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>> AGARWAL HOUSE <<
Saturday mornings carried a completely different kind of silence. It wasn’t the heavy, suffocating silence of a weekday morning, which always felt rushed and weighed down by impending responsibilities. Instead, the Agarwal home woke up to a slow, breathing calm.
Soft, golden sunlight filtered through the thin bedroom curtains, painting faint, warm lines across the floor. Aadhira stirred slowly from her sleep. Her eyes fluttered open without any sense of urgency, gradually adjusting to the gentle light resting on her face.
For a long moment, she didn’t move. She simply lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the faint hum of life waking up outside. In the distance, she could hear the muffled rumble of early vehicles and the faint, rhythmic call of a street vendor wandering through the neighborhood lanes.
Her bedroom was modest, but it carried her distinct presence in every corner. Near the window stood a neatly arranged study table - textbooks were stacked in perfect order, handwritten notes were placed precisely where they belonged, and pens were aligned with quiet discipline. Her bed was still slightly rumpled, the soft pastel bedsheet creased beneath her. Everything about the space felt balanced, grounded, and intensely serene.
Just like her.
Turning her head toward the balcony, she saw a perfectly clear blue sky. A new day. Exhaling a slow, quiet breath, Aadhira sat up and tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ear. The lingering emotional weight from the past few days hadn't completely vanished, but it didn't paralyze her either.
Over the years, she had learned exactly how to carry her burdens - quietly, gracefully, without letting them break her stride.
Stepping out of bed, her bare feet met the cool bathroom tiles, grounding her instantly. She washed her hands, then splashed cold water over her face to fully awaken her senses before taking a quick, refreshing shower. Nothing was rushed, yet nothing was delayed. It was a fluid, comforting routine.
When she stepped back into the room, she changed into a simple, light-colored kurti paired with black palazzos. Her damp hair fell naturally over her shoulders, and she pressed a small black bindi right between her brows. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she didn’t linger to search for flaws or judge her appearance. She was just... present. Ready for the day.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed against the mattress. She picked it up to find a string of messages from her best friend.
Kiara: "I'll come over at 11, okay?"
Aadhira: "Yaa, I will be waiting."
Kiara: "Don't you dare start studying without me!"
Aadhira: "Too late."
Kiara: "Cheater! 😤"
A faint, unforced smile graced Aadhira’s lips. Setting the phone aside, she stepped out into the hallway and made her way downstairs.
As she descended the staircase, she spotted her younger brother, Samar, near the front entrance. He was in a frantic rush, carelessly balancing his heavy school bag on one shoulder while desperately trying to shove his feet into his shoes.
"Mummy! Bus aa jayegi! (Mom! The bus is going to leave!)" he yelled out toward the kitchen in a panic.
Aadhira paused midway on the stairs, her sharp eyes catching a hazardous detail. "Shoelace," she said simply.
Samar looked down, blinking. His laces were completely untied. "Oh," he muttered, crouching down quickly to fumble with them.
Aadhira walked down the remaining steps, knelt beside him, and gently brushed his hands away to fix the lace properly before he could turn it into a tangled knot. "Properly tie karo. Roz late hote ho, "(Tie them properly. You are late every single day,) she said, her voice a calm anchor against his chaos.
Samar looked up at his older sister, giving her a reassuring grin. "Aaj pakka time pe jaaunga."(Today, I will definitely be on time.)
Aadhira shot him a skeptical, knowing look. "Har din bolte ho." (You say that every day.)
Samar let out a dramatic, long-suffering sigh as he stood up and adjusted his bag. "And on top of everything, we have school even on a Saturday... I mean, seriously?"
Aadhira raised a cynical eyebrow. "It's a half-day, Samar."
"A half-day is still school!" he argued passionately. "Why can't it just be a proper holiday?"
Aadhira couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh at his teenage angst. "Because the world doesn't revolve around your mood, little brother."
He frowned playfully, pulling his backpack tight. "Well, it honestly should start doing that."
She shook her head, smiling at his antics. "Jaao, warna bus sach mein chali jayegi. (Go, otherwise the bus really will leave you behind.)"
Right on cue, the sharp, distant blare of a school bus horn echoed through the street.
