At exactly seven in the morning, the Shekhawat mansion woke the way empires do-quietly, gracefully, and with unquestioned authority.

The ancestral mansion stood in the heart of South Mumbai, where heritage buildings still dared to breathe among glass towers. Built decades ago by the first Shekhawat patriarch, the mansion was not merely a house-it was a legacy carved in stone, teakwood, and discipline. Tall white pillars guarded the entrance, their surfaces kissed by time but never by neglect. The carved wooden doors, imported from Rajasthan generations ago, opened into a courtyard where a marble fountain murmured softly, as if reminding the house of its own lineage.

Morning sunlight streamed through the jharokha-style windows, scattering golden patterns across Persian carpets that had been in the family longer than most people remembered. The walls were adorned with oil portraits of former Shekhawat men-men with stern eyes, thick mustaches, and unbreakable pride. Every corner whispered one truth:

The Shekhawats did not merely live in Mumbai. They ruled within it.

Today, however, the mansion carried a different energy.

Soft marigold garlands were being hung along the corridors. Brass urli bowls filled with rose petals floated in corners. The air smelled of fresh mogra, sandalwood, and turmeric. Servants moved swiftly but silently, trained by generations of Shekhawat discipline. Today was not an ordinary day.

Today was Rudra's haldi.

Rudra Shekhawat-the heir, the storm, the pride of the house and today for this pride his life was getting destroyed.

In the eastern wing of the mansion, Yash stood by the window of his study, hands folded behind his back. At sixty-eight, he was still tall, still straight, still commanding. His salt-and-pepper hair was neatly combed back, and his crisp ivory kurta-pajama carried the weight of a man who had built and protected an empire.

He was the head of the Shekhawat family. And everyone knew it.

From ports to real estate, from hospitality to international trade, the Shekhawat business empire was spoken of in boardrooms with respect-and sometimes, fear. Yash Shekhawat had not inherited success. He had multiplied it.

His eyes softened slightly as he looked outside at the decorated courtyard.

"Everything is happening so fast." he murmured, almost to himself.

Time had moved faster than he expected.

Behind him, a familiar voice echoed.

"You're getting emotional already, bhai sahab?"

Rishi entered the room with a light smile. At fifty-four, he carried a different kind of authority-less rigid, more approachable, but no less powerful. Where Yash was fire, Rishi was controlled flame. His presence balanced the family.

Yash turned, allowing a rare half-smile. "Mein aapna kuch dekhar nahi aa raha jo emotional ho jau, bas soch raha hu ki waqt kitni jaldi guzar gaya!"

Rishi chuckled softly. "Sahi baat hai, aap jyada der has kaha paate hai, you'll be back to scaring the entire board of directors."

Yash gave him a warning look, but there was affection in his eyes, he always treated rishi like his own son from the day they lost their parents in an accident.

They stood together for a moment, watching servants prepare the courtyard.

"Our Rudra," Rishi said quietly, pride slipping into his tone, "is finally stepping into the next chapter of his life."

Yash nodded. "He carries the Shekhawat blood. Responsibility runs in his veins whether he wants it or not."

Downstairs, the mansion buzzed with activity.

Vasundhara supervised decorations and trays of sweets were arranged with mathematical perfection. Every detail mattered-because every detail represented the Shekhawat name.

The haldi setup was placed in the courtyard under a canopy of marigold and white jasmine. Golden cushions rested on embroidered rugs. A silver platter held turmeric paste mixed with sandalwood and rose water-prepared according to a recipe passed down through generations.

This was not just a ritual.

This was tradition.

The walls that had witnessed births, deaths, victories, and betrayals now prepared to witness another promise.

Yash slowly walked out into the corridor, his footsteps echoing softly against marble floors.

"Make sure no outsider brings weapons inside the house" he instructed a servant.

"Yes, malik," the man replied instantly.

Rishi followed him. "Relax, bhai. Everything is under control. Already police team prepared hai"

Yash exhaled slowly. "For a Shekhawat, control is never optional."

They stopped near a large portrait Rudra was sitting in yash's lap and rishi was standing beside- yash's eyes fierce even then, rudra was smiling wholeheartedly, and rishi looking confident naturally.

Rishi looked at it and smiled. "Kitna khulke hasta tha pehle hamara baccha!"

Yash placed a hand over the frame. "He was born to protect this legacy, aur jyada hasne se nazar lagti hai"

Outside, the sun rose higher, bathing the mansion in a warm golden glow. The Shekhawat mansion stood tall-just like it always had.

Unshakeable.

Unbreakable.

Unquestioned.

Yash turned toward the hall and sat on the sofa in the middle of the hall.

Rishi sat opposite to him as Riva bought tea for both of them.

"Krisha ko samjhao mansion mein aake hi rahe," Yash said picking up the cup of tea.

"Bhai sahab aap toh jante hi hai, woh abhi thoda.... uske saath jo hua woh hum nahi bhula pae toh woh kaise bhula de" Rishi said and Riva was just listening to them.

"Bhaiya....krisha ko kisey cheez ke liye force mat kariyega please, we can't say kab konsi baat usey trigger karde!" Riva said and rishi looked up at her, her expression were tensed as if holding herself from crying and Yash just nodded.

"Today you're going to introduce her to everyone officially, aur phir jis cheez se darkar tumne krisha ko hamesha chupae rakha woh baat bhi laut hi aaegi" Yash said and rishi inhaled sharply.

"Meine uske aas pass bohot powerful safety rakhi hai 24/7 uske aas pass panch bodyguards rahenge aur usey pata bhi nahi chalega!" Rishi said and yash nodded. Just then Rudra's voice came.

He descended the stairs hair wet from gyming "Maa meri coffee!" He said and vasundara came out of the kitchen running towards him with a coffee mug in her hand.

Rudra took the mug and touched her feet then kissed her forehead.

He went towards rishi and riva touched thuer feets as well.

"Chachu...meine aapko do documents send kiye hai aap padh lijiye then mein unki copies nikalwane ke liye prem se kehe dunga!" He said while touching yash's feet and then sat beside rishi.

Just then his PA prem entered the mansion with a file in his hand "good morning sirs!" He said and the three man's noded.

He handed the files to rudra and rudra gave it to Rishi.

"They are ready the way you wanted chachu, as I was thinking of holding a business party for kriya's 29th anniversary" Rudra said and rishi nodded.

"Hmmm.... that's a great plan people will also know who's the next heir of kriya!" Rishi said and rudra nodded sipping his coffee.

"Chachu ....krisha se baat Hui aapki, I mean I was trying her phone but she was not answering!" He said and yash looked up at rishi.

Rishi's expression changed as he got up from the sofa and dialed krisha's number but she didn't answerd.

"Kya hua?" Mr.das's voice came from behind. Rudra stood up and walked towards him touched his feet and then held his hand supporting him in walking.

"Kuch nahi nanu, aapki gudiya call nahi utha Rahi!" He said and Mr.das nodded.

"Meri baat Hui thi ussey raat ko, kehe rahi thi ki

Phone silent par rakh kar soyegi!" Mr.das said and rudra nodded

"Par papa woh raat ko muskil se 2 ghanta soti hai! At least ab toh silent par se phone hata dena chahiye!" Rishi said and riva scratched her forehead.

"Mein driver ke saath jaa kar le kar aati hu usey!" Riva said and turned but rishi caught her wrist. Riva turned and looked up at him before jerking her hand free from his grip.

"Aap yahi rahiye tension mat lijiye, hum jaa kar dekh kar aate hai!" Rishi said and riva looked up at Mr.das who nodded.

Riva looked up at Rishi and nodded once-slowly, carefully.

"I'll come with you," she said, her voice calm but firm.

Rishi hesitated for half a second. Twelve years of distance stood between that single sentence. Then he simply nodded.

"Let's go."

Neither of them looked at each other as they walked toward the door.

Rudra watched them leave, confusion tightening in his chest. He had grown up seeing Rishi and Riva always being loving who can't even stay a day away from each other, but now it's been twelve years they were together yet never together. Always polite. Always distant. Like two strangers bound by an invisible thread called Krisha.

Yash's sharp eyes followed them until the doors closed.

"Waqt apna hisaab khud maang leta hai," he murmured

"Vasundhara aap jaa kar taiyaar ho jaiye, end time par late ho jayegi warna aap, baaki sab maids sambhal lengi!" Yash said opening the newspaper and Vasundhara just nodded with a humm.

The black luxury car waited near the gates. Rishi opened the back door for Riva out of habit-then paused, realizing the irony of the gesture. She walked towards the other side ignoring rishi and opened the door for herself

Rishi bitted his lips and then sat beside riva.

The car moved.

Mumbai's early morning traffic flowed past them, honking softly, unaware that inside this car sat two people who once loved fiercely and now survived carefully.

Rishi broke the silence first.

"She didn't tell you she wasn't feeling well?"

Riva looked out the window. "Krisha never likes to worry anyone."

"She worries you though." he said

Riva finally turned toward him. "Because I'm her mother."

Rishi exhaled. "And I'm her father."

Silence again.

The city blurred past.

After a moment, Riva spoke, her voice quieter. "She didn't sleep properly last night."

Rishi frowned. "Did she say why?"

"No. But I know her. When she keeps things to herself, it means she's afraid to burden us." she said

Rishi's jaw tightened. "She shouldn't feel that way."

Riva looked at him then-really looked at him. "Children learn that from parents, Rishi."

The words weren't loud. But they hit harder than shouting.

Rishi swallowed. "I never wanted her to feel like she was alone."

"I know." Riva's voice softened unexpectedly. "That's why she loves you so much."

He glanced at her, surprised.

"She always says, 'Papa understands me without asking questions.'"

Rishi's eyes burned slightly. He looked away.

"And she says about you," he added quietly, "that Maa is the only place she feels completely safe."

Riva's lips trembled just a little.

For a few seconds, they weren't distant.

They were just parents.

---

The car stopped outside a modest yet elegant two story house-not as grand as the Shekhawat mansion, very small but warm, personal, lived-in.

Riva stepped out first.

Rishi followed.

They stood outside the door for a second.

Riva raised her hand to knock-then stopped.

"What if she's really asleep?" she whispered.

Rishi replied softly, "Then we'll just look at her and come back."

Riva nodded.

Rishi unlocked the door with the spare key that he took from krisha last night.

The apartment was silent.

Curtains were half drawn. Morning light filtered in softly. A report lay on the coffee table. A cup of coffee, untouched, had gone cold.

Riva's heart tightened.

"Krisha?" she called gently.

No response.

They walked toward the bedroom.

Rishi pushed the door open slowly.

Krisha lay on the bed, curled slightly on her side, blanket clutched loosely in her hand. Dark circles shadowed her eyes even in sleep. Her brows were slightly furrowed-as if even her dreams were heavy.

