••|••|••

As the haze of sleep began to lift, I found myself grappling with a disorienting sensation—a blend of relief and disquiet. "Thank God, it was just a dream," I murmured to myself. But just as I started to sink back into the comfort of that illusion, the auspicious red thread, the brand new one on my wrist - it made me freeze. Reality barged in like an uninvited guest, shouting, "Snap out of it! This is no dream; it's your new reality!" My senses tingled, each nerve echoing the sentiment: change had indeed come knocking.

My thoughts spiraled into a whirlwind of disbelief and incredulity. Was I truly promised to Shivaay Singh Oberoi? Was I on the brink of becoming an Oberoi—those titans of industry and legacy?

"Anii," my mother's voice sliced through my reverie, pulling me back from the brink of existential crisis. I exhaled a sigh of relief; her voice was an anchor amidst the storm of my thoughts.

As she began her usual ritualistic morning chants, I braced myself. The moment she reached for the holy water, I clung to my blanket like a shipwreck survivor to driftwood. The December chill was not something I was prepared to face head-on, thank you very much.

"Badtameez!" she scolded, attempting to wrestle my blanket away.

I clutched it tighter. "Do you want me to freeze to death?" I protested; my voice muffled from beneath the covers.

"Gangajal is for purification, and you—" she pointed accusingly at me, "—are beyond redemption." Her words only elicited a deeper groan from me.

"Get up! It's already half-past eight," she admonished. "You are late for your office."

That did it. My eyes snapped open, the reality of the ticking clock slicing through my morning haze. "Why didn't you wake me up earlier? I have an important meeting today!" Panic laced my words as I bolted upright, my feet hitting the floor in a frenzied rush.

"You never mentioned any meeting, Anii," she replied, her brow furrowing in genuine confusion—a stark contrast to my frantic state.

"I must've forgotten," I admitted sheepishly, grabbing random clothes from my cupboard in a flurry of motion. "Well, no time to waste. Bathroom awaits!"

Without waiting for a response, I sprinted toward the bathroom, mentally preparing myself for the whirlwind that lay ahead. 

"Anikaa."

Just as I was about to make my escape to my car, my mother's stern tone sliced through the air, causing me to bite my tongue in resignation. I knew exactly what was coming next.

Offering her a sheepish smile, I began to back away slowly, attempting to reason with her. "Maa, I'm truly sorry," I began, my eyes darting toward the door as if it held some form of salvation. "But I'll grab breakfast at the office. Promise."

However, her unyielding glare halted me in my tracks.

"I know you inside out, Anii. When you're focused on work, you forget about everything else," she declared, her expression unrelenting. My pout went unnoticed—or perhaps, purposefully ignored. "So, there's no way you're stepping out without breakfast." she asserted, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

"But maa, my meeting---"

"No excuses. Sooner you eat, sooner you can leave."

"Yes, Doctor," I sighed, acknowledging defeat, and silently trailed after her, knowing that resistance was futile against the force of a determined mother.

••||••||••

"Kirti!"

Casting a quick glance toward her desk, I called out for my secretary in a voice loud enough to echo through the workspace as I made my way to my cabin.

Perched atop this six-story building, my cabin overlooked a bustling hive of creativity and craftsmanship. As a fashion designer leading a multifaceted team, each floor below was meticulously organized by specific departments. Top floor housed my cabin, Kirti's workspace, dedicated desks for department heads, and most notably, our expansive meeting hall.

With the spring season on the horizon, we worked tirelessly to make sure our new collection would be a big hit. Despite consistently topping the charts for the past five years, we never stopped trying to make our designs better. I had unwavering faith that our dedicated team would once again reaffirm our dominance in the industry.

Taking my seat, I found my desk to be impeccably organized, everything in its place as if Kirti could anticipate my every need. I felt truly grateful for having such a capable and insightful secretary. Over time, she had become more than just an essential part of my team; she was a treasured friend.

"May I come in, ma'am?" Kirti asked, her smile lighting up the room. I couldn't help but return her cheerful expression.

I gave her a nod, then inquired, "Is everything prepared for the meeting?"

"Yes, ma'am!" 

"Anything else?" I prompted.

"You have a message from Mr. Dobriel," she informed me. "He requested for an appointment to meet you."

Amused, I raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Why would Ryan want to schedule an appointment instead of contacting me directly?"

"He just requested a meeting with you and mentioned he'd appreciate a call back as soon as you're available," Kirti relayed.

I bit my lip, closed my eyes briefly, and massaged my temples. I had indeed forgotten to return Ryan's calls over the past week amidst my chaotic schedule.

Ryan Dobriel wasn't just anyone; he was my closest childhood friend, practically a brother. He is the keeper of my secrets and the one person who knew the uncensored version of me. These days, though, my schedule had turned into a chaotic battleground of meetings and deadlines., leaving me unintentionally ghosting the one person who knew my quirks like the back of his hand. I could almost feel the eye-rolls through his unanswered texts, and the guilt gnawed at me. In the whirlwind of responsibilities, I found myself missing our late-night laughter, the shared nostalgia, and the comfort of having someone who understood the unspoken chapters of my life.

"Thanks, Kirti," I said, absorbing the info. 

"You're welcome, Ms. Trivedi," Kirti replied, offering a playful salute before making her way out of the room.

 Ready to dial Ryan's number, a thought struck me - dropping the bombshell of my life-changing news over a call or text seemed unjust. I could almost envision him abandoning meetings, rearranging the universe upon hearing I'm unexpectedly getting hitched. Nope it's better I wait for him to come back. 

"Mam," Kirti called out, once knocking on my door. I looked up. "Everyone has gathered. It's time for meeting." 

I nodded, and made my way to meeting hall. 

