Rishi’s POV :

The door creaked open with a click, and my jaw clenched the moment I saw someone step in. My body stiffened automatically — instincts kicking in before reason could.

THUD!

The punch landed on my jaw.

My fist flew right back, colliding with his cheek with equal force.

For a few seconds, nothing moved. We stood there — two grown men, breathing heavily, fists clenched, eyes burning with the same fire. Rage. Betrayal. Unspoken words. Years of distance.

Then—

BANG!

We both burst out laughing.

A laugh that echoed off the walls. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t friendly. It was raw, slightly unhinged, like two devils greeting each other after being locked in separate hells.

I stepped forward and smacked him across the head, not too gently.

"Saale kutte!" I hissed, punching his arm. "Tu zinda hai?"

(You bastard dog!! Are you alive?)

“Missed me?” he smirked, the same arrogant grin on his face like he owned the world.

Aaryan Rathore.

My childhood best friend.

The idiot who left for London seven years ago and didn’t even bother telling me.

“You disappeared like your ex’s morals,” I growled. “And now you just show up, punching me in my own damn room?”

He shrugged, rolling his shoulders. “Well, I missed your face. Thought I’d say hello the old-fashioned way.”

We stared at each other for a beat longer, then chuckled again — the room suddenly too full of old memories and silent forgiveness.

But deep down, I knew…

If Aaryan Rathore was back in town —

Chaos wasn’t far behind.

The warmth of his hug was brief but strong — like nothing had changed in these seven years.

“Idiot,” I muttered under my breath, slapping his back.

Aaryan chuckled. “Missed you too, Shekhawat.”

Before we could sit, he threw the question at me — sharp and direct, like always. “So… Rudra told me. Who’s this book fair girl haunting your dreams, huh?”

I rolled my eyes, gesturing toward the table. “Dekh khud hi.”

(You see by yourself)

I slid the CCTV photo across to him — slightly grainy but clear enough. Her pink saree, her open hair, the slight turn of her face. Enough to burn her image in someone’s mind. She had burned into mine.

“I don’t know her name,” I said lowly. “But I know one thing — she’s a Malhotra.”

That made Aaryan freeze.

He stiffened as soon as his eyes landed on the photo. His smirk faded, jaw locked. And then…

“Aayat…”

The name slipped from his tongue like a whisper. But to me, it roared.

My gaze sharpened. “You know her?”

He didn’t try to lie.

He sat down, exhaling heavily. “She’s Aroohi Malhotra’s younger sister.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Aroohi? The same girl you—”

“Yeah,” he interrupted, rubbing the back of his neck, regret flashing in his eyes. “The same girl I pranked. The one I pretended to love back in college… just because she slapped me for ragging a fresher. I was a jerk, Rishi. I know.”

Silence stretched between us for a second. The only sound was the low hum of the AC.

“And Aayat?” I asked.

He looked at me. “Innocent. Untouched by all of it. But I left a bad impression on that whole family, Rishi. I don’t think she’ll ever look at me without disgust.”

I clenched my fists around the photo. “I don’t care about your past, Aaryan. I just want her.”

Aaryan’s lips curled slightly — not in mischief, but with something more thoughtful. “Then I’ll help you.”

I raised a brow. “You sure?”

He smirked. “What are friends for? Besides, I owe the Malhotras an apology… and you a wingman.”

I laughed under my breath. “Not a wingman. Just don’t ruin it.”

“Relax,” he winked. “This time, no games. Just redemption… and maybe a little chaos.”

And just like that — the chase had begun.

---

Aayat’s POV :

I had barely stepped inside the house, the soft shimmer of my award ceremony saree still intact, the fragrance of fresh roses lingering around me — when I heard it.

Voices.

Loud. Bitter. Predictable.

Malhotra Mansion and peace?

A rare combination.

I sighed, clutching the small trophy in my hand tighter — the one that said “Best Debut Author of the Year.”

It meant the world to me.

But apparently, in this house, nothing I do is ever enough to silence the daily dose of drama.

“Kya zarurat thi itna makeup karne ki? Award lene gayi thi ya swayamvar mein?” Kusum’s piercing tone stabbed the air like always.

