Chapter: Talent or heirloom

Chapter: Talent or heirloom

Music wrapped the atmosphere of the studio in a melody of tranquillity . Lights blazed . The camera keeps rolling , capturing each moment .

The producer watched from behind the monitor, impressed.

“ You're singing is amazing, and you're well educated as well and dance like this ! He exclaimed, clapping once . “pretty impressive , and that's very rare.”

Sanyogita flashed a courteous smile . However she didn't want to appear conceited.

She was wrapped in a beautiful Gujarati lehenga, her dupatta tugged from one shoulder and knotted at her other waist . She moved with effortless grace . She rolled in which she was performing as a chirpy college girl, dancing at a wedding, as carefree, radiant, rich in love .

In the music video, her co-actor , a handsome NRI friend of the groom, stepped into the frame, watching her rehearse with admiration. The scene demanded that she fall for him at first sight . She was dancing with the music.

“Cut” producer's voice pierced the music.

“ Good, but for the close-up, you need more balance…a little more hip movement ,” He gestured vaguely “ here-let me show you “

The producer showed by moving his waist. Sanyogita nodded her head in a gesture she understood.

The music 🎵 was played again. Sanyogita spun around slowly while moving her body like a fluid.

“ Cut “

The producer walked onto the floor” No, not like this …let me show you .” His hand landed on her waist.

Sanyogita stiffened instantly, her body had reacted before her mind could .

She stepped back, keeping her voice calm “ Sir, I understand. If you could explain verbally, I'll follow better.”

For a while, she thought she could handle this politely, as they were all professionals. But it wasn't.

The producer laughed , nodding his head in disbelief.

“ Sanyogita, dance is one art which can only be clearly understood by demonstration.”

His hand reached her elbow as if it were nothing.

Sanyogita stood uneasy.

Producer whispers, focusing on the dance steps “Relax, sweetheart. This is how the industry works.”

Sanyogita nodded her head. Nevertheless, something tightened in her chest. “ I'm ready for the shot , ” she said , freeing herself gently but firmly.

They resumed . Her co-actor came to dance beside her . In the next step , his co-actor would pull her by the wrist, his one hand would wrap around her waist and lift her slightly in the air , while her own hand would wrap around his neck.

The camera followed closely for the better shot .

“Cut!” the producer snapped again.

“Smile, Sanyogita. You’re not dancing openly…todha Khul ke dance karo… forget everything. Show you’re in love.”

The producer added, almost causally “ If not, recall Mr.Prithviraj Singhaniya at least .”

A ripple of laughter passed through the crew .

Sanyogita’s heart faltered. Just his name was enough to knock her rhythm off balance.

Another step followed . Two spins . A slow , sinuous movement of the waist, arms flowing like water

The producer yelled . He was holding back her frustration.

“No,” the producer said sharply , shaking his head . “ Let me show you .”

This time , his arm circled her waist fully.

Sanyogita flinched. The touch lingered over a second too long , as if deliberate, and invasive.

Her breath hitched. Her instincts screamed that this was no longer choreography.

“Take your hand off my wife.”

The voice slices through the studio, cutting the thick air .

The voice was deep , calm yet dangerous.

Music paused mid-beat. No one dared to move for a while .

Sanyogita stood rooted on the floor, pulse throbbing in her temple. She had heard Prithvi angry before during their small argument, but...never this furious, this lethal .

Before the producer could even turn around, Prithvi was there.

He didn't punch. Don't even shout . He grabbed the man's wrist, just one smooth, controlled movement.

A Twist. A sharp crack.

The producer cried out as his hand was flung away from her waist.

Prithvi's voice was low yet deadly. “ Touch her again, and you won't be able to touch anyone for the rest of your life .”

The entire crew froze.

Sanyogita stared at Prithivi. Unblinking. Utterly speechless.

Prithvi turned to Sanyogita, took her hand gently , so gently it almost hurt and led her away from the set .

As they passed through , a low whisper came into her ear .

“ This is another example,” Someone mocked, darkly, “ Why money can never buy respect for art . How they would try, but money will not give the legacy of talent. Hard work does”

Humiliation crawled over her skin , hot , suffocating.

The producer left the set , he hadn't ever felt that humiliated in his career. His cheeks burn with embarrassment and anger .

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The changing room door shut behind him.

Silence. So heavy. Embarrassing.

Sanyogita turned to him slightly furious, and half terrified “Did you have to do that ? Her voice was shaking . “ Was it really necessary?”

Prithvi's jaw tightened. “ I saw, you weren't comfortable.” He stepped closer, anger shimmering beneath his calm tone .” And why did he need to touch you? The choreographer was there so you could ask for help from her .”

Sanyogita paused for a while . Her gaze softened slightly. “ Yes I knew . I was trying to handle it on my own …not without..

“ Not without , what ?” His voice sharpened instantly. “ By letting him out his filthy hand touch you ?”

“Viraj!” Sanyogita snapped, spinning away. Her voice raised a little “ I was doing my best…you scared everyone, you know that .”