"The bus!" Samar panicked, his eyes widening. He bolted for the door, pausing for a fraction of a second to call over his shoulder, "Bye, didi!"
"Bye," she replied softly.
The heavy front door clicked shut behind him, and an immediate, peaceful silence returned to the house.
In the kitchen, their mother, Asha stood near the stove, already brewing a fresh pot of morning chai. Thick, fragrant steam rose gently into the air, filling the cozy space with the warm aroma of ginger and cardamom.
"Good morning, Maa," Aadhira said, stepping into the warmth of the kitchen.
Asha turned around, her tired eyes instantly softening at the sight of her daughter. "Good morning, beta."
Without needing to be asked, Aadhira moved seamlessly beside her mother. She picked up a knife and a basket of fresh vegetables, beginning to chop them with practiced ease. Their movements around the small kitchen were deeply familiar and synchronized. They were a team; no instructions or words were necessary.
"Kiara is coming over today," Aadhira mentioned casually, her eyes focused on the vegetables.
Asha’s face lit up instantly with genuine joy. "Achha? Kitne baje? "(Oh, really? At what time?)
"Eleven."
"Phir toh main uske liye achha sa breakfast banaungi" (Then I will make a wonderful breakfast for her,) Asha said, a warm, maternal smile spreading across her face. "Usko aloo parathe pasand hai na? "(She loves potato paranthas, right?)
Aadhira nodded lightly, a soft warmth spreading in her chest. "Haan... bohot. (Yes... very much.)"
Asha chuckled softly, already mentally organizing the ingredients.
Suddenly, the heavy, deliberate thud of footsteps echoed from the main hallway. Sanjay. His presence in the house never required an announcement; it was a heavy, suffocating shift in the air that could be felt instantly.
Aadhira’s hands froze over the chopping board for a mere fraction of a second. Then, recovering her composure, she continued her work. She deliberately stayed tucked away inside the kitchen- quiet, unseen, and blending into the background.
Asha poured the hot tea into a cup and stepped out into the dining room with the tray. Sanjay sat at the head of the table, sharply snapping open the morning newspaper.
"Suniye, aapki chai, "(Listen, here is your tea,) Asha said softly, placing the steaming cup right near his hand.
He took it without looking up, his cold eyes scanning the bold political headlines. "I have some work today," he announced after a tense silence. "There is an important meeting. I will be late coming home."
Asha simply nodded, her posture yielding. "Theek hai. (Okay.)" There were no follow-up questions. No casual discussion. Just absolute, quiet acceptance.
Sanjay took a slow sip of his tea, folded the newspaper with a sharp crease, and stood up. Before turning to leave, his stern gaze flickered once, heavily, toward the kitchen opening. Inside, Aadhira felt the weight of his stare pressing against her spine, but she fiercely refused to look up.
A second later, he turned and walked out of the house. The heavy click of the front door closing signaled his departure.
Instantly, the entire house seemed to exhale a collective, deep breath of relief.
Asha walked back into the kitchen, where Aadhira was already silently kneading the dough for the day's meals. Their eyes met briefly. No words were spoken about the man who had just left, but a deep, comforting wave of mutual understanding passed between mother and daughter.
"Give me a little more flour, beta," Asha said gently, breaking the silence.
Aadhira handed it over with a soft smile. They continued working side by side in a silence that no longer felt heavy, but safely protective. Outside, the chaotic day had begun, but inside their kitchen, a quiet warmth had finally settled. It was a morning of simple routines and unspoken bonds. And somewhere in the middle of it all was Aadhira- a girl who had masterfully learned how to remain perfectly steady, even when the world around her was trembling.
>> MALHOTRA MANSION <<
The Malhotra mansion didn't just exist- it breathed unadulterated power. Bound by towering iron gates and heavily guarded by tight security at the entrance, the estate was a place where staggering luxury met rigid, mathematical precision.
Rajveer Malhotra never slept late. Even on a Saturday morning, the concepts of relaxation and laziness did not apply to him. Discipline was an unyielding part of his DNA. He woke up exceptionally early without the need for an alarm, heading straight to his private home gym. His workout was a display of calculated, sharp movements- focused, intense repetitions with heavy iron, completely void of any music or outside distractions.