Riva walked in first and sat beside her, brushing her hair away from her face.

"My baby..." she whispered.

Krisha stirred.

Her eyes fluttered open slowly.

"Maa...?" she murmured, confused.

Then she saw Rishi standing behind Riva.

"Papa?"

She sat up slightly. "What happened? Is everything okay? Why are you both here?"

Riva smiled gently. "Nothing happened. We were worried because you weren't answering your phone."

Krisha looked at the phone at the side table and sighed. "I must have fallen asleep with it on silent. I'm sorry."

Rishi walked closer. "You should've slept properly. You look exhausted."

Krisha gave a small smile. "I always look exhausted, Papa. That's my permanent look."

Riva tried to smile too, but her eyes were moist.

Krisha noticed immediately.

"Maa...?" She held Riva's hand. "Are you okay?"

Riva controlled herself. "I'm fine. I just... missed you."

Krisha frowned playfully. "You see me yesterday."

Riva whispered, "Still."

Krisha leaned forward and hugged her.

Rishi watched them quietly.

Then Krisha extended her other hand toward him. "Papa, aap bhi."

Rishi hesitated only a second-then stepped forward and placed his hand over hers as she pulled him into the hug.

Rishi's hands were hovering above riva's shoulder not properly touching her as he didn't wanted to make her uncomfortable.

Krisha looked at both of them and smiled faintly. "You both are acting weird today." she asked even after knowing that they were not talking to each other.

Riva brushed her tears away. "It's your fault."

Krisha blinked. "Mine?"

"Yes. You make us worry too much." rishi said.

Krisha laughed lightly. "I'm 29, papa. Not nine."

Rishi smiled faintly. "You'll always be our child."

Krisha looked between them, warmth filling her eyes. "I'm lucky to have both of you."

Neither Rishi nor Riva spoke.

Because in that moment, both of them felt the same ache-

She had no idea how broken they were with each other.

And how whole they pretended to be for her.

Krisha stood up and stretched. "Come on, we'll go together. Rudra will kill me if I'm late for his haldi."

Riva smiled. "He already looks ready to kill half of Mumbai."

Krisha laughed.

Rishi watched her walk ahead, carefree atleast for now, unaware.

And silently promised himself-

No matter what remained broken between him and Riva,

Krisha would never feel that fracture.

---

As Krisha stepped out of her room, the sunlight from the balcony wrapped around her like a soft spotlight.

She was dressed in a bright yellow suit, the long koti flowing behind her like a cape. Her hair was loosely tied, a few strands framing her face. She looked fresh, warm, alive - like haldi itself had chosen her as its muse.

Riva turned first.

"Oh my God," she smiled proudly, "you look beautiful."

Rishi nodded a little too fast. "Yes. Very... very beautiful."

Krisha raised an eyebrow. "Papa, you just said 'very' twice. Are you okay or should I check your temperature?"

Rishi coughed. "Compliments need emphasis."

Krisha smirked.

Then something strange happened.

Rishi moved closer to Riva and gently adjusted the dupatta on her shoulder. "Tumne bhi toh yellow pehna hai... matching ho gaya."

Riva froze for half a second, then forced a smile. "Haan... coincidence."

Rishi, trying too hard, added, "Waise bhi tum par yellow hamesha accha lagta hai."

Riva blinked, surprised. "Oh. Thank you."

Krisha stared at them.

Hard.

Then Riva, equally awkward, picked imaginary lint from Rishi's kurta. "Aur aap bhi... um... very handsome lag rahe ho."

Rishi straightened instantly. "Really?"

Krisha sighed loudly.

They both looked at her.

"What?" Rishi asked innocently.

Krisha crossed her arms. "You both are behaving like two actors in a badly rehearsed daily soap."

Riva frowned. "What do you mean?"

Krisha walked between them and looked at each one separately. "Papa, you only compliment Maa when you're trying to emotionally manipulate her or when you've done something wrong."

Rishi opened his mouth to protest.

"And Maa," Krisha turned to Riva, "you only touch Papa's clothes when you're pretending everything is normal."

Riva's eyes widened. "That's not true!"

Krisha nodded seriously. "It is. I've been observing since I was sixteen."

Rishi and Riva exchanged a guilty glance.

Krisha pointed at both of them. "Stop. Acting. Like. A. Lovey-dovey. Couple."

Rishi tried to laugh. "We're not acting."

Krisha looked him dead in the eye. "Papa, you just adjusted Maa's dupatta like it was a legal document."

Riva snorted despite herself.

Krisha turned to her. "And Maa, you looked at him like you were afraid the dupatta might file a police complaint."

Riva covered her mouth to hide her smile.

Krisha exhaled dramatically. "Relax. I know everything."

Silence.

Both of them stiffened.

Rishi asked carefully, "Know... what exactly?"

Krisha gestured toward the sofa. "Sit. Both of you. Now."

They obeyed like scolded children.

Krisha stood in front of them with hands on her waist. "You think I don't know why Maa keeps distance from you Papa?"

Riva looked away.

"You think I don't know that Maa believes I left because you didn't support her?"

Rishi looked at Krisha sharply. "Krisha-"

She raised her hand. "No. Let me talk."

She looked at Riva softly. "Maa, I didn't leave because of Papa."

Riva's eyes filled instantly.

"I left because I was scared. Confused. And tired. Not because Papa didn't love me"

Riva whispered, "But he never-"

Krisha cut her gently. "He never said the right words. I know. Papa is emotionally defective."

Rishi protested, "Excuse me!"

Krisha glared. "You once tried to console me by saying, 'Crying doesn't solve algebra.'"

Riva laughed through her tears.

Krisha continued, "But Maa, Papa has always stood for me in his own silent, stupid way."

Rishi muttered, "I am not stupid."

"You are. Lovingly," Krisha replied.

She then turned to Rishi. "And Papa, Maa didn't push you away because she hates you. She pushed you away because she thought she failed as a mother."

Rishi's expression softened.

Krisha sighed. "You both broke your relationship trying to protect me. That's very heroic... and very foolish."

Riva smiled weakly. "So what do you want us to do?"

Krisha grinned. "First - stop pretending you're a perfect couple."

Rishi nodded. "Fair."

"Second," she continued, "stop pretending you're strangers."

Riva blinked. "That's harder."

Krisha walked to the sofa and sat between them, pulling both their hands into hers.

"you both love each other. Maa Stop blaming papa thinking he didn't care for me"

Rishi looked at her, voice low. "You're wiser than us."

Krisha smiled. "I had to grow up early. You both were too busy being tragic."

Riva laughed softly.

Krisha leaned back comfortably between them. "Now come on. I'm the judge here toh ab faisla bhi mujhe karna padega"

Rishi chuckled. "Ooo daak sahiba bani judge!"

Riva laughed properly this time.

Krisha stood up and offered them both her hands. "Come on, lovers-who-are-not-lovers."

"So Ms.Riva shekhawat officially wedded wife of my papa shekhawat, you think I left because of him that's why you distanced yourself from him right?" Krisha asked and riva nodded. Then krisha turned towards rishi and asked.

"And Mr.Rishi shekhawat officially wedded husband of my mumma shekhawat, you never tried to explain things to her thinking you were the one who was at the fault!" Rishi nodded and krisha sighed.

Krisha nodded looking at her parents who mimicked her action.

"So...mein judge Krisha R. shekhawat dono pakshon ko madhya nazar rakhte hue yeh faisla sunati hu ki aap dono faltu ki baaton par ek dusre se alag ho rahe hai aur ab in baaton ko aur aage na bhadaya jae!" She said and riva nodded, rishi looked at his daughter showing her a thumbs up and in return krisha winked at him.

"Ahem ahem....abhi poori baat khatam nahi hui hai" Krisha continued making rishi and riva raised an eyebrow at her.

"Court yeh chahta hai ki Rishi shekhawat aapni beautiful wife ko abhi ke abhi hug kare and riva shekhawat aapne handsome husband ko ek cheek kiss de, abhi yahi" krisha said making riva blink and Rishi touch the back of his neck shyly.

"Yeh sab videsh mein rehena ka asar hai!" Riva said making krisha chuckle and rishi laugh.

"Jaldi jald, ab chaliye bhi!" Krisha said and rishi looked up in riva's eyes.

Only When he saw approval in her eyes he finally hugged her tightly. Riva hugged him back and then looked up at him then get into her toes and kissed his cheeks lightly before hugging him again tightly.

A tear left Rishi's eyes which he was holding for more than a decade.

"Arey yaar mujhe bhi emotional kar diya, ab lag rahi haina ek dum happy family!" Krisha said wiping her tears and rishi and riva chuckled and pulled her towards themselves.

"Ab hui happy family" rishi said placing a kiss on riva and krisha's forehead.

And for the first time in years-

They were looking like a complete happy family.

They walked out together.

With less pretending.

And a little more truth.

And love

----------

The kapoor mansion was already buzzing with excitement. Ruchika was playing full Dj at 9 in the morning and gauri was in the temple trying to focus on the god. Finally after five minutes she got up and went towards hall.

She walked toward ruchika and said "Ruchi...meri Shona please thodi der ke liye yeh tere item songs band kar de mujhe pooja karni hai!" She said and ruchika immediately stopped chikni chameli song.

"Oh sorry diii....mein bhul hi gai thi nahan eke baad pooja bhi karni hoti hai!" She said and gauri just shook her head.

"Accha waise di...yeh pooja karke kya fayda hua!" Ruchika asked placing her hand on gauri's shoulder.

"Pooja karke man mein positivity aati hai aapke andar aur faltu negativity bhaag jaati hai!" Gauri said and ruchika nodded.

"Mujhe laga pooja karne se accha pati milta hai!" Ruchika said and gauri laughed tapping ruchika's head.

"Pagal kahinki!" She said nd ruchika hugged her.

"Waise rudra jiju chahte toh kal hi mangni Tod sakte the then unhone esa kia kyu nahi!" Ruchika said and gauri started thinking.

"Pata nahi.....rudra kya soch rahe hai kuch samjh hi nahi aa raha!" Gauri said and ruchika waved her hand dramatically.

"Oho kitna confusion hai chalo chhodo yeh sab pooja karte hai!" Ruchika said as they entered the mansion's pooja ghar.

The soft clang of temple bells replaced the echo of music as Gauri and Ruchika stepped into the pooja room.

The Kapoor pooja ghar was simple but warm-white marble idols, fresh lotus flowers, burning agarbattis, and the faint glow of diyas trembling like quiet prayers. Gauri knelt first, adjusting her dupatta over her head with practiced grace. Ruchika followed, folding her hands dramatically as if God himself were a close relative.

Gauri closed her eyes.

Bhagwan... bas itna sa sukoon de do... ki main apni umeedon se ladna band kar saku.

