Chapter 12 : Mehendi Hai Rachne Wali

20 days ago
Sydell
@dellzcreationz
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Since Rudra's step father Arvind Kothari hails from Rajasthan, Rudra and Palki collectively chose to get married in the heart of Rajasthan, Jasailmer and perform their wedding rituals as per Palki's Luthra lineage and Rudra's Sharma lineage in a Punjabi style.Mehendi Ceremony – Courtyard

The sandstone courtyard of Suryagarh Palace glowed under golden lanterns and strings of marigolds as the mehendi ceremony for Palki continued with music and laughter.
Women from all the families sat together while mehendi artists carefully painted intricate designs on their hands.
From the Luthra side sat Preeta Luthra, her sister Shristi and Suhana.
From the Sharma family sat Diya Sharma and his sister in law Sasha Robinson (a few years ago Sasha was released and she and she married her long time boyfriend Wade after she tracked him down and now she is looking just like her mother Aanya) was sitting and getting her mehendi done along with Randhir's new wife Paridhi.Randhir's sons Samar and Sahir and Sasha's husband Wade went on a business trip to Thailand where he had taken his kids as well so that they can get to see Disneyland.






From the Kothari family sat Shweta Kothari and Aarohi Kothari.
From the Wadhwa family sat Shaira, Rhea Wadhwa, Maysha Wadhwa, and Reva Wadhwa now Jaiswal.


Reva sat comfortably beside her mother Rhea, one hand resting gently over her small baby bump as the mehendi artist finished her design. Her husband Milind Jaiswal was inside in the lounge with their little son, making sure the child didn’t disturb the ceremony.
(Juhi)


Along with the other men was Reyaan Wadhwa, who had recently married Juhi, and she too was present among the family women.
Beside the bride-to-be Palki, sat Maira, quietly getting her mehendi applied.
Meanwhile nearby, Suhana was getting her mehendi done beside Maysha.
Nearby, Suhana was also getting mehendi applied while sitting beside Maysha.
Suddenly Suhana smirked and said loudly,


"Waise Maysha, now that you and Ayush bhai are not a thing anymore…
your mehendi seems incomplete without his name."
A few girls nearby exchanged awkward glances.


Maysha slowly lifted her gaze toward Suhana, completely calm.
"Mehendi isn’t applied just to write a man’s name on your hand."
She gently looked at the intricate design forming on her palm.
"It’s a ritual that celebrates family, happiness and togetherness."
Then she added, coolly,
"But understanding that takes maturity.”
Suhana looked slightly annoyed.
Before the conversation could escalate, Aarohi, who was watching nearby, stepped in.
“Suhana, why don’t you shift there? The artist is free.”
Suhana reluctantly moved.


Maysha smiled softly at Aarohi.
"Thank you."
Aarohi nodded warmly.
Across them, Reva watched the whole exchange quietly, shaking her head with a soft amused smile.


Just then Preeta clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention.
"Alright ladies! Looks like most of the mehendi is done."
She smiled mischievously.
"Now it's time to call the groom and the men. They should also get a little mehendi on their hands."
Everyone laughed.
Moments later the men entered the courtyard.
Rudra walked in first, followed by his biological father Rahul, his stepfather Arvind,
Mayank, his son Shayaan,Dev, and
 

his son Reyaan.


Randhir also walked along with the men.
Ishaan walks alongside Milind who is carrying their 2 yr old son, while walking to the courtyard Ishaan can't help but admire the father and son duo.
From the Luthra side came...Rishabh Luthra, Sameer Luthra, Siraj Luthra,
and Ayush Luthra.
As the men spread out across the courtyard, Ayush passed by near Maysha…
Maysha saw him.Ayush stopped walking.Their eyes met.For a moment the entire courtyard seemed to blur away.There was no music.No laughter.Just silence between them.Memories flickered behind their eyes.What could have been something beautiful.Now… they stood only a few feet apart, under the same roof, yet separated by choices neither of them could undo.Ayush held her gaze for a few seconds longer than he should have.There was tension.There was regret.But above all… there was yearning.Maysha slowly lowered her eyes first, breaking the moment.Ayush looked away too, pretending to focus on the men around him.But neither of them truly moved on from that glance.
Maysha eyes then were scanning amongst the crowd hoping that Maan should be here by now.
The courtyard filled with cheers and teasing.
Meanwhile, the mehendi artist working on Maira’s hands asked gently,
"Madam, your husband’s name?"
Maira softly replied,
"Ishaan."


Palki, sitting beside her, immediately teased,
"Make sure you hide his initials somewhere difficult!"
Everyone laughed, Ishaan chuckled.


