🦋AUTHOR'S POV🦋

The room fell into a heavy silence the moment the veil was lifted.
Gasps rippled through the Chauhans, the Rathore relatives, and the gathering of elders. Shock was etched on every face as the truth unveiled itself—not Shanaya, the glowing, cheerful bride everyone expected, but someone entirely different.

The Chauhans exchanged confused glances, whispering furiously. The hall that only moments ago buzzed with blessings and laughter was now choked with disbelief.

Grandpa’s eyes widened, his walking stick trembling faintly under his grip. Aarav, standing at the corner, stiffened, his fists curling tight at his sides. They both knew instantly who sat under that veil.

Aranya.

The youngest. The quiet one. The daughter nobody asked, nobody chose.

“Who… who is she?” Shalini—Vikram’s chachi, his father’s younger brother’s wife—finally broke the silence, her voice sharp with disbelief. Her bangles clinked as her hand pressed against her chest. “Vikram, who is this girl? And where is Shanaya?”

Rudra, Vikram’s father, stepped forward, his voice booming with anger. “Vikram, answer! Where is Shanaya?”

Aranya flinched at the sheer force in his tone, her hands clutching the edge of her lehenga, her lips trembling though she dared not speak.

Vikram lowered his gaze, the weight of every eye pressing on him. His throat bobbed as he drew in a long, shaky breath. “Shanaya…” His voice cracked slightly before he steadied it. “Shanaya ran away… before the wedding.”

The room erupted in gasps.

“What?” Charulata Chauhan—Veer’s grandmother, the iron matriarch whose very word had pushed this marriage forward—slammed her cane onto the marble floor, her face flushed with anger. “Ran away? On her wedding day? If she did not want this marriage, she should have spoken before! Not now, not after humiliating both families like this!”

Her voice cut like a whip, each word striking Aranya’s chest. The bride, sitting frozen, trembled under the weight of everyone’s judgment.

Kavya’s face was pale, her lips pressed into a thin line as she avoided everyone’s eyes. Vikram clenched his fists behind his back, his jaw tightening as if he had no answers left to give.

Devyani, Veer’s mother, broke the tense silence, her voice calm but edged with hurt. She stepped closer, her eyes glistening. “If she ran away… then why didn’t you inform us, Vikram? Why deceive us like this? And who is she?” Her hand gestured toward Aranya, sitting small and quiet beneath the heavy jewelry.

Grandpa exhaled slowly, his heart twisting at the sight of his trembling granddaughter. His voice, heavy but steady, filled the room. “She… is my granddaughter. Aranya. The youngest daughter of Vikram.”

The words landed like a stone thrown into still water, ripples of shock spreading instantly. All eyes turned back to Aranya, and she lowered her head further, wishing the marble would swallow her whole.

Then came the mocking clap. Sharp. Sarcastic. Venomous.

“Wow.”

Everyone turned to see Roshini, Veer’s cousin, smirking at the spectacle. Her hands clapped deliberately, slow and cutting. “So the bride runs away, and the solution is to replace her with her sister? Waah… what a grand bargain. One goes missing, another is tossed in like a spare part. Truly, Rathores… you people know how to handle a scandal.”

Her voice dripped with malice, her words slicing into Aranya like glass shards. Her cheeks burned, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. She couldn’t look up, couldn’t breathe.

Vikram’s shoulders hunched, shame pulling his gaze to the ground. Kavya’s jaw clenched, but she said nothing, her nails digging into her palms. Aranya sat numb, her body frozen, her mind screaming.

Aarav, standing silently at the edge, wore an unreadable expression. His eyes flickered to his sister—his own sister, the one he’d been taught to ignore, to treat as less than family. Yet something unsettled him, something heavy twisting inside his chest at her trembling figure.

And Veer…

His eyes were bloodshot, his face a mask of anger restrained only by sheer willpower. The muscles in his jaw ticked violently, his chest heaving with every controlled breath. The atmosphere thickened as everyone waited for him to speak. Even Vikram looked uneasy, certain Veer would erupt.

But he didn’t.

Instead, Veer’s sharp eyes blazed once across the room, sending shivers down spines, before he turned abruptly and stormed out of the hall. The echo of his footsteps lingered long after he vanished.

A suffocating silence followed.

It was grandma who broke it. “Whatever has happened has already happened. We cannot change it now.” Her voice was stern, but final. “The rituals are complete. The marriage is bound. Whether we like it or not, Aranya is now our bahu.”

