Nirvaan Singh Rathod

Challenging.

That's the word I'd use to sum up my life ever since my mother passed away. I was just a boy when everything unraveled—left with three younger siblings to care for, a father consumed by his own despair, and a grandfather whose obsession with power dictated every move.

I was seventeen when I discovered the cruel joke that was my life. Betrothed. Promised like a pawn on a chessboard to Nivya Sekhawat, the eldest daughter of another prominent family from Veerkut. My destiny was decided before I even understood what it meant to dream.

I laughed at the absurdity of it all at first. Me, married? Building a family? I could barely keep my current one from shattering completely. And families? They're a gamble. My father's pain taught me that. He once loved my mother so deeply, and after she died, that love turned into a festering wound he couldn't heal from.

I didn't want love. I didn't want a family. I didn't want Nivya Sekhawat.

But in families like ours, what choice do we truly have? Our lives are never ours to shape.

And yet, buried deep beneath my anger and resignation, there was a flicker of defiance. A quiet voice whispering that maybe, just maybe, I could rewrite my story. But hope, I'd learned, can be a dangerous thing.

Nivya Sekhawat—she wasn't just beautiful. She was the kind of stunning that turned heads everywhere she went, the kind that made even other women stop and stare, caught between admiration and envy. Insanely gorgeous didn't even begin to cover it.

I'd known her my whole life, not personally, but enough to know she was impossible to ignore. She is my brother Ivaan's best friend, after all, and he spoke about her often enough for me to form an impression even without direct interaction.

But impressions were one thing, and reality was something else entirely. She had an air about her, a confidence that only amplified her beauty. Nivya wasn't just a face; she was a force. And for someone like me, who preferred to stay away from attachments, that force felt like a complication I didn't want—or need.

Yesterday, my grandfather met hers, and just like that, the decision was made—I was to marry Nivya by the end of this month. No consultation, no questions, just a declaration that sealed both our fates.

Strangely enough, I didn't protest. There wasn't much of a reason to. I had always known this day would come, and I had prepared myself for it in my own quiet way. From the moment I learned as a teenager that she was promised to me, I had resigned myself to the idea. She would be my wife. That was the expectation, and now, it was simply becoming reality.

Nivya isn't someone you can coerce into submission with force or manipulation. She's a storm wrapped in elegance, a challenge disguised as beauty. She's the type you have to earn—win her trust, her respect, and above all, her heart.

But winning someone like Nivya isn't easy. She's fiercely independent, with a mind sharper than most and a will that refuses to bend. I've known this about her for years, and yet, here I am, standing on the edge of a life bound to hers, wondering if I'll ever be enough to meet her expectations—or if I even want to try.

The truth is, I've always known where this road leads. Nivya is nothing more than a pawn in the relentless game of fate, just like me. I'm not interested in her—not in her fiery defiance, her beauty, or the storm she carries in her heart. I'm not interested in forming a family, in tying myself to someone, in opening wounds that I've buried deep.

But she'll be my responsibility—a duty thrust upon me by the weight of expectations and the threads of tradition. Nothing more, nothing less. Just another name added to the list of obligations I carry, a name I'll protect but never truly embrace.

I'll see to it that all her needs are met—her comfort, her safety, her place in this gilded cage we call life. But love? That will never be one of them. Love complicates, entangles, and destroys. I have no room for it in my carefully constructed world.

Nivya Sekhawat may become my wife, but she'll never touch the part of me that remains locked away—untouched, unyielding, and closed off to anything as chaotic as love.

A sharp knock on the door broke through my thoughts. I pressed the button to open it, and there he was—Ivaan, looking more disturbed than I had ever seen him. His brows were furrowed, and his jaw was tight. Trouble.

"What happened?" I asked, setting the file in my hands aside, already bracing myself for whatever storm he was about to unleash.

He stepped in, arms crossed, his gaze cutting straight through me like a blade. "You're marrying my best friend," he stated, his voice low but loaded, his eyes narrowing into sharp slits of accusation.

I held his gaze for a moment, my expression unchanging. "I am," I confirmed flatly, leaning back in my chair.

Ivaan's lips twitched with disbelief as he stepped closer. "And you're fine with this? You, who swore never to let anyone dictate your life, are just...going along with this arrangement like it's some business deal?"

His words hit a nerve, but I kept my face impassive. "It is a business deal," I replied coldly. "She's a Sekhawat; I'm a Rathod. That's all it needs to be."

His expression hardened as he let out a bitter laugh. "You don't even know her, Bhai. Nivya isn't someone you can stuff into your perfectly packaged world and forget about. She's not just some chess piece in your little game of power."

"And yet, here we are," I shot back, my voice laced with finality. "This isn't about love or emotions, Ivaan. It's about responsibility. I'll protect her, provide for her, but beyond that? There's nothing to say."

"You're making a mistake," he muttered, shaking his head. "She deserves better."

I pushed back my chair, standing to meet him eye to eye. "Maybe she does," I said, my voice calm but unyielding. "But this is how it is. Nivya Sekhawat will be my wife. End of discussion."

"She was crying," he said softly, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. My stomach twisted at his words, a flicker of unease sparking deep within me.

"She has dreams, Bhai. She loves traveling, exploring. And above all, she's too young for the kind of mess she's going to face after marrying you." His voice grew firmer, challenging, as he held my gaze.

