- 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 -

This story isn't about falling in love. It's about two people colliding — and everything that breaks before anything heals. Welcome to Volume One.

Happy reading! 🌟💞

People liked to believe they had control over their lives. That if they planned carefully enough, worked hard enough, held on tightly enough — things would stay the way they built them. It was a comforting thought. A necessary one, even. Because the alternative was too unsettling to sit with. And they were never ready to face it.

That was the reality —  where you realise that you have no control. That it could shift in a single moment — without a warning, without reason, without giving you even a second to prepare. That everything you spent years building could fall before you even had the chance to realise it was happening. And in order to hold everything in your embrace, you end up submitting yourself to anyone — just to keep your life together.

The air in the room had thickened to the point where breathing felt like a task. Even the ticking clock on the wall seemed hesitant, as if it too understood the weight of the moment.

Papers lay scattered — some on the table while others were crumpled on the floor, some marked with signatures while others abandoned midway as if no one had the energy to finish what had been started.

A phone vibrated, piercing through the silence that filled the atmosphere.

No one picked it up.

And then the phone gave up.

Not even a minute later, another vibration followed, this time a different phone. But the reaction stayed the same.

With a hesitant movement, she finally picked up the phone.

Adhiraj Singh Chauhan.

Just when she was about to answer the call, a hand seized her arm tightly — halting her movement.

“Go to your room, Dani,” the person ordered while releasing her hand.

Without a word, she stood up and brushed past him and went to her room.

. . . .

A few hours ago…

A girl stepped through the grand doors of the Advani mansion, moving without hurry, as if she had all the time in the world to cross its vast silence.

The servants passing by bowed slightly, greeting her and she bowed her head slightly in return — her face devoid of any emotion.

She was,

Rahee Advani, whom the world recognized as Lee Dain.

She was finally visiting her home after two years. And the reason behind her visit wasn't positive.

Their company. Ellavine.

The same brand that had risen on the back of her name, her face, her career. What her father had built, she had made flourish — without ever being asked to. It wasn't just their identity. In ways nobody said out loud, it was hers too. And now it was on the verge of collapse.

Her eyes swept around the room before they settled on the person descending the stairs.

Eshvik Advani

Her brother.

A small smile formed on her lips, watching his steps fastening.

And the next moment, he pulled her into a tight hug. They stood like this — hugging each other — for god knows how many minutes before he pulled away pecking her head.

“How are you, Dani?” His usual rough voice softened. In response, she nodded slightly.

For a moment he didn't say anything and it was enough for  Rahee to notice the shift — the way his shoulder dropped slightly in weariness, the way his smile felt almost forced — she knew he was trying to stay strong.

Her thoughts broke when she heard Eshvik’s voice.

“Dani, I have some work in the office. Mom and dad are there too” he caressed her head and added after a pause, “We will be back soon, okay?” This time his voice came softer, filled with guilt.

Rahee's brow arched, but she still nodded.

A sigh left her mouth, and then she walked to her room.

As she entered her room, the first thing that caught her eyes was the bouquet of lilies lying on the edge of her bed. Her lips curved upward. She knew who was behind it.

Her brother.

It was almost like a ritual now. Every time she would come back home, he would greet her with lilies — white ones. And when she wouldn't come home, then he would send them to her, every year.

In a few quick steps, she was near her bed. Picking up the bouquet, she pulled it closer to her. The familiar scent hit her senses.

She missed this.

And before she knew it, her mind had already drifted back to that day.

The day when the Advanis adopted her.

Her biological father suffered from Chronic kidney disease.

Danielle did not understand what the illness meant. She only knew that her father was always lying down. That he smiled at her more than he spoke. That whenever she tried to climb into his lap, her mother would gently stop her and say, “Papa is tired.”

She did not remember the last time he had lifted her in his arms. In her memories, he was always on the bed. Always pale. Always watching her from a distance he never chose.

