Flashback
A sleek black Mercedes halted in front of a modest two-storey house nestled in a quiet chennai lane. Its tinted windows reflected the soft afternoon sun. The neighborhood kids paused their cricket game, jaws slack, as the car doors clicked open.
From the driver's side stepped Ishaan, tall, composed, dressed in an impeccably tailored kurta-pajama, a quiet intensity in his eyes. Beside him appeared Advay, holding a box covered with a red velvet cloth, delicate bells tinkling at its edge. Following them was Reyansh, with other boxes,suave and smiling, carrying an aura that screamed old money and quiet power.
The trio walked up to the small iron gate of the house. Ishaan adjusted the cuff of his kurta, and knocked—three polite yet firm taps.
Inside, Raghunanthan opened the gate, still adjusting his reading glasses. The moment he saw the men standing before him, he froze. For a second, he thought he was hallucinating. Three men, exuding class and wealth, were standing at his modest doorstep.
Before he could even ask, Advay stepped forward, extending the box with both hands.
“Namastey uncle ji,” he said politely. “Yeh hamari taraf se ek chota sa gift.”
Meenakshi had now joined him, wiping her hands on her saree pallu. She blinked in confusion as she took the thaal, her eyes widening at the heavy gold-wrapped sweets, a pair of sparkling bangles, and a cash envelope nestled inside. She almost stumbled back.
“Aap sab… kaun hain? Ye sab kya hai?” Raghunathan managed to ask, voice laced with disbelief.
Reyansh smiled and placed a reassuring hand on the uncle's shoulder.
“Uncle ji, namaste. Hum Vikram Shekhawat ke bete hain.”
There was a gasp.
The name dropped like thunder in the small veranda.
The remote slipped slightly from Meenakshi and she barely managed to catch it before it fell. Her lips trembled as she whispered, almost in reverence,
“A-aap... Shekhawat family se hain?”
Ishaan gave a small nod, eyes calm and unwavering.
Without waiting for formalities, he stepped forward and sat on the old but neatly covered sofa in their living room.
He looked directly into the eyes of Raghunathan, his voice steady.
“Aapki beti pasand aa gayi hai. Hum shaadi karna chahte hain unse”
There was silence. Pin-drop silence.
It felt like the walls had leaned in to listen. The clock on the wall ticked a little louder. Even the ceiling fan seemed to slow down.
Raghunanthan and Meenakshi stood frozen, mouths slightly open, eyes darting between the three men. The weight of what had just been said hadn’t fully sunk in.
Then, in a dazed voice, Raghunanthan whispered,
“Ji… aapki hi hai ab se wo…”
Advay stepped forward once more, gently placing the boxes on the table.
“Yeh toh bas ek chhota sa gift hai hamari taraf se. Shaadi ke liye kuch shagun laaye the.”
When they removed the cloth covering the boxes and thaal, Meenakshi gasped again. Her eyes scanned the shining gold bangles, a rich Kanjeevaram saree folded neatly, and a delicate diamond pendant nestled inside a velvet box. She couldn’t even guess their worth. Her hands trembled.
“Ji… wo… shaadi ka kharcha…?” she murmured hesitantly.
Ishaan raised a hand gently. “Uski koi chinta mat kijiye. Sab kuch main karunga. Aap bas aashirwad dijiye.”
The couple looked at each other — a mixture of disbelief, excitement… and greed flashing behind their eyes.
Reyansh chuckled lightly, patting the Raghunanthan on the back.
“Bas 2 din baad shaadi hai, uncle ji. Tayyar rahiye. Dulhan ko sajake taiyar rakhiyega.”
There was no space left for objections. No mention of asking Saanvi.
No discussion.
Just the silent agreement of people who had never seen this much wealth up close and didn’t want to risk losing it.
All they could see now was money… comfort… status.
Raghunanthan and Meenakshi nodded eagerly, wide smiles plastered on their faces.
Flashback ends
The house is unusually quiet. The golden hue of the setting sun seeps through the sheer curtains, casting long shadows on the marble floor. Saanvi enters, her dupatta clinging loosely to her shoulder, her steps light but tired after a long day.
As she sets her bag down, she notices something strange.
Her Chittappa and Chitti—usually strict and indifferent—are standing near the living room, waiting for her. But today… their expressions are soft. Almost affectionate.