After a cold shower, he dressed simply but sharply in a crisp black t-shirt and grey tailored track pants. With a cup of steaming black coffee in one hand, he opened his sleek laptop on the long glass table. Before the rest of the city had even rubbed the sleep from their eyes, his workday had already resumed.
Meanwhile, downstairs in the massive, marble-floored dining area, Anupama Malhotra moved like a graceful military commander orchestrating a grand event.
"Set the dining table properly..." she instructed the staff smoothly. "Go up to Aryan’s room and tell him to wake up immediately... and make sure the orange juice is freshly squeezed, not packaged."
On the plush leather sofa across the room, Raghav Malhotra sat with a stern, dignified posture, watching the financial news with mild seriousness. Beside him sat Nysa, who was leaned in close to Dadi, dramatically debating the latest plot twist of a popular Hindi television drama.
"Dadi, just imagine! What if the main hero actually turns out to be the hidden villain in the end?" Nysa gasped, waving her hands in the air.
Dadi shook her head in disapproval, adjusting her spectacles. "These television writers have completely lost their minds."
On another adjacent couch, Aryan lay completely sprawled out like a fallen soldier, half-asleep. One eye was cracked open, one ear was listening to his sister's gossip, and his brain was fully occupied with calculating the morning breakfast menu.
"Maa... what's for breakfast today?" he shouted out lazily, refusing to move even an inch.
"Wake up properly first, beta!" Anupama scolded from across the room, shaking her head at her youngest son.
Nysa rolled her eyes dramatically, throwing a cushion at him. "You absolute lazy monkey."
Suddenly, the firm, rhythmic echo of footsteps sounded from the grand mahogany staircase. Rajveer descended. His posture was flawlessly perfect, his expression completely composed and unreadable. But just as his foot hit the final marble step, a loud, incredibly energetic voice boomed from the front foyer, shattering the quiet atmosphere.
"GOOD MORNING, EVERYONE!"
Every single head in the room turned instantly.
It was Dhruv - vibrant, full of life, and radiating an effortless charm that could light up the bleakest of rooms.
Aryan instantly bolted upright from his lazy posture, his face lighting up. "Dhruvvv bhaiyaaa!" He literally ran across the marble floor, throwing his arms around Dhruv in a tight embrace.
Dhruv threw his head back and laughed heartily, patting the younger boy's back. He walked straight over to Dadi, bending down with genuine reverence to touch her feet. "Pranam, Dadi."(Greetings grandma)
"Jeete raho, beta" (Live long, my child), she blessed him warmly, a bright smile wrinkling her face.
Dhruv then moved to Anupama and Raghav, touching their feet with deep respect.
"So, you finally remembered that this house exists?" Anupama teased playfully, placing a maternal hand on his shoulder.
"Aunty, I swear I was desperately missing the food made by your hands," Dhruv complained dramatically, holding his stomach as if he were starving.
Anupama’s heart melted instantly. "Today, you will eat until you cannot walk."
Dhruv grinned, turning around to ruffle Nysa’s perfectly styled hair.
"Dhruv bhai! Stop it!" she protested loudly, swatting his hand away and immediately fixing her hair in the reflection of her phone. He laughed, pulling her into a quick side-hug anyway.
Finally, Dhruv’s bright eyes landed on the stoic figure standing near the staircase. "Oh, look at that. Someone looks absolutely thrilled to see his best friend."
Rajveer stared back at him, his face a mask of deadpan indifference. "Nope," he said casually, his voice dry.
The entire room burst into spontaneous laughter at Rajveer's predictable response. As they all walked over to the long dining table, Dhruv continued to dramatically complain to Anupama. "Aunty, look at him! I travel all this way to see him, and he won't even crack a single smile for me."
Rajveer calmly pulled out his heavy dining chair and sat down. "You talk far too much."
"And you talk far too little," Dhruv countered smoothly, sitting right across from him. "There needs to be a perfect balance in the universe."
Aryan chimed in, passing the juice. "Bhai is just jealous of your personality."