Today's agenda focused on our upcoming spring collection. Everyone would have the chance to pitch their ideas, leading to final decisions. Once we finalize our plans, tasks will be allocated among the five departments. Given that we're nearing the end of the financial year, the spring season holds significant importance for us.

After enduring four hours of what could only be described as a grueling meeting, I trudged wearily towards my cabin, yearning for a moment of respite. Just as I approached the corridor of my room, a familiar voice cut through the exhaustion.

"Hey Ms. Charmer, finally seeing your pretty face, made my day beautiful."

I halted in my tracks, a mix of annoyance and amusement etching my expression. Tushar, the head of the design department, had an uncanny ability to turn even the most mundane encounters into flirtatious banter. His charm was undeniable, and his talent unmatched, which made it easy to forgive his persistent cheekiness.

"Nice try, Tushar. Smooth as always," I responded with a hint of amusement. His antics never failed to inject a burst of energy into the otherwise mundane office atmosphere.

"That I am....smooth" He flashed his trademark charming smile, while roaming his hand around clean-shaven cheeks of his. When he saw me shaking my head at his antics, he presented me with my favorite caramel coffee. Just what I needed after the grueling meeting. "Here, I know you need this."

Grateful for the caffeine boost, I accepted the coffee with a sigh. "Thank you very much. You're a savior, you know."

He dismissed the compliment with a casual wave and a wink. "Can't leave my favorite boss grumpy."

As we strolled towards my office, he maintained his easy charm, his sheepish grin revealing the mischievous thoughts that undoubtedly danced in his mind. Taking a sip of my coffee, I couldn't help but playfully tease him. "So, what do you want? You're extra cheesy today. Out with it, Mr."

He grinned sheepishly, running a hand through back of his head. "You know me well."

"That I know and that's why I'm going to deny your request for a leave," I declared, playfully putting on my boss hat.

He jumped alongside me, pleading with puppy-dog eyes. "But Anika..."

"No, Tushar. You heard in the meeting; Spring Season is around the corner, and we can't afford to waste time."

He nodded, the dramatic flair fading. "I know, I know. But just two hours, lunchtime. I promise I'll be back, and the designs for our new dresses will be on your table before tonight."

"Tushar--"

"Please, please, please. You know it took me a whole week to convince her. If I stood her up, I might miss my chance to find my soulmate. Just two hours, and then I'm all yours."

"Tushar!"

"I mean, I'll be more creative after this and won't even take off on Sunday."

 I paused. "Really?" I asked, an amused smile playing on my lips. The entire office knew about Tushar and his adventurous Sundays, a weekly escapade that left us all in suspense about what wild tales he would bring back on Monday.

"No. I mean, not Sunday, " He cringed at his own words. "I'll work this Saturday late night and this whole week."

"Fine," I sighed, suppressing a smirk. If only he weren't the exceptionally talented designer in our midst. If only he hadn't turned down every international offer, showcasing his unwavering loyalty to our company time and time again. If only he didn't had heart of gold.  His commitment was commendable, but his flair for dramatics was unmatched. "But I want those designs by tonight."

His silent celebration, a little dance of victory, didn't escape my notice. When I raised my eyebrows at him, he stood at attention, feigning seriousness.

"I promise," he declared, his eyes sparkling with a mix of sincerity and mischief.

"Be serious now," I reminded him, unable to suppress a smile.

"I'm serious, sweetheart," he assured me, using the endearment with a familiarity that was uniquely Tushar.

"You won't change," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "Fine, now get lost. And be productive; there's still time for lunch."

Feigning hurt, he performed his signature move – a hand over his heart – and made a swift exit. Chuckling at the adorable theatrics that only Tushar could pull off, I settled into my cabin, finding my mother patiently waiting for me.

"Maa, what brings you here?" I inquired, surprised by her unexpected visit. She rarely drops by my office without calling first. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, Anii," she reassured me. Maa began, gesturing toward Kirti's direction as she recounted her conversation. "Kirti told me you were in a meeting."

"oh-kay...," I responded, sensing there was more to her visit than she was letting on. Her smile was a bit too telling. I prodded, knowing there was more she wanted to share. "And?"

Meeting my gaze, her smile widened, and she finally spilled the beans, "Well, we're going shopping, Anii. There are a few things we need to pick up."

Shopping? My confusion must have been evident as I questioned, "But Maa, I have plenty of clothes and accessories. Why the sudden shopping trip? I'm exhausted; I don't feel like shopping."

She waved off my protests with a dismissive hand. "We can select outfits from your wardrobe another time. But we have a dinner to attend tonight, and we also need to buy some gifts."

"Dinner? What dinner?"

"With the Oberois," she declared, and instantly, I understood her urgency. The mere mention of their name made me take a deep breath, realizing the gravity of the occasion.

"Weren't they just with us at our place yesterday?" I queried, trying to make sense of the sudden dinner invitation.

"True, but I have to present them with your kundali, and Maaji kindly extended an invitation for dinner. I thought it'd also be our chance to familiarize ourselves with their home," she explained, her enthusiasm infectious.

It was clear that my mother was deeply invested in anything concerning my future. Her excitement filled the room, leaving little room for doubt.

"But why do I need to go?" I finally asked after processing the information. "If you're giving them my kundali, isn't that sufficient?"

"Anii, they're going to be your in-laws. It's only appropriate for you to meet them informally before any formalities," she reasoned, raising her eyebrows as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

With a resigned sigh, I nodded. After all, it was hard to refuse when Dadi had specifically requested my presence.

"Finish up your work quickly," Maa instructed, already planning our next steps. "I've spoken to Kirti, and she mentioned that there's nothing pressing left for you here. After we finalize our plans, we'll head to the renowned Bengal Sweets to pick up a few items I've already ordered on our way here."