She didn't ask for Rudra.

Not anymore.

She had stopped asking for him.

Ruchika peeked at her from the corner of her eye. "Di... aap hamesha itni shanti se kaise baith jaati ho? Mujhe toh lagta hai bhagwan bhi sochta hoga-yeh ladki itni seedhi kaise ho sakti hai!"

Gauri smiled faintly but didn't open her eyes. "Seedhi nahi hoon Ruchi... bas thaki hui hoon."

Ruchika frowned slightly, sensing the weight in her sister's voice but choosing not to press.

They completed the aarti quietly. Gauri offered flowers to the deity, her fingers trembling just a little.

Outside the pooja room, footsteps echoed.

"Ho gayi pooja ya bhagwan ko bhi bore kar diya tum dono ne?"

Tejas's voice carried his usual mix of authority and humor. He stood at the doorway in his crisp kurta, arms folded, watching his daughters with a half-smile.

Gauri stood up immediately. "Papa, aap bhi na..."

Ruchika grinned. "Papa aapko bhi baithna chahiye, thodi positivity aa jayegi!"

Tejas snorted. "Mujhe positivity nahi, tum dono ko thoda discipline chahiye."

Bani appeared behind him, wiping her hands on her dupatta. Her soft eyes went straight to ruchika

"ruchi beta, breakfast ready hai. Aur haan..." she paused, her gaze moved to gauri her tone not harsh 9but careful, "...aaj haldi ke liye late nahi hona."

Gauri nodded. "Haan matashri"

That single sentence carried more weight than anyone in the room realized.

Ruchika clapped her hands. "Yesss! Finally yellow outfits, haldi vibes, and full drama!"

Tejas raised an eyebrow. "Tumhe har cheez drama kyun lagti hai?"

"Kyuki zindagi hi drama hai papa!" Ruchika declared proudly.

Tejas laughed softly, then looked at Gauri again. "Beta... sab theek hai na?"

Gauri forced a smile. "Bilkul, baba."

But tejas knew that smile.

He always did.

They sat at the dining table. Plates were served, conversations flowed around wedding arrangements, guests, outfits, rituals.

But Gauri barely tasted her food.

Her eyes kept drifting to nothing.

To someone who wasn't there.

To Rudra.

She remembered him as he always was-confident, composed, untouchable. The man who had always treated her with respect... and never with love.

He had never lied to her.

He had never promised her anything.

Yet somehow, her heart had written its own story.

Ruchika leaned close to her. "Di... aap haldi mein kaunsa color pehnogi?"

"Yellow," Gauri replied automatically.

"Obviously! But Rudra jiju toh white pehenenge na? White-yellow combo-uff! Perfect!"

Gauri's fingers tightened slightly around her spoon.

Rudra jiju.

That was all he was.

That was all he would ever be.

Tejas cleared his throat. "Gauri."

She looked up.

"Tum strong ho, beta," he said quietly, not as a businessman, not as a father giving instructions-but as a man who understood his daughter too well. "Aur mujhe pata hai tum apna farz nibhaogi. Bas apne aap ko mat kho dena."

Gauri's eyes softened.

She nodded slowly. "Main nahi khoongi, papa."

Bani placed her hand over Gauri's. "Shaadi sirf rishton ka naam nahi hota, beta... kabhi kabhi khud se milne ka bhi hota hai."

Gauri swallowed.

She smiled.

And for the first time that morning, her smile was not about Rudra.

It was about herself.

Outside, the Kapoor mansion echoed with preparations, laughter, and expectations.

And somewhere between those walls, a girl who loved a man who could never love her back silently promised herself-

I will always respect our relationship and the distance between us.

The haldi would stain her skin today.

But her heart would remain her own.

Even if quietly aching.

--------

The Shekhawat mansion was already glowing by late afternoon.

Marigold garlands framed every doorway, strings of fairy lights hung lazily from the balcony rails, and the courtyard had been transformed into a sea of yellow and gold. Soft music floated through the air while relatives laughed, children ran around with plates of petals, and the unmistakable fragrance of turmeric, rose water, and sandalwood filled the space.

Rudra sat on a low wooden stool in the center, wearing a simple white kurta, already half-smeared with haldi from enthusiastic friends who clearly enjoyed their job a little too much.

After all elders were done esha stepped forward and took up the pair of durba and dipped them in sarso oil, til, haldi and other ingredients before touching the durba to Rudra's face then elbows the back of the palm, then knees and finally his feets. She repeated the same for seven times and then took off evil eyes from him.

"Bhagwan kare ki tera shaadi shuda jeewan ek dum khushal beete!" She said and hugged him placing a kiss over his hairs and then took a good amount of haldi in her hands and smeared it on his face.

"Bas karo yaar!" he protested, laughing. "Main haldi se zyada peela ho chuka hoon!"

"No complaints," Rajvansh said from behind him, grinning. "You still look less yellow than your personality."

Rudra rolled his eyes. "You're enjoying this too much."

On the other side, Shreya walked in with Shikhar's suggested lehenga-and yes, it was perfect. The soft yellow fabric flowed around her, floral patterns catching the sunlight as she moved. Shikhar, standing near the pillars with a glass of juice, froze for a second when he saw her.

"Wow," he muttered, mostly to himself.

She noticed, of course. She always did. And she smiled.

Nearby, Krisha stood with a small bowl of haldi in her hands, her yellow suit elegant and simple. Her dupatta rested lightly on her shoulder, but every time she moved, it slid forward, teasing gravity.

Rajvansh stood a little behind her, watching quietly, as if he was guarding a moment he didn't want the world to disturb.

"Krisha, go," Shreya nudged her gently. "Ruddy is waiting."

Krisha nodded and stepped forward toward Rudra. She lifted her hand, and picked up the durba pair-

-and her dupatta slipped again, sliding forward and tangling near her arm.

Before she could awkwardly adjust it, Rajvansh stepped in smoothly, almost instinctively. He lifted the edge of her dupatta and held it lightly at her shoulder, not touching her skin, just keeping it in place.

"Take your time," he said softly, so only she could hear.

Krisha looked at him for a brief second, surprised.

And then... she smiled.

Not the guarded smile. Not the polite one.

A real one.

"Thank you," she whispered.

With her dupatta finally behaving, she turned back to Rudra and gently started performing the ritual same way esha did.

Then she took the bowl of haldi and dipped her fingers in it smearing the haldi across rudra's face "For my brother," she said quietly. "For happiness. For peace. And for a life where you never doubt how loved you are."

Rudra's eyes softened instantly. He pulled her into a careful, haldi-safe hug.

"Bas ab rulayegi kya?" he muttered, his voice thick.

Around them, whistles and teasing erupted.

"Awww, emotional scene!" someone shouted.

Rajvansh still held her dupatta for a second longer, making sure it didn't slip again, then slowly let it fall back into place. His hand retreated, but his gaze stayed.

Krisha felt it.

She didn't look back-but she felt it.

Shreya clapped loudly. "Okay, okay! Enough emotions. Next victim!"

Shikhar immediately pointed at Rajvansh. "Him. Definitely him."

Rajvansh raised an eyebrow. "Why do I feel betrayed? You should be the next victim"

"Meri toh haldi hai hi next but mere baad I want you to get married!" Shikhar said.

Shreya and Shikhar teamed up, grabbing haldi and attacking him from both sides. Laughter exploded across the courtyard as Rajvansh tried to escape, only to be pulled back by Rudra, who was more than happy to return the favor.

Everyone attacked rajvansh and krisha stood by the side just smiled.

"Tu kya smile kar rahi hai!" Shreya said and pulled krisha toward them.

"Please nahi .....please" krisha said while giggling but it was too late esha, shreya, shikar rudra even agastya attacked her with haldi.

"This is not fair!" Krisha said making a pout now fully covered in haldi.

Soon everyone had haldi on their faces, clothes, hair, even ears.

Krisha laughed openly for the first time that day, her earlier heaviness washed away in color and noise.

Rajvansh finally stood beside her again, wiping haldi from his cheek.

"You're smiling," he said quietly.

"So are you," she replied without thinking.

They both paused.

Then, slowly, they smiled a little more.

As the dhol beats grew louder and petals were tossed into the air, the Shekhawat courtyard turned into a celebration of laughter, color, teasing, and healing.

Not perfect.

Not flawless.

But real.

The laughter in the courtyard slowly settled into softer chatter as elders began preparing the next round of rituals. Fresh bowls of haldi were brought in, mixed again with rosewater and petals, the paste glowing under the sunlight.

Khushi stood near one of the pillars, watching everything from a distance. Her eyes kept drifting toward Krisha, who was laughing with Shreya and Shikhar now, her cheeks still faintly smeared with turmeric. A quiet guilt sat heavy in Khushi's chest.

Shreyas noticed.

He stood beside her without announcing himself, hands in his pockets, posture careful.

"She's smiling," he said gently.

Khushi swallowed. "Yes... because she's strong. Not because she wasn't hurt."

Shreyas didn't argue. He only nodded. "You still planning to apologize?"

Khushi looked at him then. Really looked.

"Yes," she said softly. "After this ritual. I don't want to ruin the moment."

A group of cousins suddenly dragged Shreyas forward. "Arre! Tum bhi bach nahi sakte!"

Within seconds, haldi was smeared across his jaw and forehead. He laughed helplessly, shaking his head. When he finally escaped, Khushi couldn't help but laugh too.

"You look ridiculous," she said, smiling despite herself.

"And you look like you're judging me," he replied, grinning.

Their eyes met. The tension between them softened-just a little.

Khushi took a small bowl of haldi and stepped closer to him.

"Stay still," she ordered quietly.

He obeyed instantly.

She lifted her fingers and gently applied haldi to his cheek, her touch careful, almost reverent. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

"Twelve years," she whispered, not meeting his eyes.

"Twelve years," he echoed softly.

When she stepped back, her eyes were wet-but peaceful.

Nearby, Krisha watched the scene unfold without interrupting. Rajvansh noticed her gaze.

"You okay?" he asked.

She nodded. "Some things take time to heal. But at least... they're trying."

Rajvansh followed her eyes toward Khushi and Shreyas.

"That's how healing starts," he said quietly.

Meanwhile, Shreya clapped her hands dramatically. "Okay everyone! Group photo before more haldi disasters happen!"

Everyone gathered together-laughing, teasing, stained yellow, glowing with warmth.

Shikhar stood behind Shreya, whispering something in her ear that made her smack his arm.

Rudra pulled Krisha closer for the picture, Rajvansh standing just beside her, not touching, but close enough to feel like home.

Khushi stood beside Shreyas, not too close, not too far.

The camera clicked.

And in that frozen frame-

there were no perfect relationships.

Only real ones, trying to find their way back to each other.