Hospitals became familiar before playgrounds did. The smell of medicines, the sound of machines, the white walls. She grew used to sitting on plastic chairs, swinging her legs, waiting for her mother to come out of rooms that took too long.

Her mother, on the other hand, understood everything. She understood the reports. The numbers. The cost. The way hope was thinning with every visit. She worked longer hours, skipped meals without noticing, and learned how to cry silently in bathrooms so her daughter would never see.

At night, when Danielle slept, she would sit beside her husband and talk to him about things that had nothing to do with illness. As if pretending hard enough could make it disappear.

Danielle only knew that her mother had stopped smiling the way she used to.

When her father passed away, Danielle did not cry loudly. She stood there, confused, because nobody had explained to her why he wasn’t opening his eyes. Why was everyone else crying when he simply looked like he was sleeping?

Her mother broke that day. Not loudly. Not in front of people. But in a way that never fixed itself again. After that, the house changed. Curtains remained drawn. Mornings came and went without anyone noticing. Meals became irregular. Conversations became shorter.

Her mother was still there, moving around the house, but she was no longer present inside it. Some days, Danielle would sit beside her and talk about random things, waiting for a response that never came. Other days, she would just sit quietly, matching the silence her mother had become.

She did not realise when she stopped asking to be held.

And her mother did not realise when she stopped having the strength to hold her.

The grief had taken a husband from her, and slowly, it took the mother away from the child too.

By the time her mother passed away, Danielle had already learned what it felt like to lose someone who was still alive.

Then, Meera Advani came into the picture — her mother's friend.

The Advanis adopted her. And from that day, she wasn't just Lee Danielle — she was now Rahee Advani.

There was not a single moment they made her feel like she was an outsider — From them teaching her Hindi to her teaching them some Korean — everything made her feel something she never felt with her biological parents. They supported her admiration for singing.

Her foster father would film her singing gibberish, laughing more than recording while her mother and brother joined her playfully.

Over the next three years, Rahee grew close to the family and the day for her to shift to Korea for her training came. That day, Eshvik gave her the lilies bouquet for the first time.

Her eyes glistened remembering that day. Her grip tightened on the bouquet as the aching realisation came back— she had forgotten the face of her biological parents. At first, she used to force her brain to remember, and she would only remember some fragments but now — she doesn't. No matter how much effort she put into it.

She could never succeed. And now, she has given up.

Blinking away the tears, she placed the bouquet back on the bed. Took a breath. And became Rahee Advani again.

Another weight settled back in. Ellavine. The collapse.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Present..

After freshening up, she descended the stairs to where her family was seated. They didn't welcome her like usual. In fact, no one registered her presence yet.

She moved towards them silently and sat on the couch beside her brother.

She watched their faces — guilt, fear, tension etched their faces, all at once.

Nobody said a word. But, everyone understood the silence.

“Rahee, come here” Yashvardhan, her father, called her while patting the space beside him.

“Papa, please-” Eshvik attempted to say something, but was cut off by Yashvardhan ji.

“Eshvik, shaant raho thodi derr”

(Eshvik, stay quiet for a little while.)

Hearing this Eshvik became completely silent. While the stiffness in his body didn't go unnoticed by her. His mouth twitched into something more unpleasant.

“Rahee… how are you beta? Aaj toh baat hi nahi ki kisine aapse”

(Rahee… how are you dear? Nobody even talked to you properly today.)

Yashvardhan ji asked Rahee noticing her subdued expression.

Instead of replying she wrapped her arms around him. His body relaxed a bit as he placed a kiss on her head before he added gently, “You don't need to take any stress Dani”, her heart ached hearing this.

“But it's happening because of me?” Rahee's voice came out small as the guilt washed over her. She felt his face hardening for a bare second before it softened again.

“Nahi”

(No.)

her head jolted up as Eshvik and father spoke at the same time. She looked at Eshvik, waiting for him to speak. “Never blame yourself for something stupid like this again, okay?” his voice clearly showed the disappointment while she just nodded her head.