Her Chittappa, Raghunathan, steps forward with a rare smile. He gently places his large, calloused palm on Saanvi’s head in a blessing she hasn’t felt in years.
Chitti smiles too, eyes a little glossy, and says with surprising tenderness,
“Eṅgaḷ chella magaḷ periyavaḷāgiviṭṭāḷ… ippōthu thirumaṇa nēram vandhuviṭṭadhu.”
(Our little princess has grown up… now the time for her wedding has come.)
Saanvi’s smile fades instantly. Her heart skips a beat.
"Wedding?"
A chill runs down her spine. She takes a step back, blinking rapidly. Her breath catches in her throat.
“What…?” she whispers, voice barely above a murmur.
Her voice trembles as she speaks in her native language, confusion growing in her eyes:
“Ennaip patri ninaikkāmālē ippadi seivadhaṟkā? Nāṉ andha paiyanaiyē kūda theriyādhu, ānā nīnga en thirumaṇathai avaṉuṭan mudivuseydhuṭṭīnga!”
(How could you do this to me? I don’t even know the boy you’ve fixed my marriage with!)
She looks between them — hoping it’s a misunderstanding. But their silence confirms it.
Meenakshi, her Chitti, suddenly snaps out of her soft act, her eyes narrowing.
“Chupchaap is shaadi ke liye maan ja. Ameer log hain. Tere naseeb khul rahe hain, samajh rahi hai na?”
Saanvi’s lips tremble. Her throat tightens.
Her voice breaks as she pleads, barely able to contain the storm inside her:
“Chitti… aap kaise kar sakte ho aisa mere saath? Meri marzi ke bina? Main us ladke ko jaanti tak nahi… aur rich hai to kya? Usse pyaar to nahi karti main!”
But before she can finish, a sharp sound slices through the room.
SLAP!
Raghunathan’s palm crashes against her cheek. The impact echoes like a gunshot in the silence. Her head jerks to the side. Her earring falls.
Her feet stumble.
And just like that—
Saanvi falls.
Right there, on the cold marble floor. Her cheek burning. Her heart shattered. Her soul silenced.
No one moves to help her. No one speaks. The room feels colder now.
Saanvi stares at the floor for a second, eyes wide with disbelief. Then she slowly picks herself up, her legs shaking. Tears blur her vision, but her pain gives her strength.
She runs. Without a word.
Up the stairs. Past the old photographs. Into her room. She slams the door shut.
LOCK.
The click sounds final. Like the world has shut her out completely.
Inside Saanvi's room
She collapses on the BED. Her body trembles. The walls close in on her.
The moment she's alone, the sobs escape — ugly, raw, and painful. She clutches her pillow like a lifeline.
“Mahadev…”
Her voice cracks as she speaks, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.
“Maine kya galti ki hai jo aap itni sazaa de rahe ho mujhe? Har baar sirf dard kyu diya hai aapne?”
She curls up, knees to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around herself.
The tears flow freely now, unstoppable, her voice choking through every word.
“Aapne hamesha mushkilon mein dala, aur ab ye shaadi… bina meri marzi ke? Main kaise jiyungi aise?”
She clutches a photograph from her bedside table — a fading picture of her Appa and Amma. Their smiles look frozen in a world that no longer exists.
She presses it to her chest.
“Appa… Amma… I miss you,” she whispers, her voice breaking into hiccups.
She gazes at the picture again, tears falling like rain.
“Aap yahan hote toh… kabhi mere saath aisa nahi hota. Aap meri baat sunte. Mujhe poochte ki main kya chahti hoon…”
Her body wracks with sobs. Her soul cries out.
“Appa… Amma… please… please come back… I can’t do this alone…”
She pulls the blanket over herself like a cocoon, like she’s trying to hide from the world. Her tears wet the pillow, her fists clutch the fabric tightly.
Eventually, exhaustion wins.
She sobs herself to sleep, the photograph still clutched to her chest, the only thing anchoring her to a life she once knew.
---
Next Morning...
The first light of dawn slowly filters into Saanvi’s room, brushing across her tear-stained face. The room is still, the silence thick, as though even the walls are mourning with her. Her eyes are swollen, her pillow damp, and her body exhausted from crying herself to sleep.
A soft knock at the door breaks the stillness.
Before she can respond, the door creaks open, and Meenakshi, enters. Her expression is cold and disgusted.
