay here for one more day?”

“Oh, yes.”

“You don’t even like hospitals. What’s made you suddenly change your mind?” It wasn’t true. Achintya hated hospitals—the thought of being confined, dependent on someone else’s orders, and having no freedom was unbearable for him.

“Just.” He shrugged, further riling up his brother’s irritation. “I feel weak, you see, bhaisahab—”

“Feed that bullshit to someone who believes it. The brother I raised would rather bleed to death than admit he’s feeling weak.”

Grinning at Mithilesh’s words, Achintya turned towards him, setting his phone down. He might not confess it, but yes, Mithilesh was a giant softie at heart who just didn’t know how to express his feelings. Even now, after a hectic day at the factory and godowns, Mithilesh was here, at the hospital, just to check on him.

Achintya might’ve felt guilty about it, but his heart was soaring. She was coming tomorrow too. She cared enough to throw everything aside—fear and hesitation—to come running to him because she was worried. Her confessions, the pain contorting her face, still played behind his eyelids every time he closed them.

It was becoming harder and harder to get her out of his mind.

“Earth to Achintya Babu,” Mithilesh snapped his fingers in front of his brother’s face, pulling him out of whatever trance he’d gone into.

People around him were becoming more useless as time passed. He had to repeat himself at least three times before Vijay replied to him yesterday, and now Achintya was doing the same.

Have they both developed the same disease somehow?

“It’s just one day—”

“I want to know the reason behind that one day,” Mithilesh glared. Then, suddenly, something clicked. Could it be?

“Exactly. Now that you’ve made the connection, will you stop yelling at me?” Achintya replied, and it was a little creepy how good he was at reading people.

“So you’ve turned the VIP room into a broth—”

“BHAISAHAB, DON’T—” It happened in a second, and Mithilesh would’ve flinched at the loud tone of his brother if he hadn’t been surprised. Achintya looked a second away from punching something, his expression hard, and his mouth set in a thin line. “Please.”

Which was even weirder because Achintya never said “please.” No. He ordered people around, demanded things, but he never pleaded. Mithilesh could count on one hand the number of times he’d actually heard that word from Achintya, and some fingers would still be left over.

Has his worst fear finally come true, then?

Had someone finally managed to claim the beast, chaining him down, making him hers?

Because that would be a disaster in the making. Mithilesh prided himself on knowing his brother well, and he knew that if, indeed, Achintya had fallen, then it could only end in two ways: disaster or blessing. There would be no middle ground.

Beasts like Achintya weren’t meant to be chained to one person. His wild rage, undivided possessiveness, demanding nature, and obsessive tendencies combined could be a real pain to handle.

Not to mention—who was the girl who had managed to capture his brother’s heart? Which family did she belong to? Was she even of good stock? Mithilesh was aware of Achintya’s high standards, but the nagging voice in his head kept reminding him that love could change even the mightiest beast into a mundane man.

“So, you’re serious about her?” he asked, deciding it was better to hear it directly from Achintya than to speculate.

“Yes. Completely serious.” Mithilesh could see that, alright. If the mere mention of her in the wrong way provoked such a reaction from his usually calm, composed, and unreactive brother, then Achintya was definitely serious. “Give me some time, and soon I’ll introduce her to you.”

Mithilesh widened his eyes as he watched the serene look on Achintya’s face. His brother was done for.

The path ahead looked uncertain, but Mithilesh was sure of one thing: if Achintya didn’t get this girl, he wouldn’t stop before setting the world on fire.

And so, the big responsibility now lay on his shoulders. He would have to see for himself just who this girl was, for whom his brother had dropped his whoring tendencies and decided to become a family man.

__

Vijay stood where he’d stood the day before, eyeing the elevator like he was willing it to open and conjure the person he badly wanted to see.

Last night, he’d finished three bottles and still couldn’t wipe the image of those wide, round eyes from his mind. It was like they’d taken residence there.

And so he was back. Not to see her—no, definitely not. Vijay Choudhary wasn’t a weak man. He was here to confirm whether or not what he saw was right. Were those eyes really twinkling?

He couldn’t shake the thought.

Lost in his own world, he zoned out, only to come back to reality when the elevator pinged loudly, opening as a sea of people flowed out. Boring.