“What were you guys talking about?” She inquired, remembering the conversation.

For a moment no one spoke, the thickness in the air came back.

She almost expected silence when suddenly Yashvardhan ji decided to break the silence.

“You already know the condition of Ellavine, right?”

She nodded.

“Kuch samay pehle Chauhan ka phone aaya tha”

(A little while ago, Chauhan called.)

She nodded again, waiting for him to continue as her head moved towards Eshvik. Her brows drew together noticing the shift in his expression.

The Chauhans and us used to be family friends but something happened exactly seven years ago, something ugly.

Something that broke many hearts. But my brother's heart the most or maybe — someone else's heart too.

Yashvardhan ji released a tired breath before continuing,

“Rahee… I don't know how you are going to react, nor will anyone ever force you, but I guess you have the right to know about this” this time his voice came softer and smaller than before.

Rahee felt her throat tightening in anticipation.

“Chauhan knows what we are going through… and they offered some help” hearing this, Rahee's eyes widened and her head jerked in her bhai's direction. His expression didn't change.

She had so many questions but before she could ponder, her father continued.

“But they have a condition”

Ofcourse.

“What help?” she couldn't stop herself from asking.

"they want you to marry Kyraan-"

SMASH

Before she knew, Eshvik slammed the nearby vase onto the ground, earning a gasp from everyone. Rahee's hand flew to her mouth before she could stop it. Her breath caught. The room went slightly distant — the voices around her fading into something muffled, far away. Her fingers curled into her palms without her noticing.

"ESHVIK!" Meera ji yelled, her eyes widened. Eshvik on the other hand clenched his fist. His entire body shaking as he looked directly into his father's eyes. Yashvardhan ji held his stare, his face hardened.

"She. Won't. Marry. Him-" Eshvik concluded, his voice became quieter which was somehow worse. But his next word died when Rahee spoke.

Her throat closed around everything she wanted to say. The ground beneath her felt unsteady. She stared at nothing in particular — her jaw tight, her hands still curled.

"Will it solve everything?” Her voice came out hoarse, stripped away from every emotion. Hearing this, Meera ji gasped, while Eshvik froze. His head turned towards her slowly. Shaking his head he strode towards her before gripping her forearm, shaking her slightly.

“Dani, are you even hearing yourself?” He waited for a response but got nothing in response.

“Your brother is still alive, you don't need to do anything stupid like this, okay?” It came after a pause.

“I will marry him,” Rahee concluded.

Eshvik's grip on her loosened as he stepped backward. He exhaled sharply, the sound almost like a laugh but carrying nothing of it.

“Take it back" barely above a whisper, and somehow heavier for it.

Rahee's own heart ached but she didn't show any emotion. Until, Eshvik pulled her into his embrace.

“When did you become this big to take such decisions, Dani?”

his voice cracked at the end.

The image of his younger sister — whom he adored more than his life — making such sacrifices broke him. He didn't want her to get dragged into his mess. She was too soft for this.

Pulling back, he placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Babu, Bhai is with you always. Don't do something that you will regret, please?”

he continued persuading her but she didn't waver from her words.

Meanwhile, somewhere in Rajasthan…

The cabin was quiet in the way only expensive rooms could be — the kind of quiet that felt deliberate, curated, undisturbed.

Papers sat aligned on the desk. Two laptops open, both active. Everything in its place — the way he preferred it. The way he needed it.

The person sitting across from him had been speaking for several minutes now. He hadn't looked up once. Not because he wasn't listening.

Because he already knew where the conversation was going.

And he had already decided he didn't like it.

The silence that followed the last sentence was his answer. Long enough to be uncomfortable. Long enough to make the person across from him shift in their seat.

He let it stretch.

Then, finally —

He spoke.

"And what made you think," his voice unhurried, deliberate, "that out of everyone, I would agree to marry someone from that family."

