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CHAPTER - 19

WEDDING AND WORK.

__________________

Rajveer ~

I walked back into my room just after sunrise.

It was quiet in the estate. The kind of stillness you only get before the staff starts moving around and the day begins. I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

There she was.

Aadya Sharma.

She was curled up right in the middle of my bed, fast asleep. Still wearing her lehenga from last night. Bangles halfway up her arms, lipstick faded, hair slightly messy. One earring was missing. She looked like she'd sat down for a minute and just passed out from sheer exhaustion.

And yet, she still somehow looked like she belonged there.

Like this room had always been hers.

I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, just watching her for a moment. This woman, fierce and full of fire, sleeping on my bed like she owned it. Like she hadn't kicked me out of this very room just a few hours ago.

I should have been annoyed.

But I wasn't.

What I was, was amused.

I walked in, took a shower, went to the cupboard to grab a shirt. I didn't tiptoe. Let the cupboard door creak. Let the hangers clink. I knew the sound would wake her up.

It did.

She stirred, blinked, then sat up quickly, pulling the dupatta over her shoulder.

Her eyes found me immediately. Narrowed. Sharp.

"You don't knock before entering someone's room Ranawat?" she asked, voice raspy from sleep.

I didn't look at her. Just pulled a shirt off the hanger.

"This is my room." I said calmly.

"No." she said, stretching slowly like a cat, "You gave it up when you walked out last night. This is my room now."

"I did not walk out," I replied, unbothered. "I gave you some space. Especially when you were throwing a tantrum like a toddler."

She scoffed. "A tantrum? That's rich coming from a man who got kicked out and didn't even argue."

I looked at her now, calmly, buttoning my shirt. "You asked me to leave. I did. Doesn't mean I agreed that this room belongs to you."

She got off the bed, adjusting the dupatta across her chest before missing a step but managing herself. "Oh please. You didn't even put up a fight. Just walked out like a well trained labrador."

I raised an eyebrow. "Would you have preferred screaming on our wedding night?"

She smirked, walking past me like she owned the place. "A little resistance would've been nice. Shows spine."

"I pick my battles, Sharma." I said, folding the sleeves up slowly. "You weren't worth the war last night. Besides when you do scream my name, which you will, that would be for very, very different reasons."

She froze for just a moment.

faintly on her cheeks. She looked away too quickly. Pulled her dupatta tighter around her shoulders.

Only for a second.

Then she turned away, flipping her hair over her shoulder like nothing had happened. "You have a very high opinion of yourself, Ranawat and you are truly delusional to even think that I'd ever let you anywhere near me."

I stood there, watching her try to act all tough, but something about the way she carried herself. It wasn't fear. Not even close.

Most people freeze when they're in my room, especially after what they've heard about me.

But her? She looked right through that. Like she didn't care.

I leaned forward just a little, voice low and steady, cold as ice.

"You don't get how dangerous I am, do you?"

She didn't flinch. Didn't back away.

Instead, she gave me that same fiery look, half-smile playing on her lips.

"I get it perfectly. But trust me, Ranawat, you do not scare me, nada. Now if you don't want me to throw something at your smug idiotic face so early in the morning, get away." she said and walked out of the room, trying so hard to look fierce when in reality, it was almost funny, watching her walk in an outfit almost as heavy as her own weight.

I shook my head, a slow smirk curling on my lips. Dangerous or not, I liked the fight she brought with her.

This marriage was going to be far from boring.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aadya ~

I NEED my clothes and I NEED them now!

"Aarav kahan hai tu?" I screamed at the top of my lungs to call my brother who must be for sure hogging something for breakfast.

(Aarav, where are you?)

"Can I help you with something, sweetheart?" Rajveer was out of the room too, all dressed for the day and I shut my eyes close for a second before opening them.

"Yes actually, tell me where is my car? I have to leave for office in an hour." I announced with the sweetest smile and saw his expressions turn from smug to serious.

Bullseye!

"Aadya, Ahaan's men are still after you. We have not announced this wedding formally." He said, taking a step closer to me but I shook my head in negative.

