>> MALHOTRA MANSION <<
The mansion, unlike its imposing, palatial stone facade, harbored a rare, quiet sanctuary within its walls during the early hours of the morning.
In the sprawling dining pavilion, Anupama Malhotra stood beside a hand-carved mahogany table that stretched nearly the length of the room. With a gentle yet commanding presence, she guided the estate’s staff as they arranged the silver breakfast platters.
"No, not there, shift it slightly to the left... yes, just like that," she murmured softly, stepping forward to adjust an artisanal porcelain plate herself.
Her movements were graceful and practiced. Everything under her roof had to achieve flawless symmetry not out of vanity or to impress high society, but out of a deep devotion to her family.
At the head of the long table sat Raghav Malhotra (Rajveer's father), comfortably relaxed. A morning newspaper rested loosely in his hands, though his attention was entirely turned toward his mother, his deep voice carrying an easy warmth.
( Raghav Malhotra - The Chairman of the Ironclad Industries, carrying himself with an effortless aura of wisdom and quiet authority. Though he has stepped back to let Rajveer handle the daily fire of the business, his sharp intellect and decades of experience still guide the company's grandest visions. )
Beside him sat Dadi- Indira Malhotra (Rajveer's dadi), her soft, melodious laughter rippling through the space as she rhythmically moved the prayer beads between her fingers, instantly softening the icy grandeur of the room.
( Indira Malhotra - As the eldest living pillar of the Malhotra family, Dadi is a woman woven from steel and ancient customs. A widow. She bore the weight of her grief by anchoring herself entirely in orthodox traditions and rigid familial values.)
But in the center of the grand hall, absolute chaos thrived.
"Give it back right now, Aryan!", Nysa snapped in anger.
"Catch it if you can, kiddo!". Aryan smirked, effortlessly tossing Nysa’s thick, charcoal-smudged fashion sketchbook from his left hand to his right, keeping it just out of her desperate reach. He had snatched it right off the console table the second she walked down, knowing exactly which buttons to push to get a reaction.
Nysa lunged forward, her face flushed with playful panic. "Aryan, I swear to God, if you smudge the charcoal on my final collection drapes or tear a single swatch, I will end you!"
"Oh, this little design book?" he teased, feigning a gasp as he feinted a high throw toward the plush couch, pretending he was about to drop it. "Looks pretty to me. Let's see if your spring collection can fly!"
"Don't you dare!" Nysa snapped, dodging his frame with a dramatic gasp to grab it, their chaotic voices rising and falling in a symphony of morning madness that echoed loudly off the soaring ceilings.
Nysa Malhotra (20 years old) - The youngest child of the house; fiercely spirited and universally adored. A fashion desinger student.
Aryan Malhotra (23 years old) - The second son; an energetic contrast to his elder brother, having recently finished his studies to prepare for his corporate responsibilities. With full of energy and childish behaviour.
"You always do this!" Nysa snapped, lunging forward to snatch a sleek white cable from his hand.
"And you always overreact over absolutely nothing!" Aryan shot back, effortlessly pivoting just out of her reach with a mischievous grin.
From the dining table, Anupama exhaled a soft, long-suffering sigh. "Both of you, stop it. It is barely dawn, and you two have already started your daily battle."
The siblings froze, pausing for exactly two seconds.
Then, pointing a finger, Aryan grumbled, "Tell her first, Mumma!"
"Why me?!" Nysa interjected, her crossed arms and narrowed eyes radiating irritation.
Before the bickering could resume, the heavy cadence of rhythmic footsteps approached from the outer vestibule. Slow. Measured. Predictable.
The mansion's elderly head gardener entered quietly through the main hall, removing his traditional cap the moment his boots crossed the threshold. His posture, usually slightly bent with age, straightened instantly. He kept his eyes lowered, looking only toward Raghav and Anupama as he bowed his head with profound reverence.
"Rajveer saab aaye hai." (Rajveer sir is back.)
The words were spoken softly. Simple, yet monumental.
In an instant, they changed the entire landscape of the room. Silence didn't just fall upon the hall; it settled heavily, consuming every stray sound.