Palki continued mischievously,
“So when Ishaan struggles to finds it, he shall remember their wedding night from five years ago.”
Maira blushed, lowering her eyes.
For a brief moment, she looked peaceful… almost happy.
But that happiness vanished the second she looked up.
Standing near the courtyard entrance…


was Maan.
Her breath caught.
Shock. Confusion. Fear.
She hadn’t expected him to be here.
Not at Palki’s wedding.And not now.Their eyes met across the courtyard.
For Maan, the moment froze.


For Maira… her heart began racing.
Diya and Rahul who were happy seeing Maira getting her mehendi done, their eyes travel to where Maira was looking, as her reaction was being stunned.But Maira knowing this is a family event .She excused herself from the mehendi artist,while her hand was still mid air she rose up to her seat.



Rahul wanted to confront Maan, but Diya stopped him upon seeing Maira.Everyone nearby looked at her not knowing what she was about to do next.
(Sameer,Shristi)


(Dev Rhea)






She walked toward the entrance with calm, controlled steps.
Inside, her heart was still racing.But her face remained composed.She stopped in front of Maan.For a brief second, neither of them spoke.Then Maira smiled politely in a calm voice.
“Maan… what a pleasant surprise.”
Her tone was light, almost casual.
But the tension underneath was unmistakable.
She continued,
“I didn’t think you would make it to the wedding on such short notice."
Maysha quietly watched the entire interaction unfold.
Before anyone else could say anything, Ishaan Khanna stepped forward with an easy smile.
He placed a friendly hand on Maan’s shoulder.
“Glad you invited him over,” Ishaan said lightly while looking at Maira.
“After all… he is your coach. The man who led your team to victory.”
The word coach echoed differently in Maira’s mind.
He isn’t just my coach…
He is my ex as well.
A bad past.
She forced herself to maintain her composure.
Ishaan continued casually,
“And not to forget that reel with my saali Maysha. That gave your team some extra brownie points too.”
When Maysha heard her name she smiled politely.But she stayed quiet.She wasn’t ready to openly acknowledge her relationship with Maan yet.Especially not now.Not when Maan was already standing between Maira and Ishaan.And Maira had already claimed she was the one who invited him.Maysha decided silently that she would reveal things later, at the right moment.For now, she simply watched.
Ishaan gestured warmly.
“Come, sit with us.”
He escorted Maan toward the seating area where the men were getting their mehendi applied.
As Maan walked past the women’s seating, his gaze instinctively moved across the courtyard.And then it stopped.On Maysha.For a fraction of a second.He gave the smallest nod.Just enough.


Just enough to let her know—I’m here.
Maysha noticed.Her lips curved into a quiet smile.
Soon the men were sitting in a row while the mehendi artists applied small ceremonial designs on their hands.
Laughter and teasing filled the air again.
One of the mehendi artists reached Maan.
She smiled and asked playfully,
“Sir, any special name initial you want me to write?”
Maan nodded slowly.
But before answering, his eyes lifted.
His first gaze fell on Maira.
For a second their eyes almost met.The moment she realized he was looking at her—
Maira immediately looked away.
Across the courtyard, Maysha had been watching Ayush, who stood quietly in a corner, trying to stay away from the center of attention.
She was still lost in that lingering emotional tension when—
Maan’s voice suddenly spoke.
“Write M.”


The artist looked up.
“Just M?”
Maan nodded.
“Yes. Because my someone special’s name starts with M.”


Maysha instantly turned toward him.
Her expression softened.
A smile appeared on her face with a sigh .
But a few seats away—Maira heard the same thing.
She rolled her eyes slightly and muttered under her breath,



“Unbelievable.”
In her mind there was no doubt what he meant.
Because to her—that M could only mean one thing.
Her.
But what she didn’t realize was that across the courtyard…two different women had just reacted to the same letter.
While Juhi did her mehendi, Reyaan gave her juice and Suhana was just enjoying their moment and being in "Awee" of them


*
The music from the mehendi courtyard spilled into the palace corridors in waves — dhol beats, laughter, women singing teasing wedding songs. The air smelled faintly of henna, jasmine oil, and desert dust drifting in through the carved jharokhas of Suryagarh Palace.
But the corridor towards a closeby washroom stood quiet.
Away from the music.
Away from the celebration.
Maira walked along the corridor, following her behind was a female servant who carefully lifted her lehenga to the washroom so that it doesn't brush against the floor.
The intricate mehendi on her hands was still not yet dried completely.
“Careful, madam,” the girl said softly, pushing open the carved wooden washroom door for her. “The mehendi must not smudge.”
Maira nodded faintly and stepped inside.
The washroom was cool and dimly lit, scented with rosewater and sandalwood. The servant moved with practiced ease, helping hold Maira’s dupatta away so she could comfortably use the loo without disturbing the fresh henna.During such events where lehengas are heavy, or hands are full of mehendi, woman really need assitance in using the loo, if even female family members hands are full of henna .It's usually someone who would rather not apply henna or would rather apply henna later.And since they had the function in the palace hotel, the female servant came in handy.
Once Maira was done, the servant helped her adjust the layers of fabric again, smoothing the pleats and fixing the fall of her dupatta.
“Is the mehendi okay?” Maira asked, lifting her hands slightly.
The girl inspected them carefully, smiling.
“Perfect, madam. Am sure the colour will surely turn out to be darker.”
Maira allowed herself a small smile.
“Good.”
The servant opened the door, and they stepped back into the quiet corridor.
The sounds of celebration drifted in again — distant claps, someone cheering, a burst of laughter.
For a moment Maira simply breathed in the cooler evening air that moved through the open courtyard corridor
She noticed someone was standing near one of the sandstone pillars that framed the courtyard opening.


