Chapter Three
845 Words
The Singhania mansion felt suffocating that morning. The walls that had always whispered power now seemed to echo fear.
Shreya and Aadhya stood together in the study. Their posture was straight, their voices steady, but beneath the surface, Shreya’s mind raced with worry.
“We’re not marrying the Shekhawat brothers,” Shreya said firmly.
The words landed in the room like a hammer.
Her father, Rajeev Singhania, froze mid-step, pen in hand. “Excuse me?”
Shreya met his gaze evenly. “We will not. Please cancel the engagement.”
Her mother’s hands tightened around her saree. “Shreya… Aadhya… you don’t understand—”
“I understand perfectly,” Shreya cut in, voice rising. “We understand the contracts, the alliances, the company. But we are not pawns. Not in your deals. And certainly not at the expense of Aadhya’s life.”
Aadhya spoke for the first time, quiet but resolute. “I don’t want to marry Sahil Shekhawat. I don’t even know him. I can’t pretend it’s… fine.”
Rajeev’s face darkened, veins stiffening in his forehead. “You know what this means? The engagement has already been announced. Everyone knows. The invitations have gone out. Canceling now… it will ruin our reputation.”
Shreya stepped closer. “Our reputation isn’t more important than Aadhya’s future. Or mine. We won’t go through with this, Papa. End of discussion.”
Her mother tried again. “But think of the alliances, the Shekhawats… this is strategic—”
“No,” Shreya interrupted firmly. “This is not strategy. This is our lives. You have made your decisions. Now we are making ours.”
A tension-filled silence settled over the room.
Shekhawat industries:
Rudransh Shekhawat paced across the floor of his office, overlooking the city below. The news had reached him — through whispers, rumors, and a very determined grapevine.
The Singhania sisters had refused the marriages. The engagement was being canceled.
“Impossible,” he muttered. The word barely scratched the surface of his fury.
It wasn’t just about losing a bride.
It was the public humiliation. The media knew about the engagement. Every socialite, every rival, every investor — all would perceive this as a failure, a crack in the Shekhawat family’s armor.
And in Rudransh’s world, reputation was everything.
He slammed his fist against the polished table. “How could they… how could anyone…?”
His jaw tightened. The city lights reflected in his eyes, sharp and cold.
“They don’t understand,” he whispered. “No one does. But they will pay for this. Not because of pride… but because the world cannot see the Shekhawats humiliated.”
He stopped pacing. His mind calculated swiftly: strategies, countermoves, damage control.
But deep down, beneath the anger and the reputation concerns, one fact gnawed at him.
He had been expecting Shreya. He had not expected her to refuse.
And that refusal… felt personal.
The news had spread like wildfire. The Singhania sisters had refused the Shekhawat marriages. The engagement was being canceled.
Sahil Shekhawat leaned back in his leather chair, a lazy smirk on his face. “Well… that’s perfect,” he said, tossing his cufflink onto the table.
His assistant raised an eyebrow. “Perfect, sir?”
“Absolutely,” Sahil said, stretching. “No wedding, no responsibilities, no drama. I can continue my… extracurricular activities. The world can wait. I’ve got my freedom back.”
He laughed softly, the kind of laugh that made it impossible to take him seriously. The weight of the situation, the alliances, the media buzz — none of it registered.
Meanwhile, across the city, Rudransh Shekhawat’s office was darker. The blinds were drawn, the skyline barely visible behind the glass. He stood rigid, fists clenched on the polished desk.
“Impossible,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
He had been planning — calculating — the perfect marriage. The perfect bride. The perfect alliance. And now… everything had been undermined.
A bride refused him. His reputation had been questioned in the eyes of the families, the media, and every powerful contact he had cultivated.
And he would not allow it.
“No one plays with Rudransh Shekhawat,” he whispered, voice low, sharp. “No one.”
He turned to the wall-mounted display of news clippings: society columns, whispers of the engagement, a small headline questioning the Shekhawat-Singhania alliance.
“A joke,” he spat. “A joke at my expense.”
He paused, eyes narrowing. “They wanted to humiliate me? To shame my family? To destroy the name of the Shekhawats?”
His jaw tightened. “Hell will have a new meaning. And I’ll make sure they understand it. Every Singhania will feel the consequences of this.”
Unlike Sahil, whose mind flitted toward carefree indulgence, Rudransh’s thoughts were singular. His bride would be his — and anyone who dared defy him would learn the cost of playing with his reputation.
There was no hesitation. No mercy.
Because in Rudransh’s world, a betrayal of honor was the only thing worth remembering.
And revenge was inevitable.
- Writer
