ARANYA : THE HIDDEN THING

RUSSIA – CEO'S CABIN A tall man sat on a black leather chair, back straight, exuding an aura colder than the Russian winter outside his floor-to-ceiling windows. Atharva Singhania, 6'2" of pure dominance, was a storm in a three-piece suit. His dark hair was neatly styled, his jawline sharp enough to slice glass. But it was his cold grey eyes—the kind that could freeze fire—that made grown men stutter. His presence demanded obedience, his silence screamed louder than any words. "Who is Vish, and why didn’t I get her information until now?" The chilling question slipped from his lips like venom, paralyzing the room. The men standing before him began to visibly shake. “W-we’re trying, boss,” one of them dared to speak, voice trembling like a leaf in a storm. Atharva raised a brow. His gaze alone sent shivers straight to the man’s ribs. “Trying?” he repeated, tone as cold as steel dipped in snow. Just then, the tension in the room broke as someone barged in without knocking. All heads turned, relief washing over the employees like a flood. “Atharva bro! What are you doing?” Here comes Aaditya Singhania, the exact opposite of his older brother. Messy hair, hoodie, chips in one hand, mischief in the other. He plopped down onto the sofa like it was his own room. Atharva glared, the temperature of the room dropping 10 degrees. “What is this behavior, Aaditya? When will you grow up?" he asked icily. Aaditya grinned and said "never" before stuffing a chip in his mouth and leaving crumbs all over the couch. Atharva sighed, “Dismissed,” and the terrified employees rushed out as if a demon had been unleashed behind them. “So, bro, what are you brooding over today?” Aaditya asked cheerfully, already kicking his shoes off. “Stop turning my cabin into a snack bar,” Atharva muttered without emotion. Just then, a knock came from the door. “COME IN!” Aaditya shouted before Atharva could. Vyom Khurana, Atharva’s ever-composed assistant, entered with his usual poise. “Good morning, Boss,” he greeted. “Any progress?” Atharva asked. “Yes, sir. I found her location,” Vyom replied, handing over his iPad. Atharva stared at the screen, and a rare smirk tugged at his lips. “Vish, found you" he whispered. “Get ready. We’re going to India.” He stood up and walked out without another word. Aaditya scrambled after him with chips still in hand, and Vyom followed with a subtle nod. They all reached to Atharva's private jet. AFTER A FEW HOURS - INDIA The jet landed smoothly on Atharva’s private villa grounds. Aaditya jumped off like an excited puppy. “Bro! I’m going home!” he cheered. Atharva turned to him, his expression unreadable. “You didn’t tell anyone about my arrival, right?” Atharva asked his cold tone. Aaditya paused, chuckled nervously, and bolted. “BROTHER! MOM SAID YOU BETTER COME HOME OR SHE'LL THROW A FIT!” he yelled over his shoulder before disappearing down the driveway. Atharva massaged his temples. “Tell the driver to get the car ready,” he instructed Vyom and walked toward his room. ATHARVA’S ROOM The room was an extension of Atharva himself black walls, grey accents, a king-sized bed with crisp black and white sheets. The atmosphere was sleek, cold, commanding. Atharva stripped off his shirt, his toned, scarred chest reflected in the mirror. A bullet wound stood out like a story untold. He threw the shirt aside and stepped into a cold shower. Later, a towel wrapped around his waist, his sharp body still dripping, he changed into a tailored business suit and headed out. Atharva went towards his car and sat on the back seat. Vyom followed him and sat beside him. SINGHANIA MANSION The car stopped outside an ancient ancestral mansion. Dozens of maids greeted him as he stepped out, ignoring them completely. Atharva went inside the huge mansion. “Atharva, my child!” Simran Singhania, His mother , elegant in her 50s, came rushing toward him. "How are you my son?" Atharva bowed slightly, touching her feet.“I’m fine, Mom,” he replied. Kunal Singhania, his father, sat on a leather couch, newspaper folded neatly in his lap. Atharva went towards his father and touched his feet. His father blessed him "So how is the business going". "Good" Atharva replied. “BRUMM—UMM—OTHER!” Aaditya stumbled down the stairs, mouth stuffed with food. “Aadi! Don’t talk with food in your mouth!” Simran scolded. Aaditya swallowed. “BROTHER! MOM’S PLANNING YOUR WEDDING !". The hall went silent. Atharva turned and started walking towards the exit. "Atharva!” Simran called. "I will not get married" Atharva said coldly leaving no room for argument. “I’m not asking. I’m ordering. If you don’t marry her, get ready to see my dead face!” Atharva froze. A small, unseen smirk curled on Simran’s lips. “Think carefully before stepping out,” she added and went upstairs towards her room. Kunal walked past him. “The girl’s name is Aranya Sinha. Granddaughter of a bigshot. Good for business.” Atharva didn’t respond. Kunal too followed Simran and went towards his room. “BROTHER—” Aaditya began. Atharva glared. Aaditya turned and bolted back up the stairs. “Aranya Sinha…” Atharva muttered coldly, retreating to his room with thoughts already burning.