Her heart skipped.
Maan.
Then she turned to the servant.


“You can go back,” she said gently. “I’ll come in a minute.”
The girl nodded politely.
“Yes, madam.”
She disappeared down the corridor toward the bright courtyard entrance where the mehendi celebration continued.

The moment she was gone, the corridor fell still again.
Maan stood half in shadow, one shoulder leaning casually against the carved pillar, his hands folded loosely across his chest as if he had been waiting there for some time knowing she went inside.
The lantern light brushed across his face as he straightened slightly.
Maira’s eyes widened.
“Maan?”
Her voice dropped immediately.
He pushed himself off the pillar slowly, taking a few unhurried steps toward her.
“I saw you leave the courtyard,” he said calmly.
“So you followed me?”
“Yes.”
Her brows knitted together instantly.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered sharply. “This corridor leads straight back to the mehendi courtyard. Anyone could walk in.”
Maan glanced briefly toward the far end of the passage where the music spilled through the archway.
“No one’s paying attention to this side,” he said quietly. “They’re all busy dancing.”
Then his gaze returned to her.
“You worry too much.”
“That’s because you don’t worry enough.”
A faint smile touched his lips.


"Who invited you Maan?"
“You’re the one who invited me to stay at the wedding.” He winked at her.
“I didn’t invite you at the first place, am sure also Ishaan didn't invite you to stay and lurk outside washrooms specially when his wife is inside?.”
He chuckled softly under his breath.
He inhaled slowly.
“I—”
“Forget it,” she cut in instantly. “I don’t want to know.”
A step closer. Controlled. Cold.
“You shouldn’t be here. Leave.”
He didn’t move.
Maira felt her jaw tighten.
“I said leave, Maan" .Maira felt her jaw tighten." I can’t stand your presence.”
Something flickered briefly in his expression.
Not anger.
Interest.
“Can’t stand my presence?” he repeated quietly.
She folded her arms.
She folded her arms carefully across her chest, mindful of the mehendi drying on her hands.“Yes.”
A pause.
His voice dropped slightly.
“Why?”
Her brows knit.
“Because things are finished between us,” she said.
Silence.
He tilted his head slightly.
“Then why does my presence bother you?”
Her eyes flashed.“It doesn’t.”
He stepped closer.
The movement was subtle, but it shortened the distance between them enough for her to feel it.
“That’s not what your pulse says.”
Her breath hitched.He noticed.
“Why?” he asked softly. “Why does it affect you if we’re over?”
She didn’t answer.His voice lowered further — dangerous not in tone, but in accuracy.
“You want to know why?”
A beat.
“Because you still love me.”
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides.
“You still feel for me,” he continued. “That’s why my presence sends chills down your spine you don’t want to acknowledge.”
The sound of the slap cracked through the corridor as she raised her hand on him.
Her hand trembled in the air between them.“Stop it, Maan.”Her voice shook — not weak. Controlled rage.“Behave yourself.”Silence rang.“I have always maintained professionalism with you,” she said, breathing hard. “You are the one who keeps forgetting your boundaries.”


Her eyes locked onto his.“I am married, Maan.”A pause.“And I am happy in my marriage.”
He held her gaze.Long.Unblinking.
“Are you?”
The question landed softly.Dangerously softly.
Her throat tightened.
“Well,” he added quietly, “we’ll come to that topic.”
He pulled his phone from his pocket.
“But first…”
He unlocked it.“There’s something you should see.”
Her expression didn’t change.
“This video,” he said, turning the screen toward her, “was recorded by Shivam the day Aarti tried to make me unconscious and frame me.”
Her eyes flickered.Despite herself.
“He’d forgotten his watch at the academy,” Maan continued evenly. “Came back to retrieve it. That’s when he saw what she was doing. He recorded it discreetly.”
Silence.
“But she noticed him later. Blackmailed him. Forced him to delete it.”
A beat.“He deleted it from his gallery,” Maan said. “Not from his cloud.”
Her fingers tightened slowly at her sides.
“He admitted everything when I confronted him months ago.”
He stepped closer.Not invading.
Just close enough that she couldn’t ignore the truth glowing from his screen.
“Watch.”
She shouldn’t have.But she did.Her eyes moved across the footage.Frame by frame.
Her breathing changed first.Then her expression.Then her stillness.The corridor seemed to shrink.The video ended.Silence.She didn’t look at him.Didn’t speak.Didn’t blink.
When she finally did lift her gaze—there was no shock.No anger.No tears.Just something heavier.
“It’s too late,” she said.His brows tightened.She swallowed once.“I’m married now. To Ishaan.”The words were steady.But her fingers trembled.
“And it wasn’t that I didn’t try to hear your side,” she continued quietly. “I called you. I messaged you. I waited. I gave you a chance to explain.”
A pause.
“You never answered.”
Maan’s voice came low, .“That’s because Aarti and I were engaged. She must’ve deleted your calls. Your messages. I never saw them.”
Her lashes flickered.
“I went straight into Bigg Boss after that,” he added. “No phone. No access.”
Silence.


