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Author's Pov
The grand room was filled with the scent of fresh roses and expensive perfume. A massive mirror reflected the extravagant beauty of the girl standing before it. Shanaya Aggarwal, the spoiled princess of the Aggarwal empire, was dressed in a breathtaking pink lehenga, adorned with intricate embroidery and shimmering crystals. Her makeup was flawless, her jewelry dazzling, and her lips curved into a self-satisfied smile.
Today was her engagement with Agastya Khatri—the heir to an empire worth billions. Her father had secured her the perfect match, and she couldn’t be prouder.
Across the room, Siya Chaudhary fastened the last pin into Shanaya’s hair, her hands trembling slightly. Dressed in a maroon lehenga, her long earrings brushing against her shoulders, her bangles clinking softly, she stood quietly, her hands still stained deep with mehndi. She forced a smile, swallowing the lump in her throat, as Shanaya went on, completely unaware of the silent storm brewing inside Siya.
"You know, Siya, I am so lucky. Agastya is just perfect—so rich, so powerful… and God, last night was amazing," Shanaya giggled, admiring her diamond ring under the glowing vanity lights. "He gifted me this. Isn’t it gorgeous? My dad really made the best choice. I mean, who wouldn’t want to marry Agastya khatri?"
Siya nodded with a practiced smile, her lips curving just enough to hide the pain pressing against her ribs. She had become an expert at pretending. She had spent her whole life listening, watching, and enduring—using things Shanaya no longer wanted, living in a world where she was always in the background, never the center.
Her heart ached in a way she couldn’t explain. But tonight, she had no choice but to smile, even if it meant breaking a little more inside.
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The grand banquet hall was a sight of opulence, every corner exuding sheer luxury. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, casting a golden glow over the rich velvet drapes and intricately carved pillars. The air was filled with the soft hum of conversation, the clinking of fine crystal glasses, and the faint scent of exotic flowers adorning the grand stage.
At the center of the hall, on an elegantly decorated table, rested two diamond rings—symbols of the grand union about to take place. Guests had arrived in their finest couture, their expensive perfumes mingling with the fragrance of roses and sandalwood. The air buzzed with excitement as the pandit chanted sacred mantras, his voice echoing through the vast hall, adding an aura of divine sanctity to the extravagant affair.
Then came the moment everyone had been waiting for—the arrival of the Khatri family. All eyes turned toward the entrance as the massive double doors swung open, and in walked the groom, Agastya khatri.
Dressed in a perfectly tailored black sherwani, his presence commanded attention effortlessly. The richness of the fabric, the intricate embroidery on the collar, and the regal aura he carried made him look nothing less than a king. His sharp features, perfectly gelled hair, and the quiet arrogance in his stance only added to his irresistible charm.
Even in the middle of his own engagement, Agastya seemed unaffected by the grand celebration around him. Holding a phone to his ear, his brows furrowed slightly as he spoke, his deep voice laced with authority. While the world eagerly waited for the engagement to begin, he remained indifferent, as if this was just another business deal to him.
As he walked further into the hall, guests whispered in admiration, women stealing glances at the man who was not only immensely wealthy but also devastatingly handsome. He was the perfect groom, at least in the eyes of society.
Yet, beneath all the grandeur, one pair of eyes watched him with a different kind of emotion—one filled with a pain she could never voice.
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The sacred mantras filled the grand hall, echoing softly as the pandit looked up and announced,
"Bulayiye kanya ko." (Call the bride.)
Hearing this, Mrs. Seema Aggarwal, Shanaya’s mother, elegantly signaled a maid and instructed, “Jaakar Shanaya ko le aao.” (Go and bring Shanaya.)
A hush of anticipation spread through the hall as all eyes turned toward the grand staircase. Descending gracefully was Shanaya Aggarwal, the bride-to-be, adorned in a stunning pink lehenga that shimmered under the golden lights. Her jewelry sparkled, and her perfectly styled hair framed her flawless face. Every step she took was deliberate, her confidence radiating as she basked in the admiration and envy in the guests' eyes.
Beside her, holding her steady, was Siya Chaudhary. Unlike Shanaya, Siya kept her gaze low, ignoring the curious stares burning into her. Dressed in a deep maroon lehenga, her open hair cascading down her back, her hands adorned with mehndi, she was a vision of understated grace. But unlike Shanaya, she wasn’t here to be admired—she was simply there to fulfill her role, to stand beside her childhood friend like she always had.
Whispers filled the room—some filled with appreciation, others laced with jealousy. But Siya remained oblivious, while Shanaya thrived in the attention, her lips curving into a satisfied smirk as she reveled in the praises and envious glances. This was her moment, and she was going to enjoy every second of it.
As they reached the mandap, where the pandit stood chanting the mantras, something went unnoticed by everyone—except one man.
Agastya Khatri.
From the moment Siya had entered the hall, his dark, piercing gaze had been fixed on her. Unwavering. Unrelenting. It wasn’t just a fleeting glance; it was something deeper. His sharp eyes traced every movement she made, from the way she carefully held Shanaya’s hand to the way she avoided looking at anyone. His best friend, Atharv Raichand , noticed the intensity in Agastya’s stare and discreetly nudged him. That was the only reason Agastya finally tore his eyes away, shifting his focus to Shanaya, the woman he was about to be engaged to.
But that moment of distraction didn’t go unnoticed.
Shanaya had caught it.
And it infuriated her.
The way Agastya had looked at Siya—like she was something to be studied, something he couldn’t ignore—sent a sharp wave of possessive anger through her. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, as an unfamiliar feeling crept into her heart.
Because for the first time in her life, Shanaya Aggarwal felt threatened.
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