“What was I supposed to do?” he shot back, stopping himself mid-sentence. And added farther “ Just stand and

He paused , staring at her breathless.

“ Viraj!! He was explaining the steps. He's like a… guru !” Sanyogita tried to reason

Prithvi’s expression darkened. cheek . “

“ And, you , ”he whispered quietly, lifting his hand almost involuntarily, to hold her cheek “ are my wife .”

His thumb brushed her skin—protective, possessive.

“I can’t watch someone cross your boundaries. I won’t.”

She stepped back at once, shocked by the procession in his words …eyes .

“You just can't control me like this ,” she stated firmly . “Do you know what others are already saying?”

Sanyogita’s expression crumpled a little, “ That I got this platform as a gift ,...of being your wife “ she continued, voice breaking on edge” Not something I’ve earned because of my voice . Not because of my hard work . Just money .”

He stood stilled. Disappointment in her tone hit him harder than accusation.

Prithvi's heart wrenched , pain flickers across his amber eyes . “Let them talk, Sanjh . ” He said steadily. “Whatever people spat, that doesn't define your worth . Your voice has already made hearts in people. And …one day , your fans will be in millions , believe that ”

She swallowed, emotions clogging her throat.

"I… I appreciate everything you do for me. Viraj ,” she continued slowly. “Protecting me . Guiding me . But..

“ But , what ?” Prithvi asked , his pulse quickening impatiently.

“ I need space. “ She drew a steady breath. “My music,.. my career… I want to do this on my own… "

Prithvi stared at her , trying to observe fear of disapproval eating her silently. He stepped closer, curious and slightly worried.

“ I want you beside me,” She continued, her lips trembling “ as..a .. friend. I can't…I can't have you always stepping into my career. I need to prove myself.”

Prithvi’s chest tightened. Hurt flashed across his eyes, but he blinked, forcing it down.

The word landed like a blow. Her words echoed in his mind , tearing apart each nerve.

For a while, he was unable to utter anything. His instincts screamed to argue , to pull her close , to tell her , they couldn't… just be……. friends only .

However, his lips mustered the courage to let out something.

Prithvi whispered, low "A friend… that’s it?"

Her gaze didn’t waver. She nodded.

A pang of guilt formed in her throat , as she said "Viraj …I know we are married……But I just want to focus on my career first . Please, just… respect my choice." Her voice slowed down

There was a long silence. Prithvi’s jaw tightened. His throat twisted . He wanted to cup her cheeks and said , “you don't have to face the world alone .” But he didn't.

Instead, he lowered his eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded slowly.

"Fine. A friend. Only a friend… if that’s what you want."

Even as he spoke the words, he was exploding from inside . His hands clenched slightly at his sides. Hurt, frustration, and longing warred inside together . Nevertheless , he controlled himself, because he knew respecting her boundaries now was the only way to stay in her life.

Sanyogita exhaled, a tiny weight lifting from her shoulders.

"Thank you… Viraj."

He gave a small, almost imperceptible smile, but his eyes were still sharp, protective.

Prithvi repeated, softly, almost to himself "A friend… I’ll be a friend. But if anyone ever harms you… they’ll regret it."

Sanyogita felt a shiver run down her spine at the words.

As she turned away, she wasn't sure whether to fear the man standing beside her or admire the dangerous devotion he carried so effortlessly.

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Prithvi stood alone in the corridor outside the set .

The noise inside had resumed, music, instructions, laughter but it felt distant , like it belonged to another world. His world was quieter yet intimidating , DANGEROUS.

“A friend.”

The word echoed again. His jaw clenched.

He played the moment on loop , when the producer’s hand swift on her waist, the way she flinched. Each molecule inside his body burns , screaming to break the producer's hand . But he didn't . He wished if she could feel what was going through him to see her uneasy . He wanted to remove every damn thing which made her sad .

He had acted without thinking. He did, because he felt it was right . And that was the problem.

He dragged a hand down his face , breathing shallow. Forcing to hold back into his veins.

“ You don't own her, “ he told himself. “ Protecting doesn't mean possessing.”

However, the image refused to fade . Mere think of someone touching what he loves, crossing lines, daring to believe there would be no consequences.

His fingers curled unconsciously. He had grown up learning one truth early,—

“Money is power. And Power means safety. Control meant survival.”

But Sanyogita, so fragile yet intimidating, challenging . She had become the one place where all his rules started collapsing.

“But she doesn't need a shield ” he tried to be reasonable himself bitterly. “ She needs space .

“I need to prove myself.”

Her words replayed again , softer than the chaos in his mind.

That had hurt more than her anger. Because deep down, he knew the truth she hadn’t said out loud:

That his presence, his name, his wealth, his power, could shadow her whole identity.

“ And if loving her means becoming the very cage she feared…” Prithvi’s chest tightened. “ Then , I've to learn to step back. But another thing…No-one can dare to mistake your delicacy as weakness. Then I'll break them”

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The backlash didn't take long . By the evening it had begun. Shooting had resumed for that night. Teammates split, heading for their own space . But the damage was already done .

