Chapter - 33 ᴇɴɢᴀɢᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ

I was overwhelmed with happiness—I was finally getting married to the person I loved the most. I knew she was angry with me, but I was willing to do anything to earn her forgiveness.

We all sat together and discussed the engagement dates, eventually settling on next Saturday. Throughout lunch, she remained silent, barely acknowledging the conversation. Then, out of nowhere, her phone pinged. She glanced at the screen before standing up abruptly.

"I have an emergency. I need to leave," she said.

Everyone nodded in understanding, and she walked away without another word. Something about her behavior felt off. Without hesitation, I followed her, needing to talk to her, to understand what was wrong. But instead of stopping, she stepped out of the mansion's gate, leaving me confused.

I continued after her, only to see her getting into a car—the same car, with the same man from that day.

My heart clenched painfully. Had she really moved on so easily?

I loved her. I had spent years suffering in silence, unable to forget her, unable to stop loving her. Every second without her had been nothing short of hell, yet she seemed indifferent, detached. She was only marrying me because of her father's wish—not because she wanted to. She didn't love me. She hated me.

A sharp ache bloomed in my chest, and I instinctively placed a hand over my heart. A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. Taking a deep, shaky breath, I pulled myself together and called Vihaan.

"I have some meetings to attend. I'll be leaving," I said, keeping my voice steady.

Thankfully, he didn't press for an explanation.

With one last glance at the car that had already disappeared down the road, I turned away, swallowing the pain that threatened to consume me.

I sank into the driver's seat, gripping the steering wheel tightly before dialing my PA, Manav.

"Did you find out anything about the man I asked you to investigate?" I demanded, my patience wearing thin.

"B-Boss, I... I didn't find anything," he stuttered, making my jaw clench. My grip on the steering tightened.

"I gave you one damn job, and you couldn't even do that?" I snapped, my voice sharp with frustration.

"Boss, I tried my best," Manav rushed to explain. "I even hired the best detective, but it was as if he doesn't exist. There's no trace of him anywhere."

His words only fueled my irritation. Letting out a heavy sigh, I ended the call without another word and sped off towards the palace.

This was beyond frustrating.

I couldn't find a single thing about that man. Just like I never uncovered the truth about the person who had texted me two years ago.

Two years... and I was still stuck in the same place.

Was I still that weak king, incapable of handling even one thing? The same man who had let everything slip through his fingers?

The same man who had hurt his Rani Sa?

Time Skip to Saturday

The day of engagement

I sat in his Palace, surrounded by jewelry, clothes, and other accessories, yet my face remained devoid of emotion. These gifts had all been sent by my in-laws, a tradition of the upcoming engagement. The outfit, carefully designed by Aarohi—his cousin sister—was nothing short of exquisite.

It was an elegant and ethereal creation, a perfect blend of tradition and contemporary fashion. A modern off-white saree, crafted from the softest fabric, draped around me effortlessly, offering both comfort and grace. The blouse, adorned with delicate lace embroidery and a high neckline, added an air of sophistication. A sheer, pearl-embellished dupatta completed the ensemble, lending a dreamy, luxurious finish to the entire look.

As the makeup artist worked on my face, I requested a minimal, natural look—nothing too heavy or cakey. I wanted simplicity, something that would let me feel like myself.

Dressed in this saree, I couldn't deny the transformation it brought. I looked like royalty, exuding a quiet confidence I hadn't felt in a long time. As the final touches of my makeup were applied, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. The woman looking back at me was graceful, poised—yet there was something missing in her eyes. Something I couldn't quite place.

Aanya's saree

A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. Aarohi stepped inside, her eyes lighting up the moment she saw me.

"You look breathtaking," she said, her voice warm with admiration.

I gave her a small smile, my fingers absentmindedly tracing the delicate embroidery of my blouse. "The saree is beautiful. You did an incredible job designing it."

She beamed, walking closer. "I wanted it to be perfect for you. After all, this is your special day."

Special.

The word felt foreign.

Shouldn't I be happy? Shouldn't my heart be racing with excitement? Instead, there was only a hollow ache—a quiet storm brewing within me.