"Dekho Rajveer, mai na job karti hoon, mera ek career hai jisse maine aaj tak kisi bhi aadmi ke liye sideline nahi kiya hai apni family ke alawa. Ab jab mujhe pata hai ki woh sab safe hain toh mujhe koi fark nahi padta hai, Ahaan ko jo try karna hai woh kar le." I told him, a hint of anger rising within me.

(Look Rajveer, I have a job, I have a career, one that I've never sidelined for any man, except for my family. Now that I know they're all safe, I don't care anymore. Ahaan can try whatever he wants.)

He took another step toward me. Controlled. Careful. Like he was trying not to spook me.

Spoiler alert, I don't get spook.

"Aadya, this isn't just about you." he said quietly, and I hated how his voice dipped like that, low and firm and all sorts of annoyingly persuasive. "You step out that gate, it won't be just your career on the line. It'll be your life."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh please, stop acting like I'm some damsel in distress."

His jaw clenched. Bingo.

"I don't think you're a damsel," he said, voice suddenly colder. "I think what you are is a stubborn fool who doesn't realise she has a target painted on her own back."

That hit harder than I expected. But I didn't let it show. Couldn't.

"You don't get to decide what I can or can't handle," I snapped, taking a step forward to match him. "I've been taking care of myself way before you stumbled into my life with your broody warnings and overprotective caveman energy."

His eyes darkened, a flicker of something intense crossing his face. "You're my wife now, Aadya."

The word wife landed between us like a loaded gun.

I folded my arms. "Is that supposed to mean something to me? Because newsflash, I didn't exactly sign up for this either. You think I wanted this marriage? You think I planned on waking up in your godforsaken bed all my life?"

His gaze didn't waver. "No. But here we are. And like it or not, until we announce this wedding to the world, you're still a vulnerability. And I don't like vulnerabilities under my roof."

I took a deep breath, my fingers curling tighter around the edge of my dupatta.

"Then maybe I should just leave your roof altogether." I said, lifting my chin. "You clearly didn't want a wife, and I sure as hell didn't want a bodyguard in the disguise of a husband."

He exhaled, rubbed the back of his neck, then looked at me like I was the most infuriating puzzle he'd ever encountered. "Fine. I will have someone drive you to your office. You don't leave the car. You don't take unknown calls. You don't meet anyone without security. That is non-negotiable."

I stared at him.

"I'll take the security." I said quietly. "But I go to work. You don't get to take that from me."

A slow nod.

A truce. Temporary, fragile, but real.

He turned to leave, but paused at the last second. Glanced at me over his shoulder, voice softer this time.

"Your clothes are in the closet. Mom had someone arrange them for you this morning."

I blinked.

"Aur suniye, apne iss bikhre haal ko liye aap humare kamre se bahar jaayengi toh shaayad logon ko kuch aur hi lagega, ek baar ayine mein dekh toh leti aap." he said, his eyes twinkling.

(And listen, if you step out of our room looking like this mess, people might get the wrong idea. You should've at least looked in the mirror once.)

And just like that, the truce shattered.

"RANAWAT!" I yelled, looking around to find something to throw at his retreating back.

The idiot laughed,  actually laughed as he walked away.

God help me. I married a lunatic.

I walked back into the room.

"Kyun bholenath? Kaise sirfire aadmi se aapne meri shaadi karwadi hai? Yeh kaise nibhegi mujhse umar bhar?

(Why, Bholenath? What kind of crazy man did you get me married to? How am I supposed to live with him for a lifetime?)

I pulled open the closet, and sure enough there were all my clothes. Neatly arranged, pressed, sorted. Even the jewellery boxes were tucked in one corner. I stared at it all for a moment.

Of course his mother would do this. She had been nothing but kind, ever since I stepped into this palace of a house. Warm smiles, gentle hands, soft-spoken words.

But the son?

Total opposite. Tall, brooding, arrogant. And infuriating. With that smug face and the way he says things just to get a rise out of me. I swear, if he calls me Little Dove or sweetheart one more time...

Still half-fuming, I ran my fingers over the hangers. My eyes settled on a simple light blue chiffon saree.