Anupama’s hands stilled mid-motion above the porcelain platter. For a breathless moment, she remained frozen. Then, a tremble of raw emotion passed through her frame.
"He's here?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, directed more to her own heart than to the room.
A profound, complex warmth flickered across her features, a delicate mixture of immense relief and a quiet, aching maternal longing that she rarely permitted herself to voice out loud.
Raghav lowered his newspaper slowly. His face betrayed no shock, only a quiet, grounded acknowledgment. Yet, his gaze immediately shifted toward the massive arched entrance of the mansion.
Dadi’s expression softened completely, lines of age melting into pure affection. "Finally," she breathed, a tender, knowing smile gracing her lips.
In the center of the hall, the tempestuous energy of Aryan and Nysa had instantly vanished. They stood entirely still.
"What?" Nysa blinked, her fiery demeanor evaporating.
"He's actually back?" Aryan muttered, his disbelief warring with a sudden surge of anticipation.
Without a single command being issued, the family began to move. They did not rush, but rather, they were drawn forward like iron to a magnet, stepping collectively toward the grand foyer.
The massive double doors stood wide open, framing the brilliant morning sun. For a brief, blinding moment, there was nothing but pure light pouring into the mansion.
Then, breaking through the luminescence, he stepped inside.
RAJVEER MALHOTRA
Dressed in an immaculate, bespoke three-piece midnight-black suit, every line of his silhouette was razor-sharp, every detail engineered to absolute perfection. He stood tall, his broad shoulders squared and his posture entirely unwavering. His expression remained a fortress calm, unreadable, and devastatingly cold.
He possessed the kind of monumental presence that never required an announcement. He simply existed, and the world around him naturally adjusted to his gravity.
Anupama was the first to close the distance. "Rajveer..."
His name left her lips softly, yet it carried the immense weight of her unspoken worries, her relief, and her endless care. She stepped closer, her eyes scanning his face as if to anchor herself to the reality of his return. "You didn't inform us you were coming today..." she began gently.
He gave a single, curt nod, his deep voice slicing through the quiet. "I arrived early and wasn't planned."
That was all. No elaborate explanations, no justifications.
Anupama offered a supportive nod. She didn't press further; she understood her son deeply, never forcing him to unravel the silence he wrapped around himself.
Raghav stood just a step behind their mother. As his eyes met Rajveer's, no words were exchanged. Instead, a brief, steady look of fraternal understanding passed between them—firm, unbreakable, and quiet.
"You're back," Raghav stated simply.
"Hmm", he hummed in response with a nod.
Dadi stepped forward slowly, her presence a soft, healing balm in the middle of his rigid atmosphere. "Come here, beta," she said, lifting a frail, elegant hand.
For a microscopic fraction of a second, Rajveer paused. Then, the ice in his stance shifted as he took a step closer to her. Dadi placed her palm gently onto his head, her eyes closing in a silent prayer. "Stay well," she murmured.
Something in his stoic expression fractured too subtle for anyone else to catch, but it was there.
Aryan, unable to contain his vibrant energy any longer, broke the tension with a wide grin. "Bhai! Finally decided to remember your family existed?"
Rajveer's dark eyes shifted, locking onto his younger brother.
Aryan laughed instantly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Same old Bhai. Not even a single 'I missed you,' huh?"
There was no verbal response, but Aryan hadn't expected one.
Then there was Nysa. She stood a few feet away, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, observing her eldest brother with an arched eyebrow. "Wow," she remarked, her tone laced with playful sarcasm. "So this is how the great Rajveer Malhotra returns? No phone call, no text... absolutely nothing?"
Rajveer looked down at his youngest sister, silent and unmoving. Nysa waited, stubborn and unyielding, refusing to back down from his intense gaze.
"...nothing at all?" she prompted again.
A heavy pause stretched between them. Then, his lips parted. "I was busy." It was flat, simple, and entirely characteristic of him.
Nysa narrowed her eyes, huffing softly. "Of course you were." She turned her shoulder to him, feigning deep offense. "Don't worry, I'm not surprised in the least."