He was,

Kyraan Pratap Chauhan.

The person across from him shifted slightly. Kyraan noticed. He always noticed.

Silence stretched between them. Neither filled it. Then Kyraan stood. Not abruptly. Not dramatically. Just stood, the way a person does when a room has started to feel too small, and walked toward the window.

"Deny it, papa." His voice stayed even. "We don't owe them anything."

"Kyraan—"

"We didn't burn their house down. We don't need to rebuild it”

Adhiraj ji stood then, crossing the room toward his son. "Don't. Dont say something like that again."

Kyraan scoffed. Said nothing.

"How long will this bitterness last?" His father's voice dropped. Softer now. The kind of soft that only appeared when the conversation was really about something else entirely.

Kyraan's jaw tightened.

"Ask me again when he's suffered half of what I have” The words came out quiet. Almost conversational.

Adhiraj ji went still.

He knew his son's grief. He also knew his son was pointing it at the wrong person. But grief didn't ask for direction — it just moved, and destroyed whatever it touched.

"Danielle is our brand ambassador now." He said it carefully. Like placing something fragile on a surface. "She drives a significant portion of our revenue. If you refuse this, she may pull the contract entirely."

Kyraan turned from the window then.

He looked at his father for a long moment. Something moved behind his eyes — disappointment, maybe. Or recognition.

He didn't argue.

He already knew.

The silence that followed was different from the one before it. This one had a decision sitting inside it. When Kyraan finally spoke, his voice was quiet. Almost bored.

"You've just created a bigger problem, papa”

His father's shoulders dropped in relief. "But remember this conversation." Kyraan's eyes didn't move. "When you regret it."

Adhiraj ji left without another word.

The cabin settled back into its curated quiet. Kyraan stood in it — alone now — his eyes fixed on nothing in particular.

"Lee Dain." Her name came out like something he was testing the weight of.

“Get ready to suffer” He already knew what he was going to do with her.

𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌷͙⋆

This story isn't about falling in love. It's about two people colliding — and everything that breaks before anything heals. Welcome to Volume One.

Happy reading! 🌟💞



People liked to believe they had control over their lives. That if they planned carefully enough, worked hard enough, held on tightly enough — things would stay the way they built them. It was a comforting thought. A necessary one, even. Because the alternative was too unsettling to sit with. And they were never ready to face it.

That was the reality —  where you realise that you have no control. That it could shift in a single moment — without a warning, without reason, without giving you even a second to prepare. That everything you spent years building could fall before you even had the chance to realise it was happening. And in order to hold everything in your embrace, you end up submitting yourself to anyone — just to keep your life together.

The air in the room had thickened to the point where breathing felt like a task. Even the ticking clock on the wall seemed hesitant, as if it too understood the weight of the moment.

Papers lay scattered — some on the table while others were crumpled on the floor, some marked with signatures while others abandoned midway as if no one had the energy to finish what had been started.

A phone vibrated, piercing through the silence that filled the atmosphere.

No one picked it up.

And then the phone gave up.

Not even a minute later, another vibration followed, this time a different phone. But the reaction stayed the same.

With a hesitant movement, she finally picked up the phone.

Adhiraj Pratap Chauhan.

Just when she was about to answer the call, a hand seized her arm tightly — halting her movement.

“Go to your room, Dani,” the person ordered while releasing her hand.

Without a word, she stood up and brushed past him and went to her room.

. . . .

A few hours ago…

A girl stepped through the grand doors of the Advani mansion, moving without hurry, as if she had all the time in the world to cross its vast silence.

The servants passing by bowed slightly, greeting her and she bowed her head slightly in return — her face devoid of any emotion.

She was,

Rahee Advani, whom the world recognized as Lee Dain.

She was finally visiting her home after two years. And the reason behind her visit wasn't positive.

Their company. Ellavine.