As the photographer lowered the camera, Khushi finally turned toward Krisha.

"Krisha," she called softly.

Krisha looked up.

Khushi walked toward her, hands trembling slightly, haldi still clinging to her fingers.

"I'm sorry," she said simply. "For what I said. For how I said it. For not seeing your pain when I was drowning in my own."

The courtyard seemed to quiet around them.

Krisha stared at her for a long second... then khushi slowly stepped forward and hugged her.

"I don't want you to forgive me," Khushi whispered. "I just need honest."

Khushi closed her eyes, holding her sister tightly, krisha didn't hugged her back her eyes betraying no emotions but hurt.

Shreyas watched them, his chest tightening-not with pain this time, but with relief.

Rajvansh looked at Shreyas and nodded once.

Two men. One silent understanding.

And in the middle of marigolds, turmeric, laughter, and tears-

-two sisters stood wrapped in a hug that meant very different things to each of them.

Khushi held Krisha tightly, her arms desperate, apologetic, trembling.

Krisha stood still.

She did not push her away.

But she did not hug her back either.

Her hands remained by her sides, fingers curled slightly, nails pressing into her palms.

"I need time," Krisha said softly, not unkindly, but firmly.

Khushi pulled back slowly, her eyes wet. She nodded, because she knew-this was more mercy than she deserved right now.

Krisha looked at her once more, then turned away.

Not in anger.

In self-protection.

And for the first time, Khushi truly understood the depth of what she had broken.

---

Krisha walked away from the crowd, from the music, from the murmurs, from the weight sitting in her chest.

She stopped near the mango tree at the edge of the courtyard, where sunlight filtered gently through the leaves. Her haldi-stained fingers brushed against the bark as she took a slow breath.

She didn't realize she wasn't alone anymore.

Until-

"Krisha."

Rajvansh's voice.

Soft. Careful. As if he was afraid even his tone might push her further away.

She didn't turn immediately.

"Yes?" she replied quietly.

He stepped closer, but not too close. He always respected that invisible line she had drawn.

"I just wanted to check if you're okay," he said.

She let out a small, humorless breath. "I look okay. That's usually enough for everyone."

Rajvansh's jaw tightened slightly, but he didn't argue.

"You don't have to pretend with me."

Krisha finally turned to look at him.

Her eyes weren't crying.

They were tired.

"Pretending is easier than explaining," she said.

For a moment, neither spoke.

The sounds of dhol and laughter echoed faintly behind them, like another world.

Rajvansh broke the silence gently. "You don't have to explain. I just... wanted you to know I'm here. Even if you don't want me to be."

Krisha looked away again.

"That's the problem, Rajvansh," she said softly. "You're always there. And I don't know what to do with that."

He swallowed.

She continued, her voice calm but heavy. "I don't trust easily anymore. Not people. Not words. Not intentions. And I don't want to start leaning on someone again only to realize I misunderstood everything."

Rajvansh nodded slowly.

"I'm not asking you to lean," he said. "I'm just asking you to let me stand near you."

She almost smiled.

Almost.

"You make it sound simple."

"It's not," he admitted. "But it's honest."

Krisha studied his face.

There was no demand in his eyes.

No expectation.

Only patience.

That somehow hurt more.

"You know," she said quietly, "I don't know what I feel. About anyone. About anything. And I don't want to drag you into my confusion."

Rajvansh gave a small, sad smile. "I walked into it myself. You didn't drag me."

Her throat tightened slightly.

She looked down at her hands, still yellow with haldi.

"Right now," she whispered, "I can only promise distance."

Rajvansh nodded. "Then I'll keep my distance."

She looked up, surprised.

He met her gaze steadily. "But I won't disappear."

A long silence stretched between them.

Not awkward.

Not uncomfortable.

Just full.

Krisha finally spoke, her voice barely above a breath. "You deserve someone who's sure."

He replied just as softly. "And you deserve time to become sure."

Their eyes held.

Something fragile passed between them.

Not love.

Not yet.

But friendship & understanding.

Krisha took a small step back.

"Thank you... for not making me feel guilty for being broken," she said.

Rajvansh shook his head gently. "You're not broken, Krishi. You're just healing in pieces."

She looked at him one last time.

Then she turned and walked back toward the celebration.

Rajvansh didn't follow.

He let her go.

Because sometimes, loving someone meant giving them space to find themselves-even if it meant standing alone for a while.

Behind her, the dhol beats grew louder again.

Ahead of her, rituals waited.

Inside her, a quiet ache remained-

but now, it wasn't completely lonely.

-----------

Shreya slipped inside the mansion, away from the noise, the dhol, the laughter. Her cheeks still burned from haldi, from teasing, from the way Shikhar had looked at her during the group photo.

She had just turned toward the corridor-

when a strong pair of arms wrapped around her from behind.

Before she could gasp, she was gently but firmly pulled into a quiet corner near the staircase, hidden by curtains and shadows.

"Shikhar-" she breathed.

He turned her around in one swift motion, his chest rising and falling like he had been holding himself back for far too long.

"You have any idea what you do to me?" he whispered, his voice rough, controlled only by effort.

Shreya looked up at him, startled... and then softly smiling. "We're in the middle of-"

He didn't let her finish.

He bent down and kissed her.

Not gently.

Not teasingly.

But deeply-like he had been waiting all day, like he had been losing every battle with his own restraint.

Shreya froze for a second in surprise...

and then melted.

Her hands fisted in his kurta as she kissed him back, just as fiercely, just as honestly.

The world outside disappeared.

No music.

No rituals.

No expectations.

Only them.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers, his breath uneven.

"I tried," he whispered. "I really tried to behave."

She smiled, eyes soft, lips still trembling from his kiss. "You're doing a terrible job."

He chuckled under his breath, then kissed her again-slower this time, softer, as if afraid to break the moment.

When they finally pulled apart, Shreya rested her forehead against his chest.

"Shikhar..." she murmured.

"Hm?"

"After our wedding... after everything settles..." she looked up at him, eyes shining, "...promise me we'll still steal moments like this."

He cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing the edge of her cheek.

"I don't want moments," he said quietly. "I want a lifetime of them."

Her smile was slow. Real.

She leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his lips this time-hers.

Then she pulled back, eyes playful again. "Now fix your kurta, hero. If anyone sees us-"

He grinned. "Worth it."

She laughed softly, slipping out of his arms, but before walking away, she turned back and said-

"You didn't just steal a kiss, Mr. Shikhar Shergill"

He raised an eyebrow.

"You reminded me why I chose you."

And with that, she walked back toward the noise and lights of the mansion- leaving Shikhar standing there,

smiling like a man who had just realized-

love wasn't in grand gestures.

It was in stolen corners,

unfinished kisses,

and hearts that refused to let go.

Krisha stood near the old stone wash basin, away from the main chaos, dabbing her face with a white hanky already ruined by yellow smudges.

“Great,” she muttered. “I look like a poorly painted turmeric idol.”

She scrubbed a little harder, wincing. Haldi was stubborn. Much like the day itself.

“Violence is not the solution, you know.”

She froze.

Then sighed. “Rajvansh,” she said without looking at him, “if you’re here to comment, please leave.”

He leaned against the pillar beside her, arms crossed, eyes sparkling. “I was going to offer help. But sure. I can also emotionally support you while you battle the haldi.”

She glanced at him. “I don’t need help.”

“Mm-hm.” He nodded thoughtfully. “That’s exactly what you said in school when you tried to clean ink stains off your white uniform with water.”

Her hand paused mid-wipe.

“…You remember that?”

“Remember?” he scoffed. “You walked around the entire day with blue streaks on your sleeve like modern art. Half the school thought it was a fashion statement.”

She shot him a glare. “Tumhe kaise pata chala, hamara toh section bhi alag tha!”

“No,” he grinned, stepping closer, “but gossip transcends sections. Especially when Krisha is involved.”

She turned fully toward him now. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he said lightly, reaching out, “still offering help.”

She immediately swatted his hand away. “Rajvansh. No.”

“Relax,” he said. “I’ve handled worse. Remember anuaal day? When—”

“Do not bring that up.”

“Oh come on,” he laughed. “You chased rohit with the buck of paint and ended up being painted yourself—”

She shoved his shoulder, offended. “Stop it.”

Still chuckling, he followed as she turned and started walking away.

“Arre, don’t walk off,” he teased. “I’m just saying you’ve always been bad at cleaning stains. Consistent personality trait.”

She stopped suddenly.

Rajvansh, mid-laugh, didn’t.

He stumbled straight into her.

They both lost balance.

And the next second—

Thud.

They landed on the grass, Rajvansh above her, palms planted on either side of her shoulders.

Silence.

Their cheeks brushed, He pulled up to see her

His cheek was smeared with haldi.

So was hers now.

She stared at him.

He stared back.

“Well,” he said softly, eyes flicking to her face, “now it’s symmetrical.”

Her breath hitched as she tried to push him away—but her hand slipped, smearing more haldi across his jaw.

“Noor—” he murmured.

She shoved again.

He lost balance.

And promptly fell back onto her.

This time closer.

Too close.

Their noses almost brushed.

Time slowed.

The world narrowed to warm breath, yellow-stained skin, and something dangerously unspoken.

Rajvansh’s gaze dropped—her lips— He leaned closer as her eyes flickered to his lips.

She inhaled—

And—

“Aa—ahh—achoo!”

The moment shattered.

She sneezed right into the space between them.

Rajvansh jerked back instantly, blinking in shock.

Then he burst out laughing.

Full, unrestrained, head-thrown-back laughter.

Krisha groaned, mortified, pushing him off properly now. “I hate you.”

He wiped his face, still laughing. “Romantic tension murdered by achoo. Iconic.”

She scrambled to her feet, cheeks burning. “I’m going back.”

He stood too, brushing grass off his kurta. “Fair.”

She took two steps.

Then paused.

Without turning, she said, “You didn’t have to follow me.”

“I know,” he replied easily. “I wanted to.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

As she walked inside rajvansh said "I'm leaving urgent meeting hai, mujhe dundhna mat!"

Krisha stopped in her track and turned to face him "Achanak!"

Rajvansh looked at her not with mischieve but with seriousness.

He ran toward her and stopped right in front of her, she looked up at him.

"I'm sorry but I need this!" He said and hugged her tightly lifting her off the ground, snuggling his face into the crook of her neck.

He pulled back and without saying a word left from their.

------------

People slowly scattered—some toward the wash area, others toward snacks, a few elders settling back onto cushioned chairs to rest and gossip in equal measure.

The courtyard buzzed again, softer now. Comfortable. Lived-in.

Esha was standing near the ritual table, carefully wiping her hands with a cloth, when Vasudhara approached her. She looked composed as always, her saree pristine despite the chaos around her, eyes carrying the quiet authority of someone who kept the family traditions running smoothly.