I went to freshen up quickly and dressed up, , pinning the pleats in place, tucking the pallu over my shoulder.

Pulled my hair back into a low bun. Added small silver jhumkas, barely-there kajal, and nude lipstick. Clean. Crisp. Focused.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

This was who I was before all this madness. Aadya Sharma. Senior Journalist. Not someone's newly-wed wife hiding behind the curtains of a palace.

I stepped out, ready to face the day.

A black SUV was waiting at the front of the estate. Vansh  in a formal black uniform opened the door as I approached. Ishaan stood by the gate, expression blank, earpiece tucked into his ear.

"Ma'am." Vansh said with a small nod, starting to drive as he looked at the rearview mirror towards me.

"Will you stop being so formal and call me Aadya? Just last week we were debating about samosas and Vada Pav Vansh, what is this personality shift?" I asked, deadpanning.

He gave a small smile, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the rearview mirror.

"Duty calls." he said, keeping his voice even.

"Stop calling me your duty. It's weird." I pointed out and he smiled a little.

Vansh didn't respond. Just kept driving. Quiet. Focused. Professional.

I leaned back, looking out the tinted window. The estate faded behind me, sprawling and too pristine. Too quiet. I hated it. I missed the chaos of the city. Of a newsroom filled with shouting editors, clattering keyboards, and too much coffee.

Not this... suffocating silence where even the laughter felt measured.

My phone buzzed.

I picked it up instantly, grateful for a distraction.

Text from Aarav.

You're finally going where your heart truly belongs, best of luck Di, can't wait to see you back on 8 ki baat, Aadya Sharma ke saath!

P.S. I've also started my internship here in the estate and the equipments are better than any freakin hospital!

I smiled at Aarav's message. The idiot. Of course, he'd find a way to turn even a palace into his playground.

I typed back quickly:
Don't touch anything that looks more expensive than your liver.

No reply. Just a seen tick.

Typical.

The SUV pulled up to the building. My building and I got down immediately, asking Vansh to park some distance away but the damage was already done.

Hardik, my best friend and a senior producer, part time cameraman for me had seen me step out of the car.

"What the bloody hell Aadya? Do you have any idea how worried sick I was?" He asked, pulling me into a hug.

"I am fine, a lot has happened, I will fill you in later. Right now, I need to go to Jeevan sir and beg my job back to him. I have been MIA for two weeks without notice, I am sure he is going to kill me." I said, pulling back.

"Are you kidding? He will take you back with the blink of an eye. He loves his TRP and you bring him the best." He tried to assure me in a way as we walked inside the building.

As I stepped into the familiar newsroom, the chaos hit me like a wave. Phones ringing, people shouting, the clatter of keyboards, and the hum of live broadcasts in the background, it was everything I had missed. My feet moved on their own, weaving through the madness like I'd never left.

I reached Jeevan Sir's cabin and took a deep breath. No matter how many years I'd worked under him, this man still made me nervous. I knocked once, opened the door, and peeked inside.

He looked up from his screen, eyes narrowing. "Well, well. Look who decided to show up."

I walked in quickly, my hands folded. "I know, I know I disappeared, and I should have informed you, but..."

"I don't care." He cut me off, getting up from his chair and walking around the desk. "Where have you been?"

"Personal emergency." I said simply. "But I'm fine now. I want to come back. Same beat. Same timings. Same responsibilities. I can make up for the time I lost."

He stared at me for a long second before sighing. "You're lucky, Miss Sharma. If it was anyone else, their chair would've been filled already. But since no one can shout at corrupt ministers on live TV like you do, I'll give you one chance."

I blinked, surprised. "So I can come back?"

He pointed to the newsroom. "You're back already. Your slot is still 8 PM. You go live tonight. Now get out and make some noise."

I grinned. "Thank you, sir. I promise I won't disappoint."

"Just make sure this emergency doesn't repeat. And for the love of god, stay off social media. I don't want any scandal about Aadya Sharma's secret wedding going viral."

I froze.

"W-What wedding?" I asked.