Rajveer shot his younger brother a deadly, warning look. Aryan quickly glanced away, suddenly finding his empty plate intensely fascinating.
Breakfast instantly turned into a lively, chaotic affair. Dhruv spun highly exaggerated, hilarious stories about his recent travels, Aryan shamelessly overloaded his plate with food; Dadi loudly scolded Aryan for his lack of manners.
Nysa was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. Through it all, Rajveer sat quiet, responding only in calculated, one-word answers, but his sharp eyes were observing every smile and interaction around the table.
After breakfast, the family slowly dispersed to their respective rooms. Rajveer stood up to walk back toward his isolated study upstairs, and Dhruv casually trailed behind him.
"You know, Raj," Dhruv murmured as they climbed the stairs, "one of these days, I am going to make you laugh a real, genuine laugh."
Rajveer didn’t turn back, but he paused slightly on the landing. "Focus on yourself, Dhruv."
Dhruv smiled faintly, shaking his head. But as Rajveer disappeared into his study, Dhruv caught sight of Anupama standing alone by the deserted dining table.
She was adjusting plates and placemats that were already perfectly aligned. Her movements were neat and controlled, but her mind was clearly miles away, clouded by deep anxiety. Dhruv noticed it instantly. He always did. The carefree, playful expression he wore moments ago softened into something serious. He quietly walked back down the stairs and approached her.
"Aunty," he said gently.
She startled slightly, turning around. "Oh, haan beta? (Yes, son?)"
Dhruv leaned lightly against the back of a dining chair, folding his arms. His voice was soft but piercingly perceptive. "You’re worried about something, aren't you?"
Anupama paused for a second too long, her fingers freezing over a silver fork. "Nahi toh"(No, not at all) she replied, forcing a bright, social smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
Dhruv didn’t smile back. He had practically grown up in this mansion alongside Rajveer. He knew Anupama’s expressions perfectly, he knew the vast difference between her polite smile and her real one.
"Aunty... please," he urged softly, stepping closer. "If something is bothering you, you can tell me."
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the velvet chair. For a brief, tense moment, she looked up toward the grand staircase, as if checking to see if Rajveer or Raghav were coming back down. Then, lowering her voice to a fragile whisper, she spoke.
"Dhruv... do you honestly think Rajveer is doing okay?"
The question wasn't simple. It carried the crushing weight of years of unspoken family tension. Dhruv straightened his posture, his eyes attentive. "He’s fine, Aunty," he answered carefully, testing the waters. "Why do you ask?"
Anupama let out a long, exhausted breath, her shoulders physically dropping as if she were losing her strength. "I tried to talk to him last night... to convince him to finally think about marriage."
Dhruv’s gaze shifted, his mind sharpening.
A faint, incredibly tired smile crossed her lips. "But Rajveer... he wouldn't even listen to me properly. He shut me out." Her eyes glistened—not with tears, but with a profound sense of maternal helplessness. "Main samajh nahi paati... (I just don't understand...) why he reacts so violently to the idea. The moment the word 'marriage' is even mentioned, he becomes completely distant. He builds a wall."
Dhruv remained quiet, letting her pour her heart out.
"I am not trying to force him into anything," she added quickly, her voice trembling slightly. "I just... I just don't want him to be completely alone in this world. I want him to have a life partner. Someone who truly understands him for the rest of his life." She paused, swallowing the lump in her throat. "He acts so strong and invincible from the outside, Dhruv. But from the inside..."
She stopped herself. She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence. But she didn't need to.
Dhruv's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly as the painful ghosts of the past flashed through his mind. "Aunty," he said gently, "you know how Rajveer is. He doesn't open up his heart to anyone easily."
"I know," she nodded helplessly. "Par main uski maa hoon. (But I am his mother.) I am constantly terrified for him. For how long is he going to keep himself locked up and tied down like this?"
A heavy silence settled between them as a sharp gust of wind brushed against the massive glass windows of the mansion. Anupama looked up at Dhruv with pleading eyes. "You tell me... why is he so deeply hesitant about marriage?"
Dhruv’s gaze drifted back toward the closed door of Rajveer's study upstairs. He knew the exact reasons. He knew about the devastating betrayal, the humiliation, and the scars that had turned Rajveer into a cold machine. But he couldn't bring those painful memories up now. He chose to protect her from them.