Except she was there, inside the elevator. This time she wore a mustard-colored suit, her hair loose down her back, framing her face, with a delicious red blush that was visible even from here.

It made his hands itch. He wanted to reach out, squeeze those cheeks, just to see how red they could really get.

It conjured another image in his mind—him clutching those thick tresses in his hands as she lay—

Lost in that delicious thought, he didn’t notice the elevator closing again. No…no… He ran towards it, swiping his long hair away from his forehead and eyes.

The elevator had already started moving downward. Frantically, he pressed the button for the second elevator, waiting, but it was taking too long. He decided to jog down the stairs.

But it was too late. She must’ve been gone by the time he reached the ground floor. There was no trace of mustard yellow in the sea of people, and he cursed his fate.

__

Sundar... what happened to you?" Meena asked for the hundredth time. It was the fifth day in a row that her son had come home drunk out of his wits. And if her husband saw him like this, he would soon be ready to start one of his lectures again.

She really tried to understand what Sundar was mumbling, but it was too hard. Plus, the smell of alcohol and sweat on him was unbearable.

Patting his head, she led him to his room, laid him down on the bed gently, removed his shoes, and wiped his face clean.

It pained Meena to see her only son like this. Sundar was a handsome man—tall, fair, and broad-shouldered. All in all, he could easily outshine Achintya if only he would work on his personality a bit.

Her son, who was always better at talking with his fists than his words, couldn’t understand mind games and politics. He was a bit impulsive and aggressive, but that was fine. Men were supposed to be like that.

Her son was real gold if only people had the eyes to see it.

And that’s why Meena needed to marry him into a grand family. A family that would raise both her and her son's status in front of those who always overshadowed them.

And it needed to be done fast. Before Achintya's marriage, at least. Sundar must marry a girl who is the best—so remarkable that even if Durga Devi tried, she couldn’t find anyone like her.

Meena would stop at nothing to bring down that old lady’s reign, to teach her a lesson. Durga Devi had always shown partiality—first between her sons, then among her daughters-in-law, and finally with her grandsons.

Getting Sundar married into a well-respected and prestigious family was the first step in that plan.

__

"...but Mukesh, we can't—"

"Are you saying no to me, Asha? Huh! What I want isn’t something you can’t give—"

"I know, please, don't yell. All I’m saying is, not now—let's, let's wait until—"

"Oh, I’m not waiting for anything. Either you give me what I want, or you can go to hell."

Asha cried harder that night, so much so that she was burning with fever the next day and had to be taken to the hospital by her parents.

__

Niyati's ears rang loudly from the noise.

She had been in a great mood all morning. Achintya had taken her to a famous temple outside the city, dropping her back at college just in time for Rawat sir’s lecture.

It had been the most blissful moment of her life. They ascended the thousand stairs hand in hand, performed the pooja in the silent, empty temple, and the priest even mistook them for a couple—Achintya hadn't even let her correct him, looking smug at the blush on her cheeks. They lingered at the top for a while, discussing every mundane thing that came to mind.

He had been such a sweetheart the entire time. Such a charming—strong—man when he stopped on the roadside to help a frail-looking man pull his bike out of a mud puddle—the rain had come unexpectedly last night—with such ease.

If that scene made her ears burn a little, no one had to know.

But right now, Niyati was burning with a different kind of heat—a fury so hot that she wanted to beat the hell out of the girl hanging on his arm.

Because, of course, the prince charming had to be here, and his little circus of fans had to be here too—fawning and gushing over him in his striped shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, with his stupid sunglasses and his kind persona, helping the girl who had fainted after catching a glimpse of him.

What a performance. Niyati was sure the girl was faking it, and from the smirk on his face, Achintya knew it too.

"Niyati... why are you glaring daggers at him?" Reecha asked, suddenly feeling uneasy seeing the usually calm Niyati so angry.

"Nothing, nothing," Niyati quickly composed herself. Reecha didn’t need to know about the murder plot brewing in her head. "I’m just looking at that girl acting so shamelessly."

Reecha snorted beside her. It might have been Niyati’s first time watching the circus, but Reecha had some experience. She had seen women faint—or pretend to faint—just to catch the attention of the Chaudharys. Achintya and Vijay were usually the targets.