"Fine, let's get this done," I conceded, gathering my things to leave the office.

As we ventured into the world of shopping, Maa took the opportunity to share the significance of a particular ritual with me—one that involved never arriving empty-handed at the home of a bride or groom. This being our first visit to the Oberois, it was essential to select thoughtful gifts for them.

After purchasing presents and some delectable sweets, we made our way back home. Maa, as per her usual style, warningly instructed me to get ready. I complied with a simple warm kurti, jeans, and comfortable flats. Yet, as she laid eyes on my outfit, she couldn't resist giving me a dressing-down, insisting that as a soon-to-be bride, I needed to step up my attire. I sighed and nodded, inwardly rolling my eyes at the unwarranted fashion advice. She was momentarily forgetting that her daughter reigned supreme in the world of fashion.

••|••|••

"Wow," I breathed, my eyes wide as I parked in front of the imposing structure. The Oberoi Mansion—it felt like stepping into a dream, a super-modern castle straight out of a fairy tale.

The last time I visited was to deliver dresses, and it was nighttime. Amidst the darkness, my focus was solely on the delivery of clothes, missing the grandeur that now lay before me.

A courteous guard swiftly took my keys, promising to park the car. My mother, having explained the items we needed, received assurance from the guard that everything would be arranged as per her instructions. We expressed our gratitude before embarking on our journey towards the magnificent mansion. My eyes eagerly soaked in every detail of the surroundings.

The grandeur of the mansion became increasingly evident as we walked through well-tended gardens, leading to a captivating fountain—reminiscent of those seen in Oswald. The view was enchanting—a sunset backdrop, a glistening fountain, and meticulously manicured gardens. It was a scene that begged not just to be seen but to be etched into memory.

Ascending the grand staircase, we approached the massive door. My eyes fixated on the golden words engraved on the side, spelling out 'OBEROI MANSION.'

Upon ringing the bell, the door opened slightly, revealing a curious worker. "Umm, madam aap?" she inquired, only opening the door to the length of her hand.

"Avantika Trivedi," my mother announced, and to my amusement, the worker gasped at the name before widening the door. The whole mansion seemed to buzz with excitement at the mere mention of Maa's name.

Smiling, she welcomed us, bowing so deeply that I feared she might topple over. Other workers scrutinized us and exchanged nods before leading us to the living room. As we entered, I felt the weight of numerous gazes scrutinizing me from head to toe.

Inside, the mansion's interior outdid its already impressive exterior. Every detail exuded elegance and charm, creating an ambiance that was simply captivating. It was like a poetry written on wall so grand. It was a dance of luxury. The very air here seems like singing the beauty this mansion held.

The big staircase showcased the house's grandness, and the high ceilings made me feel small. The place felt warm and fancy, with beautiful eye-catching artworks on the walls that really caught my eye. The furniture was carefully picked, giving off a cozy vibe. The marble floors were cool to walk on, and the crystal chandeliers sparkled and made cool patterns on the walls. Being in the Oberoi Mansion felt like I was in a dream, with its amazing design and craftsmanship. There was also a pretty shrine for Durga Maa that felt peaceful, as if the mansion itself paid homage to a higher power, and the divine aura echoed through the halls.

From the living room, my gaze wandered to a dining table gracing another corner, likely adjacent to the kitchen—though its exact location remained veiled by walls and pillars. I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the mansion, finding myself captivated by every nook and cranny.

I longed to explore the entire castle, eager to unravel the stories whispered within its walls. A breath escaped me, caught in sheer amazement at the overwhelming beauty that surrounded me, making the Oberoi Mansion feel like a living, breathing work of art.

"Anikaa bhabhiii!" Rudra's spirited voice snapped me back to reality, compelling me to acknowledge his lively greeting.

I laughed at his infectious enthusiasm as he enveloped me in a tight embrace. Following him, Om approached with a gentle smile, offering a warm side hug as he guided both Maa and me to settle in. Their warm greetings extended to my mother, who graciously accepted their affectionate gestures, albeit declining their attempts to touch her feet.

"Look, bhabhi, he's always picking on me," Rudra playfully complained, his expression a blend of faux innocence and genuine mischief.

Suppressing my laughter, I mockingly scolded Om while pointing at Rudra. "Why do you always tease him? Can't you see he's innocent?"

Om raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Innocent? Rudy? Those words don't quite match," he quipped, eliciting hearty laughter from me and a playful glare from Rudra.

"Om, Rudra, where's everyone else?" I inquired, noticing the absence of other family members.

"Dadi is in her room; she'll be here shortly," Om replied, checking his watch. "And Prinku, along with mom and dad, will be home from the office soon."

As we settled into the plush sofas, a moment of tranquility enveloped us, broken only by Rudra's mischievous grin—a clear signal of impending banter. "And bhabhi, Shivaay Bhaiya, you didn't ask about him..."

His teasing tone didn't go unnoticed. I shot him a pointed look, silently warning him to choose his words wisely.

"He'll be coming a little late," Rudra teased, stretching the word 'little', clearly enjoying my reaction. Ignoring his antics, I redirected my attention as Dadi made her entrance. With genuine warmth, I greeted her, touching her feet in reverence. She pulled me into a heartfelt embrace, her eyes reflecting pure joy. The happiness in her gaze affirmed my decision to be there, to bring her that moment of delight.

We all settled back into our seats, but Dadi's gaze soon fixed on maa.

"Avantika puttar, I am hurt with one thing" Dadi's voice carried a note of playful reproach that instantly caught our collective attention.

I grew alert, wondering if something had gone wrong. I looked at my mother, knowing her sensitivity to such matters. As she tensed, I gently held her hand, offering a reassuring squeeze.

"Kya hua maajhi, mujhse koi galti hogayi kya?", Maa asked cautiously, worry evident in her tone.

