The Wish- a Maaneet fanfic; Ch 5/pg 4; Ch 6-15/pg 5; Ch 16-20/pg 6 - Page 4

very nice update

maan is protective about geet but not able to name his feeling for geet

geet alos sailing in same boat

waiting to read more

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sad that you are not updating

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when will you update?

sad that you are not updating

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Chapter 5: Reflections and Revelations

Maan Singh Khurana drove into the Khurana Mansion gates, his mind unusually preoccupied. The city lights blurred past, but all he could think of was a certain young woman’s laughter echoing in his head.

He exhaled sharply, almost irritated at himself. Geet Handa. Why on earth was he thinking about her so much?

As he stepped out of his car and strode toward the marble staircase, his thoughts were still tangled around that smile — bright, unguarded, disarmingly pure. It was so unlike the polished facades he usually encountered. Lost in thought, he almost bumped straight into his grandmother.

Savitri Devi crossed her arms, frowning in mock sternness. “So, Mr. Khurana, may I ask why you’re storming through the house as if the world is ending? And why aren’t you dressed for Mr. Shah’s party?”

Maan sighed, loosening his tie. “Daadima, I told you. I’m not attending any party tonight. I have some things to sort out.”

“Things to sort out?” she echoed, suspicious. “You’ve been sorting ‘things’ for years, Maan. What you need is a social life.”

He smiled faintly. “I’ll pass, Daadima. Enjoy the party for both of us.”

Before she could protest, he retreated to the terrace. He needed clarity — and for Maan Singh Khurana, clarity always came through discipline.

The night air was cool as he began his tai chi routine, each movement controlled, precise, and meditative. His body flowed, but his mind refused to settle.

Yes, Geet was beautiful — objectively beautiful — but beauty never fazed him. He’d met countless stunning women at business galas, models, heiresses, socialites. Beauty was currency in his world. Talent, though? That was rarer. And Geet had plenty of that.

Still, he wasn’t new to talent either. Khurana Constructions was built on it. He had mentored raw, brilliant minds and shaped them into some of the best professionals in the field. So what made her different?

He stilled mid-motion, breathing deeply. Substance. That was the word. Geet had substance — an inner fire that came from drive, not privilege. She didn’t coast through life because of her last name; she worked. That passion in her eyes, that stubborn confidence… it intrigued him.

But that was all, he told himself firmly. Just intrigue.

Unlike most women he met, who spent their days draped in luxury and their nights gossiping about the next social event, Geet had a purpose. And Maan despised people without purpose. Even his Daadima — who could have easily lived a life of leisure — chose instead to pour herself into charities and NGOs, working tirelessly to uplift others.

Yes, he concluded, lowering his arms and exhaling, that’s why Geet fascinates me. She’s driven, disciplined, and passionate about her work. Nothing more.

He almost believed it.

Meanwhile, Savitri Devi was, in fact, enjoying herself quite a bit at Mr. Shah’s elegant gathering. Though she had arrived reluctantly, she found comfort in the company of her younger grandson Dev and his wife, Naintara.

Dev was everything Maan wasn’t — equally hardworking, but far more relaxed. He knew how to balance ambition with enjoyment, and Naintara’s warmth complemented his energy perfectly. Their boutique, a gift from Maan on their anniversary, had turned into a thriving business — though Maan still technically remained their investor.

Savitri smiled as she observed the young couple mingling. It filled her with pride to see them happy. Yet, at the back of her mind, her thoughts inevitably drifted to Maan.

Her eldest grandson — brilliant, disciplined, devoted. But so lonely. She knew what he wanted in a life partner: someone who understood him, who respected his vision, who didn’t measure worth in wealth. But that kind of woman was rare in their world — someone unafraid of hard work, unseduced by luxury.

As she pondered this, murmurs spread through the crowd. She followed everyone’s gaze toward the entrance, where a distinguished family had just arrived. Her eyes lit up in surprise.

The Kapoors.

It had been years since they had attended a social event. Maanav Kapoor, the dignified patriarch, had withdrawn from society after his wife’s death. Seeing him now — surrounded by his grown children — was heartwarming.

Savitri’s smile softened. “Maanav Kapoor,” she said warmly as she approached him. “How long has it been? You’ve forgotten your favorite board member.”

Maanav turned, a surprised grin spreading across his face. “Savitri Devi Khurana! I could never forget you. It’s been far too long.”

They shared a warm embrace, the kind only old friends could. There had been a time when their families had been close — before life’s storms had pulled them apart.

“And who might this be?” Savitri asked, noticing a young woman standing slightly behind Yash Kapoor.

Maanav’s expression softened with paternal pride. “This is my daughter, Geet Handa.”

For a moment, Savitri was speechless. “My goodness… she’s grown so much. And so beautiful.”

It wasn’t an exaggeration. Geet looked ethereal in her simple pastel suit, her natural glow enhanced only by the innocence in her eyes. She looked away shyly under the matriarch’s gaze.

Savitri’s chest tightened. “She’s the spitting image of her mother,” she murmured.

For a brief second, both elders fell silent — remembering Rano Kapoor, the bright, driven woman Savitri had once mentored. The memories were bittersweet, so Savitri pushed them gently aside.

Turning back to the young woman, she smiled. “You must call me Daadima. Dev and Naintara are somewhere around here — I’ll have to introduce you.”

Geet’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Dev? I think he was Yash Bhai’s batchmate! Small world.”

That one line was all it took for Savitri to take a liking to her. There was something refreshingly unpretentious about Geet — the way she spoke, the sparkle in her eyes, her fascination as she commented on the event’s décor.

Savitri listened quietly, amused, until realization dawned. She’s an interior designer. The attention to detail, the excitement in her tone — it was unmistakable.

She was tempted to mention Khurana Constructions and its design division but stopped herself. It might sound presumptuous — or worse, like charity — to offer a position to the daughter of a renowned industrialist.

Still, something about this girl tugged at her curiosity. There was a spark, a sincerity she hadn’t seen in years.

As she looked at Geet, an idea began to take shape in Savitri Devi’s mind. Perhaps it’s time my grandson met someone truly different.

And somewhere, miles away, Maan Singh Khurana stilled mid-tai chi stance — an inexplicable restlessness stirring in his chest.

Originally posted by: khwaishfan

Hi Dia

do you intend to update>

Writing updates rn! Life keeps getting in the way- but thanks so much for waiting...