“I know,” she said softly. “I saw you on screen.”
He stilled.
“And the moment I saw you there… I told Shivam I was getting married before you came out.”
His jaw tightened.
“He never told me that.”
Her lips pressed thin.
“Why would he?”
A pause.
“I confronted him months later,” Maan said. “That’s when he confessed everything. The blackmail. The video. All of it.”
Silence pressed in.
“He wasn’t a friend,” Maan finished quietly. “He was a snake in the grass.”
Maira exhaled faintly.


“All bogus.”
The words were soft.
But sharp.
Maan’s eyes darkened.
“All bogus?” he repeated.
“Yes.”
A beat.
Something inside him shifted — wounded pride meeting restrained pain.
“How strange,” he said quietly. “Your mother forgave her husband when he was guilty… when he confessed and asked forgiveness.”
A pause.
Silence hung between them — thick, fragile, ready to snap.
“But you couldn’t believe me… even when I might have been innocent.”

“That’s where you’re mistaken.”
They turned.
The voice did not rise.
It cut.
Both of them turned.
Diya stood a few steps away.Her face was calm. Her eyes were not.
She walked forward slowly, each step measured, the soft echo of her heels sounding louder than the music behind the doors.
Her gaze went straight to Maan.
“You want to compare yourself to my husband?”
Not loud.Sharp.
Maan held her gaze.She stopped in front of him.
“My late husband,” she said, voice steady but edged, “never forced his truth on me.”
A pause.
“When I asked questions, he answered. When I needed time, he stepped back. When I needed space, he gave it.”
Her eyes hardened.
“You?”
Silence.
“You came here uninvited… to a wedding… where my daughter stands as someone’s wife… and you stand here demanding explanations from her as if she still owes you anything.”
Each word landed precisely.
Controlled.
But burning underneath.
“You speak of innocence,” she continued, tone tightening. “You speak of forgiveness. You speak of comparisons.”
A step closer.
“But do you even understand what you’re comparing?”
The question wasn’t meant to be answered.
“My late husband hurt me once,” she said. “Yes. He was guilty. Yes. But when truth mattered… he showed up for it. He stood before me and confessed. He didn’t chase me down corridors. He didn’t corner me between celebrations. He didn’t confront me in front of people after I had moved on.”
Silence pressed against Maan’s ribs.
“My daughter called you,” Diya went on. “She tried to hear you out. She tried to give you a chance.”
Her jaw tightened slightly.
“You weren’t there.”
The words struck clean.


“You may have had reasons. You may have been trapped. You may even be innocent.”
A beat.
“But she didn’t know that then. All she knew… was silence.”
Her gaze sharpened.
“And silence is also an answer.”
Maan didn’t speak.
Didn’t defend.
Didn’t look away.
Diya’s voice lowered — quieter now, but unmistakably dangerous.


“So do not stand here and measure yourself against my late husband.”
A pause.
“You haven’t earned that comparison.”
The air stilled.
“When she needed truth… you weren’t there. When she needed closure… you weren’t there. When she needed peace… you didn’t let her have it.”
Her tone shifted — not louder, but colder.
“She is married now.”
Her eyes flicked once toward Maira, then back to him.
“She belongs to her present. Not your past.”
Silence.
“And I will not allow anyone,” she said, “to disturb that.”
The warning was clear.
Not dramatic.
Absolute.
A long second passed.
Then Diya straightened slightly, composure settling over her again like a veil.
“You came here uninvited,” she said calmly. “But you are still standing under this roof as a guest.”
Courtesy. Not acceptance.
“So you will stay.”
A beat.
“You will smile. You will be civil. You will behave.”
Her eyes locked onto his.


“And when the wedding festivities end… you will leave. Quietly. Gracefully. Without trying to reopen doors she has already closed.”
Silence.
The music from outside swelled faintly again.