Roshini’s eyes widened. “Maa! You can’t be serious! She isn’t the real bride. She was just… just a replacement. An object shoved in at the last minute! And Veer—Veer himself walked away! He didn’t even accept her!”

“Roshini, enough!” grandma snapped, her cane striking the ground again. “I said enough! She will come with us. She is Veer’s wife now, and I have accepted her as our family’s daughter-in-law.”

The hall went still again, her words reverberating like a judgment no one dared question.

Grandma rose slowly, her steps firm as she walked toward Aranya. The old woman’s hand, heavy with bangles and rings, lifted gently to rest on Aranya’s head. Her voice softened just slightly. “Beta… from today onwards, you are ours. No need to fear anymore. This is your home now.”

Aranya blinked rapidly, her vision blurring as her throat tightened painfully. No words left her lips.

“Vivaan, Anika,” grandma called to Veer’s younger brother and sister. “Take her with you. She will go to the Chauhan house now.”

Both nodded obediently, moving forward to Aranya. Anika’s voice was careful, almost hesitant, as she said, “Bhabhi… chalo, let’s go.”

Just as they reached her side, Kavya suddenly stepped forward. “Aranya will join you in ten minutes,” she said quickly, her smile thin and forced. “We need to speak with her… privately.”

Grandma’s eyes narrowed, but she gave a curt nod. “Ten minutes. No more.”

With that, the Chauhans slowly filed out, Vivaan and Anika pausing at the door. Kavya’s hand rested tightly on Aranya’s shoulder, her nails digging slightly into the silk fabric as she held her in place.

And as the last of the Chauhans exited, only the Rathore family remained in the room—eyes sharp, silence suffocating, and secrets threatening to spill.

🌼ARANYA'S POV🌼

As soon as the Chahuns left, Papa came closer. His tall shadow loomed over me, his face unreadable in front of others but his words sharp enough to pierce through my already wounded heart.

“Remember…” he leaned slightly, his voice low so only I could hear, “…your mother’s property will remain safe in my hands as long as you stay in this marriage.”

And just like that, he walked away, leaving me gasping for air in the silence.

Before I could even gather myself, Kavya maa stepped forward. Her eyes were burning with a venom I’d seen many times but never this raw.

“This was Shanaya’s place,” she spat, her voice trembling with rage. “The place she deserved. You stole it. You—” she pointed a manicured finger at me, “—will never be happy. Do you hear me, Aranya? I will never let you be happy. You are nothing but a replacement… a shadow standing in for the real bride.”

Her words clawed at my skin, tearing deeper than any slap could. The ground beneath my feet felt like it had vanished. My knees gave up, and I sank onto the cold marble floor, my heart weighing like a boulder pressing against my chest.

I was so numb that even breathing felt like a burden.

A gentle hand touched my shoulder. I looked up. Grandpa.

He sat down beside me, his old eyes searching mine with a thousand unsaid emotions. “Aranya…” his voice cracked with a softness I didn’t deserve. “Was this your decision?”

I shook my head slowly. A denial.
“They forced you, didn’t they?” His voice carried both anger and helplessness.

I didn’t answer, but my silence was enough. He sighed deeply, his wrinkles folding with pain as if every unspoken truth added years to his age.

“My Aru…” his words broke halfway, “…how much you must have endured.”

I stared blankly at the ground. My lips refused to move, my voice lost in the storm inside me. Grandpa’s hand lingered for a second longer before he pulled it away. I saw his eyes shine with tears, and perhaps guilt, but he stood up.

“I can’t watch this anymore,” he whispered, more to himself than to me. With slow, heavy steps, he left the room.

And then, only silence.

Until another presence made itself known.

Aarav.

He came and sat next to me. The air between us was thick, heavy with years of distance, of avoidance, of bitterness. He didn’t look at me, just stared ahead, his jaw clenched.

“Although I…” his voice faltered for a second before he steadied it, “I always hated you. I always avoided you. But… if in the future you have a problem there… if Veer ever… does something to you… just call me. I’ll be there.”

My eyes widened slightly, but I stayed still. He rose immediately as if those words had cost him too much.

And yet… before he could leave, I called out.

“Bhai…”

The word felt strange, foreign, after so many years. His steps froze. He turned halfway, his face unreadable, but his eyes waiting.

“Bhai…” I swallowed, my voice breaking, “Papa said… if I didn’t agree to this marriage… he would sell… our… our mom’s property.”