(Was there a need to do so much makeup? Did you go to receive an award or in any marriage ceremony?)

I rolled my eyes and walked in with a dry smile. “Aunty, I was thinking of inviting your beloved Kush to my swayamvar. What say? Or… is he still recovering from the last time I rejected him publicly?”

Her mouth opened, but before she could shoot venom again — Maa spoke.

“Bas Aayat.”

One word. Calm. Measured. But heavy.

(Enough aayat)

I turned to Kiran Malhotra — my mother, my only real family in this mansion full of snakes.

Her eyes weren’t angry. But they weren’t soft either.

“There’s something we need to discuss,” she said, her fingers adjusting the edge of her dupatta — a sign she was nervous.

I blinked. “What happened?”

She sighed. “A marriage proposal came for you.”

Silence.

Kusum smirked from behind like she had won some secret war. I ignored her existence.

I stared at Maa. “So?”

“The family is respectable. The boy is well-settled. And… I liked the proposal,” she said, her voice steady but eyes pleading for understanding.

I stayed quiet for a moment. Then I took two steps forward, gently placing my trophy on the table — the one no one in this house had bothered to ask about.

“You liked it?” I asked, meeting her gaze directly.

“Yes,” she nodded. “I think it’s a good match. And—”

“And you want me to say yes?” I cut in.

Kusum scoffed. “Of course. What else is left for her to do in life?”

I turned, my voice sharp like a whip. “Aap kaun hoti hain decide karne wali ki main kya karoon ya naa karoon?”

(Who are you to decide what I should do or not?)

Then I looked back at my mother, my eyes softening. “Maa, if you want me to meet them, I will. But just one thing…”

I walked up to Kusum and stood in front of her, eye to eye.

“My mother is very much alive. And she’s standing right here — Mrs. Kiran Malhotra. So next time before interfering in ‘my marriage’, kindly keep your opinion to yourself.”

Kusum’s face burned red. But I didn’t care.

Because at that moment, all I could think was…

Why now?

Why a proposal? Why so sudden?

And more importantly—why did this feel wrong?

Little did I know, this was just the beginning.

____

Aroohi's POV :

I found her sitting near the window, lost in her thoughts, her chin resting on her knees — a rare quietness over her usual fire

“Aayat?” I called softly.

She looked at me, blinking out of her thoughts. “Hmm?”

I walked in and shut the door behind me, the mansion already silent — like it always is after dinner. Except tonight… it felt heavier.

“You okay?” I asked, taking a seat on her bed.

She shrugged. “Maa wants me to meet the boy.”

“You said yes?” I asked, surprised.

Aayat exhaled deeply. “Only to meeting him, di. I didn’t agree to marry. Just… I couldn’t say no to Maa today. She looked so hopeful.”

I stayed quiet for a moment before asking the one thing circling my head since dinner.

“Who is the guy anyway?”

She shook her head. “No idea. Neither does Maa. Proposal came through some elite channel. No name, no photo… just the label — ‘India’s top businessman.’”

I frowned. “That’s suspicious.”

“I know,” Aayat whispered. “Feels like some kind of game. Who sends a rishta without even a name or face?”

Aayat leaned her head back against the window frame, her voice softer now. “Do you think I’m being stupid?”

I stood and walked to her, sitting beside her by the window. “No. But I think something’s off. No man that powerful sends a nameless proposal… unless he wants to stay in control.”

Aayat chuckled bitterly. “Or unless he wants to make an entrance like a maharaja.”

We both smiled faintly, but the unease was still there — thick and silent.

“Promise me something,” Aroohi said suddenly.

Aayat turned. “What?”

“Don’t say yes… until you find out everything about him. Promise me you won’t disappear into someone’s life without knowing what kind of cage you’re stepping into.”

Aayat didn’t answer for a second. Then she held out her pinky. “Pinky promise.”

----

Little did they know…

The man who sent the proposal had already seen Aayat.

Already chosen her.

Already marked her as his.

And soon… he would be walking into their lives.

Uninvited. Unstoppable.

NEXT DAY :

Aayat's POV :

I was lying on my bed, legs tangled in the blanket, half-buried in a newly released novel and sipping my cold coffee, when the door flew open like a storm had entered the room.