"Puttar maine sirf Dinner ke liye, tumse milne ke liye invite kiya tha toh itni formality ki kya jaroorat thi? Ye saare taufe, itna sab karne ki kya jarurat thi?" Dadi's gentle chiding washed away the tension, leaving both my mother and me relieved.

"Maajhi, we came here for the first time. And I wanted to do that." my mother responded, her smile attempting to appease Dadi, who responded with a mock glare.

"It's unnecessary," Dadi reiterated, yet spent the next twenty minutes explaining her perspective, offering a gentle warning for future reference. Observing their interaction, I couldn't help but smile; their bond resembled that of a mother and daughter. My mother, usually the matriarch in our home, seemed oddly vulnerable, making me chuckle—earning a playful glare in return.

Dadi's affection for my mother mirrored the love she held for Jhanvi aunty, making their bond even more special.

Soon after, Bade Papa and Badi Maa arrived. Following their lead, I greeted them warmly, opting for hugs over traditional gestures. Prinku, radiant and carefree within her home's confines, embraced me tightly upon her arrival, exuding an infectious joy.

As conversations ebbed and flowed, encompassing daily happenings, current events, and the ever-looming topic of marriage, my eyes wandered around the grandeur of the mansion.

"Shivaay puttar!"

Dadi's voice boomed with delight, her eyes sparkling like morning dew as they landed on a figure behind me.

Rudra's mischievous grin was unmistakable as he nudged me, persistently teasing. I shot him a stern look, hushed him, and even nudged him back, but the playful smirk didn't fade. Resisting the urge to glance back and check, I maintained my poise, keeping my attention anchored on Dadi, my mother, and the gathering.

"Kya baat hai bhaiya," Rudy exclaimed, swiveling with that infectious grin aimed at Mr. Oberoi, "You're unusually punctual today."

A swift hand emerged just a breath away from my side, silencing Rudra with a light thwack to the back of his head and a muffled "shut up, Rudra."

Turning toward the source of the gesture, my gaze met Mr. Oberoi's as he gracefully moved past me to honor Dadi, touching her feet in a gesture of respect.

"I asked him to come early today," Dadi chuckled before adding, "as Anika was coming."

The implication of my presence triggering his punctuality stirred an inexplicable rush within me, creating a tingling sensation that I couldn't quite comprehend.

Rudra, brimming with excitement, practically pounced on Mr. Oberoi, engulfing him in a bear hug while lamenting about the agonizing stretch of his day without his esteemed presence.

"Rudy, we crossed paths just this morning," Mr. Oberoi chuckled, a laughter reserved solely for family. Disentangling himself, he quipped, "Barely a twenty-four-hour gap."

"But bhaiya," Rudra dramatically rolled his eyes, "your evening appearances are as rare as a blue moon!"

The eye rolls and the banter, a routine for the Oberois. As they separated, my gaze lingered on Mr. Oberoi—his subtle weariness, the tousled hair, and the impeccably crisp blue suit that made me ponder: did he magically find time to iron it anew after a demanding day at the office?

His deliberate approach towards me caught my attention. As our eyes locked, a comprehensive glance traversed from head to toe. He paused in front of me, briefly shifting his gaze to my mother. With grace, he bent down to touch her feet—a gesture she acknowledged with warmth, despite her protests that it was unnecessary. Mr. Oberoi simply smiled, respect gleaming in his eyes, before selecting a vacant spot. His chosen seat? Right next to me, where Rudra had occupied just moments ago.

As Mr. Oberoi settled beside me, the air shifted, charged with an unspoken energy. His eyes, a deeper shade of winter blue than I initially noticed, held a certain intensity. Subtly adjusting in my seat, I became acutely aware of his proximity.

Dadi, ever perceptive, seemed to notice the shift in the atmosphere. She smiled knowingly, steering the conversation toward upcoming wedding plans and festivities.

Mr. Oberoi, with calm authority, joined the discussions regarding dates and projects he can't compromise with. His rich baritone demanded attention, steering the conversation with grace.

Meanwhile, Rudra continued his antics, occasionally pulling Mr. Oberoi into playful banter. Despite his business-oriented exterior, Mr. Oberoi seemed to tolerate Rudra's mischief with surprising patience, responding with dry retorts that left everyone amused.

The evening unfolded with laughter, stories, and the promise of a lively celebration. Mr. Oberoi's occasional glances in my direction didn't escape my notice, each one feeling like a silent exchange of unspoken words that left me both intrigued and apprehensive.

"Excuse me, everyone," Mr. Oberoi announced, rising from his seat. "I'll join you all after freshening up."

Seeing Dadi nod in approval, he made his way toward the staircase. Only then did I realize I had been holding my breath, caught in the magnetic pull of his enigmatic presence.

"Puttar, did you bring Anika's kundali?" Dadi inquired, turning her attention to my mother, who nodded and handed over my janam kundali.

For the next half hour, they delved deep into discussions about our horoscopes, astrologers, and other matrimonial preparations. Engrossed in conversation, Prinku and I were deep in discussion about designs when a maid interrupted, announcing that dinner was served.

"Chaliye, let's have dinner," Bade papa suggested, prompting everyone to make their way toward the dining hall.

As I prepared to follow the others, I noticed Rudy exchanging mischievous glances with Dadi. Their secret communication was all too familiar, and I knew Rudy well enough to sense that some playful mischief was afoot.

"Anika puttar!" Dadi called out just as I was about to join the rest. I paused and turned toward her.

"Ji, Dadi?" I responded, smiling, while Rudy and Om joined the others, leaving us alone.

"Mera ek kaam karegi?" Dadi requested, her tone gentle yet persuasive. I found it hard to refuse her, so I nodded in agreement.