The last word tore out of me like a plea. Tears blurred my vision as I spoke of the only thing my mother had left for me.
Aarav stared at me, long and hard. His gaze was sharp, unreadable. And then… without a single word, he stormed off.

I clutched my saree tightly, my chest caving in. For a second, I wanted to believe he had said what he said earlier because he cared for me. But his silence now… it made it impossible to hold on to that fragile hope.

Minutes passed. Or maybe hours. I couldn’t tell anymore. My body moved on its own when Vivaan and Anika came to take me.

The car ride to the Chauhan mansion was a blur.
Anika sat beside me, quiet. Vivaan sat across, equally silent. I could sense they were still processing everything that had happened—the switch of brides, the chaos, the lies. None of us spoke.

I turned my head to the window.

Outside, the city glowed with bright lights. Strings of marigolds and fairy bulbs adorned every street, echoing celebration and joy. People laughed, music echoed in the distance, and the night carried an air of festivity.

But for me? It was nothing but darkness.

Inside me, there was no music. No joy. Just the heaviness of betrayal, of force, of silence that screamed louder than any noise outside.

My life had always been this way, I thought. Always in the shadows. Always inside the house, doing chores, unseen, unheard. Nobody cared. Nobody talked. And now… now I was being sent into another house.

Would it be the same there?

Would they care for me?

Would I finally have a chance at being seen? Or would this be another prison, gilded with gold and tradition?

I didn’t want to believe in fairytales anymore. I didn’t want to hope. But still… somewhere, in the deepest corner of my heart, a small fragile voice whispered—maybe the Chauhan house will be different.

Maybe.

The car sped ahead, the lights blurring past, and I kept staring outside… wishing for answers the night refused to give.

The car slowed, pulling me out of my tangled thoughts. My eyes widened the moment I looked outside.

The Chauhan house wasn’t just big… it was enormous. A mansion that rose like a silent empire in the heart of the city. Tall ivory walls framed with golden borders, pillars carved with intricate designs, and strings of fairy lights draped across every balcony—it looked less like a house and more like a royal palace.

A sprawling courtyard opened ahead, decorated with fresh marigolds, diyas flickering like little stars, and rangoli patterns so vivid they almost glowed in the night.

“Vivaan bhai… the door is closed.” Anika frowned. “Umm… where is everyone?”

Vivaan only shrugged, pretending he knew nothing.

My chest tightened. Of course… why would they welcome me? I’m not their bride. I’m just a replacement. A stranger. Maybe they won’t even open the door for me.

But before that thought could sink deeper, the heavy wooden doors creaked open.

And there they were.

The entire family stood inside, waiting, with smiles that were warm enough to melt the ice around my heart. Diyas in their hands, plates of aarti ready, flower petals scattered on the floor—it felt like a scene from a dream.

𝑮𝒉𝒂𝒓 𝑷𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔𝒉

I paused at the threshold. Devyani maa, holding the aarti thali, circled it around me three times, her eyes soft, welcoming. She pressed a tilak on my forehead and whispered, “Now onwards, you are not just Veer’s wife, you are this house’s daughter.”

Her words pierced something inside me—something that longed for belonging.

Then came Rudra papa, Veer’s father. His tall frame was intimidating, yet his voice carried surprising warmth. He raised his hand in blessing.
“Beta… from today, you are not the daughter-in-law of this house,” he said firmly. “You are our daughter. Always remember that.”
My eyes stung. No one had ever said that to me before. I lowered my gaze, fighting tears, and touched his feet.

The ritual continued. I nudged the kalash filled with rice with my right foot, watching it roll forward. My footprints, dipped in kumkum water, marked the marble floor as I stepped inside. A new house. A new life. Or… another cage?

But before I could drown in thoughts, laughter broke the silence.
Vivaan grinned widely. “Welcome, welcome, bhabhi! Officially part of the madhouse now!”

Anika giggled. “Yes bhabhi, but remember… don’t trust Vivaan bhai. He snores like a truck!”

Everyone burst out laughing, and for the first time in forever, I smiled—faint, hesitant, but real.

Aaryan and Kabir, the infamous cousins with strange-vibe confidence, stepped forward. Their sharp gazes softened slightly as they looked at me. “Welcome, bhabhi,” Kabir said simply. Aaryan added with a smirk, “Don’t worry… this family is crazy but loyal.”
Their words, small as they were, eased my heart a little.