"Esha beta haldi Kapoor's ke yaha lekar jani hai" she said and Esha turned toward her nodding.

"Abhi Jana hai?" She asked and Vasundhara nodded.

"Meine bani ji ko keje diya hai ki bacche aaenge shagun ki haldi lekar thodi der mein!" She said and Esha smiled.

"Theek hai hum abhi niklte hai, mein Agastya ko dekh lu kaha gae!" She said and started searching for Agastya.

As she went toward the backyard she saw Agastya with khushi.

"Khushi don't be sad don't think we are upset with you" Agastya said and khushi nodded.

"Tumne kuch galat nahi kaha tha, par tumhare kehena ka tareeka woh galat tha, hum frustrate ho jate hai and it's normal" Agastya said and khushi finally sighed.

"Jiju....meine apna dosh bhi uspar daal diya, rajvansh aur shreyas ki dosti meri wakha se kharab Hui aur meine kaha ki yeh sab uski wajh se hua.....Woh subh se shikhar se maafi mang rahi thi ki uski wajah se dostiyon mein darar aa gai" khushi said and Agastya pressed his lips into a thin line.

"Par Jiju uski bhi galti hai, woh hamesha sabko push kar deti hai, kisi se kuch share nahi karti, rajvansh tak se share nahi karti, ese behave karti hai jaise usey trust hi nahi hai!" Khushi said and Agastya looked up at her with disappoint.

Agastya started walking and khushi followed him

"बिना भोगे जो कहे, सो बोले सब झूठ,

जब खुद पर बीत पड़ी, तब सांचा ज्ञान अनूठ।" He said and khushi looked up at him surprised.

"Matlab samjhti ho!" He asked and khushi shook her head.

"Iska matlab hai, Jo vyakti bina khud anubhav kiye gyaan ki baatein karta hai, uski baatein sirf kehne bhar ki hoti hain, unmein sachchai nahi hoti" He said and then stopping in his track he turned toward khushi

"Jab wahi baat us vyakti ke jeevan mein khud ghatit hoti hai, tab use asli gyaan praapt hota hai." He said and khushi nodded.

"Par aap yeh mujhe kyu bata rahe hai!" She asked and Agastya chuckled.

"Abhi bhi nahi samjhi!" He asked and khushi smiled awkwardly shaking her head in a big no.

"Woh sirf 12 saal ki thi choti si bacchi, usey kuch pata tak nahi tha aur jo uske saath hua woh usey bhula nahi paa rahi and it's very normal kyuki ek ladki esi baatein nahi bhula sakti!" Agastya said and khushi eyes widened.

"Aapko pata hai!" Khushi asked and Agastya nodded.

"Bas itna hi jitna esha janti hai!" Agastya said and khushi looked down.

"Humein se koi bhi jo uspar beeti hai woh nahi samjh sakta kyuki, woh humpar nahi beeti, dar humse woh karwaya hai jo hum nahi karna chahte, aur krisha ka dar jayaz hai" He said and khushi nodded.

"Tum, mein, hum sab shururaat se parivaar ke saath rahe hai, isliye hum aasani se cheezein share kar lete hai aapni families ke saath" Agastya said and khushi nodded.

Esha walked toward them and Agastya noticed her, he smiled and esha nodded telling him to continue his talk.

"Krisha jab tak sab samjhne layak hui , woh sabse dur ho gai, wo bachpan se akeli rahi hai uske paas koi tha hi nahi jiske woh aapne dil ki baatein share kar le" Agastya stopped and then continued

"tum achanak se ussey expect Karo ki woh change ho jae aur aapne dil ki saari baatein kehe de, toh esa nahi ho sakta!" He said and khushi looked up at him and then esha.

"Aur iska matlab yeh bilkul bhi nahi hai ki woh humpar vishwas nahi karti, usey aadat hi nahi hai aapne dukh ke kissey sunkar auron se sahanubhuti lene ki, woh nahi karpaati yeh simple, usey dil ki baatein dil mein hi rakhne ki aadat ho gai hai!" He said and khushi nodded.

"Sahi kehe rahe hai aap jiju, hum sab hamesha se family ke saath rahe akele chut jane ka dar kya hota hai yeh hum nahi samjh sakte!" Khushi said and esha gave her a side hug.

"Aapna Dil chota mat karo, krisha toh esi baatein sunne ki aadat hai jo tumne ussey kaha!" Esha said intentionally and then winked at Agastya.

"Chota kaise na karu didi, aaj jiju ne mujhe enlightenment de di hai!" Khushi said and agastya adjusted his kurta proudly actioning esha to pat his shoulder but Esha stuck her tongue at him making him narrow his eyes at her.

Khushi took a deep breath and then looked up at esha, she held esha's shoulder with her hand.

"Esha di, aapki jindgi ka best decision tha jiju se shaadi karna" Khushi said and Esha smiled.

"Chalo ab jaldi, haldi leke gauri ke yaha jana hai!" She said and khushi nodded before walking toward the garden.

Agastya also started walking toward the garden but Esha caught his wrist and pulled him back "Aap kaha chale?" Agastya gulped looking at her and said "Haldi leke jaani haina ranisa!"

"Arey abhi aap pehle kone mein toh chaliye!" Esha said pulling him toward herself by his waist and locking her fingers behind his back.

"Esha.......yeh backyard hai aapko itna man hai toh hum kamre mein chalte hai, bed bhi hai waha toh aapko problem nahi hogi!" He said leaning closer to her face.

Esha pulled back and slapped his arm "Agastya....aapne promise kia tha, jab hum flirt karenge tab aap flirt back nahi karenge bas sharmaenge!" She said and Agastya chuckled cupping her face.

"Aapko dekh kar hamari niyat kharab ho jati hai, ab ismein hamari kya galti hai!" He said and pecked his lips before running back.

"Jaldi aaiye, late ho raha hai!" She said without turning back and Agastya followed her still smiling.

-----

As they all were ready to leave ishaani's voice rang "Mumma, papa, mein bhi chlungi!" She came running towards Agastya.

"Baccha aap mamu ke saath raho, waha bore ho jaoge, dekho yaha aapki age ke kitne saare bacche hai"   Esha said and ishaani made a pout tugging at agastya's kurta.

Agastya knelt on his one knee and scooped ishaani making her sit on his thigh.

"Ishi....aap arjun bhaiya ko tauji se zid karke yaha lekar aai thi na, ab aap chale jaogi toh bhaiya kya karenge?" Agastya said gently ticking her hairs back and Ishani pooked at his cheeks.

"Papa...bhaiya bhi toh chalenge na, padlu" she said innocently making everyone laugh.

"Ale ...hase kyu hase kyu? Meine padlu hi toh bola!" Ishani said and agastya chuckled

"Aye...papa ko paglu bologi!" He said and Ishani smiled cupping his face.

"Please papa, mujhe aur bhaiya ko bhi le chalo! Humein mami se milna hai" she said and agastya sighed.

"Okay....chalo phir!" Agastya said and esha glared at him.

"Aap aur hai, usey maa sula deti, ab shaam ko chichi karegi dophar bhaar jaag kar!" She said and agastya started scratching his temple, "koi baat nahi mein dekh lunga!"

"Mein gaadi lekar aata hu" shreyas said.

"Rajvansh kaha hai?" Shikhar asked nd shreya shrugged.

Krisha who was picking up the gifts plate immediately said "Woh office gaya hai, kuch urgent meeting aa gai thi!" She said and Rudra raised an eyebrow.

"Ooooo" Ava said and Amisha continued "toh Mr.boss tujhe specially bata kar gae hai!"

Krisha's hands stopped as realisation struck her, she tilted her head turning to face all of them who are already staring at her.

She smiled awkwardly "haha...woh meine usey call pe baat karte suna tha, haan call pe!" she said and shivaay raised a brow at her.

"Toh tum Mr.malhotra ki jasusi kar rahi ho!" He asked and krisha opened her mouth "aaa.." then stopped.

"Ooooo...so you're really spying on Mr.Malhotra!" Ava said and everyone laughed.

"Krishi yeh sach kehe rahe hai! Rudra asked.

"Nahi esa kuch nahi hai, okay fine, usne hi batya tha....par mein sach mein koi jasusi nahi kar rahi sacchi!" Krisha said nervously.

And everyone laughed harder.

"Chalo der ho rahi hai, had hoti hai" she said rushing towards the car.

"Hum...teeno wapis hotel jaa rahe hai, presentation dekhne kal submit karni hai toh!" Shivaay said and everyone nodded.

"Shaam ko hotel aa jana baby don!" Amisha said more like she screamed. And krisha with same loudness replied "okay!"

"Yeh krishu maasi haina photo wali, yeh toh badi ho gai hai!" Ishaani said and esha laughed.

"Toh aap bhi toh badi ho gai ho, maasi nahi hongi!"  Esha asked.

"Arey toh maasi toh already badi haina aur kitna badi hongi!" Ishaani said and everyone laughed.

They all walked towards the car Esha, Ishaani, Krisha, arjun and Agastya are in the same car and Shikhar, Shreya, Shreyas and Khushi were in the same.

Krisha and Ishaani were seated in the back seat, krisha was looking at Ishani again and again trying to talk to her, finally she broke out "Ishaani..." She said and Ishaani turned towards her "yes maasi!"

"Aap toh bohot badi ho gai ho!" She said and ishaani nodded.

"Aap bhi badi ho gai ho!" She said and krisha pinched her cheeks.

"Hi Arjun, kaise ho aap?" She asked ruffling her hand trough Arjun's hair.

"Mein toh ishi se bada hu woh bhi poore 6 months" he said proudly and krisha laughed.

"Maasi, maasi aap cartoon dekti ho" ishaani asked.

"Haan shinchan!" Arjun said he along with Ishani started dancing like shinchan saying "buri, buri, buri, buri"

Esha, Agastya and krisha laughed looking at the two

Krisha joined in without a second thought.

“Buri buri buri buri!” she sang, popping her lips exactly like Shinchan and wiggling in her seat.

Ishaani’s eyes went huge.

“MAASI! Aapko bhi aata hai?!” she gasped, clutching Arjun’s sleeve like she’d just discovered a long-lost teammate.

“Of course,” Krisha said very seriously, then leaned forward and whispered, “main Himawari bhi ban sakti hoon.”

Before anyone could stop her, she folded her arms, puffed her cheeks and went,

“kikikikki!” in the most dramatic baby voice.

Arjun burst out laughing, nearly bonking his head on the seat.

“Chachu dekho! Krishu maasi baby ban rahi hai!”

Agastya glanced back from the driver’s seat, eyebrow raised.

“Krisha… family ki izzat—”

“—Papa!” Ishaani cut him off, pointing an accusing finger, “Aap chup raho. Maasi fun kar rahi hai.”