"Ji, Dadi, bataiye na," I replied, grasping her hand gently.

With a knowing smile, she said, "Shivaay hasn't joined us yet. Could you please call him?"

I was momentarily stunned, realizing what Rudy had whispered to Dadi earlier. Oh, Rudy! Just wait until I get you back for all your little plans.

"But, Dadi, I don't know where his room is," I replied, trying to politely decline. However, Dadi insisted, guiding me with directions.

"It's the last room on the left, near the staircase," she directed before making her way to the dining hall, leaving me staring at the grand staircase ahead. Taking a deep breath, I gathered my resolve and walked towards the grand staircase.

Navigating through the labyrinth of the Oberoi Mansion felt like participating in a treasure hunt minus the map. The mansion's vastness swallowed me whole, leaving me slightly disoriented. "Some signage wouldn't hurt," I muttered, desperately searching for the elusive room Dadi had described.

Following Dadi's cryptic directions, I found myself standing before a door, supposedly Mr. Oberoi's lair. Taking a fortifying breath, I knocked gently, only to be met with an echoing silence. After a brief pause, I tried again, this time calling his name with a tad more enthusiasm, yet still met with resounding quiet.

"Mr. Oberoi?"

Puzzled and somewhat concerned, I cautiously pushed open the door, unveiling a room that could rival an OCD enthusiast's dream – all shades of blue and white, meticulously organized. Everything screamed precision, a sharp contrast to my own living space that occasionally resembled a controlled chaos experiment.

Eyes scanning the room, they landed on an unexpected twist in the tale – a collection of classic romantic novels cozied up among the business-related volumes. Shivaay Singh Oberoi and romance sounded like an odd pairing, like pineapple on pizza.

My curiosity led me to his study table, where I perused through magazines and diaries, all exuding an air of professionalism. However, it was the sight beyond the curtains that stole the show.

Pulling back the drapes, I was met with a sight so stunning that it momentarily wiped my mission from my mind—a pristine pool shimmering under the open sky. Sliding the curtains and door, I approached the pool area, drawn in a daze. The ethereal glow from the poolside lights bestowed an almost magical quality to the scene. Lost in its beauty, I momentarily forgot the purpose of my visit.

When my baby toenail hit with corner of coffee table, reality hit, and I remembered I needed to inform Mr. Oberoi about dinner. Heading towards the sliding door to share the dinner news, my innocent curiosity prompted me to open the curtains again.

And that's when the universe decided to play its cards. A movement caught my eye, and what I saw on the other side made me stumble back in surprise.

I couldn't believe it! My eyes widened as I stood there, frozen, staring at the sight before me. I couldn't help but let out a loud "Oh god" as my jaw dropped. In front of me was Mr. Oberoi, standing... less dressed than I had anticipated, looking every bit like a modern-day Adonis.

Caught in a whirlwind of shock, my cheeks turned crimson as I tried to process the unexpected scene. I knew I shouldn't be there, but I couldn't tear my eyes away. His body was like a sculpted masterpiece, with only a white towel preserving his modesty. 

As I continued to stare, I heard him pivot in my direction, and my heart raced in my chest. I knew I'd been caught. In a flash, my hands instinctively shot up to cover my eyes, but curiosity got the better of me, and I peeked through my fingers at his face. His eyes widened in surprise, taking in the unexpected sight of me standing there, shamelessly gazing at him.

I braced myself for his reaction, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. The silence stretched on, making every second feel like an eternity, until he finally broke it. "How the hell you're in my room... What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice a mix of shock and disbelief.

I swallowed hard, feeling like a fool. "I-I was just looking for you," I stammered, my words tumbling out in a hurried confession.

His grunts and muttered words only intensified my discomfort. As he approached, picking clothes from his closet, I felt like an intruder in his private space.

"What's the need for covering your eyes when you're clearly staring at me?" he taunted, inching even closer, causing my eyes to clamp shut.

"Shut up and get dressed," I told him, attempting to sound stern, but my voice betrayed me, coming out squeaky.

Oh God, he's just in a towel. For goodness' sake, only in a towel. What if, by chance, it got opened? His thing...

No! Blue kites, pink unicorns, elephant-shaped clouds, trees...think about hard wood, hard abs, Mr. Oberoi's abs...no, no, no—shut up!

I couldn't even entertain the thought. Sneaking a glance, I noticed his raised eyebrows at my internal struggle.

"Picture it," his breath teased over the back of my hands, which were still covering my eyes. "It will last longer."

With that, he smoothly sidestepped me, leaving me in a whirlwind of emotions. My heart raced as I tried to regain composure.

As I waited for him to exit the bathroom, my thoughts involuntarily wandered back to the unexpected sight I had just witnessed. Sure, my job had exposed me to numerous well-sculpted figures, men who would make any woman's head turn. Yet, seeing Mr. Oberoi like that, especially knowing he is going to be my husband, stirred an unfamiliar emotion within me. The image was indelibly etched in my mind, refusing to fade. On all that, he is the great Mr Shivaay Singh Oberoi, one of the most private person media consider. 

When he finally emerged, dressed in a grey long-sleeved t-shirt and black trousers, he asked me in his usual calm and reserved tone, "Why are you here?"

I turned to his side. "Dadi asked me to call you for dinner."

His eyebrow quirked in evident disapproval. "A simple knock would have been appropriate."

A touch of irritation crept into his voice, and I sensed that I had unintentionally intruded upon his personal space.

"I did knock and called out, but there was no response. I got concerned, and when I saw the pool outside, I got distracted. By the time I came back, I didn't expect to find you...uh, changing." I explained to him before he thought something else.

Mr. Oberoi looked unimpressed by my explanation, his demeanor remaining as cool and composed as ever. "Courtesy before curiosity," he remarked, his tone laced with a touch of admonishment.