He smirked, walking back to his chair. "I may be old but I'm not blind. I saw the car you came in, the security, the clothes, and that look on your face. Something changed. But I'm not asking questions, as long as you deliver on camera."

I stepped out of the room, my head spinning slightly. Hardik came up to me with two coffees and handed me one.

"What did he say?"

"I'm back." I said, a little breathless.

"Told you," he said, raising his cup. "To the queen of prime-time."

I smiled and took a sip of the coffee. It was strong, bitter, and perfect.

I was back.

Back to the chaos. Back to the newsroom. Back to me.

"And you're live in 3....2.....1 and go!" Hardik informed me through the earpiece.

The show went well.

The moment the lights dimmed and the camera stopped rolling, I let out a slow breath. My shoulders finally dropped, the tension draining out of me.

"This is going to gain so much traction all over social media Aadya, you're truly back!" Daksh sir said, shaking my hand and then walked off for his primetime debate.

Hardik caught up with me, his usual smirk plastered across his face. "You were on fire, Aadya. That minister didn't know what hit him."

I let out a dry laugh. "Let's just hope he resigns before I have to grill him again next week."

By the time I stepped out of the building, the adrenaline had worn off and exhaustion had taken its place. Hardik tried to follow me to my car, but I waved him off with a glare and a promise to talk tomorrow. Vansh was parked a little farther away this time, just like I'd asked.

I slipped into the car without a word, too drained to even tease him about acting like my security detail. He didn't say much either, just gave me a small nod through the mirror and drove.

My phone buzzed once, then again, but I ignored it. Whatever it was could wait.

By the time we reached the estate, the world outside was quiet. Too quiet. The huge gates opened without sound, and the SUV rolled in like a ghost. I stepped out slowly, my heels clicking against the stone driveway. The place looked almost deserted. A few staff members moved quietly in the background, nodding at me politely, but there was no noise, no chatter, nothing.

I walked through the front doors, the chill of the air conditioning hitting me.

No sign of anyone. Not even Aarav, who usually popped up from the strangest corners. Not even Rajveer's mother. Just... empty halls and polished marble.

I climbed the stairs slowly, dragging my bag behind me. My feet hurt. My head hurt. All I wanted was a bed and a bucket of ice cream. Maybe not in that order.

His room....god, now mine too. I pushed the door open quietly, not really expecting anyone.

But there he was.

Rajveer Pratap Ranawat.

Sitting on the couch, one ankle crossed over the other knee, a file open in his hands, glasses perched on his nose. Of course he wore glasses while reading. Of course they looked annoyingly perfect on him.

He looked up the moment I stepped in. His eyes scanned my face, lingered just a second too long, and then he spoke.

"Good show." he said simply.

"You watched?" I asked, a little surprised as I tossed my handbag onto the side chair and kicked off my heels.

He shrugged. "I had the remote. Nothing else was on."

I rolled my eyes and walked to the dresser, pulling the pins out of my bun. "You could just say you were impressed."

"I was not." He closed the file and leaned back, arms on the couch. "But your voice cracked on the farmer protest segment. Maybe don't scream so much next time?"

I turned to glare at him. "Accha toh ab tum mujhe bataoge ki mujhe apna show kaise host karna hai?"

(Oh, so now you're going to tell me how I should host my own show?)

He smirked. "Kyun nahi sweetheart? Seekhne mein kaisi sharam?"

(Why not, sweetheart? What's there to be ashamed of in learning?)

I narrowed my eyes, walking closer and asked him. "Kabhi yeh waali news suni hai tumne ki ek thaki haari naaraaz aurat ne apne pati ka khoon kar diya kyunki usse zyada bolne ki beemari thi?"

(Have you ever heard the news about a tired, angry woman who killed her husband because he had a problem of talking too much?)

"Was this supposed to scare me?" was all he asked.

I turned to glare at him, answering his initial question. "I scream when I'm passionate."

He smirked. "You scream when you're dramatic."

I gave him the nastiest look that I had before walking into the washroom to freshen up, change and then go and meet Maa and Aarav because this man would receive some flying vase on his face from me if I stay here any longer.

Ughhh.