Maya
A collective gasp rippled through the room the moment that poor waitress accidentally spilled wine all over Utsav. I stood frozen, a few feet away with Shravni, as the music came to a halt and the crowd shifted with unease. Everyone's eyes darted toward him. But mine-they were wide with something else. Fear.
Because only I knew the truth.
Utsav Mehrotra wasn't just some wealthy, powerful man walking among socialites in designer suits. He was something far more dangerous-a cold-blooded mafia king who ruled the underworld with silent ruthlessness. One mistake could cost that waitress her life. One wrong move and blood could be spilled right here.
But to my surprise... nothing happened.
Utsav didn't yell. Didn't glare. Didn't lift a finger in rage.
Instead, he simply dismissed the waitress with a flick of his hand-calm, composed, as if she were nothing more than a harmless fly on his tailored suit.
Of course.
To the world, Utsav wore the mask of a gentleman-an enigmatic, distant billionaire with unshakable composure. But beneath that façade was a man who ran empires built on fear, fire, and silent wars. Only I knew both sides of him. And yet, I could never predict which one I'd see next.
A soft sigh of relief escaped my lips as the waitress stumbled away in a hurry, still clutching the remnants of her dignity. She was lucky. Very lucky.
Then he turned and walked away-his tall frame disappearing up the staircase, every step calm, precise, untouchable.
And that's when it hit me.
The shirt.
I gasped inwardly, my eyes widening as panic raced through my chest.
"Shit."
Earlier today, in a moment of pure insanity-or affection, or maybe both-I had taken one of Utsav's shirts from his closet and pressed a soft kiss over it. The same white shirt he always wore on formal nights. My red lipstick had left a visible imprint right over the pocket. And then, foolishly, dreamily, I'd placed it back exactly where it was.
Now if he was heading up to change...
"Aaj toh gayi kaam se," I whispered under my breath.
There was still hope, though. A miracle. Maybe he wouldn't notice. Maybe his mind would be too distracted.
Or maybe... I was about to find out what death by mafia looked like firsthand.
Before I could spiral deeper into panic, an unexpected scene in the corner snapped me back to reality.
Aarav's voice cut through the air like a whip.
"What the hell are you doing, miss?!"
I turned toward the commotion. Ishanvi stood in front of him, holding an empty wine glass with mischief dancing in her eyes.
"Oops," she said with exaggerated innocence. "My mistake. But intentional."
Aarav's jaw clenched. "Intentional?! What the hell?! You threw red wine on me?"
She tilted her head and smiled sweetly. "Oh please, consider it a small price for what you did during the mehendi. You ruined my sari, remember? Bursting into the event like some maniac from a mental hospital."
Aarav's brows shot up in disbelief. "Unbelievable. And you, teekhi mirchi," he growled. "Don't worry. I don't waste time on pain-in-the-ass women. I have better company to enjoy."
Ishanvi folded her arms. "Yeah, I saw your 'company' at the mehendi. For Utsav's best friend, you sure suck at being serious. All style, zero substance."
Aarav pointed a finger at her, eyes burning, but before he could retort, Ishanvi turned on her heel and walked away-toward me and Shravni, who was now openly smirking.
"What was that?" I asked Ishanvi as she reached us, trying to keep my laughter in check.
She shrugged dramatically. "Oh, nothing much. Just me giving that bagadbilla a taste of his own medicine."
Shravni burst into laughter. "Bagadbilla?! That's new!"
"Well," she said with a wink, "men like him need to be knocked down a peg or two. Sometimes, they need a little chaos to learn some manners."
I shook my head, amused and utterly entertained. "You're reckless, all of you."
Shravni raised her glass. "Bold, not reckless."
And just like that, the tension eased. We were three women standing tall in a world run by complicated men, choosing fire over fear, laughter over control.
And in that moment, despite the storm brewing upstairs, I was proud.
Proud of the chaos we carried in our hearts. Proud of our courage.
Because if they were the kings of control-then we? We were the queens of rebellion.
As laughter rippled through the grand hall and music pulsed softly in the background, my friends and I were still recovering from Ishanvi's wine attack on Aarav-her very creative form of revenge. Shravni stood beside me, clearly entertained by the drama, while I shook my head, amused but trying to maintain composure.
