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IMPORTANT NOTE: The following character aesthetics were given by my sweetheart Zoyakhan112005

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Mumbai

Suryawanshi Mansion - Living Hall

The grand living hall of the Suryawanshi mansion buzzed with a warm ambiance as family members gathered, engaging in an animated discussion. The focus of their attention was finding a suitable bride for the family's cherished son, Shivaksh.

The marriage bureau owner, Mr. Mittal, held out a picture with a confident smile. " Madhavi ji, please have a look at this girl. She's the only daughter of a prominent businessman from Banaras. Her father owns a business worth crores, and to top it off, she's educated abroad. I think she would be a perfect match for Shivaksh."

Madhavi looked at the photo but quickly shook her head. "Mr. Mittal, I know my Shivaksh's taste very well. This girl isn't his type. Please show us some other options."

The family exchanged glances as Mr. Mittal's expression became strained. "Madam, I've shown you over thirty proposals. You haven't liked a single one. If you could share your priorities, I'll find someone who fits them precisely."

Shivaksh's chacha ( uncle ) gourav cleared his throat, setting the tone. "First and foremost, we aren't just looking for a daughter-in-law. We want a daughter for this family."

"And we don't need a girl from a wealthy family. We need someone who truly understands Shivaksh," shirisha ( gourav's wife)  added firmly.

Rishabh ( youngest chachu )  nodded thoughtfully. "Our Shivaksh doesn't speak much, so we need someone who can understand his silences."

Richa ( his wife )  chimed in with a hopeful smile. "It would be good if she's well-educated, a modern girl who can also support Shivaksh in handling the business."

Dada ji and dadi sa also gave their respective opinions

Finally, Madhavi spoke, her voice carrying the weight of a mother's love. "Above all, we want someone who can stand by Shivaksh through every happiness and sorrow."

Everyone nodded in agreement, their faces reflecting a shared hope.

Suddenly, Shivaksh's bua (aunt) suhani  scoffed, adding a sour note to the gathering. "Bhabhi, where do you expect to find such a girl? I say stop this madness and find someone who at least matches our family status. If she's only beautiful and not rich, what happens to our reputation? My brother already made a mistake thirty years ago by marrying you. Do we really want to repeat that story?"

Madhavi's expression softened but did not falter as she held her composure. Shivaksh's younger sister ruhi , who was also bua's daughter, could not hold back her anger any longer.

"Maa, will you please stop it? You never miss an opportunity to insult Badi Maa! Enough is enough. You know what Shivaksh Bhai would do if he heard this."

Her mother sneered, "Huh, do whatever you want. Nobody listens to me in this mansion anyway!" With that, she stormed off, muttering under her breath.

Shirisha and Richa placed comforting hands on Madhavi's shoulders.

"Di, don't take Suhani di's words to heart. You know how she is," shirisha said gently.

Richa added with a reassuring smile, "Just focus on Shivaksh and his future bride. We're all eagerly waiting to see him as a groom."

Madhavi took a deep breath, her eyes brimming with a quiet resolve. "I'm sure there's a nice girl out there for Shivaksh, someone who will understand him, love him, and make his life complete," she whispered, joining her hands in a silent prayer to Lord Shiva.

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Mumbai's streets

The streets of Mumbai always felt overwhelming, like waves crashing into my small, sheltered world. Every sound seemed magnified—the honking of cars, the chatter of people, the sizzling of food stalls—it was chaos, but it fascinated me.

Today, Mayuri Didi had convinced me to step outside without Ammaji’s knowledge. I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, but her excitement was contagious. Now, as I stood at a roadside stall nibbling on vada pav, I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling creeping over me.

“Bhaji, hum waapis chaltein hain? Mujhe yahaan achha nahi lag raha,” I whispered to Mayuri Didi, tugging at her sleeve.

Before she could answer, Sonali Didi snickered, her tone sharp. “Dekha? Maine pehle hi kaha tha na, tumse yeh sab nahi hoga. Tumhare jaise log safe jagahon pe hi rehna chahiye, Isha.”

Her words stung more than I cared to admit. I didn’t belong here, but I wasn’t weak. I stayed quiet, swallowing my pride for the sake of peace.

Mayuri Didi, sensing my discomfort, nodded. “Thik hai, chalo waapis chaltein hain.”

As we began to cross the street, the signal turned green, and cars surged forward like a tidal wave. Mayuri bhaji and Sonali quickly made it to the other side, but I froze in the middle of the road. Memories of a terrible accident I’d once witnessed flooded my mind. My feet wouldn’t move; my body felt as though it had turned to stone.

I shut my eyes tightly, bracing for the inevitable impact.

Then came the screech of tires, loud and jarring, followed by a voice laced with both anger and concern. “What the f*ck!”

When I dared to open my eyes, I found myself mere inches away from a sleek black car. My breath caught in my throat. Before I could process anything, the driver stormed out, yelling at me.

“What were you thinking? Aapko dikhayi nahi deta kya?”

I wanted to respond, to apologize, but my voice refused to cooperate.

Just then, the car door opened, and a man stepped out. Tall, commanding, and dressed impeccably, he seemed like someone who didn’t belong in this chaotic street. His presence was magnetic, drawing everyone’s attention, but his eyes… they were locked on me.