Before I could respond, another knock sounded. This time, it was a maid, informing me that the ceremony was about to begin. Aarohi gently squeezed my hand. "Come. Everyone's waiting."

I inhaled deeply, forcing a serene expression onto my face. Whatever I was feeling... it didn't matter.

Not anymore.

With one final glance at my reflection, I rose from my seat and stepped forward, ready to face my fate.

As I took a step forward, a sudden weight settled in my chest. It wasn't the heavy embroidery of my saree or the countless emotions I had buried within me. It was fear—fear of facing her.

Aisha Kapoor.

The one person I had deliberately cut ties with.

I had distanced myself from almost everyone in my family, severing all connections except for Dhruv and Yuvi. I had chosen silence over confrontation, avoidance over explanation. And now, after all these years, I would be standing in front of her again.

According to Jiya, Aisha still didn't know who Aarav's bride was. She was walking into this engagement unaware of the storm that awaited her. And the worst part? She had arrived two days before the engagement—with her husband, Rehan, by her side.

A cold shiver ran down my spine.

Would she be angry? Would she be hurt? Or worse... would she be indifferent?

I didn't know which answer scared me more.

Aarohi gently nudged me. "Are you okay?"

I blinked, snapping out of my thoughts. "Yeah," I murmured, even though my heart pounded against my ribs.

Lying had become second nature to me.

With every graceful step I took toward the grand hall, the reality of what was to come sank in deeper. The engagement, the guests, him—and now, her.

Was I truly ready to face them all?

I didn't have a choice.

Lifting my chin, I pushed aside my fears and walked forward, knowing that the moment I stepped into that room, my past and present would collide in ways I wasn't prepared for.

I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the cuff of my sherwani, yet my mind was elsewhere.

Tonight was my engagement. A moment I had once dreamed of—yet now, it felt like an illusion slipping through my fingers.

My outfit, carefully chosen by my family, matched hers perfectly. A modern off-white sherwani with intricate embroidery, designed to complement Aanya's saree. The fabric was lightweight yet rich, the embroidery a delicate blend of gold and ivory threads, adding a regal touch. A pearl-adorned stole draped over my shoulder, mirroring the embellishments of her dupatta. Everything about it exuded elegance and tradition, a reflection of the bond we were about to tie.

Aarav's Outfit

And yet, I couldn't shake off the emptiness settling in my chest.

I ran a hand through my hair, smoothing it back as I forced a neutral expression onto my face. No one needed to see what I was truly feeling. Not my family. Not the guests.

Not even her.

A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. Vihaan stepped in, a smirk playing on his lips. "You look handsome Bhai sa" he teased, but there was something in his eyes—an unspoken question, as if he could sense my turmoil.

I let out a dry chuckle. "Thank you"

He sighed, walking over to fix the pearl brooch pinned to my sherwani. "You look perfect. And Aanya bhabhi..." He paused, shaking his head in admiration. "She looks like a dream."

My jaw clenched.

I knew she would. Aanya had always carried a quiet grace, a beauty that didn't need embellishments. But would she even look at me tonight? Would her eyes hold even a trace of warmth?

Or just resentment?

I turned away from the mirror, my hands balling into fists at my sides. "Let's go," I muttered.

Because no matter how I felt, the night would unfold as planned. And I would play my part—flawlessly.

Even if it killed me inside.

I stood on the stage, surrounded by family, friends, and countless guests, yet my mind was fixated on one thing—her arrival.

The hall was adorned in soft golden lights, casting a warm glow over the elegant décor. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their crystals reflecting light like a thousand tiny stars. Everything was perfect, just as it was meant to be.

Except for the storm brewing inside me.

My fingers curled slightly as I adjusted the cuffs of my sherwani, my heart hammering in my chest despite the composed expression on my face. And then, as if the universe had heard my unspoken thoughts, a hushed silence fell over the crowd.

She was here.

I turned my gaze toward the entrance, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

Aanya stepped in, her posture poised, her expression unreadable. The off-white saree draped around her like liquid silk, hugging her frame with effortless grace. The delicate lace embroidery on her blouse shimmered under the soft lights, highlighting the sheer elegance of her attire. And then there was the pearl-embellished dupatta, resting on her shoulder like a veil of dreams, enhancing the ethereal glow she carried so effortlessly.