“AAYAAATTTTTTTT!”

Before I could blink, a tornado wrapped in a red kurti named Priyanshi jumped on me and hugged me tightly.

“Arrey Pagli! Kya hua? Are you okay?!” I tried to sit up, confused and alarmed.

(Arrey stupid! What happened?)

She was sobbing into my shoulder. “He… he cheated on me, Aayat! He said he loved me… and now he's with someone else! I saw them together… hugging… laughing…”

I froze. My jaw clenched. But I didn’t show it.

I pushed her back gently, held her face. “Look at me.”

She did. Teary-eyed. Broken.

“Listen to me,” I said, my voice steady, sharp. “No need to die for some motherfu*ker who doesn’t even value your tears. If he can’t respect your love, he never deserved it in the first place.”

Priyanshi whimpered, “But Aayat… what about that girl? He’s making fake promises to her too… he’ll cheat her as well.”

Something flickered inside me. A memory. A burn.

“Fake promises…”

“Cheat her too…”

Just like… they all do.

I stood up and snapped my fingers. “Give me his number.”

“What?” she blinked.

“I’m going to meet your so-called boyfriend and give him a lesson he’ll never forget.”

---

I walked into the café with my phone still on call with Priyanshi. She was hiding across the street like some CID agent, ready to scream if I needed backup.

My arms were folded. I was in full Malhotra mode.

And then — he walked in.

Tall. Broad frame. Black shirt folded at the sleeves. Sharp jawline. 6'2. Rolex. Expensive aura. Smug face.

What a walking red flag.

He looked around and saw me. Walked toward me — calm as a damn monk.

Before he could open his mouth — I slapped him.

Hard.

“You shameless piece of trash!” I barked. “Cheating on my best friend like that?! And now you’ve doing the same thing with another girl?! Are you mentally unstable?!”

He blinked. Shocked.

Then, calmly — like I hadn’t just gifted him a five-star slap — he said,

“I think you’ve misunderstood… I’m here for a marriage proposal.”

I laughed. Loudly.

“Oh… so after cheating my best friend you thought — ‘Hey, let me marry her bestie too?’ What do you think this is? Tinder meets K3G?!”

He raised an eyebrow, but still no anger.

Just… this stupid grin forming on his lips.

“Samajhte kya ho apne aap ko? Haan?” I continued, firing words like bullets.

(What do you think of yourself? Tell me)

“Haaan… thode handsome ho — but please, keep your so-called ‘male ego’ folded neatly in your expensive pocket!”

(Yes.. you're little bit handsome)

He was… grinning.

Why the hell was he blushing like I gave him a rose instead of a slap?

“Bas suno—ab se door rehna meri bestfriend se. And khabardaar agar kisi ladki ko cheat karne ka socha bhi toh!”

(Just listen-from now on stay away from my best friend. And beware if you even think of cheating on any girl!)

I pushed him back and stormed out of the café, heels clicking like gunshots.

And BANG—

I bumped straight into a guy.

“I’m so sorry,” he said politely, stepping back.

I nodded, still fuming, and walked away without looking back.

✿Author’s Note✿

And boom! That was one hell of a dramatic mix-up, wasn’t it?

Aayat, with her fiery tongue and fearless heart, just slapped India’s top businessman thinking he’s a cheating boyfriend—while the real culprit casually brushed past her like a background character!

But guess what? Destiny has a wicked sense of humour. And this is just the beginning…

Spoiler for Next Chapter🚨:

“She slapped me… accused me… walked away like a storm.

Now it’s my turn.

You messed with the wrong man, Aayat Malhotra.

Let the game begin.”

Rishi Shekhawat is not the type to stay silent. That slap? That insult?

It didn’t hurt his ego — it ignited his obsession.

Now he knows her face, her name…

And soon, she’ll know exactly who he is.

Brace yourselves for the upcoming chapter — where the game of misunderstandings turns into a war of hearts.

Because Rishi Shekhawat doesn’t forget… and he doesn’t forgive easily either.

Stay tuned, readers!

Things are about to get intensely personal😉