I sighed inwardly, realizing that attempting to reason with Mr. Oberoi often proved futile. "Anyway, dinner is ready. Dadi and everyone are waiting downstairs," I informed him, hoping to steer the conversation away from the earlier mishap.

Without waiting for his response, I proceeded downstairs, sensing his presence close behind me. Upon entering the dining room, Rudy and Om took the opportunity to tease us both for making our presence twenty minute late, prompting an eye roll from me. Mr. Oberoi silenced them with a stern glare, and we all settled into our seats around the table. Dadi presided at the head, flanked by bade papa on her left, with two vacant chairs on her right, earmarked for us.

Throughout the meal, Mr. Oberoi remained unusually withdrawn. While the rest of us engaged in lively conversation and laughter, he ate in silence, his eyes occasionally scanning the room but offering no commentary. Even Tej uncle's humorous college anecdotes and Rudra's gaming escapades failed to elicit a reaction from him.

Post dinner, as we assembled in the living room, Prinku animatedly discussed her college event, and Badi maa touched upon my forthcoming spring collection. Om graciously extended an invitation to his upcoming exhibition, which I warmly accepted. Yet, Mr. Oberoi remained aloof, retreating further into his introspective cocoon. It left me pondering his inherent nature. His family seemed unperturbed, suggesting this was his usual demeanor.

Just as the conversation flowed seamlessly, Dadi interjected with a gleam of twinkle in her eyes. "Anika puttar," she beckoned, causing me to halt mid-sentence. "You haven't explored the entire house yet, have you?"

I offered a content smile. "I've seen enough to appreciate its beauty, Dadi."

However, Dadi seemed insistent. "Would you like a proper tour?" Her warm smile left little room for refusal.

My heart fluttered at the prospect, but then she turned her gaze towards Mr. Oberoi, who was engrossed in his phone.

"Shivaay," she summoned, immediately capturing his attention.

I braced myself for what was coming next.

Dadi, reading my unspoken thoughts, pressed on. "You should show Anika the house."

"Dadi, Rudra and Om—" He began, attempting to evade the responsibility.

Dadi's stern gaze silenced him. "As her future husband, it's your duty to familiarize her with her new home."

The weight of Dadi's words sank in. As I met Mr. Oberoi's gaze, I found myself searching for a hint of emotion, a crack in his usual composed demeanor. Was he grappling with the same uncertainty I felt?

Dadi's directive snapped me back to reality. While the idea of exploring the mansion was enticing, the prospect of doing so alone with Mr. Oberoi was daunting.

With a seamless motion, he stood up and pocketed his phone. His eyes met mine, and he nodded, his command implicit. "Come."

Taking a deep breath, I rose from my seat and joined him. As we started walking away from the family gathering towards the other side of the mansion, the atmosphere shifted.  

••|••|••

As we ventured into the garden, uncertainty hung in the air. Would he break the silence, or would we merely wander in tandem? To my astonishment, he took the lead, his footsteps mirroring the quiet cadence of the winter breeze.

The cold air nipped at my skin, but with each step, I felt a growing warmth, perhaps fueled by the briskness of our pace.

"That's the garden; you can explore on your own," he remarked, his voice devoid of emotion, not bothering to glance back at me.

I exhaled softly, anticipating his typical confrontational demeanor. "There's no need for this. I can tell Dadi something came up," I suggested, hoping to avoid any unnecessary tension.

"I don't go against Dadi's wishes," he responded, his voice firm, continuing his stride towards another section of the garden. I quickened my pace to stay beside him.

The moon cast a soft glow on the pathway as we walked. The silence between us was palpable, and I couldn't shake the feeling that he'd rather be anywhere else than showing me around.

As we passed by a fountain, I couldn't resist another attempt at conversation. "It's a beautiful fountain, isn't it?" I remarked, hoping to elicit a response.

He glanced at the fountain briefly and replied, "It is indeed."

The lack of enthusiasm in his tone didn't surprise me, but I pressed on. "You know, you don't have to do this. I can find my way around, and you can get back to whatever you were doing."

He spared me a glance, his expression unchanged. "I'm here, and not going anywhere. Let me finish this tour than you are free to go."

I sighed, realizing it was futile to argue. "Alright, then. Lead the way."

After stealing another glance at the fountain, I trailed behind him, delving deeper into the garden's sprawling expanse.

"That's the other side of the garden," he noted, directing my attention to a badminton court nestled in its embrace. My excitement surged as I approached, only to be dampened by the sight of the torn net.

"This net need some fixing," I commented, turning to meet Mr. Oberoi's gaze.

After a cursory glance, he replied, "I'll make arrangements for it."

Intrigued, I pressed further, "Who plays here?"

His eyes roamed over the illuminated court before settling on me. "Mostly Bade papa, Rudra, and occasionally Badi Maa."

"And Om?" I probed, leaning against the net post for support.

He gently shook his head, "Sports isn't his forte."

A soft chuckle escaped me. "That's often the case with artists." Then, with a playful glint, I ventured, "What about you? Are you a good opponent on this court?"

His eyes met mine with a confident gleam. "I'd like to think so. Let's just say I haven't been defeated yet."

Feigning disbelief, I rolled my eyes and quipped, "Perhaps you've not encountered a worthy opponent."

His eyebrow arched challengingly.  "Is that so?"

With a smirk, I retorted, "I've competed at the state level and have yet to taste defeat."

His eyebrow quirked up in response, a challenge lingering in his gaze. "Oh, really? State-level competition, you say?"

I nodded, the competitive spirit between us sparking. "Indeed. I haven't lost a single match."

His eyes flashed the glimmering look. Undoubtedly, he is looking forward to matching us. "Well, maybe we should test that claim someday."