She took two steps as if to walk away, fully expecting to be ignored.
"Your university project?" Rajveer’s calm voice cut through her retreat.
Nysa stopped dead in her tracks, turning back with agonizing slowness. Rajveer remained standing exactly as he had been poised, chillingly calm, and unreadable. It was a single, simple question, but it carried monumental weight.
Her defensive facade cracked completely, a small, triumphant smile blooming at the corner of her lips. "Yeah," she replied, trying desperately to sound nonchalant. "Top of my class."
Rajveer gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. He offered no lavish praise, no warm smile, and no extra words. But to Nysa, that single nod was everything.
Anupama watched the subtle interaction, a quiet pride filling her chest. She stayed silent, but she noticed every detail; a mother always did.
"Come," she said softly, placing her hand lightly upon Rajveer’s structured sleeve. "You haven’t had breakfast yet."
"I will eat later."
"No." Anupama's tone wasn't harsh, but it carried the absolute, immovable strength of a matriarch. "You will eat now."
A brief battle of wills ensued. Rajveer looked down at his mother, searching her eyes. Then, without a single word of protest, he surrendered his rigid schedule and let her guide him toward the dining table.
The family settled back into their places. Raghav refolded his newspaper, setting it aside as he looked across the table. "How is the international sector looking?" he inquired casually.
Rajveer took his seat, his posture still impeccably straight. "Stable."
"And the expansion?"
"In progress."
Raghav nodded, completely satisfied. No unnecessary questions were asked; no drawn-out explanations were required. They spoke the language of business fluently.
Aryan pulled out his chair, dropping into it with his trademark buoyancy. "Translation, he’s successfully monopolized another half of the global market," he joked, flashing a grin. "Nothing new under the sun."
Rajveer did not look up from his plate.
Aryan leaned forward, his grin softening into something more earnest. "Seriously though, Bhai... at this rate, I’m just going to be working under your shadow forever."
A heavy pause followed. Then, Rajveer spoke without emotion. "Learn the ropes first."
Aryan burst into a hearty laugh. "Brutal. Absolutely brutal." Across the table, Nysa smirked, thoroughly enjoying her brother’s defeat.
And there, in a house overflowing with laughter, warmth, and familial voices, Rajveer Malhotra sat in the center of it all. He was present. He was part of them. And yet, he remained completely, distinctly apart.
As the breakfast service continued, two trusted mansion handlers entered the dining hall quietly, carrying Rajveer's imported leather luggage.
One held a large, heavy traveling suitcase, while the other carried a smaller, compact, and reinforced briefcase.
Without drawing an ounce of attention to themselves, they began to glide toward the grand staircase, intending to place the heavier suitcase in his primary suite. The second handler, holding the compact briefcase, was about to follow his partner up the stairs.
"Leave it."
Rajveer’s voice was utterly calm, yet it possessed a piercing authority that froze the handler instantly in his tracks. The man turned back, his posture rigid with respect.
Rajveer made a slight gesture with his hand toward the executive living lounge. "Keep it there."
A low, disciplined nod followed. "Yes, sir."
The reinforced bag was placed with extreme care on the polished floor beside a sleek designer sofa before the handler stepped backward and exited the hall.
At the dining table, the rhythm didn't break. Rajveer continued his breakfast, entirely composed and unbothered. But Aryan’s sharp eyes had tracked the exchange. His gaze shifted from the mysterious bag, to Rajveer, and back again.
Suspicion bloomed instantly within his mind.
"What's hidden in that bag, Bhai?" Aryan asked, unable to suppress his burning curiosity.
Silence. Rajveer didn't even grant him a glance, systematically continuing his meal.
Anupama gently spooned another serving onto Rajveer's plate, her attention exclusively locked onto her eldest son. "Eat properly," she commanded softly. "You barely take care of your health when you're traveling overseas."
"I eat," he replied evenly.
She fixed him with a knowing, maternal gaze. "A mother always knows the truth."
Across the table, Aryan leaned in further, his eyes still glued to the luggage by the sofa. "Bhai, seriously, what..."
Before the question could leave his mouth, Rajveer spoke a single syllable. "Eat."
