Utsav
"Cringe."
The word slipped from my lips in a crisp, unimpressed tone as Aarav finished his overly dramatic entry, dancing to Badtameez Dil like he owned the room.
Typical.
He had the audacity to wink at the crowd while tossing his black blazer back like a hero straight out of a third-rate Bollywood movie.
Aarav rolled his eyes, predictably unfazed by my reaction.
"Yeah, yeah—cringe. Just like our typical Utsav Mehrotra, my ice-cold best friend," he said, clapping me on the shoulder with a grin that irritated me more than it should.
I watched him with passive disapproval as he greeted the guests around with that same easy charm. Aarav Luthra. Childhood friend. Certified headache. Clumsy, charming, conventionally good-looking, and outrageously carefree. A man who walks like the world is on vacation and he's the grand host.
I should’ve kicked him out of my life years ago.
But I didn’t.
Because life had other plans. Our parents were close—family friends turned business partners. We were the second generation expected to uphold that legacy. So here he was. Uninvited, but not unexpected.
"You're late."
My voice came out dangerously calm, the kind of calm that warned most people to shut up and walk away.
But this was Aarav.
"Ah, well, I was… occupied. You know how it is," he smirked, throwing a wink toward a group of girls nearby.
"My females were keeping me busy."
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
"You make it sound like you're maintaining a harem."
"I might as well be," he said with a laugh. "What’s the point of life if not to enjoy it, Utsav?"
I didn’t reply. What was the point? He wouldn’t understand it even if I spelled it out.
Enjoyment. Leisure. Love.
Words people like Aarav tossed around without the weight they carried. Words I had long stopped believing in.
Still, for all his careless antics, Aarav had never betrayed me. He was loud, inappropriate, and far too excitable—but he was loyal. That alone made him tolerable. Barely.
He looked at me then, expression softening just for a second.
"You’re thinking too much again, bro. Loosen up. Aadi’s wedding—maybe let the ice around your heart thaw a bit?"
I didn't answer. I never did when people asked me to 'loosen up.'
He grinned anyway, like he won something.
Of course he did. Aarav always assumed he had the last word.
Let him.
I turned my head, eyes scanning the crowd once more.
Something had shifted. The moment was coming. I just didn’t know what yet.
"Bhai, I need you to meet someone."
Aadi’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I didn’t bother to respond—just a subtle tilt of my head, enough to let him know I was listening.
He was always doing this—introducing me to someone new, whether it was a business partner, an old friend, or a potential investor. Not that I cared. I wasn’t interested in anyone unless they brought something extraordinary to the table. But then again, I was Utsav Mehrotra—the ever-composed gentleman. I couldn’t say no to my brother, especially not in front of guests.
So I waited as Aadi gestured for someone to step forward.
And then I saw him.
Rudra.
The same man I warned barely fifteen minutes ago. The one I told—not asked—not to create chaos at my brother’s wedding. Yet here he was, standing before me as if none of that happened. My expression didn’t falter. No curiosity, no irritation, not even mild concern. Just calm, unreadable stillness.
Perhaps he thought he could shake me. That this sudden reintroduction would unsettle me.
Foolish.
They forget—I don’t get shaken. I am the storm. And storms don’t get destroyed.
They do the destroying.
"He’s Rudra Singhania," Aadi said casually, oblivious to the tension floating like thick smoke between us. "Son of Mr. Singhania, owner of Singhania Groups."
I didn’t react. I just looked at Rudra. He returned my gaze with arrogant intensity. There was fury there, restrained but visible. He was holding himself back—not out of dignity, but because of the warning I gave earlier. Good. That meant he listened.
"Hello," Rudra said, his voice tight, forced.
"Hi," I replied flatly, offering him nothing more than a curt nod.
Neither of us extended a hand. There was no need. We understood each other perfectly already—two wolves sizing each other up, except one of us had sharper teeth.
"Bhai, his company’s collaborating with ours," Aadi continued, trying to ease the awkwardness neither of us cared to fix. "I think this partnership could really push us forward. Rudra’s been a friend of mine for the past two years—one of the best ethical hackers in the country. A genius in his own field."
I gave another nod, just enough to acknowledge Aadi’s words, but inside I wasn’t sold. Hacker or not, talented or not—it was hard to respect a man who had just been publicly humiliated by a slap he clearly deserved.
If this was the face of business brilliance, then maybe the world had dropped its standards.
Still, if Aadi trusted him, there had to be something more beneath that smug exterior. Manipulative skills, maybe. A smooth talker, someone who knew how to slither through corporate ladders. That, I could accept. But genius?
I’ll decide that myself.
Because I never trust a man based on someone else's word. I prefer to see the truth—undressed, unfiltered and unspoken.
The mehndi function finally came to an end.
Thank God.
