Surprise ✨

-• so, who won? •-

[ August 31, 2000 ]

Ever since Avani got married, Sara had stolen the rare opportunities she could to spend time with her sister. Things at Rajawat Palace never run on personal choices, they are always decided by Abhimanyu Singh Rajawat, her grandfather.

Hence, that evening when she comes home, it's with the determination to spend the next ten days of Ganesh Chaturthi at her sister's house. She might not believe in God as ardently as her sister does, but she's certainly in love with the sweets Avani prepares in order to welcome Him home.

Her backpack slings off her shoulder and she drops it on the couch. Ignoring the one year old kid and his nanny playing in the living room, Sara makes her way upstairs towards her father's room. She knows he'd rather be spending his time gambling away his father's money than be a father figure to her, but she also knows he'd be easier to persuade than her grandfather.

Knocking once, she places her hand on the knob and twists it. It unlocks, the door pushes ajar on its own. Her father looks up from the couch he's sprawled on, watching something on the television and enjoying a drink. He raises a brow at her, irritated at best due to the unwelcomed intrusion. Sara stiffens, her tongue freezing in her mouth.

"What?" He barks.

The timid, young figure flinches, lowering her gaze to the floor. Her shiny raven hair curtains her face, framing the flushed chubby cheeks. She rubs her toes together, nibbling on her bottom lip, hating the way her confidence dwindles in front of a man.

"Get out if you've nothing to say!"

She blinks nervously. Now or never. "I- I'm on five days holiday from tomorrow."

"So?"

"It's Ganesh Chaturthi."

"Cut the bullshit and come to the point!"

Her frightful eyes meet his. "Didi."

"Didi what?" He asks, annoyed.

"Didi ke paas jana hai. (I want to go to Didi's house.)" She murmurs shakily.

"Then go." He waves his hand in a dismissal.

Her eyes light up. "Really? Can I go now?" She asks, her tone catching an iota of joy.

"Yeah, leave." He says, his attention stolen by the South Indian movie running on the screen.

"But- But Grandpa -"

"He doesn't care." Virendra snorts, his eyes zeroing into the distance in aggression. "Ever since that pest was born, he doesn't care about anyone else. Fuck off."

Pest.

He referred to Shourya as a pest. She had no emotional attachment with the kid, but still, he is her brother. She couldn't mask the feeling of hurt that consumed her hearing her father call her brother a pest. That's all they were in his eyes anyway, but she's glad at least her grandfather doesn't think the same. He may not love his granddaughters as much as he loves his grandson, but she's not jealous. The baby has no mother, their father could care less, and Sara, as selfish as it might sound, feels no sense of responsibility towards him. She knows if Avani was here, Shourya would have been loved to bits and pieces, but in this palace without her, they are as good as orphans.

"Thank you, Dad." She whispers, pulling the door close and retreating downstairs. Without a glance towards her baby brother, she picks up her backpack and heads out of the palace. She had packed herself a few clothes right in the morning before school. Even if she hadn't, she didn't care. She just wanted to leave this cold palace to seek some warmth.

Her chauffeur opens the door for her. She enters the backseat after a softly muttered thank you. He closes the door and gets inside the driver's side, pulling the car out of the porch. Sara scoots to the opposite window, watching the streetlights, buildings and trees fall behind as they speed down the asphalt. She clutches her backpack to her chest, tucking her hair behind her ears, studying the world outside with interest.

Their car stops at the red light.

Another car stops next to them.

Sara tilts her head in a trance at the beautiful boy sitting in the backseat of the black Mercedes. Her lips fall apart in awe when he lifts his head from the book in his lap, glancing outside the window before his gaze shifts to her car.

She recognises him as soon as their eyes connect.

Yuvraaj Singh Chauhan. The unsmiling, snow Prince of Jaigarh.

She raises her hand to wave at him.

He ignores her.

Sara frowns, hunching forward in reflex as the car whirs to life and pulls off. She sits back straight, hugging her backpack close, her mood sour due to the charming boy's blatant rejection. He always does that. Rejects every polite approach. In school, he's fondly called as Snow Prince. For teachers, he's their most sincere, prodigy student. But towards girls, the ones who actually keep his fan following increasing, he never spares them a glance. He doesn't even have friends. Not that she does either. But that's because everyone avoids her due to her family name. Rajawats are scary. Chauhans are kind. That's a fact.

"We're here, baisa," the driver cuts off the engine in the porch of a three storey mansion. Thanking the man, she opens the door and steps out, shrugging on her backpack before heading inside the house through double doors.

Having grown up in a house as complicated as the Rajawat Palace, Sara never finds herself lost in new places. She has leaped down the corridors that are webbed together intricately, has played hide and seek in the hallways that you'd never be sought out of, there's no building in the world that can ever make her feel lost.