Taking a thoughtful pause, he spoke slowly. "Maybe... he just hasn't met someone who makes him feel like love is a risk worth taking yet."
Anupama watched him carefully, hanging onto his words.
"Or perhaps," Dhruv added with a light, teasing smile to break the suffocating heaviness, "he's just being his usual stubborn self and needs a little more time."
"Time?" she repeated faintly.
"Yes, Aunty. You know Rajveer never takes any decision lightly. And marriage is a massive life decision."
Anupama sat down slowly on the dining chair, her heart easing slightly. "I don't want to push him," she whispered. "But every mother just wants to see her child settled and happy."
Dhruv pulled out the chair directly opposite her and sat down, his tone incredibly warm and reassuring. "I'll talk to him about it. I promise."
Her eyes lifted instantly, filled with sudden hope. "Sach? (Really?)"
"Yes. I’ll try to get inside that thick skull of his and figure out what’s actually going on."
Anupama nodded slowly, a genuine, soft laugh escaping her lips for the first time since breakfast. It was small, but it was real. Satisfied that he had eased her mind, Dhruv stood up and walked upstairs to confront his friend.
>> AGARWAL HOUSE <<
Back at the Agarwal residence, the clock struck 12:00 PM.
Kiara had arrived exactly at eleven, and within mere minutes, her bubbly, infectious personality had completely charmed Asha.
"Aunty, the entire house smells absolutely heavenly!" Kiara gushed as she walked in.
"Bas, bas" (Enough, enough,) Asha laughed, her cheeks flushing with pride as she ushered the girls to the dining table.
They sat together at the table, where simple steel plates were neatly arranged. Fresh, hot aloo parathas glistened with a rich dollop of homemade butter, accompanied by a small bowl of fresh curd and a side of spicy pickle. Kiara took her very first bite, chewing slowly before closing her eyes with a look of pure ecstasy.
"Aunty... I am not even exaggerating. This is literal five-star culinary art," Kiara declared dramatically.
Asha chuckled warmly, placing another paratha on her plate. "Bas bas, itni bhi tareef mat karo. (Enough, don’t praise me so much.)"
"No, I am completely serious!" Kiara insisted, pointing a fork at her best friend. "Aadhira never makes parathas for me like this. Never."
Aadhira looked up instantly from her plate, her eyes narrowing playfully. "Excuse me?"
Kiara completely ignored her protest, turning back to Asha to complain. "Aunty, eating that horrible, bland hostel food has left me emotionally and spiritually damaged." She took another happy bite. "At least here, I can taste the love in the food. Back at the hostel, it’s just a daily battle for survival."
Asha looked at the young girl for a poignant moment, her maternal instincts kicking in. She smiled gently. "Arre, yeh bhi tumhara hi ghar hai, beta... jab mann kare, aa jaana. " (Oh, this is your home too, dear... come over whenever you feel like it.)
For a split second, Kiara didn't respond. The usual loud, playful walls of her expression softened into a look of deep gratitude. Sensing the sudden emotional shift, Aadhira rolled her eyes to bring the lighthearted mood back. "Stop the overacting, you drama queen, and just eat your food."
Kiara grinned, leaning forward across the table. "By the way, where is Samar?"
"He's gone to school," Asha replied. "He should be back home in a little while."
Kiara nodded thoughtfully, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Good. Because I am definitely going to tell him that I ate his entire share of the butter."
Aadhira shook her head, unable to suppress a fond smile. And just like that, bright, unfiltered laughter filled the cozy dining room once again.
"Would you girls like one more paratha?" Asha asked, holding the tongs.
"Of course!" Kiara replied instantly without a shred of hesitation.
Aadhira shook her head slightly, patting her stomach. "Maa, please, no. I am completely full."
Kiara leaned over and whispered loudly, "Liar. Eat up." Aadhira secretly nudged her leg under the table in retaliation.
Asha stood back, a soft smile gracing her lips as she watched the two friends laugh. The bright midday sunlight streamed through the window, perfectly illuminating their faces - simple, authentic, and completely unfiltered.