In her hand, she holds a brand-new phone box and a small piece of paper.
She walks up to Saanvi, places them on the bed, and says flatly:
“This is from Ishaan. He’s sent you a new phone. And this…”
She holds out the note, “…is his number.”
Saanvi sits up slowly, numb and quiet.
She takes the phone and the number without looking up.
Then without a word, she gets off the bed and walks out of the hall and into her room again, closing the door behind her with a quiet finality.
Saanvi sits on her bed, staring at the unopened phone box. Her fingers hover over it, hesitant, but eventually she opens it.
The phone glows to life in her hand. She types in the number.
It rings. Once. Twice.
Then —
“Hello?”
Ishaan’s voice came calm, familiar, distant.
Her voice cuts through like a blade:
“I want to meet you. Right now.”
There’s silence on the other end.
“…Saanvi—”
“Just send me your address,” she says, voice cold and unwavering.
A pause. Then the message pops up on her phone.
She doesn’t even wait to respond.
A rickshaw barrels down the narrow roads, weaving through traffic. Saanvi sits in the backseat, her dupatta flying behind her, her eyes stormy with fury.
She doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch.
Every heartbeat echoes with anger.
Today, she wasn’t going to be silenced.
The suite is nothing short of royal, large windows, plush carpets, a gentle scent of coffee lingering in the air.
Inside, Ishaan Shekhawat is seated at a long glass table, casually flipping through wedding plans and business proposals with Advay and Reyansh by his side. Laughter bubbles between them as they discuss vendors, logistics, and guest lists.
Then —
SLAM.
The door swings open violently.
The papers flutter. Silence falls.
Saanvi stands in the doorway, eyes blazing, chest heaving. Her sudden presence is like a lightning bolt slicing through calm skies.
Advay blinked
“…Is that…?”
Reyansh gasped
“…Bhabhi?”
Before either can move, she storms in. Her eyes locked on Ishaan. Her footsteps sharp and deliberate.
She doesn’t stop. Doesn’t hesitate.
And then —
SMACK.
A loud, clean slap echoes through the room. Ishaan’s head turns slightly from the force. Reyansh gasps. Advay freezes mid-sip of coffee.
For a second, everything is still.
Saanvi voice shaking with rage..
“Who do you think you are?”
“Just because you’re rich, you think you can do whatever you want?”
“This marriage,this decision, is NOT yours to make!”
She steps back, her chest heaving. Her voice rises with every word, like thunder rolling closer.
“You didn’t ask me. You didn’t even think about what I want. This marriage, this deal,it’s not happening. Do you hear me?!”
Her voice cracks with fury as she screams:
“ISHAAN SHEKHAWAAAAAAT!”
The name hits the walls like a storm.
Advay chokes on his laughter. Reyansh whispers, “Damn. That was hot.”
Both try to contain their reactions, but the smirks are obvious.
Ishaan, meanwhile, slowly lifts his hand to his cheek… and smiles.
He stands, slowly adjusting the cuff of his shirt, still looking at her with quiet calmness. Like the slap hadn’t fazed him — like he had been expecting it.
Ishaan quitely said
“There she is.”
Saanvi shouted
“What?”
Ishaan said softly.
“The real Saanvi. The one I wanted to meet… not the quiet girl who says yes to everything.”
Saanvi's voice low and angry..
“This isn’t some drama, Ishaan. This is my life.”
Ishaan gently said.
“I know. And I don’t want to be the villain in your story.”
“But I also don’t want to be the stranger you slap and leave without listening to.”
She clenches her jaw, her fists still tight.
Saanvi:
“I make my own decisions. Not you. Not my Uncle and aunt. Not anyone.”
She turns sharply, ready to walk out.
Her dupatta flutters behind her as she turns sharply, head high, rage burning in her eyes. Her steps are determined — she's about to storm out.
But Ishaan moves swiftly.
Without warning, he grabs her wrist — not roughly, but firm enough to stop her.
Before she can even protest, he pulls her toward him in one smooth motion.
Her body collides into his chest.
Her breath hitches.
The sudden proximity — his cologne, his heartbeat, the warmth of his chest against her forehead — sends an involuntary shiver down her spine.
Ishaan’s smirk deepens.
His eyes twinkle with mischief, lips barely hiding his amusement.