Her feet glide down the carpeted floor, flight in her steps as she hears her sister hum from the kitchen. Even though Avani comes from a royal background where she never had to lift a finger for anything, she had seamlessly adjusted herself in this family of ten that don't believe in hiring outside help to keep their house running.

Sara's steps come to halt at the main foyer when sees her sister's mother in law descend the grand staircase. She fiddles with the strap of her backpack, forcing an awkward smile at the woman who walks past her unresponsive. Sara sighs, not letting the woman's reaction dampen her mood.

The Sehgals are not really fond of her and her sister. She'd never know what forced Madhav Sehgal to marry her sister, he doesn't even love her.

Sighing exasperatedly, she rounds the foyer and makes her way towards the kitchen. Stopping at the threshold, she watches her sister sing along to the lyrics playing in the background on her phone, preparing modaks for the mahaprasad tomorrow.

Sara clears her throat.

Avani jumps in fright, her floured hand clutching her chest in surprise. Their eyes meet and Avani lets out an annoyed breath. Sara chuckles. "You scared me!"

"I missed you too!" Her backpack slides off her arm, dropping to the floor as she walks up to her sister and hugs her from behind. Unlike what Sara expected, Avani winces and the modak in her hand falls on the kitchen slab, ruined. Sara moves back, frowning up at her sister. Avani swallows nervously.

"Show me," Sara demands.

Avani evades the approaching hands by moving away.

"Didi!"

"It's nothing." Avani smiles.

Sara clenches her jaw, helpless rage filling her eyes with warm tears. Avani breathes out softly, hugging the little girl to her chest. "It's nothing."

"Why don't you leave him!?" Sara grits out, frustrated.

Straightening, Avani picks up one of the modaks from the plate and feeds her sister one. Sara opens her mouth, sniffling softly. "I thought you don't eat Prasad before offering it to God."

Avani kisses her forehead. "You're a kid. I'm sure he'll understand. Want more?" She picks up another.

Sara chews hastily and swallows, opening her mouth before her sister changes her mind. Avani chuckles, shoving the modak in the tiny black hole that gobbles food yet nothing of it shows on the slender long body.

"Did you take Grandpa's permission before coming here?" Avani asks as Sara rounds the kitchen island and props herself on the stool. Sara shakes her head. Avani's hand stops rolling the dough, she gives her little sibling a disappointed look. "Sara!"

"But I asked Dad."

Avani rolls her eyes. "You know Grandpa wouldn't like that. He wants you home for the baby. Shourya is only a year old-"

"And? Why should I care?"

"Sara!" Avani says sternly. "That's our brother."

"Half brother," Sara scoffs.

"Sara," Avani admonishes.

"Whatever. He has an army of caretakers and nannies at his beck and call. He'll be fine without me." She fiddles with the salt shaker.

"There's a difference between a nanny and a sister-"

"So many bad things started to happen after he was born. Chachi commited suicide, Chachu disappeared, Mom died while giving birth to him, and nobody cares. They're all focused on the baby."

"Because it's not his fault, Sara." Avani mutters softly. "He's all we have, and we're all he has. Please, try to understand that."

"Then come back." Sara meets her eyes stubbornly. "These people don't care about you. Come back to us."

Avani sighs shakily, licking her dry lips before she looks down to hide her tears. "I can't," she resumes making modaks. "For everyone's sake, I can't." She finishes firmly.

"What if something happens to you?" Sara reaches out to gently hold her arm, the red and purple bruises scattered like stars across her porcelain skin.

Avani smiles tenderly. "Nothing will happen to me. Bappa hai na, woh humari raksha karega. (God is there, he'll protect us.)"

Sara nods, wanting to believe the same.

🕛

[ P R E S E N T ]

Top Headlines> Sehgal Hotels grand opening in Ooty. First look of the high end luxury resort to reveal on 12th May. [Subscribe to get updates.]

Sara slaps the laptop close.

As a Rajawat, there's little to no chance she'll be invited to the ceremony. But she needs to find a way to enter the party. This is one of the rare opportunities she needs to get started.

"Can I ask you something?"

Since the doors of the balcony were left open, she could hear her uncle and cousin in the living room.

"What?" Virat asks, standing behind the kitchen island, in the midst of cleaning up the counter after their dinner.

"Are we the only ones left in our family?" Shourya inquires curiously.

Virat stops wiping the counter, leaning against it as he muses thoughtfully on how to answer the question. "We have relatives, but I don't think they'd want to associate with us anymore. So yeah, we're the last of us."

"How big was our family?" Shourya rests his chin on his arm folded across the crestrail of the divan.

"Not that big, actually." Virat replies. "There was Sara's father, her step-mother, her sister and her. And in my family, it was I, my wife, and Rudra. You were a month old when I had to run away to protect myself."

"You mentioned Sara having a sister." Shourya glances towards the balcony. Fortunately, the woman has headphones on. He didn't know there was no music playing through them.