It was simple, firm, and entirely quiet. Yet, it carried an absolute finality that brooked no argument.
Aryan paused mid-breath, exhaling a defeated sigh. "Fine." He picked up his spoon, though his eyes continued to dart toward the mysterious bag every few seconds. Nysa caught his restlessness and smirked into her tea.
Gradually, chairs shifted against the marble floor, and plates were cleared away by the staff. The family transitioned seamlessly into the central living hall, settling into their accustomed places.
Rajveer stood up. Without uttering a word, he turned his steps toward the grand staircase.
"I'll just get your.." Anupama began, noticing his movement. "Rajveer," she called out gently.
He paused on the first step, turning back.
"Stay for a little while," she requested, her eyes pleading softly. "You have only just arrived home."
A brief, heavy silence stretched through the hall.
"I have to go to the office." The words were calm, calculated, and final.
Anupama looked at him for a long moment, reading the unyielding determination in his eyes, before she gave a resigned nod.
Rajveer walked upstairs, his steps steady and unhurried. Within mere minutes, he returned, now dressed in his tailored trench coat and holding a series of high-priority corporate folders. His expression was entirely unchanged, his focus already miles away, locked onto his corporate empire.
He halted briefly in the center of the hall, his sharp gaze sweeping across his family. "I will try to return early tonight."
It wasn't a definitive promise, but coming from him, it was a massive concession. Anupama’s features softened instantly. "Hmm," she nodded, a wave of relief washing over her.
Raghav rose from his seat, adjusting his blazer. "I’ll come along with you to the headquarters," he offered. As the one who managed the domestic operations of Ironclad Industries in India, it was only natural.
Rajveer looked at him coldly. "No." A brief pause followed. "You should rest today. I will handle the executives."
Raghav held his brother's intense gaze for a silent moment, searching for any sign of fatigue, before giving a slight nod. "Alright."
On the other side of the room, Nysa adjusted the strap of her designer bag, clearly prepared to head to her university lectures.
Aryan, contrastingly, remained completely sprawled across the plush velvet couch, looking exceptionally relaxed.
Rajveer’s icy gaze drifted over, landing heavily on his younger brother. "You have your executive training session today."
Aryan didn't move an inch. He simply let out a tragic groan, dragging a hand over his face. "Yeah, yeah... I'm going." Despite his words, he remained completely glued to the cushions.
Rajveer didn't repeat himself. He didn't need to. Turning on his heel, he strode toward the main doors. The staff had already pulled them open, allowing the brilliant afternoon sun to stream into the foyer.
Just as his polished shoes hit the threshold, he stopped. A brief, calculated pause ensued. Then, without turning around entirely, his voice rang out clearly through the hall.
"Take the bag."
For a second, the room was paralyzed.
Then, Aryan shot up from the couch like a rocket. "Wait... what?!"
Nysa spun around at the exact same moment, her eyes locked onto the mysterious briefcase by the sofa. Without another word, a chaotic race erupted as both siblings bolted toward the lounge, desperately trying to reach the bag first.
Behind them, Anupama let out a soft, beautiful laugh, while Raghav watched the madness unfold with a faint, amused smile tugging at his lips.
Rajveer didn't stay to witness the chaos. He had already stepped out into the blinding light.
Outside, his matte-black Range Rover sat purring like a caged beast. The lead security guard pulled the door open instantly. Rajveer slid into the luxurious leather interior, placing his corporate files on the seat beside him as his expression reverted back to its default, chillingly calm distance.
The door clicked shut, sealing out the world. Within seconds, the elite convoy mobilized, the Range Rover taking the lead, while two heavily armored security vehicles flanked it from behind.
And just like that, the king had returned to his throne.
>> COLLEGE <<
The professor finally snapped his textbook shut with a decisive click, triggering an immediate wave of movement and chatter across the lecture hall. Aadhira closed her notebook, letting out a soft, exhausted sigh.
"Finally," Kiara groaned, rolling her tense shoulders back. "I am one hundred percent certain that my brain cells completely stopped cooperating ten minutes ago."