The same brand that had risen on the back of her name, her face, her career. What her father had built, she had made flourish — without ever being asked to. It wasn't just their identity. In ways nobody said out loud, it was hers too. And now it was on the verge of collapse.

Her eyes swept around the room before they settled on the person descending the stairs.

Eshvik Advani

Her brother.

A small smile formed on her lips, watching his steps fastening.

And the next moment, he pulled her into a tight hug. They stood like this — hugging each other — for god knows how many minutes before he pulled away pecking her head.

“How are you, Dani?” His usual rough voice softened. In response, she nodded slightly.

For a moment he didn't say anything and it was enough for  Rahee to notice the shift — the way his shoulder dropped slightly in weariness, the way his smile felt almost forced — she knew he was trying to stay strong.

Her thoughts broke when she heard Eshvik’s voice.

“Dani, I have some work in the office. Mom and dad are there too” he caressed her head and added after a pause, “We will be back soon, okay?” This time his voice came softer, filled with guilt.

Rahee's brow arched, but she still nodded.

A sigh left her mouth, and then she walked to her room.

As she entered her room, the first thing that caught her eyes was the bouquet of lilies lying on the edge of her bed. Her lips curved upward. She knew who was behind it.

Her brother.

It was almost like a ritual now. Every time she would come back home, he would greet her with lilies — white ones. And when she wouldn't come home, then he would send them to her, every year.

In a few quick steps, she was near her bed. Picking up the bouquet, she pulled it closer to her. The familiar scent hit her senses.

She missed this.

And before she knew it, her mind had already drifted back to that day.

The day when the Advanis adopted her.

Her biological father suffered from Chronic kidney disease.

Danielle did not understand what the illness meant. She only knew that her father was always lying down. That he smiled at her more than he spoke. That whenever she tried to climb into his lap, her mother would gently stop her and say, “Papa is tired.”

She did not remember the last time he had lifted her in his arms. In her memories, he was always on the bed. Always pale. Always watching her from a distance he never chose.

Hospitals became familiar before playgrounds did. The smell of medicines, the sound of machines, the white walls. She grew used to sitting on plastic chairs, swinging her legs, waiting for her mother to come out of rooms that took too long.

Her mother, on the other hand, understood everything. She understood the reports. The numbers. The cost. The way hope was thinning with every visit. She worked longer hours, skipped meals without noticing, and learned how to cry silently in bathrooms so her daughter would never see.

At night, when Danielle slept, she would sit beside her husband and talk to him about things that had nothing to do with illness. As if pretending hard enough could make it disappear.

Danielle only knew that her mother had stopped smiling the way she used to.

When her father passed away, Danielle did not cry loudly. She stood there, confused, because nobody had explained to her why he wasn’t opening his eyes. Why was everyone else crying when he simply looked like he was sleeping?

Her mother broke that day. Not loudly. Not in front of people. But in a way that never fixed itself again. After that, the house changed. Curtains remained drawn. Mornings came and went without anyone noticing. Meals became irregular. Conversations became shorter.

Her mother was still there, moving around the house, but she was no longer present inside it. Some days, Danielle would sit beside her and talk about random things, waiting for a response that never came. Other days, she would just sit quietly, matching the silence her mother had become.

She did not realise when she stopped asking to be held.

And her mother did not realise when she stopped having the strength to hold her.

The grief had taken a husband from her, and slowly, it took the mother away from the child too.

By the time her mother passed away, Danielle had already learned what it felt like to lose someone who was still alive.

Then, Meera Advani came into the picture — her mother's friend.

The Advanis adopted her. And from that day, she wasn't just Lee Danielle — she was now Rahee Advani.

There was not a single moment they made her feel like she was an outsider — From them teaching her Hindi to her teaching them some Korean — everything made her feel something she never felt with her biological parents. They supported her admiration for singing.

Her foster father would film her singing gibberish, laughing more than recording while her mother and brother joined her playfully.