Aadi took the mic, thanking all the guests for attending, his usual warm smile plastered across his face. I stood back quietly, hands in my pockets, watching the chaos wind down. One by one, people started retreating to their rooms, some tired, some tipsy from late-night cocktails and gossip.
Before we left, Aditya hugged Aditi tightly. Ugh. Love. The way he leaned down and whispered something into her ear, earning a crimson blush, made me roll my eyes slightly.
She giggled, hiding her face behind her mehndi-stained hands as Maya and that other friend—what's her name? Ishanvi?—burst into teasing laughter beside her.
Women and their never-ending drama over half-baked romance.
At last, the noise dimmed, the music shut down, and we all retired for the night.
But while the world settled into sleep, my thoughts didn’t.
Rudra.
The name circled in the back of my mind like a mosquito refusing to be swatted.
A spoiled brat with too much money, too little class, and absolutely no spine.
I hadn’t cared much for him before, but his sudden connection to Aadi… That sparked something.
How did a manipulative womanizer like him win Aditya's trust?
Aadi was sharp—calm, focused, composed. Much like me.
But then again, he was younger. More trusting. That lack of maturity showed sometimes.
With that unsettling thought, I changed into a black t-shirt and grey joggers before stepping out onto the balcony. A low breeze swept through the night as I poured myself a glass of whiskey. No sleep tonight. Not yet.
---
The Next Morning
The breakfast table buzzed with quiet energy. Clinking cutlery, murmured good mornings. I focused on my plate—black coffee, eggs, and toast. Balanced, simple. Like my life should be.
Aadi leaned back in his chair and looked around.
"Where’s Maya and Ishanvi?" he asked as Aditi finally joined us, her steps slow but graceful.
I didn’t care. Not really. Their absence only meant fewer people talking.
"Ishanvi’s still asleep—you know how she is," Aditi replied with a tired smile as she sat beside him.
"And Maya..." she paused, sighing.
Aadi leaned in. His tone shifted immediately.
"What about Maya?"
His brows furrowed, jaw already tense.
Aditi looked at both of us, her worry bleeding through her voice.
"She barely slept last night. She was in tension. Said she’s fine, but I could tell she was shaken."
Tension? That woman is tension. Always loud, dramatic, unfiltered. What could possibly stress someone like her?
Aadi’s frown deepened.
"What happened?"
Aditi's voice lowered, as though the words themselves were too heavy.
"Rudra."
She hesitated before continuing.
"He threatened her. Said if she didn’t come back to him, he’d destroy her and her brother’s life."
Interesting.
So Rudra was her ex.
That added a new flavor to the drama.
"Maya doesn’t care about herself, but when it comes to her brother... she’s terrified," Aditi added. "She’s trying to act strong, but I know she’s not okay."
I kept my expression neutral, my fork gliding smoothly across the plate. But in my head, pieces clicked together. Rudra wasn’t just irritating—he was dangerous. And Maya? For once, she wasn’t just a reckless firecracker. There was fear behind her facade.
Across from me, Aadi’s fist clenched on the table.
"I warned him," he muttered through gritted teeth. "I told him not to cause chaos. That bastard..."
His voice was rising. Aditi looked alarmed, shrinking back slightly in her seat. She was gentle by nature, not built to deal with fury.
Enough.
"Relax, Aadi," I said calmly, wiping my mouth with a napkin.
My voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to.
"You're scaring her. And that won’t help Maya either."
He looked at me, but I held his gaze, steady and sharp.
"Learn to deal with snakes silently. Don’t shout—strike where it hurts. But make sure there’s no proof when the body falls."
I leaned back, letting the meaning sink in.
"People don't learn obedience through noise. They learn it through fear. Calm. Cold. Calculated."
Aadi nodded, still fuming, but he was listening.
Good.
Because sometimes fire has to be met with ice. And I have more than enough to burn him down without ever lifting a match.
As I walked out of the dining hall, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
One glance at the screen told me it was from my man stationed in Delhi—the one tasked with tracking Adhyatm. I answered without breaking stride.
“If you don’t have something useful, you’re wasting my time,” I said, my tone dangerously calm. “And you know what wasting my time means.”
The man stammered on the other end, clearly rattled.
“S–Sir, we’re doing our best. We’ve searched everywhere—his hotel room, his apartment... there’s nothing. No signs of a struggle, no proof of kidnapping. It’s like he vanished into thin air.”
My jaw tightened as I clenched my phone harder.
Adhyatm.
Manipulative, calculating, and utterly wrong for my sister. I didn’t care for him—not in the slightest—but Anvi did. And her worry? That was the only reason this man still had the luxury of breathing.
“Find him,” I said, my voice low and sharp, each word a silent blade. “Or face the consequences.”
I didn’t wait for a reply. I hung up and slid the phone back into my pocket.
I needed to find Adhyatm. Preferably alive. But if it came to it—his body would do just fine.