Then Abhiraj chacha and Shalini chachi stepped forward.
“Aranya beta,” Abhiraj said, placing a hand on my head, “this house is yours now. Don’t hesitate to speak your mind.”

Shalini smiled softly. “You’ve entered as a bride today, but from now, you’ll always be our daughter. Always.”

The lump in my throat grew harder. I could only nod, my voice refusing to work.

Finally, Veer’s dadu and dadi came forward. Dadu chuckled warmly. “Arey beta, your name is quite long. What should we call you?”

Before I could reply, Vivaan piped in, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Call her Queen A! Sounds cool, right?”
Everyone laughed, and I shook my head, biting back another shy smile.

“You can call me Aaru,” I said softly. “My dadu… used to call me that too.”
The way their eyes softened at that moment almost undid me. For once, I wasn’t invisible. For once, they saw me.

After more conversations, blessings, and jokes, Devyani maa gently said, “Aaru beta, you must be tired. It’s been a long day. Go and rest in Veer’s chamber. Anika will take you.”

I nodded silently, following Anika upstairs.

The moment I entered, a chill swept over me.

The room was massive—larger than any space I’d ever been in—but dark. Black-themed, with sleek leather furniture, a king-sized bed draped in deep grey sheets, shelves lined with books and files. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting sharp shadows across the walls.

But what caught my breath was the large portrait of Veer himself—his sharp jawline, intense eyes, commanding presence. It wasn’t just a room. It was the chamber of a man who owned power. A man people feared.

There was even a small kitchen tucked into the corner, a wardrobe taller than me, and a spacious balcony that overlooked the entire city.

I stepped out onto the balcony, clutching the railing. The night sky stretched endlessly above, stars twinkling faintly.

“Maa,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “See where I am now. Today… they behaved as if I was truly one of them. They were sweet. For the first time… someone noticed me. Someone talked to me like I mattered.”
Tears slipped down, but a small smile tugged at my lips.

After a long pause, I closed my eyes and breathed in the night air.
“Veer… I haven’t seen him before. Only heard his name when Papa and Bhai spoke about him. Today, I saw his silent anger. It scared me.” My voice cracked, barely audible even to myself. “Will he force yourself on me? Or will he… be nice?”

Silence answered me back, the kind of silence that both comforted and terrified.

I stayed there, under the stars, my heart pounding with both fear and fragile hope.

The heavy wooden doors of the wedding hall slammed behind me as I walked out, each step echoing with the weight of betrayal. My jaw clenched, the muscles in my face taut.

I never believed in this marriage circus. Never. If it hadn’t been for Dadi’s emotional blackmail—the tears, the pleading words about “family honor”—I would never have agreed. And today, they made a fool out of me.

I gritted my teeth, my hands tightening around the steering wheel the moment I slid into my car. The engine roared to life, the headlights cutting through the night like my anger tearing through my chest.

“Well played,” I muttered bitterly, chuckling, but it wasn’t humor—it was irritation. “Both father and daughter… a perfect little game.”

My laugh was hollow, edged with venom.

I know you, Vikram Rathore. From the start, I knew your eyes gleamed not with affection but with greed. Money, power, fame—wasn’t that always your language?

If he had any loyalty, any damn honesty, he would have admitted at the start that his precious Shanaya ran away. But no. Instead, he shoved another girl under the veil, as if I wouldn’t notice, as if my family would be blind.

The betrayal sat heavy in my chest, and my grip on the wheel tightened until my knuckles turned white. “Vikram Rathore,” I said under my breath, pressing the accelerator hard enough that the car leapt forward, “you think you played a move today. But you don’t know who you’re up against. I’ll show you what betrayal really feels like.”

And then there was her.

I hadn’t seen her properly. Just a face hidden behind a veil, trembling like a cornered bird. Maybe she thought that would earn her sympathy. Maybe she believed her silence could fool me.

Aranya Singh Rathore.

A fraud. A coward. A pawn in her father’s filthy game.

“She sat there, didn’t she?” I hissed, pressing down harder on the accelerator. “As if she belonged. As if she wasn’t stealing a place that wasn’t hers.”

The thought burned in me until I laughed again—a low, dangerous chuckle that filled the car. “She might have fooled everyone with that scared act, but she doesn’t fool me. She’s just as guilty as her father.”

My phone buzzed, and Maa’s name lit up the screen. With an irritated growl, I picked up.

“Veer, where are you?” Maa’s worried voice carried through the speaker.