Esha snorted, covering her mouth.

“Dekha? Certified approval mil gaya.”

Krisha peeked at Ishaani, a little unsure, then asked softly,

“Aur kaunsa cartoon pasand hai aapko?”

Ishaani didn’t hesitate even half a second.

“Doraemon! Par Nobita bohot rota hai aur doremon ke gadget ka acche se use bhi nahi karta.”

“Exactly!” Krisha exclaimed, slapping the seat. “Main bhi yehi sochti hu—agar main hoti na, main Doraemon ka gadget leke direct teacher ko invisible kar deti.”

Arjun leaned in, deadly serious.

“Main Big Light se chocolate badi kar deta.”

Ishaani nodded like a seasoned strategist.

“Main Small Light se mumma ko chhota kar deti.”

“HEY—” Esha protested, but the backseat trio was already giggling uncontrollably.

Krisha laughed with them, head thrown back, completely unguarded. For a moment, she forgot to measure her words, forgot to hold herself tight. She reached out, instinctively fixing Ishaani’s slightly crooked ponytail.

“Par ek baat hai,” Krisha said thoughtfully, “Shinchan sabko pareshaan karta hai, phir bhi… sab usse pyaar karte hain.”

Ishaani looked at her, considering this with the seriousness only kids have.

“Haan… kyunki woh jhooth nahi bolta.”

Krisha’s smile softened, something warm settling quietly in her chest.

“Haan,” she said gently. “Bilkul jhooth nahi bolta.”

Ishaani leaned sideways, her head bumping lightly against Krisha’s arm, completely unbothered.

“Maasi… kya aap mere saath cartoon dekhogi?”

Krisha blinked, then nodded.

“Pakka. Main snacks bhi laungi.”

“Promise?” Ishaani asked, holding out her pinky.

Krisha hooked her finger around it without thinking.

“Promise.”

Esha watched them through the rearview mirror, her smile slow and knowing. Agastya caught it too, saying nothing, just driving on as laughter filled the car—easy, childlike, and for Krisha… unexpectedly safe.

As the cars halted in front of Kapoor mansion the security guard came running opnening the door.

The Kapoor mansion was decked in gold and white marigolds, the fragrance of fresh flowers hitting them the moment they stepped out of the cars. It was a grand affair, but the vibe was distinctly different from the chaotic warmth of the Shekhawat courtyard.

Here, everything felt polished, timed, and meticulously planned.

As the group gathered their things, Gauri’s mother, Bani stepped out onto the wide marble veranda, her face lighting up as she saw the procession.

"Aa gae aap log!" She said walking toward them,

They all stepped out of their respective cars.

Krisha helded Ishaani's hand with her left hand her one hand and Arjun's hand with another.

Esha and agastya followed them along with khushi, shreya, shreyas and shikhar.

"Pranam aunty!" Krisha said joining her hands in front of bani ishaani and Arjun looked up at her and then at bani and said "padaam!" Bani chuckled and tapped their cheeks.

Agastya bent to touch her feet but bani stopped him "Arey agastya ji, aap damad hai, damad pair nahi chua karte!" Agastya smiled and stood straight saying namaste.

Bani led them inside the mansion where everyone was present.

Ruchika was jumping from here to there but stopped suddenly when she saw Esha.

"Arey aa gae sab! Dhol bajao re!" She said and sound of Dhol blasted from the speakers.

"Esha Didi, you have to dance—and Jiju, you’re not getting out of it either!" Ruchika chirped, seizing Esha’s wrist and dragging her toward the center of the floor. Esha didn’t go down alone; she grabbed Agastya, who caught Shikhar, who snagged Shreyas. Within seconds, a human chain formed as Khushi, Shreya, and Krisha were all swept into the middle of the room.

The dhol picked up speed, loud and unapologetic, vibrating straight through the marble floors and into everyone’s bones. Someone—probably Ruchika—turned the volume up another notch, because subtlety had clearly been uninvited.

“Oh no, no, no—why am I in front?” Krisha protested, laughing even as Shreya shoved her forward by the shoulders.

“Because you look like you’re about to escape,” Shreyas said smugly. “And that is not allowed at indian function.”

“I literally came to deliver haldi,” Krisha said, hands up. “Not to perform.”

“Too late,” Ruchika declared, clapping loudly. “Music has chosen you.”

Esha, already laughing, spun once as the beat changed, her bangles chiming. “Fine,” she said dramatically. “But if I’m dancing, everyone is dancing.”

Agastya groaned. “This is emotional blackmail.”

“And yet,” Khushi chimed in, grabbing his arm, “your feet are already moving.”

True enough—Agastya’s shoulders had started bouncing unconsciously. Shikhar noticed and immediately pointed. “Caught.”

Agastya sighed like a man accepting fate. “If anyone records this, I will deny everything.”

The circle loosened, chaos blooming naturally. Shreya clapped to the rhythm, Khushi twirled with zero planning and full enthusiasm, nearly crashing into Shreyas, who caught her by reflex.

“Careful!” he laughed.

“I was being careful,” Khushi lied cheerfully.

Krisha hovered at the edge, smiling but hesitant, until Ishaani appeared out of nowhere, tugging insistently at her hand.

“Maasi, dance!” Ishaani ordered, tiny feet already stomping in enthusiastic, off-beat jumps.

“Ishaani, this isn’t—”

“everyone dances,” Ishaani said firmly, pointing at Agastya, who was currently being forced into an enthusiastic bhangra step by Shikhar.

Krisha looked. Blinked. Then laughed.

“Well,” she said, rolling up her sleeves a little, “if that is the standard…I'm surely not going to dance”

Ishaani pushed her towards everyone with her both hands, krisha just clapped along first, then letting herself move—small steps at first, then freer, lighter. Nothing choreographed, nothing perfect. Just joy spilling out in bursts. Shreya whooped loudly.

“There she is!” shreya said

Krisha shot her a look. “Do not announce my presence.”

Too late. Ruchika had already seen her and squealed. “Nanand no.2! YES. Finally.”

Shreyas leaned toward Shikhar, deadpan. “I give it thirty seconds before she forgets she was resisting.”

“Twenty,” Shikhar replied.

They were both wrong. It took ten.

Krisha laughed mid-spin as Ishaani tried copying her, arms flailing wildly. Arjun joined in, hopping like it was a personal competition.

“Why are the kids better dancers than us?” Khushi asked, breathless.

“Because they don’t have dignity,” Shreyas said, wiping his forehead.

Esha caught Krisha’s eye and raised her brows teasingly. Krisha shook her head, smiling, but didn’t stop dancing.

For a moment—just one—everything aligned. The noise, the laughter, the reckless joy. No past. No explanations. Just movement and warmth and too many people in too small a space.

Agastya watched, smiling softly, hands folded, eyes lingering on the way Krisha bent to help Ishaani keep balance, how naturally she shielded Arjun when the crowd surged closer.

Bani clapped. “Okay, okay! Enough dancing—or we’ll never do the haldi.”

Groans erupted immediately.

“Auntie, five more minutes,” Shreyas pleaded.

“No,” Bani said fondly. “You’ll sweat on the haldi.”

“That didn’t stop us at the last wedding,” Shikhar muttered.

Still laughing, they regrouped near the ritual area. The gold-and-white décor gleamed under warm lights, trays already laid out. Gauri peeked from behind a pillar, cheeks flushed, eyes shining.

Esha spotted her first. “There she is!”

Gauri stepped forward shyly, and immediately Esha pulled her into a hug. “You look beautiful,” she said softly.

Krisha stood back with the kids, giving space, until Ishaani squeezed her hand.

“Maasi… mami ro rahi hai?” she whispered.

Krisha glanced at Gauri, who was blinking rapidly, emotional. “Happy tears,” she murmured. “The good kind.”

Ishaani nodded, satisfied.

The music faded into a softer instrumental track as the haldi ritual began, but the room still hummed with chatter, laughter, and the constant clinking of bangles.

Gauri was guided to the low wooden stool placed at the center, a white cloth draped neatly beneath her feet. She sat with her hands folded in her lap, nervous fingers twisting slightly, eyes shining with a mix of excitement and something quieter—hope, maybe.

Bani stepped forward first.

The room instinctively stilled.

She picked up a small bowl of haldi, her movements precise, practiced. Her smile was polite, composed—but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She cupped Gauri’s chin lightly, tilting her face up.

“For good luck,” Bani said, her tone formal, almost ceremonial.

She applied the haldi carefully on Gauri’s cheeks, just enough to fulfill the ritual. Gauri smiled up at her, soft and eager, like a child waiting for approval that never quite came.

Bani stepped back immediately.

Tejas followed.

He, on the other hand, was a mess of emotions. His eyes were already glossy as he knelt slightly, applying haldi generously—too generously—on Gauri’s cheeks, forehead, even the tip of her nose.

“Papa,” Gauri laughed softly, voice thick. “I’ll turn fully yellow.”

“That’s the idea,” Tejas said, clearing his throat. “My daughter should glow the brightest.”

Bani looked away.

From the side, Esha leaned toward Krisha, lowering her voice. “Observe carefully.”

Krisha raised an eyebrow. “Bani aunty and gauri didn't look close!”

“That,” Esha murmured, nodding subtly toward Tejas and Bani, “is how emotional imbalance is created in families.”

Krisha snorted before she could stop herself. “Esha di—”

“I’m serious,” Esha continued calmly. “One parent pours love. The other pours… expectations.”

Krisha glanced back at Gauri, whose smile wavered just a fraction as Bani stepped farther away. “That’s… dark.”

Esha smiled sweetly. “Welcome to my TED Talk.”

Before Krisha could respond, the doors burst open dramatically.

“AM I LATE OR FASHIONABLY DISRUPTIVE?”

Heads turned as Vivaan strode in, sunglasses still on, kurta slightly wrinkled, energy already at maximum capacity.

“Vivaan!” Tejas exclaimed, startled and relieved at the same time. “At least remove the sunglasses, beta.”

Vivaan grinned, pulling them off. “Sorry, sorry. Emotional light sensitivity.”

Ruchika laughed despite herself. “You’re impossible vivaan...bhaiyaaa”

“And yet,” Vivaan said, walking toward gauri “irreplaceable.”

Tejas frowned. “Where is Rajvansh? I thought you both were coming together.”

Vivaan’s grin softened, just a bit. “Raj bhai had an urgent meeting.”

Bani hummed. “ofcourse!”

“He did try,” Vivaan added quickly. “He asked me to apologize on his behalf. And he sent this.”

"Kaisi meeting!" Tejas asked.

Vivaan handed over a small envelope. Ruchika accepted it carefully, before passing it to her side without opening it.

"Confidential hai uncle!" He said and tejas nodded.