My jaw clenched tightly, but I remained silent, daring him to continue.

"I've never heard her cry like that before," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "Heart-wrenching, like she was being suffocated. She's being forced into this, Bhai. She's just twenty-two. Just a week ago, she graduated. Do you get that? Her life is only just beginning, and now you people want her to slip into the role of a wife, chained by responsibilities she didn't ask for."

He paused, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears, his pain raw and honest. "She doesn't want this. She doesn't want you. Deny the alliance. Please."

His plea hit harder than I expected. Ivaan wasn't the type to crumble easily, and seeing him like this, pleading for her—for her dreams, her freedom—was unsettling. This wasn't about romance. This wasn't about some childish infatuation. He loved her, but not in the way people assume. It was pure, protective, and unshakable. Platonic yet deeply rooted.

But I couldn't waver. My resolve, though shaken, stood firm. "And what happens after that, Ivaan?" I finally said, my voice colder than I felt. "She denies me, and then what? She goes back to being their pawn, shuffled into another alliance, another cage, and another set of rules? At least with me, she won't have to suffer that."

He shook his head, frustrated. "You're not listening, Bhai. She's not a pawn. She's not someone you fix or save. She needs freedom, not another gilded cage, even if it's made of gold and wrapped in your so-called protection."

The silence between us grew heavy, the weight of his words pressing down on my chest. Ivaan's love for her wasn't misplaced. It was the kind of loyalty that demanded action. But my path had already been decided. The chains that bound me to this alliance were ones I couldn't break, no matter how much I wanted to.

"She doesn't want to become your responsibility," Ivaan said, his voice steady yet brimming with emotion. "She believes in love, Bhai. She dreams of falling in love, of being with someone who cherishes her the way she deserves. And with you... it's impossible for her."

His words hit harder than they should have. My chest tightened, and for a fleeting moment, I felt something crack deep within me. Was that what I was in the eyes of my siblings? A man incapable of love? Someone who couldn't give it or receive it?

The image stung more than I wanted to admit. I had always known my role—the protector, the provider, the one who bears the weight of the family's expectations. But hearing it laid out so bluntly, hearing that I was seen as someone void of love, felt like a knife twisting in my gut.

"Is that what you think of me?" I asked, my voice barely audible, but it carried the bitterness I couldn't suppress. "That I'm incapable of love? That I can't make someone happy?"

Ivaan looked at me, his eyes softening for a moment before hardening again. "It's not about what I think, Bhai. It's about what she feels. And right now, she feels like she's being handed over to a man who doesn't care about her dreams or her heart. She feels trapped."

The weight of his words settled heavily on my shoulders. Trapped. That word lingered in the air, suffocating me. I had never asked for this alliance, never sought to make Nivya my wife. But now, it wasn't just about duty or responsibility. It was about the perception of who I was—or who I had become.

"I'm not heartless," I said finally, my voice low but resolute. "I'm not incapable of love. But love is... a luxury I don't have the privilege to chase. You think I want to bind her to this life? You think I want to see her unhappy?"

"Then let her go," Ivaan challenged, his tone sharp. "Let her find the love she dreams of, the life she deserves. Don't tie her down with your burdens."

I looked away, the turmoil inside me threatening to consume me.

"And above all," Ivaan continued, his voice cutting through the silence, "you want to marry her and take her into this house?" He glanced around, his eyes bitter as they took in the grandeur of the room. 

"I wouldn't live in this house after marriage," I said, watching Ivaan's eyes widen in surprise. It was a decision I had made long before this conversation, one I had planned carefully. I couldn't, in good conscience, force Nivya to live under the same roof as my grandfather, not with the suffocating pressure of tradition and control that came with it.

Ivaan stood there, stunned into silence. For the first time in sixteen years, I had said something that shook him to the core. I could see it in his eyes—the disbelief, the confusion, and a hint of something else, something almost like relief. He had never heard me speak like this before.

In the last sixteen years, I had never once considered leaving this house. It had always been my duty, my responsibility, to stay. No matter how suffocating it was, no matter how little room I had to breathe or make my own choices, I had always stayed.

I stood there, frozen, as his words hung in the air like a delicate thread. "I wish you fall in love, Bhai."

It was so simple, yet it hit me with the force of a thousand unspoken truths. I had never really thought about it. Never allowed myself to. The idea of love seemed so distant, like something others could afford but not someone like me.

But Ivaan... Ivaan had always known me better than anyone else. Despite everything, despite the walls I had built around myself, he had always seen the person beneath—the person I was too afraid to be. He knew that, deep down, I had never let myself truly feel anything, never allowed myself the chance to fall in love. And yet, here he was, wishing that for me.

I stared at the empty space where he had stood, his words lingering in the silence that followed. I didn't know what to feel. Maybe it was hope—something unfamiliar, yet something that made my chest tighten.

I shook my head, trying to push the thought aside, but it stayed, an unfamiliar ember in the pit of my stomach. Would I ever let myself feel that way about Nivya? Would she even want to be loved by someone like me?

I closed my eyes, letting the question settle deep in my mind, knowing it was something I would have to face sooner or later.

-----

Nirvaan has my whole heart<3

The way his story will unfold and you people will know the suffering of this man, will make your heart break. He will fall in love first and harder. 

Do check out my ig account for spoilers.

Thankyou<3