For that beautiful moment, there was absolutely no tension in the Agarwal house. There were no harsh scoldings, no crushing financial expectations, and no shadows. There was only good food, loud laughter, and familiar comfort.
And looking at her mother and best friend, Aadhira suddenly realized something profound- maybe this was exactly what she wanted to protect at all costs. This peace. This small, incredibly fragile happiness.
After lunch, the two girls headed upstairs to Aadhira’s room. The heavy textbooks were cracked open, and within five minutes, Kiara was staring at a complex chapter as if it had personally insulted her ancestors.
"I don't understand one single thing," Kiara groaned loudly, dropping her head back against the chair dramatically. "Why on earth did the professor have to schedule the test for Monday morning?"
Aadhira flipped a page of her notebook with absolute calmness. "Because that is when the class is scheduled, Kiara."
"That is not a valid answer," Kiara sat up, frowning deeply. "He easily could have kept it later. Like... next week. Or next month. Or honestly, never."
Aadhira’s lips curved into a slight, amused smile. "That’s not how the education system works."
"Well, it definitely should be," Kiara muttered under her breath. "Weekends are meant for psychological peace. Not intense stress."
"Then study diligently right now. You'll have less stress later."
Kiara stared at her as if she were speaking an alien language. "You say that like it's the easiest thing in the world."
"It is," Aadhira replied simply, her eyes already scanning her notes.
Exactly five minutes later, Aadhira noticed a distinct lack of page-flipping. She looked up. Kiara’s phone was already firmly glued to her hand, a wide giggle escaping her lips as she texted.
Aadhira slowly stood up from her chair, folded her arms tightly across her chest, and leveled a piercing, unimpressed stare at her best friend.
Kiara caught the sudden silence, looked up, and blinked innocently. "What?"
Aadhira slowly shifted her strict gaze downward, pointing squarely at the glowing phone screen. Kiara gasped, immediately hiding the device behind her back like a guilty child. "It was just one single message, I swear!"
Absolute silence. Aadhira didn't move an inch, her unblinking stare unwavering.
Kiara let out a loud, defeated sigh. "Okay, fine! You win." She aggressively tossed the phone onto the far corner of the bed and sat up properly, grabbing her highlighter. They resumed studying in earnest.
After a long while of quiet reading, Kiara spoke up again, her voice much softer, lacking her usual dramatic flare. "Yaar, Aadhira... we really haven't gone out anywhere fun in ages."
Aadhira paused, her blue ink pen hovering gently over the white page. "Hmm."
"Let's go somewhere nice today," Kiara suggested, her eyes wide with hope. "Just a small walk or a café."
Aadhira glanced back down at the dense paragraphs of her textbook. "Right now?"
"Nooo," Kiara dragged out the word pleadingly. "After we finish this entire chapter. Pinky promise."
Aadhira exhaled a quiet, contemplative breath. Her gaze lingered on the page for a few seconds before she finally spoke, her voice as calm and steady as ever. "We’ll see."
Kiara’s eyes widened with instant victory. "Oh my god, that means yes!"
Aadhira didn’t look up, though a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "That means we will see."
Kiara grinned widely anyway, perfectly content. "I'll take it!" And for the next few hours, spurred on by the reward of an evening outing, the two girls actually dove into their books and studied with absolute seriousness.
>> MALHOTRA MANSION <<
Back across the city, the Malhotra mansion had grown unusually quiet as the evening approached. It was an eerie, suffocating kind of quiet. And in that house, such absolute silence usually meant only one thing- Dhruv was about to fiercely disturb it.
He didn't bother to knock on the heavy mahogany door; he never did. The door to Rajveer's private study swung open without an ounce of warning.
Inside, everything remained exactly as it always was- rigidly controlled, immaculate, and entirely untouched by the chaos of the outside world. Warm, golden light from the desk lamp fell across the dark wooden wall panels, and the faint, expensive scent of leather and old paper lingered in the air. Corporate files were arranged in flawless, geometric symmetry on the shelves, every single edge aligned with terrifyingly quiet discipline.