“Aap theek ho?” he asked softly, his voice a stark contrast to the driver’s anger.

I was startled by his tone. It wasn’t laced with judgment or irritation. It was gentle, almost kind. I nodded slowly, unsure of what to say.

Sonali tried to get close to him but Mayuri Didi quickly stepped forward, apologizing profusely. “Humein maaf kijiye. Yeh galti se hua.”

The man didn’t respond to her. His gaze remained fixed on me, studying me as though he were trying to decipher a puzzle.

“You’ve got some sweat on your forehead. You should wipe it off,” he said, extending a handkerchief toward me.

Embarrassed, I shook my head and used my dupatta instead. I could feel my cheeks heating up, though I wasn’t sure why.

After another round of apologies from Mayuri Didi, she pulled me away, leading me toward safety. I could feel his eyes following me as we walked, an intense gaze that sent a shiver down my spine.

Just before we turned the corner, I glanced back. He was still watching, a faint smile playing on his lips. My heart skipped a beat, and I quickly looked away, my steps faltering for a moment.

As we reached Ammaji’s mansion, I couldn’t shake the image of him from my mind. Who was he? Why did his eyes feel so… familiar?

I didn’t know then, but that moment on the bustling streets of Mumbai would change my life forever.

Mumbai Traffic

The cacophony of honking horns and the chaos of Mumbai traffic were enough to aggravate anyone, and for someone like me—Shivaksh Singh Suryavanshi , it was pure torture. Sitting in my custom-made Rolls-Royce, I flipped through the files my childhood friend-turned-employee, Karthik, handed me. I had barely returned from New York after finalizing an important deal, and the stack of pending documents in front of me was testing my patience.

Karthik, seated in the passenger seat, passed another file to me. His overly respectful demeanor had always annoyed me, especially when we were alone.

“How many are left, Karthik?” I asked, my tone sharp, my cold voice cutting through the noise outside.

“A few more, Hukum Sa,” he replied, his voice steady yet deferential.

“Karthik,” I warned, narrowing my eyes at him, “you can call me by my name when we’re alone. Come on, yaar. We’ve been friends since childhood.”

He briefly turned to glance at me, a small smile tugging at his lips before he looked back at the road. “Hukum Sa, I respect your position. I know you’re my friend, but as your employee, I can’t take such liberties.”

I sighed internally. That’s Karthik for you—loyal, unyielding, and impossibly formal. My father, recognizing his brilliance despite his humble background as the accountant’s son, had enrolled him in my school. We had been inseparable since.

“This is the last document, Hukum Sa. Read it carefully before signing,” Karthik said, breaking my reverie.

I opened the file and skimmed the contents. The words on the page made my jaw tighten.

“I, Shivaksh Singh Suryawanshi, agree to the following terms: If by the year 2025, I have not found a suitable partner, I consent to marrying a girl chosen by my mother.”

“What the hell is this, Karthik?” I yelled , my voice laced with irritation.

Karthik chuckled, keeping his gaze on the road.

“Is this some kind of joke?” I demanded, my anger simmering.

“No, Hukum Sa. This contract is from Kaki Sa,” he replied, referring to my mother with the reverence he always showed.

I punched the seat in frustration. “She’s serious about this, isn’t she?”

“She is, Hukum Sa. This year, you will definitely get married,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Stop this rubbish, Karthik, or I’ll leave you stranded in the Sahara Desert,” I threatened, my tone icy.

Before he could respond, the driver slammed the brakes, causing me to lurch forward slightly.

“What the f***?” I shouted, furious.

The driver stepped out to confront the person who had caused the sudden stop, but my eyes were drawn to the scene outside. Standing in front of my car was a girl, her hair cascading around her face, swaying gently in the wind. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her face partially obscured by loose strands, but her delicate nose ring caught the sunlight, gleaming like a beacon.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away. Who was she? Was this real, or was Mahadev playing tricks on me?

Her fear was evident, her posture tense as she stood amidst the chaos. I stepped out of the car, my legs moving almost involuntarily toward her.

“Aap teek ho ?” I asked, my voice uncharacteristically gentle.

She opened her eyes, and the moment our gazes met, something stirred within me—a strange, inexplicable pull.

I extended my handkerchief to her, noticing the beads of sweat on her forehead. She declined politely, using the duppata to dab her face instead. Her gesture was simple, yet it exuded grace.

Two other women were with her, one of whom approached me hesitantly before the other pulled her back. The girl—the one who had captured my attention—followed them, but not before turning back to glance at me one last time. Her deep brown eyes held mine for a fleeting moment before she disappeared into the crowd.

I stood rooted to the spot, my chest tightening as I watched her go. The world around me seemed distant, the only thing grounding me being her final glance.

Karthik’s voice broke through my daze as he re-entered the car. He glanced at me through the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable.

“Karthik,” I said, my tone reverting to its usual coldness.

“Yes, Hukum Sa?”

“I want every single detail about that girl. As soon as possible,” I ordered, my face devoid of emotion.

“Ji, Hukum Sa,” he replied, bowing slightly before focusing on the road.

As the car moved forward, my mind stayed behind, replaying the moment over and over again. For the first time in years, I felt something stir within me—a mixture of curiosity, intrigue, and a faint glimmer of something I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in a long time.

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