Sanyogita sat in the vanity room . Her makeup half removed , phone resting silently on the dressing table.

Whispers followed her everywhere she went .

“She's Singhaniya's wife , obviously she got special treatment.”

“Did you see how he stormed the set? Who does that?”

“Talent? Please. Money talks louder.”

Sanyogita stared at her reflection. The girl in the mirror looked polished , with a perfect liner, eyeshadow smirking at her—but her eyes were apprehensive .

Sanyogita recalled, earlier, a junior assistant had hesitated before speaking to her . The choreographer avoided eye contact after today's incident at the set . The warmth she had carried with herself was gone , replaced with scared courtesy. As if she was a highness of a royal court and the rest were her subjects.

Sanyogita hated it . She felt distant. Even her success was a legacy not something she had achieved on her own.

Her phone buzzed again, with a notification.

A message from an industry gossip page:

BREAKING: Powerful businessman Prithviraj Singhania disrupts shoot to ‘protect’ wife. Is Sanyogita Goel Singhaniya’s rise fueled by influence rather than talent?

Her throat constricted. This ..this was exactly what she had feared.

Not the producer. Not the touch. But this .

She locked the screen and placed the mobile back on the table.

Her fingers were trembling . She shudders.

Tears welled in her eyes. Not from fear but from humiliation.

She had worked for this. Every practice session. Her sleepless night. Every note sung until her throat burned .

And still….her surname was too heavy that diminished her efforts.

She hugged her arms around herself, breathing unevenly.

Outside the room, laughter echoed. Life moved on. Judgments were passed effortlessly.

Somewhere down the corridor, Prithvi stood—close enough to protect, far enough to respect her boundary.

She didn’t know that he was fighting his own demons just as fiercely.

What she did know was this:

If she didn’t draw the line now, she would forever be known as his wife—not the artist she was trying so desperately to become.

And that realization hurt more than anything else that day.

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The sun dipped low on the western sky , smearing the horizon with shades of orange violet , soft pink .

Against the glowing skyline of Mumbai stood two ultra-luxury private residential skyscrapers like two mountains , silent yet commanding. They didn't scream wealth, they owned it .

The designs were exclusively for the Singhaniya's family . The towers rose over sixty floors each , wrapped in reflective glass, steel and muted gold accents , an architecture designed not for display, but dominance. Twin towers together, valued at over ₹2500) crores, a vertical empire carved out of legacy , power and old money .

Once inseparable , now divided.

One tower houses the family of Samarth Singhaniya’s , Sanjeev Singhaniya's eldest son , who passed away a decade ago.

The other belonged to Siddharth Singhaniya , Sanjeev’s youngest son .

However , the connection between the two families got loosened as the times went on . Time hadn’t broken them apart—but silence had.

Ishanvi was sitting quietly on the plush beige sofa . Her laptop stayed perfectly on her lap. Her fingers moved flawless , across the keyboard, precise and confident , like a musician who knew every string by heart .

Project files filled the screen. Her eyes were stark , squinting through them . She was all done, for final approvals . Financial projections. Designs Timeline fixing.

She was still handling her father's business which seamlessly integrated with Singhaniya's fashion vertical, rested largely in her hands . However, the partnership didn't overawe her . Not the power.

“ Ishanvi ,bhabhi…. ”

The voice broke her deep concentration. However, there was no sign of irritation.

Ishanvi paused, lifted her eyes to look beyond the screen.

“Yes, Pragya ! ” she asked calmly.

Pragya Singhaniya stood a few steps away, phone in hand, unease written all over her face.

“ Bhabhi,...have you seen today's news ?”

Ishanvi, frowned slightly , “ What news?”

“ wohi, ”Pragya hesitated “ …that's showing on YouTube .” She unlocked her phone quickly “ it's here ”

The video was barely fifteen seconds long. That was enough.

A chill swept through Ishanvi’s body . Her fingers curled slowly around the edge of her laptop.

“What is this, Pragya?” she asked, her voice controlled , but confused.

Pragya shrugged cluelessly.“ I'm even confused. The media stated , a dramatic scene happened today in the set where Sanyogita Bhabhi was shooting for her new music video album.

Pragya swallowed some air , to calm bed nerves .

“The video was deleted as soon as uploaded …but a few influencers had already saved it by then and they were using it .”

Ishanvi’s jaw tightened. She stared at Pragya.

“ Where is Sanyogita ? She asked , worrily . “ Has she returned home ?”

Pragya shook her head , sideways “ No. She's on the way. She doesn't even receive anyone's call .” She added softly, “ I met Soumya . She told me this .”

Ishanvi leaned back slowly. Lines of concern etched on her face . She felt bad for Sanyogita. However, she knew Prithvi.

He wasn’t reckless. He wasn’t impulsive. And he had never crossed lines without reason. Prithvi was her brother-in-law. Vardhan's, her husband's cousin brother. He was one year younger than her . More than that she knew him for over a decade.

He was a man of resistance. Not a man who lost his sanity on small things.

If he had lost it today…

Means something serious might have happened.