Because Mithilesh Chaudhary would rather shove someone off than hold and help them.

"Let her. I’m sure she’s hoping to end up in his bed—"

Gasping loudly, Niyati turned to Reecha. "How could you say that?" Words like that shouldn’t be said about anyone, especially not a girl.

"Please, Niyati. I know these girls better than you. I went to school with them, grew up watching half the people here. I know them... better than you do."

Achintya had taken the girl inside the building, causing the crowd at the gate to thin out. Reecha dragged Niyati outside the college, where they waited for Shivangi.

"W-what do you mean by that?" Niyati tried her best to control the tremor in her voice, to not let the choking feeling spill out and ruin everything. If she started crying because of her overwhelming emotions, what would she even tell Reecha?

"Achintya Chaudhary is the biggest womanizer in all of Begusarai. And the thing is, women take it as a privilege to be with him. They act like they've won a Nobel Prize or something after spending a night with him. I’ve heard he’s quite 'blessed' in that department." Reecha added as an afterthought, oblivious to the fact that her comment had made her friend go completely still.

"But that’s not what I meant. What I meant is, people practically worship the ground Achintya Chaudhary walks on. So of course, gaining his attention is an accomplishment in itself. And if that girl tries to take things a bit further—well, who can blame her?"

__

Niyati couldn’t catch any sleep that night. Reecha’s words were ringing loudly in her head.

...Women take it as a privilege to be with him.

Gaining his attention is an accomplishment in itself, and if that girl tried to take the matter a bit further…

What did it all mean? Really, what did it mean?

Niyati couldn’t understand. She couldn’t figure out what to make of all this. Achintya had always treated her like a gentleman. She didn’t have much personal experience in knowing how a man was supposed to court a woman, but she had a front-row seat to most of her friends’ love stories.

So she knew that the way Achintya was with her meant more than casual attraction. But then, what was that at college?

It was noble of him to extend a helping hand — wasn’t she swooning over the same thing earlier that morning? — but helping someone was one thing. Holding someone in his arms, knowing they were pretending, was something else.

She was sure if the situation had been reversed, and she had been standing close to another man, Achintya wouldn’t have liked it one bit.

She understood him at least that much by now.

But the thing was, Niyati didn’t know him well enough to know where his loyalty lay. Was he even serious about her, compared to how serious she was about him?

Of course, feelings couldn’t be measured. But Niyati was sure if they could be, hers would hold much more weight than his.

And so, another boulder dropped into her stomach. Her hands went clammy and sweaty just thinking about what he might be doing right now.

Could Reecha be right?

The thought made her rub her eyes harder than necessary, trying to stop the moisture from leaking.

She didn’t know. And it was eating her alive from the inside.

__

The next day, Niyati and her family woke up early to prepare for the day.

The three of them went to Raghuveer’s house at the crack of dawn to help Roopa with preparations to greet the potential groom’s family.

Radha helped in the kitchen with Roopa, turning the house into a MasterChef’s kitchen under Manorama’s careful eye.

Maithili and Ranveer were busy running around, assisting whoever needed help. Raghuveer kept the temple closed after the morning Pooja so he could be home to welcome the guests.

Meanwhile, Shivangi and Niyati were getting ready in Shivangi's room.

Shivangi wore a beautiful rose-pink silk saree to honor the occasion, leaving her hair loose, with Niyati styling it beautifully to highlight her features wearing her mother’s gold necklace.

She looked no less than a fairy descended to earth, and everyone who saw her agreed.

Ranveer and Maithili were awestruck by her beauty, while Radha and Roopa each placed a small black dot behind her ear to ward off the evil eye, wiping their tears.

Manorama, however, had quite a few words to say. “Don’t laugh too much. Don’t talk too much. Keep your gaze down, and speak only when spoken to, understood?”

It irked everyone, but no one said anything.

“And you, Niyati… go and change. I don’t want them thinking that you and your family are treated like beggars in our household because of your clothing choices.”

Niyati looked down at her simple dark blue cotton churidar, handpicked by her mother because, “It’s Shivangi’s day, and she deserves to look better than anyone else, right?” Niyati completely agreed with that sentiment.