Virat's gaze follows the young woman pitifully. He nods. "Avani Rajawat. She was seven years older to Sara. She died very early. She was only twenty two years old."

"When? I mean, what year?"

"On the day of Ganesh Visarjan in the year 2000." Virat mumbles.

Shourya squirms in his place awkwardly. "Were they close?"

Virat smiles fondly. "You've no idea. Avani was like Sara's mother."

"She must miss her." Shourya looks towards Sara sitting alone on a reclining chair in the balcony.

"She must." Virat conceded with a nod.

Outside, Sara blames the cold for the goosebumps on her arms and legs. Opening her laptop, she presses play on Spotify, increases the volume to the highest decibel possible and drops her head back, clutching her nightdress in a fist until the tremble of her body stops.

When the cold finally retreats, she inhales and exhales deeply, counting each breath in her mind until she can breathe normally again. The music blasting inside her ears thrums within her heart, ricocheting across her chest with a thump. She rakes her hand through her open locks and the silky strands escape the gaps of her fingers, cascading on the side of her shoulder gracefully.

Putting the laptop aside, she hunches forward and drops her face in the cup of her palms, closing her eyes to the brightly lit city in front of her. She can't afford wasting anymore time. She must find a way to get into the Sehgal's hotel inauguration ceremony.

Her gaze manouveres towards her cell phone on the stool. She hesitates. She has troubled Rudra enough with her problems, she shouldn't be doing this. But he's an influential personality, and he's a Rawal, maybe he can get her an extra invite to the party?

Despite the clear shame brewing internally, she leaps for the phone and dials his number. She has to do this before she thinks sane and changes her mind.

"Hello,"

"Rudra," Sara addresses firmly.

"Hey, is there something I can do for you?"

Embarrassment floods her veins. That's right. He'd absolutely assume she called him with the intention of needing something. "Ye- Yeah, if it's not a problem for you."

"I'd have to hear you out before coming to any conclusion. So, what is it?"

"I heard in the news Sehgals are opening a resort in Ooty? The inauguration is next week. Can you get me the invites to the ceremony?"

"Is it- is it important for your plan?"

Reluctantly, she replies, "Yes."

"Okay," he affirms. "I have an extra invite. Since Tara's not coming with me, you can. Sounds good?"

Sara sighs in relief. "Yes, thank you so much. I owe you."

"It's fine. I'll pick you up next Monday." He says. She hums in response. "By the way, all the best. I heard this month's edition of Muse will be out for sales in the stores tomorrow."

She chuckles softly. "It's not a big deal. It's not like we have any competition." She adds, remembering the challenge Yuvraaj made to her a few weeks ago in the shopping mall. She shakes her head in amusement. There's no way he'd sell two hundred thousand copies so early in the recovery phase.

Rudra laughs. "Oh, I'd not be so relaxed if I were you." Then he hangs up, leaving her confused.

It's the next day when she walks into her office that she realises the underlying meaning of his words.

"I got myself one too, but yours is different."

Sara stops abruptly, watching her juniors crowd around their desks, discussing something animatedly.

"Same, I also got the one you got. Why is hers different? Why do you have his solo picture on the cover?"

"Because this one's special edition. I spent five hundred on it." The receiver of the questions replies excitedly. "See! It has his exclusive interview! I've heard only 25 hundred copies of the limited edition were published. The pre-booking was open last night. I sent you guys a link in the group. Did you not check it?"

"Oh, fuck, I thought it was another of your stupid pirated links to some cheap theatre print movies!"

"Boo hoo, your loss."

"What is this about?" Sara breaks the huddled group of excited young women apart. She looks towards the stacked, untouched copies of their magazine in the corner, her eyes narrowing back on them. "What is that? It's not our magazine." She looks down at the magazine clutched in Shweta's hands.

"Uh, it's - it's Icon, Ma'am."

Sara stiffens. "Show me."

Shweta handovers the magazine timidly.

Five hundred!?

Who the fuck pays five hundred on a magazine? He's really exploiting the whole King of Jaigarh thing.

Sara scratches her brow and opens the magazine, flipping to where his interview is published. It's his first interview for a lifestyle magazine. His first ever written interview after Forbes six years ago. He did a freaking photoshoot for the cover. He never did photoshoots.

"They released two editions, ma'am. This one's limited edition copy." Shweta informs her. "The stores were flooding with people wanting to buy the magazines the moment they saw the cover pages. It's not frequent you get to see the famous Chauhan siblings together on a cover page. They're celebrating Icon's twenty-fifth anniversary."

"Honestly, I thought Icon was as good as gone. I don't remember the last time I saw it in stores."

"Same! But what a comeback, man. They returned with a bang!"

"Oh, I'd not be so relaxed if I were you."

Sara closes her eyes in regret.

Shit.

She shouldn't have underestimated the man. Of course, he wouldn't go down so easily. And this time, he proved that.

This time, he won.