Then, suddenly, Aditi rushed toward us.
Her face was pale. Panic clung to her like a second skin.
"Guys... kaand ho gaya," she said, breathless and urgent.
The energy around us instantly shifted. I straightened, my amusement dissolving. Ishanvi and Shravni, too, were on high alert.
"Relax, Aditi. Breathe. What happened?" I asked, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible.
Aditi looked at all three of us, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her voice cracked when she spoke.
"Aadi's dad found out... about us. About the wedding."
For a heartbeat, none of us moved. Her words echoed in my ears like a slow, creeping threat. I looked at Ishanvi, who blinked in disbelief.
"Wait, what? I thought you said you and Aadi were getting married secretly-like, completely off the radar, except for Utsav and maybe a few close ones?"
Ishanvi's brows furrowed, and Shravni turned sharply toward Aditi.
"Hold on-what? Secret marriage? No family involved? And you didn't think to tell me this?" Shravni half-joked, her hands going up in mock surrender. "How am I always the last to know the good gossip?"
"Avni, please. Not now," I interjected, trying not to let Aditi's growing distress spiral further. "She's clearly shaken. We need to calm her down, not grill her for updates."
Gently, I wrapped my arm around Aditi's trembling shoulders and guided her toward the plush sitting area tucked near the window. Ishanvi and Shravni followed, both now serious, sensing the gravity of the situation.
Once seated, I clasped Aditi's hand in mine. "Tell me everything. From the start."
She wiped her tear-streaked cheek, swallowing hard as she tried to compose herself. Her voice trembled.
"Rohit called Aditya. He told him that his father just booked a flight to India. He's coming. Today, Maya. Not later. Now. What else could it mean? He must've found out about us. Our marriage. He's coming to stop it."
The desperation in her tone cracked something inside me. I had never seen Aditi-usually so composed and confident-this shaken.
She continued, choking back a sob. "He's always controlled Aadi. His every move, his decisions, his career. Everything. Aadi finally rebelled when he met me. He started keeping secrets from him-first the relationship, then the engagement, and now this wedding. But now... now it's all going to be over."
Her voice broke entirely, tears streaming down her face as she buried her face in her hands.
I passed her a glass of water, brushing her back gently. "Hey... hey. Look at me. You have to breathe, okay? Just breathe."
She took the glass with shaking hands and sipped, still trembling.
Ishanvi, ever the voice of defiance, stepped closer. "Aditi... this is Aditya we're talking about. The guy who skipped the final round of his international seminar just to make it to your birthday dinner. The same guy who fought with half his board members because one of them made a snide comment about your career. You really think he'd back down now?"
"She's right," Shravni added, nodding. "He loves you. I've seen it in his eyes. He looks at you like you're the only thing keeping him grounded."
"But his father-" Aditi whispered, almost as if saying it louder would summon the man himself.
"-is a businessman, not God," I cut in. "Let him try. This isn't some corporate merger he can strong-arm into submission. This is love. This is your life."
Aditi still looked unconvinced. Her lips quivered, her mascara slightly smudged. She wasn't just worried about the man showing up-she was terrified that history might repeat itself, that Aditya might choose blood over love.
I scanned the party, my eyes darting across the shimmering room, searching for a familiar figure. Aditya was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Utsav. Were they upstairs? Strategizing? Preparing?
God, I hoped so.
But a knot twisted in my stomach. I had heard about Aditya's father. Even in the elite circles, the man was legendary-and not in a good way. Ruthless. Calculated. Always featured in the top financial magazines, known for breaking empires and building new ones overnight. His reputation wasn't just about wealth-it was about power. And his only heir, his only weakness, was Aditya.
If he was really flying in unannounced, it wasn't to bless a marriage.
It was to end it.
And something told me, when that man walked into this mansion... this entire fairytale could start unraveling.
"This marriage is happening."
The voice cut through the air like a blade-sharp, unwavering, and final.
We all turned instinctively toward the grand staircase. Aditya stood tall, his posture exuding resolve. Beside him, slightly behind and a step higher, was Utsav-his hands casually tucked into his pockets, the faint glow of chandeliers catching the edges of his clean white shirt. His gaze, though quiet, held a storm beneath its surface. Cold. Calculative. Watching everything.