Over the next three years, Rahee grew close to the family and the day for her to shift to Korea for her training came. That day, Eshvik gave her the lilies bouquet for the first time.

Her eyes glistened remembering that day. Her grip tightened on the bouquet as the aching realisation came back— she had forgotten the face of her biological parents. At first, she used to force her brain to remember, and she would only remember some fragments but now — she doesn't. No matter how much effort she put into it.

She could never succeed. And now, she has given up.

Blinking away the tears, she placed the bouquet back on the bed. Took a breath. And became Rahee Advani again.

Another weight settled back in. Ellavine. The collapse.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Present..

After freshening up, she descended the stairs to where her family was seated. They didn't welcome her like usual. In fact, no one registered her presence yet.

She moved towards them silently and sat on the couch beside her brother.

She watched their faces — guilt, fear, tension etched their faces, all at once.

Nobody said a word. But, everyone understood the silence.

“Rahee, come here” Yashvardhan, her father, called her while patting the space beside him.

“Papa, please-” Eshvik attempted to say something, but was cut off by Yashvardhan ji.

“Eshvik, shaant raho thodi derr”

(Eshvik, stay quiet for a little while.)

Hearing this Eshvik became completely silent. While the stiffness in his body didn't go unnoticed by her. His mouth twitched into something more unpleasant.

“Rahee… how are you beta? Aaj toh baat hi nahi ki kisine aapse”

(Rahee… how are you dear? Nobody even talked to you properly today.)

Yashvardhan ji asked Rahee noticing her subdued expression.

Instead of replying she wrapped her arms around him. His body relaxed a bit as he placed a kiss on her head before he added gently, “You don't need to take any stress Dani”, her heart ached hearing this.

“But it's happening because of me?” Rahee's voice came out small as the guilt washed over her. She felt his face hardening for a bare second before it softened again.

“Nahi”

(No.)

her head jolted up as Eshvik and father spoke at the same time. She looked at Eshvik, waiting for him to speak. “Never blame yourself for something stupid like this again, okay?” his voice clearly showed the disappointment while she just nodded her head.

“What were you guys talking about?” She inquired, remembering the conversation.

For a moment no one spoke, the thickness in the air came back.

She almost expected silence when suddenly Yashvardhan ji decided to break the silence.

“You already know the condition of Ellavine, right?”

She nodded.

“Kuch samay pehle Chauhan ka phone aaya tha”

(A little while ago, Chauhan called.)

She nodded again, waiting for him to continue as her head moved towards Eshvik. Her brows drew together noticing the shift in his expression.

The Chauhans and us used to be family friends but something happened exactly seven years ago, something ugly.

Something that broke many hearts. But my brother's heart the most or maybe — someone else's heart too.

Yashvardhan ji released a tired breath before continuing,

“Rahee… I don't know how you are going to react, nor will anyone ever force you, but I guess you have the right to know about this” this time his voice came softer and smaller than before.

Rahee felt her throat tightening in anticipation.

“Chauhan knows what we are going through… and they offered some help” hearing this, Rahee's eyes widened and her head jerked in her bhai's direction. His expression didn't change.

She had so many questions but before she could ponder, her father continued.

“But they have a condition”

Ofcourse.

“What help?” she couldn't stop herself from asking.

"they want you to marry Kyraan-"

SMASH

Before she knew, Eshvik slammed the nearby vase onto the ground, earning a gasp from everyone. Rahee's hand flew to her mouth before she could stop it. Her breath caught. The room went slightly distant — the voices around her fading into something muffled, far away. Her fingers curled into her palms without her noticing.

"ESHVIK!" Meera ji yelled, her eyes widened. Eshvik on the other hand clenched his fist. His entire body shaking as he looked directly into his father's eyes. Yashvardhan ji held his stare, his face hardened.

"She. Won't. Marry. Him-" Eshvik concluded, his voice became quieter which was somehow worse. But his next word died when Rahee spoke.