Reyansh and Advay, who had just returned with files, freeze at the doorway.
Their jaws drop.
They exchange a look — utterly shocked at the visual before them.
Saanvi, the fierce tigress, chest-to-chest with their usually cold, reserved elder brother, who now looks like he’s enjoying himself far too much.
Reyansh whispered to Advay teasingly,
"Chalo chalo, bhaiya aur bhabhi ko thoda akela samay bitane dete hain."
Advay chuckled and said,
"Haan...haan… warna hum thappad ka agla shikaar na ban jaayein."
They tip-toe out with exaggerated sneaky steps, closing the door gently behind them, muffling their laughter.
Saanvi immediately pushes Ishaan away, her face flushed red — from embarrassment or anger, even she doesn’t know.
Ishaan tug a strand of her hair behind her ear and said, "Hum to yaha apne company ke kaam se aaye the..kya pata tha ek junglee billi se pala pad jayega"
Saanvi's jaw tightened,
"Yahi junglee billi aapka muh bhi noch legi!"
"I prefer my back rather than my face, honestly." Ishaan grinned
Saanvi’s eyes widen.
Her brain takes a second to register the double meaning in his line.
"Nir-lajj pra-ni!" She gasped
"Abhi toh nirlajjta dikhayi kaha hai maine?"
Saanvi freezes.
Her whole body tenses.
Her breath catches again.
Something in her eyes flickers — panic, anger, and something else… unspoken.
She slaps him again — this time, lightly. More like a warning.
Ishaan chuckles, rubbing his cheek as if proud.
"Lagta hai ab zindagi bhar yeh thappad khaane padenge."
Saanvi glares at him, nostrils flaring.
Saanvi firmly said, "Yeh shaadi nahi ho sakti, samjhe aap!"
Ishaan smiled softly, "Aur yeh shaadi hum karke rahenge, samjhi aap."
Saanvi growled, "Aap… Aap… samajh nahi rahe hai!"
Ishaan leans in, his voice low and near her ear. His lips brush just barely against her earlobe.
"Samjha dijiye agar aap samjha sakti hai to"
Her shoulders sink. Her lips part.
The fury begins to melt.
Saanvi’s voice breaks as she speaks.
“My parents… Appa and Amma… died when I was just a child. After that, my life stopped being mine. I became someone else’s duty… their burden. My uncle and aunt didn’t raise me, they tolerated me. Reminded me every day that I survived on their pity. But I’m not weak. I want to stand on my own. I want to prove to the world, I am not a burden.”
Tears brim in her blue eyes.
Ishaan listens silently, his face now serious, the mischief gone.
“I promise you, Saanvi…You will never feel unwanted again. You will never feel small, invisible, or forgotten.I will give you every happiness.And I will protect your strength, not take it away.”
Their eyes lock.
Saanvi’s watery blue gaze meets Ishaan’s deep amber one.
And in his eyes,she sees it.
Truth. Integrity. No pity. Just… respect.
“Fine. I’ll marry you. But don’t expect anything from this marriage.” Her voice shaked
“Sure.” She smiled softly
“I’m doing this to get away from my uncle and aunt, forever.” Saanvi said
“Understood.” Ishaan nodded
“One condition. Aadhya, my best friend,the one your car hit? She’s coming with me. Wherever I go, she goes.” She said
“As you wish… soon-to-be Mrs. Shekhawat.” Ishaan grinned.
Saanvi glares at him, annoyed again, and storms out.
As soon as Saanvi turned to leave, her dupatta swirled with her movement like a final wave of stormy defiance. The room, which had just echoed with her voice and fury, now felt silent… stunned.
Her heels clicked against the polished marble as she strode out, rage still simmering in her eyes—but just as she crossed the threshold of the suite—
A soft metallic clink.
One of her silver anklets slipped off unnoticed, falling gracefully onto the white floor like a tiny fallen secret.
Ishaan noticed it instantly.
He bent down slowly, picked it up with careful fingers—like it was something fragile… sacred.
The cold metal still held the warmth of her skin.
He stared at it for a long second, his expression unreadable at first—somewhere between amused and… affected.
And then, softly… with a smile curling at the corner of his lips, he murmured under his breath:
"Jate-jate humare dil ki dhadkan bhi tej karke chali gayin."
He slipped the anklet into his pocket, clutching it gently almost protectively
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