Before Anvi finds out he’s gone.
---
Later that evening, Aadi cornered me again.
“You want me to handle a rich, egoistic fashion designer?” I repeated, disbelief laced in every syllable. I stared at him like he’d lost his mind.
Aadi gave me his most hopeful look—the one he used when trying to guilt me into impossible things.
“Bhai, come on... you’re the only one I can trust.”
He paused, trying to summon a few manipulative lines. Typical.
“Tomorrow is my wedding, and the designer is bringing my sherwani personally. You do want your brother to look good at his own wedding, right?”
I scoffed under my breath.
We’re rich enough to summon any damn sherwani we want in a blink. Don’t try emotional blackmail, Aadi.
“Send Aarav. He’ll flirt with the designer, charm the entire airport staff, and still come back alive. This isn’t my job.”
My voice stayed calm, but the irritation was there—cutting and clear.
“Aarav doesn’t have your authority,” Aadi replied, his voice almost pleading now.
“Dad and uncle still don’t know about this wedding. If they sniff even a hint of what’s happening, they’ll try to get information from the designer. That can’t happen. I need someone who can handle security, stay discreet, and control the situation.”
He hesitated.
“If I could go, I would. But I’m stuck with all these rituals and last-minute mess. Please, bhai.”
I exhaled slowly.
Aadi might have been younger and more dramatic, but he was smart. He knew how to work around me when he needed something—and unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong this time.
“Fine,” I said, my voice clipped with resignation.
I didn't like it, but I’d handle it.
Like always.
-----
“Wait, Mr. Mehrotra?”
A familiar voice slid into my ears just as I was about to open the car door. I turned slightly, my fingers still resting on the handle.
Maya.
There she stood—dressed in a black top tucked into a grey skirt, matching tights hugging her legs, and a pair of sunglasses perched gracefully over her sharp, emerald eyes. Her presence was loud even in silence.
“Can I come with you? Could you drop me home?” she asked, her tone casual, but laced with a kind of audacity I was all too familiar with.
My brows arched, the first visible reaction I allowed myself.
“Drop you home?” I repeated, voice calm as still water. “Miss Shekhawat, you have your own car—and a driver, if I remember correctly.”
I turned fully now, crossing my arms, gaze cold but curious.
She pulled off her sunglasses, lifting her eyes to meet mine.
“Yes, I do. But my driver’s on leave today, and I thought... since you’re already heading out, why should I suffer through driving myself? You know how unbearable Mumbai traffic can be.”
Seriously?
Her voice was innocent enough, even laced with faux charm. But I could see through the attempt. Transparent.
“Actually,” she added quickly, “I need to pick up a few things from home for the wedding. If you don’t mind… I’d really appreciate the ride. Please. It’s a request.”
I stared at her for a moment longer.
This woman.
I sighed inwardly, knowing full well it was an excuse—but nodded once anyway. Before I could even unlock the door, she lit up with visible relief and slid into the passenger seat like she belonged there.
I got in, started the engine, and the car roared to life. Behind us, the convoy of black SUVs followed silently, armed men inside like shadows with purpose.
I didn’t look at her. Not once.
She made her move. She got what she wanted—for now. Let her think she won.
“By the way… thank you,” she said suddenly, voice softer now. “For last night. With Rudra. I wanted to thank you then, but things got… chaotic.”
She fiddled awkwardly with her phone, her fingers twitching on the screen, stealing nervous glances toward me.
I felt the awkwardness in her aura—the vulnerability she was trying to hide behind a veil of gratitude.
But I didn’t bite.
“You don’t need to, Miss Shekhawat,” I replied, voice sharp, cold, detached. A warning disguised as courtesy.
Let her know I don’t do casual conversations. I don’t do friendly rides and warm gestures. I don’t comfort. I don’t reassure.
I calculate.
She was trying to break the silence, to start something—some thread of connection. But I know better. She’s curious. She’s intrigued by the walls I’ve built. And now, she’s determined to peel back the layers of a man she doesn’t understand.
How foolish.
They all think they can step into my world and tame the chaos. They don’t realize—they’re not walking into fire.
They're walking into a storm with no center.
Because Utsav Mehrotra doesn’t judge.
He sees. He analyzes. He observes. And then he lets it all destroy itself—piece by calculated piece.
If she thinks she’s winning me over… she’s already lost.
Because I’m letting her believe she’s winning.
And when you believe you've won—
That’s when I take it all away.
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"Do let me know your thoughts about this chapter in the comments section. If you liked it, please don't forget to vote. Your single vote is enough to give me the courage to keep writing more.
And please, don't judge the characters solely based on the starting chapters. There's so much yet to unfold. Especially Utsav - I know his personality might seem negative at times, but trust me, he's about to go through a powerful journey of transformation.
Let the story breathe a little before forming opinions. Big twists are coming."
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