Her throat closed around everything she wanted to say. The ground beneath her felt unsteady. She stared at nothing in particular — her jaw tight, her hands still curled.

"Will it solve everything?” Her voice came out hoarse, stripped away from every emotion. Hearing this, Meera ji gasped, while Eshvik froze. His head turned towards her slowly. Shaking his head he strode towards her before gripping her forearm, shaking her slightly.

“Dani, are you even hearing yourself?” He waited for a response but got nothing in response.

“Your brother is still alive, you don't need to do anything stupid like this, okay?” It came after a pause.

“I will marry him,” Rahee concluded.

Eshvik's grip on her loosened as he stepped backward. He exhaled sharply, the sound almost like a laugh but carrying nothing of it.

“Take it back" barely above a whisper, and somehow heavier for it.

Rahee's own heart ached but she didn't show any emotion. Until, Eshvik pulled her into his embrace.

“When did you become this big to take such decisions, Dani?”

his voice cracked at the end.

The image of his younger sister — whom he adored more than his life — making such sacrifices broke him. He didn't want her to get dragged into his mess. She was too soft for this.

Pulling back, he placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Babu, Bhai is with you always. Don't do something that you will regret, please?”

he continued persuading her but she didn't waver from her words.

Meanwhile, somewhere in Rajasthan…

The cabin was quiet in the way only expensive rooms could be — the kind of quiet that felt deliberate, curated, undisturbed.

Papers sat aligned on the desk. Two laptops open, both active. Everything in its place — the way he preferred it. The way he needed it.

The person sitting across from him had been speaking for several minutes now. He hadn't looked up once. Not because he wasn't listening.

Because he already knew where the conversation was going.

And he had already decided he didn't like it.

The silence that followed the last sentence was his answer. Long enough to be uncomfortable. Long enough to make the person across from him shift in their seat.

He let it stretch.

Then, finally —

He spoke.

"And what made you think," his voice unhurried, deliberate, "that out of everyone, I would agree to marry someone from that family."

He was,

Kyraan Pratap Chauhan.

The person across from him shifted slightly. Kyraan noticed. He always noticed.

Silence stretched between them. Neither filled it. Then Kyraan stood. Not abruptly. Not dramatically. Just stood, the way a person does when a room has started to feel too small, and walked toward the window.

"Deny it, papa." His voice stayed even. "We don't owe them anything."

"Kyraan—"

"We didn't burn their house down. We don't need to rebuild it”

Adhiraj ji stood then, crossing the room toward his son. "Don't. Dont say something like that again."

Kyraan scoffed. Said nothing.

"How long will this bitterness last?" His father's voice dropped. Softer now. The kind of soft that only appeared when the conversation was really about something else entirely.

Kyraan's jaw tightened.

"Ask me again when he's suffered half of what I have” The words came out quiet. Almost conversational.

Adhiraj ji went still.

He knew his son's grief. He also knew his son was pointing it at the wrong person. But grief didn't ask for direction — it just moved, and destroyed whatever it touched.

"Danielle is our brand ambassador now." He said it carefully. Like placing something fragile on a surface. "She drives a significant portion of our revenue. If you refuse this, she may pull the contract entirely."

Kyraan turned from the window then.

He looked at his father for a long moment. Something moved behind his eyes — disappointment, maybe. Or recognition.

He didn't argue.

He already knew.

The silence that followed was different from the one before it. This one had a decision sitting inside it. When Kyraan finally spoke, his voice was quiet. Almost bored.

"You've just created a bigger problem, papa”

His father's shoulders dropped in relief. "But remember this conversation." Kyraan's eyes didn't move. "When you regret it."

Adhiraj ji left without another word.

The cabin settled back into its curated quiet. Kyraan stood in it — alone now — his eyes fixed on nothing in particular.

"Lee Dain." Her name came out like something he was testing the weight of.

" Get ready to suffer"

𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌷 ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