Reyna :-
My palms were sweating.
Not because of the crowd.
Not because of the cameras.
Not even because of the weight of tradition hanging in the air.
It was because he was standing right there.
Advik Raichand.
Tall. Composed. Untouchable.
Wearing authority like it was stitched into his veins.
And I hated that my heart reacted before my mind did.
The garland felt heavier than it should have in my hands- soft marigolds brushing against my wrists, mocking me. Tradition demanded that I place it around his neck. Smile. Bow. Pretend this alliance didn't feel like a knife pressed to my sister's throat.
I swallowed.
I don't want to do this.
The thought screamed inside my head while my face remained calm, royal, obedient- exactly how they wanted me to be.
My gaze lifted instinctively.
And then-
I saw him.
Rohan.
Walking into the courtyard with luggage slung over his shoulder like this wasn't a battlefield disguised as a wedding. Like he didn't know he'd just walked into chaos.
Relief hit me so hard my chest loosened.
Thank God.
I didn't think.
Didn't hesitate.
Didn't look at Advik again.
I simply stepped forward- then deliberately shifted to the side.
Gasps rippled around us.
I felt it. The confusion. The pause. The sharp intake of breath from people who thought they understood this ritual.
I walked straight past Advik.
Past the man everyone expected me to acknowledge.
And stopped in front of Rohan.
His brows shot up. "Uh—"
I lifted the garland and slipped it over his head before he could finish.
"There," I said softly.
For a split second, silence ruled everything.
Then Rohan let out a short laugh, half shocked, half amused.
"Well... that's one way to say welcome."
Something warm bloomed in my chest.
Pride.
Not rebellion- choice.
I felt taller. Lighter. Free.
Behind me, I could feel it.
Advik's stare.
Sharp. Burning. Furious.
But I didn't turn around.
I refused to give him that satisfaction.
Instead, I fell into step beside Rohan, my expression deliberately casual as if I hadn't just committed social warfare.
"You're late," I muttered.
He grinned. "Traffic. Also destiny, apparently."
Maya appeared instantly on my other side, eyes sparkling with barely contained laughter.
"Iconic," she whispered. "Absolutely iconic."
I smirked.
We walked behind the elders, blending into the movement, my heartbeat finally slowing.
I walked a few steps ahead with Rohan on one side and Maya on the other, trying very hard to look like I hadn't just caused a mini heart attack in half the wedding guests.
Maya was the first to break.
She leaned close and whispered, "So... should I start calling you Professional Chaos Creator or Garland Assassin?"
I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing. "Shut up, Maya."
Rohan glanced down at the flowers still hanging around his neck. "Just so we're clear- does this mean I'm married now or do I at least get snacks first?"
Maya gasped dramatically. "Excuse you. You've been emotionally married since college second year."
I snorted. "Don't flatter yourself. That garland was purely situational."
Rohan raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Used and thrown. Typical."
Maya nodded solemnly. "Men these days."
I shook my head. "Both of you are idiots."
Rohan leaned closer, lowering his voice. "By the way... you do realize you just skipped a mafia and chose a middle-class guy with student loans?"
"Exactly," I replied sweetly. "Safer option."
Maya burst out laughing. "She said safer like she didn't just publicly disrespect a man who could probably buy the police station."
Rohan grinned. "I feel powerful."
"You should," I said. "You just survived eye contact from Advik Raichand."
Rohan glanced back casually. "Oh, he's staring."
Maya peeked over his shoulder. "Staring? Babe, he's plotting a murder."
I rolled my eyes. "Relax. If looks could kill, half this haveli would already be dead."
Rohan tilted his head. "Still... that was bold, Rey."
I shrugged. "Tradition says respect. My mood said 'no thanks.'"
Maya bumped my shoulder. "Remind me never to piss you off in public."
"Good," I said. "Fear keeps friendships healthy."
Rohan laughed. "So what's next, Your Highness? Accidentally sit on the groom's throne?"
I smiled innocently. "Don't tempt me. I'm feeling experimental today."
Maya clutched her chest. "This wedding is going to end me."
And for the first time since arriving in Udaipur—
I laughed.
Really laughed.
Because for one brief moment,
I wasn't the sister of the bride.
Or the girl trapped between mafia wars.
I was just Reyna.
Walking with my people.
Leaving chaos behind me- smiling.
Advik :-
The Rathore haveli was loud.
Not the chaotic kind of loud- no shouting, no disorder but the heavy, ceremonial hum of a house preparing for a wedding. Voices overlapped in controlled excitement, laughter carried through marble corridors, bangles clinked somewhere in the distance, and the faint rhythm of folk music drifted in from the courtyard where workers were already rehearsing for the sangeet.
I sat on one of the carved wooden sofas in the main hall, posture relaxed on the outside, rigid on the inside.
Across from me, elders from both families were deep in discussion.