Aadhira smiled faintly, sliding her sleek pen back into her backpack. "Today's lecture felt longer than the entire semester combined."
The two girls stepped out into the bustling corridor, instantly absorbing into the vibrant, chaotic river of students pouring out from various classrooms. The walls around them were a collage of colorful notice boards, complex engineering project charts, and faded academic posters filled with theories, mathematical formulas, and coding diagrams.
"Next up is engineering mathematics right after the lunch break," Kiara groaned miserably. "Great. Just great. Formulas, endless calculations, and absolute mental confusion. Exactly what I want to pair with my canteen samosa."
Aadhira chuckled softly, her voice full of light. "I would still take that over another abstract lecture where I literally don't comprehend half of what the professor is saying."
The college canteen was an absolute hurricane of noise- chairs scraping against the concrete, students passionately arguing over football matches, and someone near the corner loudly explaining a coding problem as if they were already a senior professor.
Suddenly, Kiara gasped dramatically, shoving her glowing phone screen directly into Aadhira's face. "LOOK at this right now!"
Aadhira blinked, trying to focus her eyes. "What am I even supposed to look.."
It was a hilariously accurate meme of a profoundly stressed student literally buried alive under a mountain of heavy textbooks, with a bold caption reading: 'I don't need academic motivation, I just need internal passing marks.'
Aadhira burst into a brilliant, uninhibited laugh. "Oh my god, this is literally a portrait of you during final exams!"
"Excuse me," Kiara retorted, placing a hand over her heart with theatrical offense. "This is a portrait of every single engineering student to ever exist. We study twenty-four hours a day and still have absolutely no clue what is happening around us." She scrolled through her feed again, her eyes lighting up. "Wait, wait this one is even better."
Another viral video started playing, showing a student confidently solving a highly complex math problem on a blackboard with complete, absolute incorrectness, while the professor just stood in the background, staring blankly in sheer despair.
Kiara slapped the table, laughing hysterically. "That was literally Neha in the morning session today! I swear it!"
Aadhira shook her head, her brown eyes sparkling with pure amusement. "You are absolutely terrible, Kiara."
"And you love me precisely for it," Kiara shot back triumphantly.
They opened their stainless-steel tiffin boxes. The exact moment Kiara peeked into Aadhira's lunch container, her eyes widened to the size of saucers. "WHAT is that heavenly smell?"
"Fresh, homemade parathas," Aadhira replied with a sweet, innocent smile.
Kiara’s hand darted out instantly, snagging a golden, flaky paratha. "Your mother seriously needs to adopt me legally. This hostel food is genuinely trying to assassinate me both emotionally and physically."
Aadhira laughed merrily, leaning her chin on her hand. "You say that literally every single day, Kiara."
"And I mean it with every fiber of my being every single day," Kiara mumbled, her mouth already full of the delicious paratha. "They serve us dry rotis and watery dal that looks like sadness. Meanwhile, you walk in here carrying homemade heaven." She leaned across the table, whispering conspiratorially. "If I go missing one day, don't call the police. Just check your tiffin box first. I'll probably be shrunk down, hiding inside."
"Idiot," Aadhira giggled, giving her friend a playful nudge.
They ate, talked, and seamlessly bitched about eccentric professors, impossible assignments, and those overly serious random students who walked around campus acting like they already possessed a PhD.
After a while, Aadhira packed up her empty tiffin, wiping her hands. "Come on. Let's move before the professor thinks we skipped the entire afternoon block."
They stood up in unison, swinging their backpacks over their shoulders. Kiara looped her arm through Aadhira's as they exited the bustling canteen. "Thank you for saving my life with lunch, Miss Aadhira... One day, I shall repay this debt."
"Oh yeah? And with what exactly?" Aadhira teased, raising an eyebrow.
"With unwavering emotional support and a lifetime of high-quality, free memes."
Aadhira laughed softly. "Fair deal."
Laughing, bickering, and radiating a bright, youthful energy, the two friends walked back toward the academic blocks, blending into the crowd- two souls full of life, noise, and small, stolen moments of pure happiness between the heavy walls of their world.