“Ohhh,” Esha whispered loudly to Krisha, “absent, kya hua udaas ho gai!.”

Krisha elbowed her lightly. “Stop didi.”

“I won’t,” Esha said serenely.

Vivaan dipped his fingers into the haldi bowl without asking permission and smeared a bright streak across Gauri’s cheek.

“HEY—” Gauri protested.

“For courage,” Vivaan declared. “You’ll need it.”

Gauri rolled her eyes but smiled, her gaze drifting somewhere distant, unfocused.

Krisha noticed.

She leaned closer. “You’re thinking about Rudra, aren’t you?”

Gauri blinked, startled. “What—no!”

Esha gasped theatrically. “Liar.”

“I am not—”

“Gauri,” Esha said calmly, tilting her head, “you’re smiling like someone who’s imagining a future argument that ends with dramatic silence and intense eye contact.”

Krisha burst out laughing. “That’s… very specific.”

Gauri’s cheeks flushed deeper than the haldi. “Esha di!”

“I’m just saying,” Esha continued, unfazed, “if he ever breaks your heart, we’ll bury him.”

Krisha choked. “ESHA DI.”

“What?” Esha shrugged. “Emotionally. With words. Possibly sarcasm.”

Vivaan raised his hands. “I’d like to formally state that I want no part in this plan.”

Gauri laughed, finally grounding herself back in the room. She looked between Krisha and Esha, her voice softer now. “I don’t know why… but with you two here, it feels less scary.”

Krisha smiled gently. “That’s because you’re not alone. Even when you think you are.”

Esha nodded. “And because weddings are just chaos with jewelry. No one actually knows what they’re doing.”

"And the best example is you!" Krisha said pointing her index at Esha.

Gauri laughed again, this time freer.

As more family members lined up with haldi, the room filled once more with noise, teasing, and affection layered unevenly—but real all the same.

Vivaan drifted away from the haldi chaos once his ceremonial duty was done, wiping his hands on a napkin and scanning the room. His eyes landed on Krisha standing slightly apart near a pillar, Ishaani and Arjun now distracted with a bowl of flower petals.

A slow grin spread across his face.

He walked up to her like he had all the time in the world.

“BM.”

Krisha didn’t even look at him. “Vivaan.”

He grinned wider. “I said the short form this time!”

She finally turned, folding her arms. “I have told you very clearly—I'm not your bhabhi maa”

“I didn’t,” he said innocently. “I called you BM.”

“That is literally worse.” she said

“It’s efficient,” he argued. “Bhabhi-Maa. Two emotions. One syllable.”

She smacked his arm lightly. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he said, echoing his earlier line, “irreplaceable.”

Krisha shook her head, but she was smiling. After a beat, her expression softened. “Is he okay?”

The joking slipped off his face—not completely, but enough.

“He wanted to be,” Vivaan said honestly. “Trust me. If this wasn’t… what it is… he’d have been standing right where I am. Probably more awkwardly.”

Krisha studied him. “What kind of meeting?”

Vivaan exhaled slowly, glancing toward the ritual area to make sure no one was listening. Then he leaned closer, voice dropping.

“Today’s meeting,” he said, “is the meeting.”

Krisha frowned. “Meaning?”

“Meaning this isn’t just another pitch deck and polite rejection,” he said. “This is about the game. The one he’s been obsessed with since His internship days”

She blinked. “Game?”

Vivaan stared at her for half a second, realization dawning. “Right..”

Her jaw tightened just a little.

He adjusted instantly. “Okay. So. Raj bhai—your not-husband,” he added quickly when she shot him a look, “has been trying to build India’s first proper AAA game.”

Krisha’s brows knitted together. “AAA as in…?”

“Big budget. Global quality. The kind you see coming out of the US, Japan, Europe,” Vivaan explained. “Massive teams, insane tech, cinematic storytelling. Not mobile knockoffs. Not jugaad.”

She absorbed that. “And he’s… making this?”

“He wants to,” Vivaan corrected. “That’s the dream.”

Krisha let out a small, incredulous laugh. “That’s… huge.”

“Tell that to the investors,” Vivaan said dryly. “He’s pitched this idea ten times. Ten. Different people. Different cities. All Indian investors.”

“And?”

“And all of them said the same thing,” Vivaan replied. “Too risky. Indian market isn’t ready. Gamers here won’t pay. Infrastructure isn’t mature. ‘Stick to service work.’ ‘Do outsourcing.’ ‘Why burn money on a fantasy?’”

Krisha’s smile faded completely now.

Vivaan continued, quieter. “One guy actually told him, ‘Beta, Hollywood sapne mat dekho.’”

"Aur ek baar toh kaha—Mr.Malhotra we beleive in you, from the very start, jis din aapka first game launch hua tha tabse but, Triple A game pagalpan hai" he told with a sigh.

Her fingers curled slightly at her sides.

“So this time,” she said slowly, “foreign investors?”

Vivaan nodded. “Studio-backed VCs. People who understand gaming. Who know what a AAA pipeline looks like. If this works…” He whistled softly. “Altiora changes forever.”

Krisha’s gaze drifted unconsciously toward the far window, as if she could see beyond the mansion walls—beyond years she hadn’t witnessed.

“How stressed is he?” she asked.

Vivaan didn’t joke this time. “He hasn’t slept properly in days. Keeps pretending he’s fine. You know him—hyper-focused, zero emotional maintenance.”

That hit somewhere tender.

“He built Altiora from one room,” Vivaan added. “Literally one. Just him, two laptops, and bad instant coffee. Now it’s four floors. Teams. Deadlines. Payroll. Pressure.”

Krisha closed her eyes briefly.

She hadn’t known.

She had left after twelfth grade with her world collapsing inward, thinking distance would freeze time. Thinking people stayed the same.

Clearly, they hadn’t.

“And if the meeting fails?” she asked quietly.

Vivaan’s mouth tilted into a familiar, resigned half-smile. “Then I know exactly what he’ll do.”

Krisha opened her eyes. “So do I.”

Vivaan looked at her sharply. “You do?”

She nodded once. “He’ll act normal. Too normal. He’ll say it’s fine, that he expected it. He’ll come back and immediately start rewriting the plan—cut scope, change engines, compromise the dream so it sounds ‘practical.’ but will never stop running after it as well”

Vivaan let out a low breath. “That is disturbingly accurate.”

“And then,” she continued, voice steady but soft, “he’ll lock himself in his head. Won’t talk about how much it hurt. Won’t let anyone see how close he was to giving up.”

Vivaan stared at her, something like relief flickering in his eyes. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “That.”

Krisha swallowed. “I didn’t know any of this.”

“I know,” Vivaan said gently. “You weren’t here.”

The words weren’t accusatory. Just factual. Somehow, that made them heavier.

From across the room, laughter erupted again as someone smeared haldi on the wrong person. Life, joy, rituals—everything moving forward relentlessly.

Krisha straightened, squaring her shoulders like she’d made a decision.

“He won’t fail today,” she said.

Vivaan raised an eyebrow. “That confidence coming from—?”

“From knowing Rajvansh,” she replied. “And from knowing what he does next if this goes right.”

Vivaan smiled slowly. “Which is?”

“He’ll pretend it was never a big deal,” she said, lips curving faintly. “And then quietly start planning how to build something impossible.”

Vivaan laughed under his breath. “God. You really do know him.”

Krisha didn’t answer.

---------------

The Altiora boardroom was quiet in the way only high-stakes rooms ever were.

Not silent—just controlled.

Glass walls reflected the city skyline outside, afternoon light cutting in sharp angles across the long matte-black table. A screen glowed at the far end, frozen on a single title slide:

PROJECT: ASTRAYA

Redefining Narrative-Driven AAA Games from India

Rajvansh Malhotra stood at the head of the table.

Sleepless eyes, light dark circles under them. Sleeves rolled up. Spine straight anyway.

Across from him sat six people—three men, two women, one older gentleman who hadn’t spoken yet. Accents varied. Laptops open. Expressions unreadable. The kind of faces that had heard a hundred “revolutionary ideas” before lunch.

Rajvansh clicked the remote.

“I won’t start with market size,” he said calmly. “Or revenue projections.”

One of the investors—an American woman with sharp eyes—looked up, mildly intrigued.

“I’ll start with why AAA games feel hollow right now.”

The slide changed.

PROBLEM: SCALE WITHOUT SOUL

Rajvansh met their gazes one by one.

“AAA games today are massive,” he continued. “Bigger worlds. Bigger budgets. Louder marketing. But players are emotionally disengaging.”

He paused. Let that land.

“They finish the game,” he said, “but they don’t carry it.”

The older gentleman leaned back slightly. Interested.

Rajvansh clicked again.

ASTRAYA – CORE PHILOSOPHY

“This game is built on three disruptions,” he said. “Narrative, mechanics, and cultural perspective.”

He inhaled once—steadying.

“First—Narrative Architecture.”

The screen shifted to branching diagrams, layered and complex.

“Most games give you choices that feel meaningful but converge back to the same outcome,” Rajvansh said. “We don’t.”

One investor frowned. “That’s expensive.”

“Yes,” Rajvansh agreed immediately. “It is.”

Then, softer but firmer—

“But it’s honest.”

He gestured to the diagram.

“In Astraya, every major choice permanently alters not just the story, but the world systems. Cities grow or decay. Political factions rise or collapse. NPCs remember—not with scripted flags, but with persistent emotional states.”

Another click.

NPC MEMORY SYSTEM – EMOTIONAL AI

“This,” Rajvansh said, “is where we diverge.”

The slide showed a flowchart—emotions mapped to behavior over time.

“Our NPCs don’t just react. They evolve. Betray someone early? They don’t just dislike you—they change how they treat others. Trust becomes currency. Fear spreads.”

The sharp-eyed woman leaned forward. “You’re talking about long-term emotional simulation.”

“Yes,” Rajvansh said. “At scale.”

There was a pause.

Someone scribbled notes.

He clicked again.

SECOND DISRUPTION: GAMEPLAY MECHANICS

“This is not a power fantasy,” he said. “It’s a consequence fantasy.”

The slide shifted to gameplay footage mockups—combat where restraint mattered more than aggression.

“You don’t level up by killing,” he explained. “You level up by understanding.”

One investor chuckled lightly. “Players like power.”

“They like meaningful power,” Rajvansh corrected. “Astraya makes you powerful by making you responsible.”

He let the footage play.

“Your abilities adapt to your moral patterns. If you solve conflicts through diplomacy, combat becomes harder—but alliances stronger. Violence gives short-term advantage and long-term instability.”

The older gentleman finally spoke.

“You’re making the player uncomfortable.”

Rajvansh met his eyes. “I’m making them human.”

Silence.

Then—the third slide.