My eyes drank in every detail.

Her makeup was subtle, just as she preferred—her lips painted in a soft shade, her eyes lined with the faintest touch of kohl. But it wasn't the attire, the jewelry, or the makeup that left me speechless.

It was her.

The way she carried herself, exuding an air of quiet confidence, as if she was untouchable. As if nothing—not even me—could shake her anymore.

But I knew her better than that.

I knew the way her fingers lightly curled around the edge of her saree, a habit she had when she was anxious. I knew the way her gaze flickered for the briefest second before she forced herself to look straight ahead.

She was nervous.

And yet, she was breathtaking.

My Rani Sa.

The moment her gaze finally met mine, something shifted in my chest—a dull ache, a yearning I had no right to feel anymore.

I had spent years missing her, imagining what it would be like to have her back in my life. Now, she was standing just a few steps away, dressed as my bride-to-be.

And yet, she felt miles away.

Swallowing the emotions clawing at my throat, I forced a calm smile, extending my hand toward her as she ascended the stage.

For a second, she hesitated.

Then, with careful grace, she placed her hand in mine.

A shiver ran through me at the contact, but she remained impassive, her touch featherlight, as if she wasn't sure whether to hold on or let go.

I had spent years waiting for this moment.

So why did it feel like I was still losing her?

Author's Pov

As Aanya stepped into the grand hall, an air of silence rippled through the crowd. All eyes turned to her, admiration flickering in their gazes, but none of it mattered.

Because the only eyes she cared about were his.

Her heart pounded in her chest, betraying the calm expression she wore. Each step forward felt heavier than the last, as if the weight of the past and the uncertainty of the future had woven themselves into the very fabric of her being.

And then, finally, her gaze met his.

Aarav stood on the stage, his off-white sherwani exuding an effortless aura of authority and quiet strength. The world around her faded, blurring into insignificance, leaving only him in her line of sight. As her gaze flickered to their outfits, a realization settled in—they were perfectly in sync, as if their ensembles had been crafted solely for each other, a seamless reflection of an unspoken connection that neither of them could deny.

Time had changed him. There was something sharper in his features now, something heavier in his eyes. A silent storm brewed beneath his composed demeanor, but to anyone else, he looked untouchable. Perfect. Regal.

And yet, to her, he was still Aarav.

The same man she had once loved. The same man who had once shattered her heart.

Aanya swallowed, gripping the edge of her saree as she forced herself to keep walking. Her hands trembled slightly, but she didn't allow herself to falter. Not now. Not when the world was watching.

As she ascended the stage, she saw the slight shift in Aarav's posture, the way his breath hitched for just a fraction of a second. And for a moment—just a fleeting moment—she let herself believe that he was admiring her, just as she was admiring him.

But she wouldn't let herself dwell on it.

Not when she knew that admiration wasn't enough to mend what had already been broken.

As she reached him, he extended his hand toward her, his touch hesitant yet steady. Aanya hesitated, her heart warring with itself. But with careful grace, she placed her hand in his, ignoring the shiver that ran through her at the contact.

Their eyes met once again, and in that silent exchange, a thousand unsaid words hung between them.

This was it.

Their engagement. Their fate.

And yet, standing there in front of him, she couldn't shake the feeling that neither of them had truly let go of the past.

Or of each other.

Aarav's jaw tightened as Aisha's sharp words sliced through the moment. His gaze darkened, and before she could take another step closer, he raised a hand, his voice firm and unwavering.

"That's enough, Aisha."

The weight of his words settled over the hall, thick with unspoken tension. The air around them seemed to still, and Aisha, who had been advancing with fury in her eyes, halted in her tracks.

She looked at him, disbelief flashing across her face. "Enough?" she echoed, her voice laced with hurt. "Enough? You're seriously telling me to stop when she's the one who disappeared for two years without a word? And now she's standing here—next to you—as if nothing happened?"

Aanya felt Aarav's arm tense under her grip. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, but his expression remained unreadable—calm, but edged with a silent warning.

"I understand that you're angry," he said, his voice still steady but carrying a dangerous undertone, "but this is neither the time nor the place to create a scene."