>> IRONCLAD INDUSTRIES — HEAD OFFICE <<
The armored Range Rover slowed to a perfectly controlled, authoritative halt right before the grand executive entrance of the massive glass skyscraper.
Before the powerful engine could even quiet down, the chief security officer stationed at the towering glass doors mobilized. Stepping forward with a perfectly straight spine, he pulled the heavy door open, offering a deeply practiced, respectful bow.
Rajveer stepped out of the vehicle. He was unhurried, perfectly composed, and radiated a lethal coldness. For a fleeting second, the sprawling, chaotic city stretched out behind him- but his focus had already locked forward. To work. To absolute control. To the corporate empire that never dared to pause under his rule.
The exact millisecond his polished shoes crossed into the grand lobby- the atmosphere fundamentally shifted.
The vast, echoing lobby, which had been buzzing with corporate murmurs and shuffling executives just seconds prior, fell into a dead, absolute standstill.
The premium Italian marble floors gleamed brilliantly under the cascading natural light pouring through the towering, multi-story glass panels. Avant-garde chrome sculptures stood like silent monuments, catching the fleeting reflections of movement before completely losing them.
Because every single ounce of human attention in that massive space had violently shifted to one man.
People froze mid-step. High-level corporate conversations died mid-sentence. Middle managers lowered their heads subtly, while senior executives stood entirely still, pulling their hands behind their backs. It was a display of profound respect and a much sharper, instinctual fear beneath it.
Because Rajveer Malhotra had not walked through these doors in months. And his presence didn't return with a whisper.
"Good morning, sir."
"Good morning, Mr. Malhotra."
The disciplined greetings followed him like a low, rolling murmur as he traversed the long lobby. His steps were measured, calm, and mathematically precise. He did not offer a single response. He never did. Acknowledgment from a king wasn't necessary; his mere presence was more than enough.
Aditya fell into step beside him seamlessly, his posture alert and a series of high-end tablets and folders locked firmly in his hands. "The global board meeting is currently locked for three PM," Aditya reported, his voice smooth and steady. "The acquisition deal requires your final, unvetted signature."
Rajveer didn't slow his brisk pace by a fraction of a millimeter. "Move the board meeting to 1 PM."
A micro-beat of adjustment. "Yes, sir. Instantly."
They reached the restricted private elevator bay. The sleek, reinforced steel doors slid open the exact moment they approached. Rajveer stepped into the mirrored capsule, and Aditya followed a step behind.
Inside, an absolute, clinical silence took over. It wasn't an empty quiet; it was a highly pressurized, controlled vacuum. The faint, high-tech hum of the elevator was the singular sound in the air as it ascended rapidly, carrying them higher and higher away from the mortal noise of the world, into a stratosphere few human beings were ever permitted to breathe in.
The elevator doors glided open on the topmost penthouse floor. Restricted. Silent. Immaculate.
The executive corridor stretched out ahead of them, wide, minimalistic, and bathed in stark white tones. The overhead architectural lights were perfectly aligned in a straight line, every pristine surface reflecting absolute discipline and corporate order. There was no clutter. No human distraction. Just direction.
Rajveer walked straight through the center of the hall, his sharp steps echoing faintly against the polished obsidian flooring until he reached the double oak doors of his private office.
The doors parted. Inside, everything existed exactly as it was meant to be.
Gigantic floor-to-ceiling glass windows framed the entire sprawling metropolitan city below, the bright afternoon sunlight glinting sharply off distant corporate skyscrapers.
A massive, dark ebony desk stood like an altar at the dead center of the room, every file and tech device arranged with mathematical symmetry. Not a single item was misaligned by even a degree. The space wasn't merely luxurious; it was a physical manifestation of absolute control. Every detail was terrifyingly deliberate.
Rajveer placed his leather folders onto the desk. He did not sit. "Give me the immediate updates."
Aditya stepped forward instantly, opening a encrypted folder. "Three hostile takeover proposals are currently awaiting your personal review. Additionally, there is a single delayed shipment of raw materials currently docked in Dubai due to maritime customs."
"Resolve it by noon."