Diya stepped aside and gestured gently to Maira.
“Come.”
Maira hesitated only a fraction of a second before moving to her side.They walked toward the courtyard.
Maan remained where he stood.Still.Silent.And for the first time since she had spoken—even he understood that this was not a request.
The mehendi ceremony was slowly drawing to a close.
But a little away from the courtyard, a small courtyard at the back of the palace ,the atmosphere was far less festive.
The mehendi ceremony was in full swing at the front entrance courtyard of the palace.
Music drifted through the air — the rhythmic beat of the dhol, women singing playful wedding songs, bursts of laughter rising every few seconds as relatives teased the bride and groom. Lanterns had begun to glow as evening slowly settled over the golden sandstone walls of Suryagarh Palace.


But far from the crowd and celebration, at the back entrance of the palace, there was a smaller courtyard that remained quiet.
It was an intimate space surrounded by carved sandstone walls and tall arched doors. At the center stood a tiered stone fountain, water spilling gently from one bowl into another before rippling into the square pool below. The fading evening sky cast a soft blue light over the courtyard, while warm lanterns along the walls had just begun to flicker to life.
The sounds of the mehendi ceremony reached there only faintly.
Maira stood near the fountain.
The water splashed softly behind her, but her attention wasn’t on the courtyard’s calm beauty. Her posture was stiff, controlled, her maroon lehenga catching the warm glow of the lanterns while the mehendi on her hands had begun darkening into a deep shade.
Around her stood the group she had called there.
Rudra leaned against one of the carved pillars bordering the courtyard, arms folded across his chest. Aarohi stood beside the low sandstone ledge of the fountain, her expression puzzled.



 Reva sat on the chair by the small table with one hand resting protectively over her pregnant belly while Milind stood near her shoulder. Reyaan stood a few steps away with his hands on his hips, and Shayaan rested against a pillar across from him.
Maysha stood closest to Maira.
Everyone had assumed Maira had called them for something wedding-related.
But none of them expected the tension that greeted them.
For a few seconds, the only sound in the courtyard was the fountain water trickling into the pool.
Then Maira spoke.
“I want to know,” she said calmly, “who invited Maan.”
The question hung in the air.
Reyaan blinked first.
“Wait… what?”
“Maan,” she repeated evenly. “My coach.”
Her tone was polite.
But the tension underneath it was unmistakable.
Aarohi frowned slightly. “You mean the coach who trained your team?”
“Yes.”
Another small silence followed.
Reva exchanged a confused glance with Milind. “Why would that be a problem?”
Maira didn’t answer immediately.
Her eyes slowly moved across their faces, one by one.
The lantern light reflected faintly in the water behind her, and for a moment her expression was impossible to read.
“I asked,” she continued, “who invited him.”
Her voice had grown colder.Her gaze hardened just slightly.
Reyaan scratched the back of his neck, clearly confused now. “I mean… why does it matter? Why would it be a problem if he’s invited? He helped your team win NMACC.”
Shayaan nodded slightly. “Exactly. It’s not like we invited some random stranger.”


“That isn’t the point,” Maira said quietly.
The firmness in her voice made the group fall silent.
“I deliberately didn’t invite the Luthra juniors,” she added.
That statement caught their attention immediately.
Aarohi’s brows knitted together. “Why?”
Maira’s gaze remained steady.


“Because I know I’m not close enough to them, for them to invite someone like him.”
The implication of her words lingered heavy in the air.



Rudra shifted slightly against the pillar but remained silent, his eyes never leaving Maira’s face.
The others, however, were still struggling to understand.
Maysha stepped forward a little, confusion clear in her voice.
“Maira Di… why are you behaving like this?”
Maira turned her gaze toward her.
“What do you mean?”
Maysha gestured vaguely toward the front courtyard where the music and laughter continued.
“Like as if Maan coming to the wedding is some kind of problem.”
For a brief second something flickered in Maira’s expression — something sharp and guarded.
But it disappeared almost instantly.
“Before inviting someone,” she said coolly, “there should be a discussion about whether or not that person should be invited.”
Her words were measured.
Controlled.
But the tension beneath them was unmistakable.
Maysha stared at her, still unconvinced.
“But why?” she asked slowly.
Maira didn’t answer.
Instead, she looked away toward the fountain for a moment, the water splashing softly into the pool.
Maysha’s voice grew firmer.
“But why is there such a high tone in your voice, Maira Di?” she pressed. “Like as if he’s a bad person?”
No one moved.
The courtyard felt strangely still now.
Maysha continued, the confusion in her voice turning into disbelief.
“Like as if one of us made some huge mistake by calling him to a wedding.”
The words lingered in the air.