She glanced at the other two women, who looked uncomfortable after the comment. Roopa nodded at her, and stomping her feet, Niyati went to change in Shivangi’s room.

_

The Trivedis turned out to be a large family: a grandmother, her three sons, and their children. All in all, a whole zoo, Niyati concluded.

They arrived in two cars, with nine people settling into the living room. The grandmother, her two sons, their wives, Shivam — the potential groom — and his two sisters and a brother.

The good thing was, they were all pleasant, good-natured people. Funny and joyous, they didn’t let the awkwardness of meeting new people last more than a few minutes.

Niyati couldn’t deny it — Shivam’s eyes were glued to her sister’s face the moment she entered the room, and didn’t leave until his brother nudged him.

Catching each other’s eyes, Niyati and Vishal — Shivam’s brother — both turned their heads away before they ended up laughing at Shivam’s silliness.

The elder woman said, “I think we should let the boy and girl talk in private.” Niyati looked at her uncle, who looked at Manorama, and when she couldn’t find a polite way to refuse, she nodded.

“It’s the children who will be bound to each other, so of course, we should let them get to know one another,” Mr. Trivedi said after Shivangi and Shivam left for the terrace.

Niyati was sent after them, just for good measure.

"Hii..." Vishal tapped the shoulder of the girl standing by the opposite side of the terrace. He had been sent here for the same reason as Niyati.

"Hello." The girl replied, and Vishal realized he couldn’t tease his brother anymore — not when faced with the beauty of this house. The girl looked vibrant in a simple sky-blue saree, her hair pinned back, though a few strands had escaped to dance on her dusky face. Her round eyes, small nose, and rosy lips complemented her oval face perfectly.

"I'm Vishal," he introduced himself, extending his hand. She shook it briefly and said, "Niyati."

He already knew her name, but it was nice hearing it from her directly. “I suppose you’re here for the same reason I am?”

“Yeah. My mother — Shivam bhai’s aunt — sent me.”

“Hm.” She nodded and turned away, looking at something in the distance. Her face was calm, but her eyes were full of unspoken emotion. They looked a bit damp, or maybe it was just the light, but they were beautiful — like stars twinkling in them.

“What do you do?”

“Oh, I’m in college. First year, microbiology.” Out of politeness, she asked, “And you?”

“I’ve completed my studies and am working at a software company in Patna.” Vishal was a little disappointed to learn the girl's age. She was nine years younger than him and still in college.

He knew she was younger, but not this much. Damn, there went his chance.

_

What have you thought about your younger daughter, Maaji?" Sushama asked. She was quite impressed by the family and its friendly but simple people. She had also noticed the quite obvious interest her son was showing in the younger daughter of the family.

Which was fair, Niyati was an eye-catching person. Shivangi too, and even the other two children. God really blessed the Mishras.

Radha’s eyes widened a bit, knowing where the conversation was likely headed, and she was not ready for that. That’s why she had dressed Niyati simply so she wouldn’t catch unnecessary attention, but her mother-in-law had ruined it.

Now, Radha thought, this could also be part of Manorama’s plan, judging by how pleased she looked at Sushma's inquiry.

"Uh... I didn’t understand." Manorama understood well, but she still asked to be sure.

"I meant," Sushma checked her mother-in-law’s expression and, after finding it calm and neutral, continued, "...have you thought about her marriage too?"

"Not yet, no."

"Then... are you thinking about it?"

"I will, if we find a suitable match."

The atmosphere suddenly grew tense. Raghuveer clenched his jaw, knowing very well that decisions regarding Niyati and Maithili’s lives could only be taken by Radha, and yet she had started this.

The Trivedis could guess too, because Mr. Trivedi glanced at his brother, and they both grimaced along with Mrs. Trivedi.

"I'm sorry if I’m too forward, but my son, Vishal, would be quite suitable for Niyati. He works in a big company in Patna, earns very well, and is a man of pristine nature," Sushma stated.

Turning to her husband for support, she noticed his expression and clamped her mouth shut.

"Yes, he indeed seems suitable, doesn’t he, Raghuveer?" Manorama asked. It was a good thing—two birds with one stone. Niyati and Shivangi both going to their own homes would drastically reduce her stress.