THIRD DISRUPTION: CULTURAL LENS

“This game is not ‘Indian-themed’,” Rajvansh said carefully. “It’s Indian-informed.”

Concept art filled the screen—worlds inspired by ancient trade cities, fractured empires, layered mythologies that didn’t rely on Western tropes.

“We don’t exoticize,” he continued. “We universalize.”

He pointed to a cityscape. “This isn’t a ‘fantasy kingdom.’ It’s a civilization shaped by memory, shame, honor, and generational consequence—ideas deeply rooted in South Asian storytelling, but emotionally global.”

The investors exchanged glances now.

Rajvansh felt it—that shift. The moment skepticism leaned into curiosity.

“One more thing,” he said quietly.

He clicked.

WHY ALT I O RA CAN DO THIS?

The slide showed a single image: a small room. Two laptops. A whiteboard filled with scribbles.

“We built Altior from nothing, SGI, VGC and so on....we made them the biggest hits!” he said. “We survived ten rejections for AAA because we weren’t chasing trends—we were refining conviction.”

His voice didn’t shake.

“We don’t want to make a game that sells fast,” he finished. “We want to make a game people talk about ten years later.”

The room stayed still.

Then the sharp-eyed woman closed her laptop.

“Mr. Malhotra,” she said slowly, “this is the first pitch today that didn’t insult our intelligence.”

Rajvansh exhaled—just a fraction.

Another investor smiled. “You’re either reckless,” he said, “or ahead of your time.”

Rajvansh didn’t hesitate.

“Both,” he said.

For a moment after the last slide faded, no one spoke.

Rajvansh had learned to recognize this silence.

This was the silence that came before the polite rejection.

The one where investors exchanged looks, nodded thoughtfully, and then said things like brilliant vision, but not aligned with our current strategy.

His shoulders stayed straight anyway.

Inside, though, something familiar settled in—acceptance, already halfway formed.

Okay, he thought. That’s eleven.

The older gentleman at the far end folded his hands. “You know,” he said slowly, “we’ve funded studios with bigger teams than yours. Better infrastructure. Safer ideas.”

Rajvansh nodded once. “I’m aware.”

“And yet,” the man continued, “none of them made me feel uncomfortable.”

Rajvansh’s lips curved faintly. “Then they were playing safe.”

The sharp-eyed woman glanced at her colleagues, then back at him.

“Before we go any further,” she said, “we need to address something.”

Here it comes, Rajvansh thought.

Family background. Privilege. Safety net.

“We know who your father is,” she said plainly.

There it was.

The room seemed to narrow.

Rajvansh didn’t flinch. He’d prepared for this.

“Yes,” he said. “He’s one of the biggest businessmen in India.”

“Why didn’t you take his money?” another investor asked, blunt.

The question landed harder than the rejections ever had.

Rajvansh’s jaw tightened—not defensively, but deliberately.

“Because then this wouldn’t be mine,” he said. “Altiora wouldn’t be mine.”

He paused, choosing honesty over polish.

“I needed to know that if this failed,” he continued, “it failed because I wasn’t good enough. Not because I had a safety net I could fall back on.”

No one interrupted.

“I wanted Altiora to survive on merit,” he finished. “Or not at all.”

The older gentleman smiled. Not kindly. Respectfully.

The woman leaned back in her chair. “Do you know how many founders with your background say that—and still quietly take family funding?”

Rajvansh met her gaze. “I’m sure.”

“And you didn’t.” the women asked

“No.” rajvansh replied.

A beat.

Then another.

The woman exchanged a look with the man beside her. He gave a small nod.

She turned back to Rajvansh.

“We’re in,” she said.

The words didn’t register immediately.

Rajvansh blinked once. Then again.

“I’m sorry,” he said automatically. “Could you… repeat that?”

She smiled slightly. “We’re funding Astraya.”

The room didn’t explode into applause. No dramatic music played. No cinematic slow motion.

Just six people nodding, one of them sliding a document across the table.

“Seed plus production backing,” she continued. “Milestone-based. Global distribution support.”

Rajvansh stared at the folder.

His brain lagged, still braced for impact that never came.

This—

This wasn’t how rejection ended.

“So,” another investor added casually, “when can your team start pre-production at full scale?”

Rajvansh opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Then managed, “We… already have a roadmap.”

The older gentleman chuckled. “Of course you do.”

Rajvansh nodded, because that’s what you did when adults talked business.

Inside, though, everything was strangely quiet.

No rush of victory.

No triumph.

Just disbelief.

This worked?

They stood. Hands were shaken. Cards exchanged. Next steps discussed.

Rajvansh followed all the motions like muscle memory, his body doing what his mind hadn’t caught up to yet.

As the investors filed out, the sharp-eyed woman paused beside him.

“One more thing,” she said. “You never once mentioned your father during the pitch.”

Rajvansh looked at her. “He has nothing to do with this.”

She smiled. “That’s why we said yes.”

The door closed.

The room was empty now.

Rajvansh stood alone in the glass-walled boardroom, city humming outside like nothing monumental had just happened.

He looked at the folder in his hands.

Then he sat down slowly in the chair he’d been standing beside for the last hour.

His elbows rested on the table. His hands clasped together.

For a long moment, he did nothing.

Then he exhaled—shaky, unguarded.

Not relief.

Not joy.

Just the quiet, disorienting realization that the thing he’d been fighting for alone…

…had finally chosen him back.

The glass doors of the conference hall slid open with a soft hiss.

Rajvansh stepped out.

The Altiora team, who had been pretending to work for the past forty minutes, snapped to attention instantly. Laptops were open, screens frozen on the same lines of code for far too long. Coffee cups sat untouched.

They all looked at him.

Every single one of them.

Rishabh was the first to stand up properly, straightening his already straight tie. He didn’t smile. He didn’t ask lightly. He asked the way people ask when they already know the answer but still hope they’re wrong.

“Sir?” he said. “Did we…?”

Rajvansh didn’t reply.

He loosened his cuff buttons instead. Once. Then the other wrist.

That was enough.

The air seemed to collapse.

Someone exhaled sharply. A chair scraped back. A quiet oh slipped out of someone’s mouth before they could stop it.

Rishabh nodded slowly, eyes dropping for half a second. “Okay,” he said, voice professional, steady. “I’ll inform the—”

“We made it.”

The words were calm. Flat. Almost casual.

Rishabh froze.

“What?” someone whispered.

Rajvansh looked up then, finally meeting their eyes.

“The deal,” he said. “It’s done.”

For a heartbeat, no one moved.

Not disbelief—shock.

Then—

“WAIT—WHAT?”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?”

“OH MY GOD—”

The office exploded.

Chairs flew back. Someone screamed—actually screamed. Two people hugged so hard they nearly knocked over a table. One of the developers dropped his phone, bent to pick it up, and just… sat on the floor, laughing and crying at the same time.

Rishabh’s hand flew to his mouth.

“Sir,” he said, voice breaking despite himself, “you’re not joking, right?”

Rajvansh shook his head once.

Rishabh let out a strangled sound and pulled the nearest person into a hug without even checking who it was.

“We did it,” someone sobbed. “We actually did it.”

“All those nights—”

“Ten rejections—ten!”

“I told my parents it would work,” another laughed through tears. “I told them!”

Rajvansh stood there, slightly apart, watching it all.

The noise washed over him—raw, messy, real.

This was what it meant to them.

Hands clutched shirts. Foreheads pressed together. People crying without shame. People laughing like they’d just been given oxygen after years underwater.

Rishabh wiped his eyes quickly and turned back to him. “Sir,” he said, smiling through tears, “thank you. For not giving up.”

Rajvansh nodded.

Then he turned.

He walked toward his cabin as the celebration roared behind him, glass walls blurring the chaos into color and motion.

Only then—only when no one was looking—a tear slipped free.

He caught it with the back of his finger, almost irritated at himself. Exhaled. Once.

Then he smiled.

Not wide. Not triumphant.

Just enough.

The smile that comes after years of rejection and hardwork.

-------------------

The dhol finally slowed, laughter settling into that tired, happy hush that came only after too much dancing and too many emotions packed into one afternoon.

By the time the last aarti was done and blessings exchanged, the sun had begun its slow descent, washing the Kapoor mansion in a softer, amber light.

Goodbyes started the way they always did—loud, chaotic, full of promises to meet again *soon* that everyone knew meant *whenever life allows*.

Near the front steps, Khushi adjusted her dupatta, glancing around for her phone when a familiar voice spoke up beside her.

“I’ll drop you.”

She turned.

Shreyas stood there, keys loosely dangling from his fingers, haldi still faintly visible near his jaw despite multiple failed attempts to wipe it off.

“You don’t have to,” she said automatically.

“I know,” he replied just as easily. “But I want to.”

For a second, she didn’t answer. The noise around them blurred—relatives talking, cars starting, Ruchika loudly arguing with a driver about *exactly* where the bags should go.

“Okay,” Khushi said finally. “If you’re sure.”

His smile was small. Relieved.

They walked toward his car together, not rushing, not quite touching—but close enough that their arms brushed once, accidentally.

Neither of them pulled away.

As he opened the passenger door for her, she paused. Looked at him.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For… today. For listening.”

He shrugged lightly, but his eyes were steady. “You don’t have to thank me for staying.”

She nodded, something unspoken settling gently between them.

He closed the door, walked around, and got in. The engine started, the world shrinking into the quiet bubble of the car.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Then Khushi said, almost to herself, “I don’t know how long it’ll take. To fix things.”

Shreyas kept his eyes on the road. “I’m not in a hurry.”

She glanced at him. “You used to be.”

He smiled faintly. “I learned.”

That earned a small smile from her too—real, unguarded.

At the steps behind them, Shreya tugged Shikhar aside just as he was mid-conversation with someone.

“Listen,” she said, lowering her voice. “My driver’s here, but—”

“I know,” he cut in gently. “I’ll walk you till the gate.”

She looked up at him, eyes soft. “You always do.”

They walked side by side, hands brushing, then finally—without discussion—his fingers laced with hers.

No hiding now. No urgency either.

At the gate, she turned to face him. “Today was… a lot.”

He smiled. “You handled it beautifully.”

She laughed quietly. “You’re biased.”

“Completely,” he agreed.

For a moment, they just stood there, reluctant.

Then he leaned in, pressing a light kiss to her forehead—brief, reverent, full of promise.

“Drive safe,” he murmured.

She squeezed his hand once before letting go. “Don’t miss me too much.”

“No promises,” he replied.

As cars began pulling away one by one, laughter fading into distance, the mansion slowly emptied—leaving behind echoes of music, turmeric-stained floors, and moments that lingered longer than rituals ever did.

Some healing had begun.

Some love had deepened.

And some journeys—quiet, patient ones—had found their way forward, one ride home at a time.