Rudra’s gaze flickered toward Maira again.
Because unlike the others—
he knew exactly why the mere mention of Maan had turned the calm evening courtyard into something tense and fragile.
Maira stood still for a moment.
Her expression hardened slightly before she finally spoke.
“I don’t think you need to know that,” she said calmly.
Her voice had lost the sharp edge from before, but it had become colder.
“It’s my personal matter.”
Her eyes moved across their faces again.
“But for now,” she continued, “I just want to know who invited him.”
The question hung heavily in the evening air.
For a second no one answered.
Maysha shifted slightly.
Her fingers tightened together unconsciously as she looked at Maira. Something in her expression changed — hesitation, guilt, and a sudden determination mixing together.
She opened her mouth.
“Di… actually—”
But before she could say another word, Shayaan noticed the look on her face.
His eyes flickered quickly between her and Maira.
And in that instant he understood exactly what she was about to confess.
So he spoke before she could.
“I invited him.”
The words came smoothly.
Everyone turned toward him.
Maysha looked at him in surprise.
Shayaan pushed himself away from the pillar casually, slipping his hands into his pockets as if the matter was not a big deal.
“I mean,” he continued with a small shrug, “I felt Maan deserves to be part of our celebration after making your team win, Di.”
Reyaan raised an eyebrow slightly but didn’t interrupt.
Shayaan went on easily.
“I know you haven’t even invited your friend Aanya or some of the other crew members from the team,” he said. “But I thought inviting your coach might be fine. At least someone could represent the team.”
He glanced briefly toward Maysha before continuing.
“And specially… even his reel with Maysha was the reason why your team got some extra points in the cumulative.”
The explanation sounded logical enough.
But the moment he finished speaking—
Maira looked at him.
The look she gave him could have frozen the entire courtyard.
It wasn’t loud.
It wasn’t dramatic.
Just a steady, sharp death stare that made even Reyaan shift uncomfortably.
For a few seconds she didn’t say anything.
Then she exhaled slowly.
“Okay.”
The word came quietly.
“Fine.”
Her gaze moved away from him.
“He can be part of the celebration.”
The tension eased slightly among the group.
But Maira’s eyes returned to Shayaan again.
And this time her voice turned firm.
“But henceforth, Shayaan,” she said slowly, “please see that you ask my permission regarding anything related to Maan.”
The message was clear.
Shayaan immediately straightened a little and gave a playful half-bow.
“Joh hukum mere aakah,” he said dramatically.
Then he glanced around the courtyard with a grin.
“Now can we all proceed to our respective rooms?”
He gestured toward Reva who was still seated on the chair.
“Bechari Reva Di ko bhi apne ghatghare mein bitaiya.”
Reyaan chuckled under his breath while Aarohi shook her head slightly at Shayaan’s theatrics.
Maira simply nodded.
The conversation was over.
Milind gently helped Reva stand up, carefully placing an arm around her as they started walking toward the corridor leading back into the palace.
Maira’s eyes followed them.
For a brief moment, the sternness on her face faded.


She noticed the way Milind held Reva carefully, the way he adjusted his pace to match hers, his hand instinctively resting protectively over her arm.
Almost unconsciously—
Maira’s fingers moved to the mangalsutra around her neck.
She held the small black beads between her fingers.
The lantern light glinted softly against the gold pendant.


Her throat tightened slightly.
She quickly looked away before anyone could notice the sudden shine in her eyes.
And silently tried to stop the tears that threatened to fall.
Under the moonlit quiet of Suryagarh Palace, the wedding celebrations had finally slowed.
The echoes of music and laughter from the mehendi ceremony had faded into distant murmurs somewhere in the lower courtyards of the palace. Most guests had retired to their rooms, the long evening of festivities leaving the upper floors wrapped in a calm, private silence.
Inside one of the beautifully decorated guest suites, Maysha sat at her vanity.


Her jewelry had been removed, her hair loosened from the elaborate styling of the evening. The soft yellow lamp beside the mirror illuminated the deepening mehendi patterns on her hands.
She gently dabbed a lemon-sugar mixture onto the drying design, watching with quiet focus as the color slowly darkened.
A soft knock sounded at the do
“You can come in, Shay bhai. I know it’s you.”
The door opened.
Shayaan leaned against the frame, arms crossed, studying her for a moment before stepping inside and shutting the door behind him.
“You owe me,” he said.
She glanced at him through the mirror. “I do?”
“Yes.”
She turned slightly on the stool. “For what exactly?”
“For not letting your love life become tonight’s family entertainment.”
Her brows knitted faintly. “What are you talking about?”
He raised an eyebrow. “The interrogation downstairs? When Maira di asked who invited Mr. Famous Dance Coach?”
Maysha froze.
Shayaan continued casually, “You’re welcome, by the way.”
Realization dawned slowly. “You… covered for me?”
“Obviously,” he said. “Because you looked like you were about two seconds away from confessing to a crime you didn’t even commit.”