"The sangeet should be grand," Rajveer Rathore said proudly. "After all, this is not just a wedding- it's a union of two legacies."
Kabir uncle nodded, pleased. "Of course. We'll make sure Delhi knows how Rajasthan celebrates."
Devika aunty was already listing arrangements. "The dancers will perform near the courtyard stage. Ira will enter with her friends, Reyna with the cousins. Lighting should be warm- golden."
I barely listened.
My fingers tightened slightly around the glass of water I hadn't touched.
Because through the open arches of the hall, beyond the white pillars and trailing bougainvillea, I saw her.
Ira.
She stood alone in the garden.
The evening light softened everything around her-the stone pathway, the jasmine bushes, the carved fountains but it did nothing to hide the sadness on her face. She looked smaller somehow, wrapped in a pastel dupatta, hands clasped tightly in front of her as if holding herself together.
She wasn't talking to anyone.
She wasn't smiling.
She was just... standing there.
Watching the flowers sway. Watching the world move forward without her consent.
Something uncomfortable stirred in my chest.
Before I could look away, Maa followed my gaze.
She smiled gently, the way mothers do when they think they're guiding fate itself.
"Advik," she said softly but firmly, placing a hand on my arm. "Go talk to her."
I stiffened.
"Ma—"
"You both are going to be husband and wife," she interrupted, not unkindly. "It's strange enough already. At least try to know each other."
Kabir chachu looked up from his conversation. "Your mother's right. This distance won't help."
I exhaled sharply. "We'll have time for that later."
Maa's expression changed—just slightly. The softness hardened into insistence.
"No," she said. "Not later. Now."
I clenched my jaw.
Across the room, Rudra caught the exchange and smirked. He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Bro, just go. You look like you're being sent to a firing squad."
I shot him a glare. "This isn't funny."
He shrugged. "Didn't say it was. But she's your fiancée. Ignoring her won't erase the situation."
That word again.
Fiancée.
I hated how final it sounded.
"I don't need to-" I started.
Rudra cut me off. "You don't need to like it. Just don't be a jerk."
I glanced back at the garden.
Ira hadn't moved.
She still hadn't looked back.
For reasons I didn't want to examine too closely, irritation crawled under my skin- not at her, but at the situation. At expectations. At how trapped this all felt.
With a resigned sigh, I stood up.
"Fine," I muttered.
Maa's face lit up immediately. "Good. Go."
As if I was a child being sent to apologize.
I walked out of the hall, my steps echoing faintly against the stone floor. The air outside was cooler, scented with night-blooming flowers. The garden lights had just turned on, casting a soft glow around Ira's silhouette.
She heard my footsteps and turned.
Our eyes met.
For a split second, I expected fear. Or resentment. Or tears.
But what I saw instead was calm.
Guarded. Polite. Controlled.
She straightened slightly. "Hi."
The simplicity of it threw me off.
"...Hi," I replied.
We stood there awkwardly, a few feet apart, the silence stretching uncomfortably.
I cleared my throat. "Um. My mom... asked me to come talk to you."
A faint smile touched her lips—not amused, not warm. Just... accepting. "I figured."
I shoved my hands into my pockets. "This whole situation is... weird."
She nodded slowly. "That's one way to put it."
I glanced at the fountain beside us, watching water cascade down in steady patterns. "The roka," I continued, "everything happened too fast."
"Yes," she said quietly. "It did."
There was no accusation in her tone.
That made it worse.
"I mean," I went on, words tumbling out more awkwardly than I intended, "we barely spoke, and suddenly—here we are."
She looked down at her hands. "Sometimes life doesn't wait for conversations."
I frowned slightly.
That wasn't something I expected to hear from someone in her position.
We fell silent again.
I studied her then- really looked at her.
She was beautiful, undeniably. Soft features, expressive eyes. But there was a heaviness about her, like someone carrying too much too young.
"You don't seem... excited," I said before thinking.
The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them.
She looked up, surprised—but not offended.
"Do you think excitement is mandatory?" she asked gently.
I opened my mouth, then closed it.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I guess everyone expects it."
She gave a small, sad smile. "People expect a lot of things from women during weddings."
That sentence landed harder than I anticipated.
"I'm not—" I began, then stopped. "I didn't mean—"
"I know," she said quickly. "You didn't mean it that way."
She paused, then added, "And you don't seem excited either."
I let out a humorless laugh. "That obvious?"
She nodded.
For the first time, there was something like shared understanding between us.
We were both here because of decisions made by others.
Both trapped in a narrative neither of us had fully written.
"I guess," I said slowly, "we should at least try to make this... respectful."
She met my gaze. "I'd like that."
Something shifted in my chest.
Not attraction.
Not desire.
Something quieter.
"I don't want you to feel uncomfortable around me," I added. "Or pressured."
Her eyes softened. "Thank you. That means more than you think."
I hesitated, then asked, "Are you... okay?"
The question hung between us.
She didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she looked up at the sky, at the stars barely visible above the haveli walls.
"I'm surviving," she said finally.
Not I'm fine. Not I'm happy.
Surviving.
I swallowed.
For the first time since agreeing to this marriage, guilt prickled under my skin—not sharp, but persistent.
"I won't make things harder for you," I said quietly. "I promise."
She looked back at me, studying my face as if searching for sincerity.
Then she nodded. "That's all I can ask for right now."
We stood there for a few more moments, the noise from the hall fading into the background.
When Maa called out my name from inside, Ira flinched slightly.
I noticed.
"I should go," I said.
"Yes," she replied. "They'll be waiting."
As I turned to leave, she spoke again.
"Advik?"
I looked back.
"I hope," she said softly, "we can at least be kind to each other."
I held her gaze.
"I hope so too."
Walking back into the hall, the voices grew louder again, the plans more elaborate, the celebration more certain.
But something inside me felt unsettled.
Because for the first time, I wasn't thinking about greed.
Or power.
Or ownership.
I was thinking about a girl standing alone in a garden—
And how neither of us had chosen this. And how that made everything far more complicated than I'd planned.
The corridor felt longer than usual.
Maybe it was the way the yellow lamps stretched shadows across the carved walls, or maybe it was the quiet thrill still buzzing under my skin.
Either way, my steps were light—almost bouncy—as I walked past the arched windows, my bangles clinking softly with every movement.
I smiled to myself.
I shouldn't have enjoyed it.
But I did.
Watching Advik Raichand's expression earlier—confusion first, then irritation, then that unmistakable flicker of wounded pride—had been oddly satisfying. For once, he hadn't been the one in control. For once, he had been forced to swallow something he didn't expect.
And honestly?
It felt good.
I turned the corner, humming under my breath, when a sudden presence made me stop.
"Enjoying yourself?"
His voice.
Low. Sharp. Controlled.
I froze for half a second before turning around.
Advik stood there, leaning casually against one of the pillars, arms crossed over his chest. His expression was calm, but his eyes—those dark, intense eyes—were anything but.
They were stormy.
"So this is where you disappeared," he continued. "Thought you'd celebrate your little stunt somewhere more private."
I raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "Stunt? I don't know what you're talking about."
He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Don't play innocent with me, Reyna. It doesn't suit you."
I crossed my arms, mirroring his posture. "Funny. I was about to say the same thing to you."
His jaw tightened.
"You think what you did was funny?" he asked. "Humiliating someone in front of everyone?"
I tilted my head. "Humiliating? Oh please. I just followed my heart."
The words were deliberate.
They landed exactly where I wanted them to.
His eyes darkened instantly. "You knew what you were doing."
"Yes," I said lightly. "I did."
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The corridor felt too small, the air suddenly heavy, charged with something unspoken and dangerous.
Then he stepped closer.
Not invading my space—but close enough that I could feel his presence, his frustration radiating off him.
"Listen to me carefully," he said, voice dropping. "Whatever game you think you're playing—stop."
I met his gaze, refusing to step back. "Why? Afraid people might realize you're not as untouchable as you pretend to be?"
That did it.
His calm cracked- just a little.
"You don't get to test me," he snapped. "Not here. Not ever."
I scoffed. "Is that a threat?"
He leaned in slightly, his tone icy now. "It's a warning."
My smile faded, but I didn't look away.
"Stay in your limits, Reyna," he continued. "And don't ever try to cross me again."
The words were sharp, meant to intimidate.
But instead of fear, something else sparked inside me.
Defiance.
I straightened my shoulders. "You don't get to decide my limits, Advik."
His eyes searched my face, as if trying to gauge whether I was bluffing.
"I suggest you remember where you are," he said coldly. "And who you're dealing with."
I let out a slow, taunting laugh, the kind meant to sting.
"Oh, first of all," I said, tilting my head slightly,
"I'm in my haveli. Every corner of this place knows my name."
My gaze sharpened as it locked onto his.
"And trust me," I added coolly,
"I know exactly who I'm dealing with."
I took a small step closer, lowering my voice just enough to make it burn.
"So don't waste your breath telling me where I stand—"
my lips curved into a cruel smile,
"because you're the only one here who doesn't belong."
For a moment, it felt like the entire haveli had gone silent just for us.
Then footsteps echoed somewhere nearby, breaking the tension.
Advik stepped back, his expression slipping back into that unreadable mask he wore so well.
"This conversation isn't over," he said quietly.
I smiled—slow, deliberate. "I was hoping you'd say that."
He stared at me for a second longer, then turned and walked away, his footsteps firm and controlled.
I watched him go, my heart racing- not with fear, but with adrenaline.
Only when he disappeared around the corner did I finally exhale.
My hands trembled slightly.
Not because he scared me.
But because I knew one thing for sure now-
I had gotten under Advik Raichand's skin.
And he didn't like it.
At all.