Rajveer sat squarely behind his massive desk, dressed sharply in a fresh button-down shirt. His luxury watch caught the glint of the lamp light as he calmly turned a financial page. His expression was a fortress- calm, unreadable, and his focus was absolute.
Dhruv leaned casually against the wooden doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips. "You know," he began lightly, breaking the silence, "Normal human beings actually step out of their rooms occasionally to consume oxygen."
No response. The only sound was the crisp turn of a page.
"Bro," Dhruv added, pushing himself off the frame and confidently strutting into the sacred space.
Rajveer’s icy gaze lifted slowly, fixing onto his friend. "What do you want?" he asked, sounding completely uninterested.
"There's a massive party tonight," Dhruv announced, watching Rajveer’s face closely, waiting for any shred of a reaction.
Nothing. Not a single muscle moved.
"No," Rajveer replied flatly, his eyes already dropping back down to the glowing screen of his laptop.
Dhruv blinked in disbelief. "You didn't even ask where or whose party it is."
"It doesn't matter." The response was final, cold, and absolute.
Dhruv let out a heavy sigh, walking right up to the desk. He dragged an expensive leather chair forward, the sharp screech loud against the floor, before stopping right in front of Rajveer.
"It's Arjun's pre-wedding celebration," Dhruv said, his tone softening with a layer of seriousness. "At the Velvet Room. It’s a completely private booking. The entire circle is going to be there."
"I am not."
"You are."
"I am not."
A tense, unyielding pause stretched between the two men. Then, Dhruv added in a much quieter, calculated voice, "He called and invited you personally, Rajveer."
Rajveer’s long fingers froze completely over the keyboard for a mere fraction of a second. It was a movement so brief that anyone else would have missed it, but Dhruv caught it. Rajveer's facial expression didn't change, and he said absolutely nothing, but the ghost of an old memory had clearly breached his defenses.
Before the heavy silence could settle and suffocate the room again, Dhruv suddenly reached out and firmly slammed the laptop screen shut. The soft click of the laptop closing echoed sharper than a gunshot in the quiet room.
Rajveer’s eyes darkened instantly, flashing with a dangerous, icy fire. "Dhruv." There was a lethal, low warning in the way he growled his friend's name.
Entirely unmoved by the terrifying aura, Dhruv folded his arms defiantly. "Only for a little while," he reasoned calmly. "You show your face, you stand in the corner like a beautiful corporate statue, you scare a few investors with that deadly personality of yours... and then we leave. Simple."
"I have work to finish."
"You always have work to finish."
"And you always have completely unnecessary, wasteful plans."
Dhruv smirked, taking an exaggerated deep breath as he glanced around the immaculate room before locking eyes with the tycoon again. "You need actual air, Rajveer."
"I am breathing perfectly fine."
"Not emotionally, you aren't."
The words landed softly, but they cut incredibly deep.
Rajveer leaned back slightly into his leather executive chair, his intense gaze settling heavily on Dhruv. "You are being ridiculous and overly dramatic."
"And you are actively avoiding life."
The silence stretched long and tense between them. It wasn't a loud argument, but it was incredibly heavy with years of unspoken history. For a long moment, neither man moved an inch.
Then, finally—
"Thirty minutes," Rajveer said coldly, his tone controlled but defeated. "We leave after exactly thirty minutes."
Dhruv’s victorious, blinding grin appeared instantly. "I knew deep down you loved me."
Rajveer stood up smoothly, picking up his tailored blazer from the rack with practiced, elegant precision. "Don't push your luck, Dhruv."
Dhruv chuckled thoroughly satisfied, turning around to head toward the door. Just then, his phone rang loudly in his pocket. He pulled it out, glanced at the caller ID, and his playful expression shifted into something brief and unreadable. He quickly answered it as he stepped out into the hallway, the heavy study door clicking shut behind him.
Absolute silence returned to the room, unbroken and still.
Rajveer stood frozen by his desk for a long moment, watching the closed door as the quiet room settled around him once again. Then, without a single backward glance or another thought, he calmly placed his blazer back onto the rack. He pulled his laptop back toward the center of the desk, snapped it open, and logged back in.
His corporate work resumed instantly. It was as if absolutely nothing had interrupted him at all.
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