Told you.

A playful smirk danced on my lips. "I'm up for the challenge. Just be prepared to face a tough opponent."

His face slightly tilted in a nod, eyebrows twitching up, as if to say, 'we'll see about that.' I smiled, feeling more relaxed than before. At least I get to discover the extent of Mr. Oberoi's competitiveness. The glimmer of determination in his eyes clearly conveyed that.

As we walked away from the court, I noticed that the garden was quite vast, and there was a small pond with a bridge over it. It's outside the boundary of their house, but it was beautiful.

"What's that?" I pointed to the pond and asked.

"That's the pond. It's quite deep," he said, stopping beside me.

"It looks beautiful," I said, admiring the way the moonlight reflected on the water.

"It's dangerous. You should stay away from it," he said, sounding almost concerned.

I heard him and when I looked at him narrowing my eyes at his concern, he turned and starts walking away towards the main door side.

Trying to catch up with him, I called out, "Hey, wait!"

"Walk faster Ms. Trivedi, we don't have all night." he replied, gaining a scowl from my running form. We walked toward the other side of the hall, away from the rest of the family.

He gestured towards a room. "This is the mandir," he said, his gaze briefly flickering over the impressive Maa Durga murti adorned with flowers, every detail meticulously aligned with Vastushastra.

"I can see that," I deadpanned, my sarcasm lingering in the air.

Unperturbed by my comment, he led the way through the door. Once inside, my breath caught at the sight of an enormous library that put my college's collection to shame.

"Whoa," I couldn't help but exclaim. "This is like a forest of books."

"This is our study room, or you might call it a mini-library."

"Mini? Seriously?" I raised my hand in mock disbelief.

"Except Rudy, we're all keen readers," he explained, and suddenly the books in his room made sense.

"Yeah, I noticed the one in your room too," I casually remarked, meeting his cold blue eyes. I shrugged, and he slightly shook his head, a stoic expression maintaining his emotional distance as he looked away.

As we left the mini-library, Mr. Oberoi continued guiding me through the various rooms of the grand mansion. We passed through Dadi's room, Bade Papa and Badi Mummy's room, and even the gym, where Rudy worked out.

While I was absorbed in gawking at the gym room and checking out my reflection in the expansive wall mirrors, Mr. Oberoi shattered the silence. "This is more like Rudy's second room. He spends more time here working out than in his college."

I chuckled. "I'm sure he does." My curious gaze drifted to the punching bag, enduring relentless punches, and I couldn't help but ask, "And what about you?"

"Yes. Working out is one thing I encourage everyone to do," he replied, effortlessly picking up a 20 kg dumbbell as if it were a weightless cotton candy, and returning it to its place. The message was loud and clear.

"Yeah, right." I nodded, suddenly feeling self-conscious about my own fitness routine. I wondered if my leisurely strolls in the park while taking calls would qualify as a fitness regimen. Maybe I could convince myself that brisk walking and multitasking count as a workout – the fitness routine of the modern age, I mused, half-jokingly.

Moving from room to room, Mr. Oberoi provided quick information. We passed Prinku's room, adorned with pink walls and Disney princess characters, making me smile at its adorable charm.

As we walked through the hallways, he showed me the guest rooms and the store room. Heading upstairs, I marveled at the symmetry of the house, each detail carefully planned. Mr. Oberoi continued his informative yet brief tour, and I couldn't help but notice that every corner of the house had its own story, even if he didn't narrate them. The detailing was beyond impressive.

"These rooms belong to Om Ru," Mr. Oberoi mentioned as we approached a corridor. "On the right, you have Rudra's room."

I took a quick peek, noting the vibrant decor that perfectly mirrored Rudra's lively personality. "Colorful," I commented with a hint of amusement. "Just like his vibrant personality."

Mr. Oberoi nodded, leading me further down the hallway. "And this," he paused as we reached the last door on the right, "is Om's room."

I took a moment to absorb the serene ambiance that seemed to resonate with Om's artistic temperament. "It truly reflects his personality," I remarked, sensing the calmness that enveloped the space.

"It does." He gave a faint nod, acknowledging my observation, and then guided me to the last room, which I had become much more familiar with without his introduction.

"That you know, it's my room," he stated matter-of-factly.

I gazed at the door, this was the space that held a piece of Shivaay Singh Oberoi, a man who, until recently, was merely a name in the society columns. The room beckoned with an air of mystery.

Mr. Oberoi noticed my contemplative expression and, for a brief moment, a flicker of something unspoken crossed his eyes. Without delving into the details, he gestured towards the door as if leaving the choice of exploration entirely up to me.

As I entered his room, I couldn't help but feel a heightened awareness of every detail. Previously I just had a glance, but now carefully taking up the details. Minutes passed on I kept looking around.

"Finding everything to your satisfaction?" His voice, measured and composed, echoed through the room. Why do I feel like, he questioned to know my thoughts?

I turned to face him. "It's... it's quite different from what I imagined."

His raised eyebrow betrayed a hint of curiosity. "Different in what way?"

A thoughtful pause enveloped the room as I considered my words. "I imagined it... I don't know, like a typical boy's room." With a light chuckle, I continued, "I kind of pictured a room with a bit more of a 'lived-in' vibe, you know? A touch of chaos and charm, maybe a 'stuff everywhere' situation, like a regular person's room. But this is like... the room version of a perfectly planned Instagram feed. It's controlled, organized, but... but it's not cold."

The subtle shift in his expression didn't slip past my notice. "You thought my room would be cold?" His voice held a soft undercurrent of surprise.

I nodded, allowing a small smile to play on my lips. "Considering your demeanor, it's not an unreasonable assumption."