Her voice softened. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yeah,” he shrugged, “I did. You’re my sister.”
Silence lingered for a second.
Then his expression shifted—less teasing now, more thoughtful.
“So,” he said, sitting on the chair beside her bed, “explain something to me.”
She sighed. “Why do I feel like this is going to be an elder-brother lecture?”
“Because it is.”
She groaned quietly. “Bhai—”
“What,” he cut in calmly, “did you see in him?”
She blinked. “In who?”
“In Maan.”
Her shoulders stiffened just a fraction.
Shayaan watched her carefully. “Maysha… the guy is twelve years older than you. He’s rich, famous, good-looking, has a fan following, probably has girls lining up for him in every city he visits…” He tilted his head. “And that’s the man you decided to fall for?”
Her tone was soft but steady. “He’s not like that.”
“That,” Shayaan replied gently, “is exactly what every girl says about the guy she likes.”
She looked away, lips pressing together.
He leaned forward slightly, voice losing its teasing edge. “I’m not judging you. I’m worried about you.”
She didn’t answer.
“I don’t know what went wrong between you and Ayush,” he continued, “and I’m not asking unless you want to tell me. But I do know this—whatever you had with him wasn’t nothing. Anyone could see that.”
Her fingers tightened slightly over her dupatta.
“And then suddenly,” he went on quietly, “you’re with someone else. That was fast, Maysha. Too fast.”
She swallowed. “Things just… happened.”
“That’s exactly what concerns me.”
She looked at him, eyes questioning.
“You didn’t give yourself time,” he said gently. “You didn’t let yourself heal. You jumped straight from heartbreak into someone else’s arms. That’s not love, Maysha. That’s… escape.”
The word lingered between them.
Her voice came out softer than before. “You think I don’t know what I’m doing?”
“I think,” he said carefully, “you met someone intense at a moment when you were emotionally raw. That combination can feel like love even when it’s actually just… distraction mixed with attraction.”
She stared at the floor.
His tone softened further. “I’m not saying he’s a bad guy. I’m saying I don’t want my sister giving her heart to someone just because the attention feels good after losing someone she actually cared about.”
Her eyes flickered, betraying that he’d hit close.
He noticed—but didn’t press.
“You deserve someone who chooses you when they’re calm,” he added quietly. “Not just when they’re emotional.”
Silence filled the room.
After a long pause, she whispered, “…What if I don’t know which one he is yet?”
Shayaan didn’t answer immediately.
Then he said simply, “Then don’t rush to decide.”
She looked at him.
“Take your time,” he continued. “Anyone worth loving won’t disappear just because you slowed down.”
Her expression softened.
He stood, lightly tapping her head. “Just be careful, okay?”
She caught his wrist gently before he could move away.
“Shay Bhai?”
“Hmm?”
“…Thank you. For earlier. For covering for me.”
He shrugged casually. “That’s my job.”
He started toward the door, then paused and glanced back.
“And for the record,” he added lightly, “if that celebrity sugar daddy hurts you, I will become a villain in his life story.”
A small laugh escaped her. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Satisfied, he stepped out and closed the door.
Maysha sat there for a long moment afterward, staring at the deepening mehendi stains on her palms.
The color was growing darker.
Just like the questions in her heart.
The palace had finally begun to quiet after the long mehendi evening at Suryagarh Palace.
Needing a moment away from the noise, Maysha had wandered through one of the smaller terraces until she reached a secluded corner of the palace.



The space was breathtaking at night — ancient sandstone walls, soft golden lanterns, and above it all, a sky filled with stars. At one end stood a small domed pavilion which , its carved arches casting delicate shadows across the mini pool.
Maysha glanced around to make sure no one was there.


Then she quietly walked inside the dome pavilion and sat down on the sofa.
For a moment she simply rested her back against the cool stone, lifting her hands slightly to admire the deepening mehendi stain.
A faint smile appeared on her lips.
Everything from the evening replayed in her mind.
Ayush.
Maan.
The tension.
The confusion.
Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t immediately notice the faint sound of footsteps approaching across the mini terrace.
Then she sensed it.
That strange shift in the air when someone enters quietly.
She turned.
Jo dekhe ek baar ko palat ke baar-baar woh
Khuda jaane, kyun tujhe dekhne lagta hai
Maan stood at the entrance of the pavilion, one shoulder resting casually against the carved pillar as if he had always belonged there.
Her eyes widened.
“Maan?! What are you doing here?”
Sach boloon eemaan se, khabar hai aasmaan se
Hairat mein chaand bhi tujhko takta hai

He stepped fully inside the pavilion, the soft lights catching the sharp lines of his face.
“I saw you come out here,” he said calmly.
“So I followed.”
Her heart skipped.
“You shouldn’t be here.”

Ke koi itna khoobsurat, koi itna khoobsurat
Koi itna khoobsurat kaise ho sakta hai?

“And yet,” he replied lightly, “you don’t sound like you want me to leave.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper as she glanced nervously toward the open terrace.
“What if someone sees you?”
“They won’t.”
“How do you know?”