But all our attention was pulled back to Aditya as he descended the stairs with swift, deliberate strides. Each step echoed with purpose. There was no trace of hesitation on his face-only the fire of a man determined to protect what was his.
He reached us and stopped just a breath away. His eyes, intense and unwavering, locked onto Aditi's.
"Do you hear me?" he said, his voice calm but laced with iron. "This marriage is happening. No matter what my father says."
No one moved. No one breathed. The force of his conviction momentarily froze us.
Then, in a smooth motion, Aditya took another step forward, knelt before Aditi, and took both her trembling hands into his own. His grip was firm, grounding, as if willing strength into her veins.
"Look at me, love," he whispered, coaxing her face upward.
Her teary eyes met his.
"Calm down. Breathe. Relax. Okay? No one... no one can tear us apart. Do you hear me?" His voice dropped low, filled with a kind of quiet rage that made his next words more powerful. "NO. ONE. CAN. TEAR. US. APART."
Aditi stared at him, her lip trembling. But then-she nodded. A small, uncertain nod. Her breath still shaky, her eyes still red, but there was something different in them now.
Hope.
Maybe Aditya wasn't the rebellious one they all feared. Maybe he wasn't the boy running away from his father's empire. Maybe he was a man who had finally found something-or someone-worth standing his ground for. Someone he could fight the world for.
From beside me, I heard a muffled chuckle. I glanced over to see Ishanvi smiling softly, her eyes misty.
But of course, it was Shravni who broke the emotional silence.
"Oho jija ji," she teased playfully, arms folded across her chest. "You're already on your knees before the wedding? Impressive."
The tension shattered instantly. We all laughed-relieved, grateful, lighter.
Aditya looked up at her with a smirk and replied without missing a beat, "Ji saali sahiba, I'd kneel a thousand times for the woman I love."
And with that, he winked at Aditi, who immediately looked away, her cheeks turning a soft pink. Ishanvi clutched her chest, mock-swooning, while Shravni whistled.
For a moment, everything felt right.
Laughter. Love. Friendship.
But I couldn't fully join in.
Because my eyes-inevitably, uncontrollably-drifted toward the man standing a little distance away.
Utsav.
Still by the stairs, leaning against the balustrade. Hands in his pockets. His expression unreadable. Everyone else was caught in the whirlwind of emotions-but not him. He stood still. Observing. Calculating. The glint in his eyes was almost mechanical.
Was he truly unaffected? Or was he just too good at hiding it?
My gaze slipped lower, to his shirt. Crisp white. Clean. Not the one I'd kissed that morning when I'd found myself recklessly close to him. So... had he seen the lipstick mark after all? Did he know I'd left it there?
Had he changed because he noticed?
Or had he noticed and simply chosen not to react?
Decoding Utsav Mehrotra was like chasing shadows in a dark maze. Every time I thought I understood a piece of him, he'd shift, subtly but significantly, like sand slipping through fingers.
And yet... I kept trying.
I kept wanting to understand him.
"Now go," Aditya's voice brought me back to the present. He had risen from the floor and was gently nudging Aditi. "Go get ready. We're sticking to the timeline we decided. Two hours from now... you'll be my bride."
Aditi looked up at him, hesitant. "Really, Aadi? Even after this? Your dad-"
He interrupted her gently, but firmly. "No father, no legacy, no empire can stop me now. We're getting married, Aditi. That's final."
She exhaled slowly. Nodded. Then threw her arms around his neck and clung to him like a lifeline. I saw her lips move against his ear-whispering something none of us could hear. His arms wrapped around her tightly, as if reassuring her that no matter what was coming, they'd face it together.
I watched the scene quietly, my thoughts beginning to spiral again.
Yes, the moment was romantic. Powerful. A defiant declaration of love.
But beneath the joy, there was a crackle of tension in the air.
The calm before a storm.
Because Aditya's father hadn't arrived yet.
And when he did... he would not come empty-handed. He wouldn't come like a father. He would come like a businessman.
A man with an empire to protect and a son he considered part of his legacy-not a free spirit.
We didn't know if chaos would follow. Or destruction. Or both.
And yet, amidst all that uncertainty, Utsav remained deadly calm. Too calm.