Aisha let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "A scene? Oh, so now I'm the one causing a scene? Not her? Not you?" She turned her gaze to Aanya, eyes filled with an emotion that was difficult to decipher—pain, betrayal, and something dangerously close to hatred. "You disappeared. You cut off all ties. And now, you're marrying him?"

Aanya opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. What could she possibly say? That she had her reasons? That it wasn't how it seemed? That this wasn't entirely her choice?

None of it would change the hurt in Aisha's eyes.

Aarav stepped slightly in front of Aanya, his protective stance unmistakable. "Aisha, I said enough." His tone was sharper this time, leaving no room for argument. "If you have something to say, we can talk about it later. But right now, I won't let you disrespect my fiancée in front of everyone."

Aisha flinched at the word fiancée, as if it had physically struck her. Her lips parted, as though she wanted to say more, to fight back—but then, she caught the way Aarav was looking at Aanya.

Not just as a duty. Not just as a responsibility.

But as his.

Something in her expression crumbled. She inhaled sharply, blinking back emotions she refused to show. Then, with one last glare at Aanya, she scoffed and turned on her heels.

"Fine," Aisha spat before storming off the stage, her face still set in fury. She stood beside her husband, Rehan, arms crossed, sending cold glares toward the couple.

Aarav, watching his best friend's anger with amusement, let out a low chuckle. But the moment he turned to Aanya, his amusement faded as he met her sharp glare.

"What's so funny, Mr. Rajvansh?" she asked, her tone laced with irritation.

Before he could respond, their mothers stepped forward, smiles gracing their faces as they interrupted the brewing argument.

"The rasmein must begin now," Aarav's mother, Maharani Siya singh  Rajvansh, announced, her voice regal yet warm. "It is time for the ring ceremony."

The grand hall came alive with the sound of shehnais playing a melodious tune, echoing through the grand palace walls. The scent of sandalwood and fresh marigolds filled the air as guests eagerly watched the royal traditions unfold.

Draped in opulent Rajputana poshaks, the royal ladies stood in a semi-circle, their heavy gota-patti and kundan jewelry sparkling under the golden lights. The men, dressed in embroidered bandhgalas and regal safas, exuded an air of aristocracy.

The rituals began with the tilak ceremony, where Aanya's mother applied a sacred vermillion mark on Aarav's forehead, blessing him as her soon-to-be son-in-law. Aanya, in turn, was given auspicious gifts—paan supari, gold bangles, and a silk dupatta, symbolizing her entry into the Rajvansh royal family.

Traditional Ghoomar dancers swayed gracefully to the rhythm of Rajasthani folk music, their swirling skirts painting a mesmerizing picture of heritage and grandeur. The guests cheered as the Baratis showered petals on the soon-to-be-wed couple.

Aarav and Aanya were then guided to the center of the stage, where an intricately designed chowki awaited them. Ornate silver trays holding the engagement rings were placed before them.

Aanya inhaled sharply as she lifted the ring—an exquisite uncut diamond set in an intricate meenakari band, an heirloom passed down through the Rajvansh generations. Aarav, on the other hand, held a bold Sapphire-studded ring, symbolizing strength and royalty.

Just as Aanya was about to slip the ring onto Aarav's finger, a voice thundered through the hall.

"STOP THIS ENGAGEMENT RIGHT NOW!"

Gasps filled the air as heads turned toward the entrance.

Aanya's breath hitched. Her fingers trembled as she slowly turned toward the voice.

Standing at the grand entrance, clad in a jet-black sherwani, was none other than Ansh Malhotra—her brother.

His piercing gaze locked onto her, eyes burning with unspoken rage.

Aanya felt her heart drop to her stomach.

He was here.

And he was furious.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Kehte hain, "Khuda ne is jahaan mein sabhi ke liye

Kisi na kisi ko hai banaya har kisi ke liye"

Tera milna hai us Rab ka ishaara

Maano, mujhko banaya tere jaise hi kisi ke liye

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Heyy my lovely readers, I hope you loved this chapter and do wait for the hungama caused by Ansh.. Do vote and comment. And also follow me on Instagram // Author_aeris.

Thank you,

Your Author,

Aeris.