If not for the photos and painting that might be of Om's, and all those unique ornaments here and there decorating his room, his room would have been cold. However, these artifacts breathed life into the space.  Surveying his room, I couldn't help but find it a reflection of his unique personality, much like him. A chuckle escaped me as I considered the potential chaos that might unfold once I started living here. The orderly state of the room contrasted amusingly with the prospect of my own inherent messiness. After all, creating a bit of chaos is practically my middle name.

"Something funny?" His inquiry met my beaming face.

My gaze drifted around the room, absorbing its details. "I was imagining how I'd spend the rest of my life here."

When Mr. Oberoi's expression shifted for a moment, it seemed like something more profound was going on beneath the surface. However, he swiftly brushed it off, saying, "It's just a room," as if trying to keep things simple.

I nodded, my gaze settling on a photograph of his in middle of snow, with a subtle smile, that seemed to hold another story of its own. One day, I'll ask him, but not today. 

Leaving the room, as we ambled through the dimly lit corridors, Mr. Oberoi commanding stride drew my focus. His every step exuded a commanding confidence, an almost regal presence that hinted at a man well-acquainted with control. Yet, as we veered around a corner and approached a specific door, there was an unmistakable hesitation in his movements.

"This room?" I pointed as I intentionally stopped there when he clearly ignored it. He stopped, looking back at me than his gaze lingered momentarily, fixating on that door, and for a brief second, I glimpsed a deep emotion in his eyes.

The stillness of the corridor heightened the intensity of the moment. Compelled by the change in his demeanor, I found myself voicing the question that hung in the air. "Mr. Oberoi," my voice barely above a whisper, "who does this belong to?"

His adam apple moved, as he gulped down the fleeting moment of vulnerability  in an instant, replaced by an inscrutable mask. His eyes blinked, which had momentarily revealed a hint of emotion, now bore a chilling emptiness.

"No one's," he responded curtly, his tone final. "It's no one's. Just another store room."

With that enigmatic reply lingering between us, he quickened his pace, guiding me away from that particular door, leaving a trail of unanswered questions in his wake.

The sound of distant laughter from the living room reached us, a stark contrast to the quiet intensity between us. "We should get back," he said.

"Of course," I replied, falling into step beside him as we made our way downstairs. Whole time I was just looking back at door that I don't know, it's like giving some creepy vibe. I felt cold, not just in temperature but instinctively also. What could be there? I have to discover this mystery one day. Or else my curiosity will eat me alive. I hope so for god sake it's not haunted! 

Gosh Anika, you watch too much Vampire Diaries! Ghosts and all are no in real life.

As we reentered the living room, Dadi's eyes twinkled with a knowing glint as she looked at us.

"Did you like the tour, Anika puttar?" she asked with a cheerful smile.

I nodded, glancing at Mr. Oberoi, who remained impassive. "Yes, Dadi, it was enlightening. This mansion is beyond beautiful."

Dadi chuckled, a sound that resonated with wisdom. "Good. Now, let's continue the evening. There's much more to enjoy."

The evening wore on, filled with laughter, conversations, and new bonding. As the night began to wind down, I found myself walking towards the entrance with my mother, ready to bid farewell. 

Approaching the doorway, a sudden urge to acknowledge Mr. Oberoi gripped me—an unexplainable itch to throw some gratitude his way. Politely extricating myself from my mother, who caught onto the unspoken drama, she offered me a sly, knowing smile.

I retraced my steps back into the living room, finding Mr. Oberoi standing by the window—a lone silhouette in the dimly lit space.

"Mr. Oberoi," I chirped, and he turned to face me with a raised eyebrow, the epitome of stoic charm. A silent 'what do you want?' lingered in his eyes.

After a second of contemplation, I decided to dive into the deep end of banter. "I get it, we might not be each other's cup of tea, but hey, thanks for the grand house tour," I said, flashing him a smile that probably screamed 'this is me being serious.'

His expression remained as frozen as the Arctic, and there was an unmistakable tension in the air. "It's just a house tour," he replied, monotone and unyielding.

"Ah, but it's not just any house," I countered, my tone a blend of amusement and mischief. "It's practically a Sherlock Holmes novel waiting to happen. I'm half-expecting secret passages and trapdoors."

He looked at me with an arched eyebrow, a glint of something beneath the ice. "You have an overactive imagination."

I chuckled, undeterred by his icy facade. "Well, an overactive imagination is a small price to pay for an exciting life, don't you think?"

His eyebrow arched again, a subtle challenge in his gaze. "Just don't get lost in your own imagination."

I chuckled, taking a step backward. "Getting lost is half the fun, Mr. Oberoi. Keeps life interesting."

He didn't respond, but a flicker of something—was it amusement? —crossed his eyes. 

"Be it for formality or what so ever obligation, thanks for sparing some time to give me the grand tour. I genuinely appreciate it, "I said, nodding at him to emphasize the sincerity of my words.

In response, he offered a slow nod, his gaze lingering on me for a moment as if assessing something beneath the surface. The silence stretched, and just when I thought he might remain tight-lipped, he broke it with a measured response, acknowledging my gratitude.

"You're welcome. Considering you'll be spending the rest of your life in this house, might as well start getting acquainted," he stated, his eyes locking onto mine. In that moment, I sensed, for the first time since our interaction began yesterday, a recognition, an acceptance of my genuineness.

Taking a deep breath, I inhaled the crisp winter air, exhaling with wisps of smoke trailing away. I tried passing him a small smile as his gaze remained locked with mine, creating an unspoken connection. Just as we absorbed this shared understanding, the calls of my name from outside disrupted the moment. He turned away to gaze into the darkness beyond, while I fumbled to gather myself and rushed outside. Throughout the entire journey, I couldn't shake the feeling of his intense gaze lingering on my back.

••|•••|••

••|•••|••