Almost like... he already knew what was coming..
We escorted Aditi to her room, preparing her to become a bride again-only this time, against the tide of her own family. The hallway echoed with hurried footsteps and muffled whispers, but just as we turned the corner, my steps faltered.
My gaze snapped to the left, drawn instinctively to a figure I wished I could unsee.
Natasha Khandelwal.
She was standing far too close to Utsav.
Clingy. Sweet. Overdone. Like syrup that makes your throat burn instead of soothe it.
My eyes narrowed, and a slow burn crawled up my spine. Natasha was laughing-tilting her head, brushing invisible lint off his arm-and Utsav, as usual, stood distant and composed, his hands tucked into his pockets like he had no interest in the world around him. His expression was unreadable.
But Natasha... she was trying. Trying too hard.
My jaw clenched. I could almost feel my fingers curling into fists. The need to walk over there, yank her hand off him, and remind her just how not welcome she was nearly overpowered me.
"Damn this meethi chashni," I muttered under my breath, forcing my legs to keep moving.
We finally reached Aditi's room. I pushed the intrusive thoughts aside, only to have Aditya enter with his usual commanding presence. He gestured behind him.
"This is Siya Shukla," he announced. "She'll be Aditi's stylist today. Her team will help the rest of you. You've got two hours. I don't like delays."
He left after giving Aditi a look filled with something close to tenderness, the kind that can only be born from defiance and love combined.
Ishanvi and Shravni excused themselves, heading to their respective rooms to begin their own preparations, but I stayed behind, trying to shake off the lingering storm cloud hovering over me.
But I couldn't.
My mind was still back there-on Natasha and Utsav. On the way her hand brushed his sleeve. The way she looked at him as if he were already hers.
What were they talking about?
Were they standing too close?
Why was she smiling like that?
Was he...was he interested in her?
These questions swirled like a storm in my head, and I felt myself sinking into them, slowly and helplessly, as if trapped in quicksand.
"Maya?" Aditi's voice pulled me back to reality. Her brow was furrowed, her tone laced with concern.
I turned around. "It's nothing," I replied quickly, then sighed, my voice laced with frustration. "Actually...it's Utsav and Natasha. They're messing with my head."
Aditi's lips curled into a knowing smirk. "I see. So their closeness is finally cracking the ice around our queen?"
I rolled my eyes, hating how easily she could read me. "Shut up, Aditi," I snapped, though without any real venom.
She chuckled. "Alright, alright. No teasing. But seriously, Maya... Utsav's not interested in anyone. You know that. He doesn't even believe in love."
Her words felt like a balm against my anxiety. I exhaled deeply, allowing her reminder to ground me.
Of course. How could I forget?
Utsav Mehrotra-the man with a fortress for a heart. The man who treats emotions like enemies and love like a fable written for fools. Still, seeing Natasha drape herself around him, even in his indifference, ignited something wild inside me.
"Yeah, I know," I muttered, mostly to myself. "Still... I don't trust her. And I don't trust this calm either. You get ready, okay? I'll go change too. We can't afford to be late-especially when his dad is bound to create chaos."
I left Aditi's room, but my steps were slow, my mind still held hostage by the images of Natasha and Utsav.
There was something off. Something wrong.
Utsav had been too calm, too still-like a man standing on a battlefield before the first cannonball drops. No flicker of tension. No indication of surprise. Just silent calculation behind those cold, storm-gray eyes.
He knows something.
Something we don't.
Maybe about Aditya's sudden determination. Maybe about his father's next move. Or maybe about me.
And despite all the chaos, all the uncertainty, Utsav remained utterly unreadable-as if he was playing a game that only he knew the rules of. As if he already knew the outcome.
But I've learned to read signs, even in silence. Especially in silence.
He might think he's untouchable. He might think no one can understand him. But I'm watching. I'm learning.
And one thing is for sure-
Whatever secrets he's hiding behind that calm exterior, I'll uncover them. Piece by piece. Truth by brutal truth.
Because I've already decided.
Utsav Mehrotra, you are mine.
And I'm not going to let anyone take you away. Not Natasha. Not your secrets. Not even yourself.
You may not believe in love, but I do.
And if I have to wage war to make you see it, then so be it.
Even if I burn in the process.
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