"Yes, sir. Consider it done."
"The quarterly finance report?"
"Directly in front of you on the desk, sir."
Rajveer opened the thick leather-bound file in front of him. He scanned through the complex financial pages in a matter of seconds, his dark eyes terrifyingly sharp, his expression frozen in stone. Nothing slipped past his notice. Nothing lingered in stagnation.
A brief, heavy pause hung in the air. Then, he closed the folder with a soft thud. "Call the Dubai port authorities directly."
"Right now, sir?" Aditya asked, verifying the timeline.
Rajveer looked up, his dark, piercing gaze locking onto his assistant. Just once.
That single look was more than enough to communicate his absolute will.
"Yes, sir. Connecting them immediately," Aditya murmured, stepping backward with a bow before exiting the office, the heavy doors clicking shut silently behind him.
The heavy, absolute silence returned to the penthouse suite. But it wasn't a still silence; it was alive with corporate power. Rajveer walked around the massive ebony desk and finally sank into his high-backed leather chair.
Files were opened one after another. Pages turned in steady intervals. Decisions worth millions were made within a heartbeat. There was no room for hesitation. No room for delay. Because in this high-altitude sanctuary, there was no space for anything less than absolute, flawless perfection.
And Rajveer Malhotra never permitted less from the universe.
>> COLLEGE <<
The final afternoon lecture dragged on significantly longer than any student had anticipated.
Aadhira sat nestled between Kiara and two of their close classmates, her head propped up on her hand as she half-listened to the professor drone on about abstract mechanical engineering theories. The rest of their row was deeply engrossed in whispering their own highly dramatic version of the lesson.
"Did you actually comprehend a single sentence he just uttered?" one of the classmates muttered under her breath, leaning over her notebook.
"The only thing I comprehend right now is that I desperately require a massive iced coffee and a completely new brain," Kiara whispered back, triggering a wave of quiet, muffled giggles down the line.
Aadhira smiled beautifully, her pen gliding across her paper as she jotted down the last few lines of the diagram, even as the classroom around them slowly dissolved into a restless murmur of packing bags and checking clocks.
When the final end of classes, a collective wave of pure relief swept through the room like a breath of crisp mountain air.
The students poured out into the warm corridor together, four girls walking side by side, their voices overlapping in a joyful cacophony of sound.
The Friend Group:
Aadhira & Kiara - The inseparable core duo.
Ira & Paru - Their close engineering classmates, always ready with campus gossip.
"That professor honestly explains theories like a malfunctioning robot," Kiara complained loudly, swinging her arms.
"And yet, you are the one reacting like a broken machine right now," Aadhira teased, nudging her shoulder.
A burst of bright laughter followed them down the concrete stairs, through the majestic historic college gates, and out into the golden, fading afternoon sun.
Their conversation shifted effortlessly from boring academic modules to random campus gossip, silly rumors, and speculations about who was secretly crushing on whom in the senior batch.
Reaching the edge of the bustling main road, Aadhira parked her scooter by the curb. Kiara climbed off the back, adjusting the heavy straps of her backpack. "Do not dare to forget tomorrow's tiffin box, Aadhira. I am entirely counting on your mother’s magic hands to keep me alive."
"I knew it! You are only friends with me for the food," Aadhira declared, narrowing her brown eyes in a playful, dramatic glare.
"Obviously," Kiara replied with an unrepentant, brilliant grin. "Food is life."
The two friends shared a quick, warm hug before Kiara turned and walked toward her designated bus stop, waving her hand high over her shoulder.
Aadhira slipped her sleek helmet on, buckling it securely beneath her chin before starting up her scooter. She pulled into the street, riding off toward home.
Her dark hair flew wildly in the warm wind, the sound of shared laughter still echoing beautifully in her ears as the vibrant day quietly slipped into the soft embrace of the evening.
✨ Thank you so much for reading Chapter 2! ✨
What do you think is hidden inside Rajveer's mysterious bag that has Aryan and Nysa so excited? 👀🍿
Every single read, vote, and comment fuels my writing and keeps this story alive and growing!
See you in Chapter 3! 🌸
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