Ke koi itna khoobsurat, koi itna khoobsurat
Koi itna khoobsurat kaise ho sakta hai?

“Because everyone’s downstairs busy wrapping up the mehendi celebrations and preparing for tomorrow’s haldi. No one’s climbing up here for at least half an hour.”
He studied her face quietly for a moment before continuing.
“You know… if Maira hadn’t unknowingly covered up for us downstairs… and if Shayaan hadn’t stepped in when she questioned everyone…”
A small smile appeared on his lips.
“I overheard, by the way.”
Maysha blinked in surprise.
“You heard that?”
“Every word.”
Silence settled inside the pavilion.
Outside, the desert wind moved softly along the stone walls.
Maysha folded her hands together.
“It’s better if we don’t make it public yet.”
His brow furrowed slightly.
“Why?”
She hesitated.
His voice lowered slightly.
“Are you ashamed to call me your boyfriend… because of the age gap?”
Her head snapped up immediately.
“No. It’s not like that at all.”
“Then what is it?”


She took a slow breath before answering honestly.
“I just want the wedding to go smoothly. I don’t want everyone’s attention suddenly shifting to me… to us. Especially when you’re… you.”
She gestured lightly toward him.
“You’re known. People talk. I don’t want their gossip to become the highlight of someone else’s celebration.”
Maan studied her quietly.
Then he nodded.
“…Fair enough.”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“Though I won’t lie — secrecy has its advantages.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Oh really?”
Khoobsurati par teri khud ko maine qurbaan kiya
“Yes,” he said softly, stepping closer across the pavilion.
“It means I get to steal moments with you like this.”
Muskura ke dekha tune, deewane par ehsaan kiya
He reached for her hand gently, lifting it toward him.
The dark mehendi patterns glowed against her skin as he pressed a warm kiss against her knuckles.
Khoobsurati par teri khud ko maine qurbaan kiya
Her breath caught.
And that was when she noticed it.
His other hand — resting loosely at his side — also carried fresh mehendi.
A single bold letter drawn into the design.
M.
Muskura ke dekha tune, deewane par ehsaan kiya
Her eyes softened.
Slowly, she took his hand in both of hers.
Without saying a word, she lifted his palm slightly and pressed a soft kiss against the letter.
His breath paused for a moment.
“Maysha…”
Before she could react, his other arm slipped around her waist, pulling her slightly closer.
“Maan…” she whispered, her pulse quickening. “We shou6ld be careful. This is a wedding house. Guests walk around everywhere. Someone could come up here—”

Dhoop bhi tere roop ke sone pe qurbaan huyi hai
Teri rangat pe khud Holi ki rut hairaan huyi hai

He leaned closer, his voice barely audible near her ear.
“Do you see anyone here right now?”
She swallowed softly.
“No.”
“Exactly.”

His lips brushed lightly behind her ear — teasing, warm, sending a sudden shiver down her spine.
Tujhko chalte dekha...
Tujhko chalte dekha tab hiranon ne seekha chalna

A startled gasp slipped from her before she could stop it.



He smiled faintly before gently turning her toward him.

Tujhe hi sunke koyal ko sur ki pehchaan huyi hai
For a moment they simply looked at each other beneath the glowing dome of the pavilion.
Tujhse dil lagaye jo, Urdu na bhi aaye toh
Shakhs woh shayari karne lagta hai
The night air moved softly through the carved arches.
Then his lips met hers.Slow.Certain.Unhurried.
Ke koi itna khoobsurat, koi itna khoobsurat
Koi itna khoobsurat kaise ho sakta hai?
Her fingers tightened slightly against the sleeve of his shirt.
But just as quickly—
She pulled back.
Koi itna khoobsurat, koi itna khoobsurat
Koi itna khoobsurat kaise ho sakta hai?



“You should go,” she whispered, her breath uneven. “Before someone actually does walk in.”
Khoobsurati par teri khud ko maine qurbaan kiya
Muskura ke dekha tune, deewane par ehsaan kiya
He held her gaze for a moment longer, reluctant while brushing his thumb on the side of her lips.
Then he stepped back.
“As you wish.”
Khoobsurati par teri khud ko maine qurbaan kiya
Muskura ke dekha tune, deewane par ehsaan kiya
Khoobsurati par teri khud ko maine qurbaan kiya koi itna, koi itna, koi itna, koi itna khoobsurat kaise ho sakta hai
He moved toward the pavilion entrance, pausing briefly before stepping out.
Turning back once more, he gave her a small mischievous wink.
“I’ll be back next time.”
And with that, he disappeared into the dimly lit palace corridor.
Maysha remained seated inside the pavilion long after he had gone.
Her fingertips still warm where he had kissed her hand.
Her heart beating louder than the quiet desert wind moving through the arches of the dome.