“Maa, I had some important work,” I said flatly, my tone cold.

“Can’t you leave work for today, for once?” she pressed, her voice laced with disappointment.

“Why did you call me, Maa?” I snapped.

She sighed. “We brought her home. Did her ghar pravesh. And…” there was a pause, softer now, “we all think she’s a good girl.”

For a moment, silence filled the car before I let out a short, sharp laugh. “Good girl?” I mocked. “Maa, you say that every time you meet someone. If she was really that good, she wouldn’t have sat in the mandap in the first place. She wouldn’t have agreed to take her sister’s place.”

My words landed heavy. For once, Maa had no immediate reply.

“Whatever, Veer. We’ll talk later. Just come home.”

I cut the call before she could say more, my eyes narrowing as the city lights blurred past the windshield.

“Aranya Singh Rathore,” I muttered darkly, my voice low and threatening. “You stepped into this house wearing my name. Now get ready… because I’ll make your life a living hell.”

The steering wheel vibrated under my grip, but all I felt was the fire of vengeance.
.......

The black SUV screeched into the driveway, the guards stiffening instantly at my arrival. I didn’t spare them a glance. My anger was a living, breathing shadow trailing me, filling every corner I passed.

The doors of my mansion slam behind me, echoing in the cavernous hallway like a warning. The house is quiet now, eerily so. Servants glance my way, freeze, and retreat as if they can sense the storm simmering beneath my skin. I ignore them all. Every step toward my chamber is deliberate, heavy, measured, like the ticking of a clock counting down to the reckoning.

The air inside the hallway is scented with leftover jasmine from earlier festivities. Normally, it would be calming. Now, it gnaws at me. That subtle, soft fragrance is a reminder—there was a presence in my hall today that shouldn’t have been there.

Someone who doesn’t belong. Someone who dared to sit in my space and pretend she’s part of this world.

I reach the door. My hand grips the handle, leather gloves creaking under the tension. I twist it. The door opens.

She’s sitting. One knee drawn up, head slightly bowed. Arms wrapped around her leg like a fragile shield. Her hair falls softly over her face, and that damn fragrance… jasmine. Innocent, soft, yet infuriating. It makes me want to burn everything around me.
I step in. Boots clicking against marble. Each echo a threat, a heartbeat. She lifts her eyes just enough to look at me. Fear.

Vulnerability. And yet… a flicker of defiance.

I want to punch something. The vase on the table calls to me. Smooth, porcelain, fragile. I pick it up and hurl it at the mirror. Shards explode across the floor. She flinches violently, and my chest tightens at the sight of her trembling. Good. She should feel this.

“You… don’t speak?” My voice is a growl. “You sit there. Silent. Fragile. Like a doll in a gilded cage. Do you think that excuses what you did today? That your silence covers your betrayal?”

She swallows hard. I pace. Circling her. Every step I take is deliberate, predatory. She steps back. Cornered herself against the wall. Perfect.

“I watched them all today. Every person who thought they could manipulate me. Every glance, every whisper behind my back, every plan that involved my life… you sat there. Silent. Smiling faintly. Pretending to be someone you’re not. You… you dare to sit here, in my house, in my life, after everything?”

Her lips part slightly, trying to form words, but nothing comes. Good. Let the silence speak for her.

“I don’t even know your name,” I continue, voice low, cold. “You think it matters? You think that by sitting there quietly, looking small, you can erase the fact that you are an intruder? That you stole what wasn’t yours? That you sat where my bride should have been?”

The trembling increases. Her fingers twitch. Her head bows lower. She tries to shrink, to disappear. I can smell her fear, her hesitance, her innocence. And it makes my blood boil.

I grab her wrist—not to hurt, just enough to assert dominance—and she flinches. I pull her closer. She stumbles. Panic blooms in her eyes, pure, raw.

“Do you understand the position you’re in?” I hiss. “Do you understand the rules in my world? Every lie, every deceit… has a price. And today, you will learn what that price is.”

She tries to speak again. I stop her with a sharp look.
“Silence. You will speak only when I allow. Not now. Not yet. Just… watch. Understand. Learn.”

I release her wrist, take a step back, but my eyes never leave her. She’s frozen. Shivering. On the edge of tears. I could crush her with a thought, but I won’t. Not yet. The anticipation, the control… it tastes sweeter than anger itself.

I walk to the balcony doors. Cold night air rushes in, carrying with it the scents of the city. I grab her again, dragging her forward. Her small feet hit the cold marble, but she doesn’t resist. Not yet.

