Chapter One
1231 Words
The crystal chandelier trembled slightly as Shreya Singhania slammed the study door shut behind her.
“You cannot be serious.”
Her voice didn’t shake. It never did. Not in boardrooms. Not in shareholder meetings. And certainly not now.
Across the mahogany desk, her father, Mr. Mahendra Singhania,didn’t look up immediately. He finished signing a document before placing the pen down with deliberate calm.
“It’s already decided.”
“Decided?” Shreya let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “You’re discussing our lives like a merger, Papa.”
Her mother stood near the window, silk saree rustling softly, fingers nervously twisting the edge of her pallu. “Shreya, lower your voice.”
“No, Maa. Not today.”
She turned back to her father, eyes blazing.
“It’s fine. You want an alliance with the Shekhawats? Fine. You want me to marry Rudransh Shekhawat for business expansion? Fine. I understand strategy. I understand sacrifice.” Her voice hardened. “But why is Aadhya part of this?”
Silence.
Her father finally met her gaze. “Because this alliance strengthens both families twice over.”
“She is twenty-one!” Shreya shot back. “Twenty-one, Papa. She still asks Maa what color outfit she should wear to a party.”
“Aadhya is an adult,” he said evenly.
“She’s innocent.” Shreya’s control cracked for the first time. “She doesn’t even know this is a contract marriage.”
Her mother stepped forward. “We will tell her.”
“When?” Shreya demanded. “After the engagement? After she’s standing in a bridal lehenga next to a man five years older than her?”
“A five-year difference is nothing,” her father replied sharply. “Sahil Shekhawat is educated, responsible, and from a respected family.”
“That’s not the point!”
Her voice rose despite herself.
“The point is she believes in love, Papa. In stupid, fairy-tale love. She thinks marriages happen because two people choose each other—not because two businessmen shook hands over whisky.”
Her father’s expression darkened. “Watch your tone.”
“Then watch your decisions!”
The words echoed against the walls.
For a second, no one spoke.
Shreya inhaled slowly, forcing herself to steady. This wasn’t about rebellion. It was about protection.
“You want to use me?” she said quietly. “Fine. I’m the elder daughter. I’ve always known I’d carry the weight of this family. I’ll do it.”
Her throat tightened.
“But leave Aadhya out of it.”
Her mother’s eyes softened. “Shreya… this is for her future.”
“No,” Shreya whispered. “This is for the company.”
Her father stood up then, authority radiating from him.
“The decision is final. The Shekhawats have agreed. Both marriages will take place together. The media announcement goes out tomorrow.”
Shreya felt something inside her settle—not acceptance, but resolve.
“You didn’t even ask her,” she said.
“She will understand.”
Shreya’s jaw clenched.
“No,” she replied. “She won’t.”
And as she turned to leave the room, one thought burned through her mind—
If anyone was going to protect Aadhya from becoming collateral in a business deal, it would be her.
Even if she had to burn the contract down herself.
Aadhya’s room was a world away from the cold heaviness of their father’s study.
Fairy lights draped across the headboard. Soft music hummed in the background. Sketchbooks and half-finished watercolors lay scattered on the floor. The scent of jasmine oil lingered in the air.
She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, laughing at something on her phone when Shreya entered.
“You’re back early,” Aadhya said, smiling. “Did Papa finally agree to let me intern at the foundation this summer?”
Shreya closed the door quietly.
That smile.
God.
“Aadhya… we need to talk.”
The younger girl’s brows furrowed instantly. “Why do you sound like that?”
Shreya sat beside her. For a moment, she didn’t speak. She just looked at her sister — the same wide eyes, the same softness she had protected since childhood.
“Papa has finalized an alliance with the Shekhawats.”
Aadhya blinked. “Alliance as in… business?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Shreya swallowed. “And marriage.”
The word hung between them.
Aadhya laughed — soft, disbelieving. “You mean yours, right?”
Silence.
The laughter faded.
“…Right?”
“You’re marrying too,” Shreya said gently.
The color drained from Aadhya’s face. “No.”
“It’s already decided.”
“No.” She shook her head, backing away slightly. “That’s not funny, Di.”
“It’s not a joke.”
“To who?” Aadhya’s voice trembled. “To whom am I some alliance?”
“Sahil Shekhawat.”
Aadhya stared at her as if she had spoken another language.
“I don’t even know him.”
“I know.”
“I haven’t even… I mean…” Her breath quickened. “I thought I’d at least get to fall in love.”
Shreya’s chest tightened painfully.
“I tried to stop it.”
“You’re marrying too?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Rudransh.”
Aadhya wiped her tears quickly, almost guiltily. “You don’t love him either?”
“No.”
A long silence stretched between them.
Then Aadhya whispered the question that broke something inside Shreya:
“Did Papa think I’d say yes?”
Shreya didn’t answer.
At Shekhawat Mansion:
Rudransh Shekhawat didn’t believe in surprises.
He believed in preparation. Strategy. Control.
The Shekhawat estate boardroom overlooked the city skyline — glass walls, polished stone, quiet power. He stood at the head of the table while his father spoke.
“The Singhanias want dual security in the merger,” Mr. Vikram Shekhawat said. “Two marriages. Two guarantees.”
Rudransh’s jaw tightened slightly. “And you agreed.”
“It strengthens our position in North India.”
Rudransh’s younger brother, Sahil, leaned back in his chair, unusually quiet.
“Who am I marrying?” Rudransh asked.
“Shreya Singhania. MBA from London. Currently on the board of their textile division.”
Rudransh nodded once. Efficient. Educated. Strategic.
That made sense.
“And Sahil?”
“Aadhya Singhania.”
Sahil finally spoke. “Isn’t she younger?”
“Twenty-one,” their father replied.
Sahil frowned faintly. “That’s… young.”
“She’s from a respectable family.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Rudransh glanced at his brother. Interesting.
“Does it matter?” Rudransh said calmly. “This isn’t about compatibility.”
Their father smiled slightly. “Exactly.”
Rudransh walked toward the window, hands clasped behind his back.
Marriage wasn’t romantic. It was leverage.
And if this alliance secured expansion, political backing, and legacy control—
He would sign the contract.
Still, one question lingered.
“Have they agreed willingly?” he asked.
A pause.
“They understand their responsibilities,” his father replied.
Rudransh didn’t miss the phrasing.
Responsibilities.
Not choices.
His expression darkened almost imperceptibly.
Across the table, Sahil exhaled slowly, staring at nothing in particular.
Two marriages.
Two strangers.
Two families betting their futures on obedience.
Neither brother knew—
The fire would not bind them to the women they were promised.
- Writer