Except all her dreams shattered when Raghuveer replied, "That requires Radha’s opinion."

Extremely thankful to her brother-in-law, Radha dabbed her eyes with the corner of her pallu, while Roopa patted her shoulder. For a second there, Radha had really thought the decision of her daughter’s life was being taken away from her.

"How... how old is your son?" she asked meekly. Manorama openly glared at her son and then at her two daughters-in-law.

"Twenty-eight. He’s older than Shivam," Sushma replied. "Your daughter would be the eldest daughter-in-law if she came into the house."

"My Niyati is only nineteen," Radha replied, stomping on Sushma's dream and forever shutting down the topic. "I am extremely sorry, Trivediji, but I’m not ready to wed my daughter this early. I’m so sorry if I’ve offended you—" Radha joined her hands together.

"No, no... please don’t." Sushma stood from her place, came over to Radha, and clutched her hand. "It is I who should be sorry. I should have treaded more carefully on this matter. I am sorry."

"Please, do not—"

"Seems like the apology session will go on long," Mrs. Trivedi finally said, breaking the two women apart. "It is fine, Radhaji. If all goes well, we will be taking one of your daughters away with us. Let’s just hope."

Shivangi gave her confirmation to Niyati and Maithili. Both of the girls passed this information to their mothers, who then passed it to Raghuveer.

The Trivedis came prepared, and soon Shivangi and Shivam—whose names even complemented each other—sat on the sofa as Mr. and Mrs. Trivedi did the shagun.

It was then Raghuveer and Roopa’s turn. Afterward, both families hugged each other and went to eat lunch.

Yet, Niyati could easily pinpoint the tension radiating from Manorama and her uncle’s tense expression.

__

Achintya sat in his jeep, looking at the closed door of the house. He had come here with Lokesh and Vijay for some work at the Singh household, and, by fate, her house happened to be nearby too.

He had waited for three hours that morning for her, and she hadn’t come. But he wasn’t angry—no. Because accepting the truth would only give fuel to the simmering rage burning inside him.

From where he sat, the Mishras' terrace was visible. Two hours ago, he had caught a glimpse of her—wearing a fucking saree—with another man.

Now, the door had opened, and the Mishras were bidding goodbye to their guests. He could see the man now, scanning him from behind his sunglasses. The man was shorter, buff, with short hair and large glasses on his nose. While they were probably meant to make him look cute, they ruined his aesthetic by a great deal.

The man looked a bit remorseful, saying something in the ear of a tall, lanky man whose hair fell over his forehead. When the lanky man smiled, a dimple formed in his cheek, giving him a boy-next-door, chocolate-boy look.

Everyone was laughing and chatting when she came silently from inside. She had pinned the drape on her shoulder, her hair now completely free from the clip. Her radiant smile was enough to illuminate the deepest corner of the night.

Fuck, does she even know her own beauty? What it could make weak men do?

Achintya wasn’t blaming the idiot—no. What he was doing was cursing him. Cursing him for having the audacity to gawk at her while she spoke with the chocolate boy, gesturing to something above. When the boy raised his head, Achintya saw her sister standing there. Then Niyati whispered something to him, and the boy practically melted into goo as she giggled.

Disappearing inside again.

Moments later, Lokesh and Vijay emerged from the Singh house, with the man trailing behind them. All of their eyes drifted toward the Mishras' house, and Achintya overheard Mr. Singh saying, "...his daughter's engagement must be fixed—"

Achintya started the engine as Vijay approached the side. "Out. I’ll drive."

To which Achintya replied, "Sit the fuck down before I break your empty skull." His calm tone made Vijay raise an eyebrow.

What’s gotten into this psycho now?

But it was probably better not to poke at the beast behind those eyes. Vijay was in no mood to hear his father's lecture after a fight.

Achintya drove the jeep at high speed—a safe move before he ended up gouging that man’s eyes out for looking at something that was his.

___

A longer update again. Look at me,not updating in the months and suddenly we are here.

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Lots of things happened here, because from the last two chapters I felt the story was stuck to one place.

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Fun fact:- the temple I mentioned is indeed true and is the work of wonder.

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