“Stand here,” I command. “Do not move. Do not speak. Feel the weight of what you’ve done. Learn that betrayal has consequences. And this… this is only the beginning.”

The moonlight falls on her face, highlighting every detail—the trembling lips, the wide eyes, the slight quiver in her hands. Perfect. I step back, arms crossed, watching her. She looks so fragile, yet the fact that she dares to exist here, in my life, is almost defiance.

She whispers something. My name, almost inaudible. I ignore it. Let her stew in her fear.
The jasmine scent drifts around her like a halo, infuriating me further. How dare something so soft, so subtle, accompany betrayal?

I pace back and forth, hands behind my head, jaw tight. I feel every muscle coiling, waiting to strike, to punish, to make her understand. She flinches at every movement. That is… satisfying. Yet, not enough.

I sit on the balcony edge, watching her tremble. The silence stretches. Each second is a lifetime. I feel the weight of my own rage, the humiliation of being manipulated by my own family, and the audacity of a stranger stepping into my life and acting as if she belongs.

She shifts slightly, trembling. I feel her fear, her vulnerability, but I also notice a strange persistence in her eyes. She doesn’t scream, doesn’t collapse completely. That tiny ember of defiance… irritates me even more.

“You will learn the price,” I growl, voice low, deadly. “And I will make sure you never forget it. You will feel every second of your deception. Every glance, every silence, every pretense… you will pay.”

Her lips part, almost to speak, but I raise a hand. She freezes.
The balcony feels like a cage. Cold, unyielding, metallic with the night air. Her shivers echo mine. Every inhale, every exhale, a reminder that she’s trapped here. And I… I am the storm she cannot escape.

The wind lifts her hair slightly, brushing against her face. I watch, measuring, calculating. Her fear is palpable. I can almost feel it in the air between us, thick and suffocating.

I turn back inside the room, pacing. Every shattered shard of the mirror, every piece of broken vase, every echo in this chamber reflects the chaos of my mind. And yet… the night is far from over.

Aranya Singh Rathore… I mutter under my breath. You stepped into my life. You thought you could exist here without consequences. You will understand the cost of betrayal. And I am very good at collecting debts.

The night stretches on. The cold marble, the scent of jasmine, the lingering tension… everything is a promise. She will pay. She will learn. And when the time comes… she will never forget who controls this world.

The night was still deep, and pale silver moonlight slipped through the tall windows of the Rathore mansion, scattering faint shadows across the floor. Veer lay in his bed, the weight of the previous day pressing down on him. He had drifted into a light sleep, body tense, mind restless. His thoughts lingered on the chaos of the wedding, the audacity of the family, and the girl who had sat in the mandap in place of the bride he had expected. Time was around 2:30 a.m., but the room felt suspended in a heavy, silent haze.

A soft, hesitant knock broke the silence. Veer’s eyes cracked open, and he swung his legs off the bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

The door creaked open, and there stood Vivaan, drenched from head to toe, his hair plastered to his forehead, cheeks flushed pink. In his hands, he clutched a small trolley.

“Bhai… maa told me to bring this inside,” Vivaan said, his voice cheerful despite the shivers running down his small frame.

Veer blinked at him, squinting against the sunlight. “Why are you wet?” he asked, his voice low, curious rather than angry.

“Well… bhai… it’s raining outside, and I felt like playing,” Vivaan said with a childish shrug, completely unconcerned about his soaking state.

Rain? Veer’s brows drew together. “It’s raining?”

Vivaan nodded eagerly. “Yes! But you didn’t come, so I thought I’d bring it here.”

Veer didn’t respond. He watched the boy as he shuffled out, water dripping from his sleeves, and shut the door behind him. Vivaan left, confused, standing there for a moment before shrugging and leaving, leaving silence behind.

Veer’s attention shifted instinctively to the balcony. The curtains swayed lightly with the morning breeze, and then he saw her

Aranya.

Soaked. Trembling. Her hair stuck to her face, droplets of water sliding down her neck and arms. Her clothes clung to her body, revealing how small and fragile she looked against the vast balcony. The faint scent of jasmine mingled with the rain, sharp and sweet, and it hit him unexpectedly.

Veer froze.

-------◉‿◉-------

5000+words

Follow me on instagram

This is my first time writing, I hope you like it and vote.

Don't forget to give your opinions and share your suggestions with me

Next chapter will be updating soon..

Thank you😄