❤️‍🔥 ABHIMANYU ❤️‍🔥

I stepped out of the car, and the moment my feet hit the pavement, I found myself standing before a mansion dressed in lights, flowers, and wealth. The kind of place that’s meant to awe people, meant to make them feel like they’re stepping into a different world—a world of power and status. But I had been around enough wealth and grandeur my entire life, so none of it impressed me. The decorations, as immaculate as they were, felt like noise—something to look at, nothing more.

I adjusted my cufflinks, my eyes scanning the crowd outside the mansion. People were talking, laughing, oblivious to the fact that none of this meant anything. The wedding of Ranvijay Chauhan was the talk of the city, but for me, it was just another obligation. A necessary appearance to maintain certain ties. My parents couldn’t make it, which left me to play the dutiful son. That was fine. I didn’t need them here. The less they were involved, the less I had to deal with their constant questioning.

I entered the mansion, and as expected, eyes turned toward me. I could feel their stares. Some curious, some wary. My name carries weight, I know that. Abhimanyu Thakur isn’t just a name—it’s a presence. I moved through the crowd, my steps firm, my posture unyielding, but I didn’t bother acknowledging anyone unless absolutely necessary. Most of these people were here for the show, the spectacle. None of them mattered to me.

I spotted Mr. Chauhan near the mandap, his face lit with joy. A businessman to his core, yet today he was a father marrying off his son. I walked toward him, brushing past a few lingering guests. When he saw me, his face brightened, and he pulled me into a hug—an act I could have done without. But I tolerated it.

"Abhimanyu, my boy!" he greeted me like we were old friends. We weren’t.

I gave him a tight smile, the kind that barely touched my eyes. "Mr. Chauhan," I acknowledged, then added, "My parents couldn’t make it. Weather delays."

He waved it off like it was nothing. "That’s quite alright. I’m just grateful you came."

Gratitude. That was unnecessary. I wasn’t here for him. I was here because it was expected of me, because the Thakurs and the Chauhans shared an unspoken understanding. My parents’ absence needed to be balanced by my presence.

I shifted my gaze to the mandap where Ranvijay stood, the final rites of the ceremony taking place. He was filling vermilion in his bride’s hair, sealing their fates as husband and wife for the next seven lives, or whatever the priest was declaring. It was all symbolic. Ritualistic. Something people did because it was tradition, but for me, it was just another contract. Marriages were alliances. Nothing more. Seven lives? I couldn’t imagine being tied to anyone for even a single life.

The crowd erupted into applause as the couple took blessings from their parents. I took the opportunity to step away, retreating from the noise and the overbearing presence of too many people. I pulled out my phone and dialed my father. The sooner I got out of here, the better.

“Dad,” I said the moment he picked up, “I’ve met Mr. Chauhan, handed over the gift. Can I leave now?”

The impatience in my voice was clear. This wasn’t my scene. These weren’t my people.

“Abhimanyu,” my father’s voice came through with that authoritative calm I’ve grown used to, “It would be nice if you could meet the couple and congratulate them in person. Relationships matter.”

Relationships. That word again. The one thing my father constantly preached but I had little interest in. For a moment, I was tempted to argue, to tell him I’d done enough. But something made me stop. Against my better judgment, I found myself agreeing."Fine."

I ended the call and pocketed my phone, irritation creeping into my chest. I wasn’t sure why I’d agreed so easily. Something felt off, something I couldn’t quite place. Shaking the thought from my mind, I made my way back to the mandap. Just meet the couple, say the words, and leave. Simple.

But as I approached, something shifted. My eyes caught movement, a flash of color, and then everything seemed to slow down.

There, standing with Ranvijay and his bride, was a goddess. Dressed in a blue lehenga, her presence was impossible to ignore. I didn’t believe in words like ‘stunning’ or ‘angelic.’ Those were for poets and dreamers, not people like me. But this fairy… she wasn’t just beautiful. She was otherworldly.

Her eyes, green and fierce, held a power I couldn’t explain. It was as if they commanded the very forces of nature. Her hair, a deep brown, cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, glistening under the lights. And her skin—there was a glow to it, a radiance that made it seem like she belonged in a painting, not standing here in the middle of this over-decorated wedding.

Who is she ?

For a second, I thought I was imagining her. But no. She was real. And suddenly, I felt something I hadn’t felt in years—an unfamiliar tug deep in my chest. A loss of control. My heart was pounding. I could feel it against my ribs, hard, fast. What the hell was happening to me?

I forced myself to look away, a wave of frustration hitting me hard. I was irritated with myself. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I didn’t get distracted. I didn’t feel anything—especially not because of some woman I didn’t even know.

But my heart kept racing. And the harder I tried to ignore it, the more it seemed to beat against my chest, demanding my attention. I clenched my fists, trying to regain control. This was insane. I didn’t even know her name, and yet, here I was, feeling like my entire world had shifted.

I barely registered Mr. Chauhan’s voice calling out to me.

"Abhimanyu, come here !" he said, his tone filled with warmth.

I snapped back to reality and made my way over, my face a mask of indifference. Control. That’s what I needed right now. I wasn’t going to let whatever this was get the better of me.

Mr. Chauhan stood with his family, smiling proudly. “This is my son Ranvijay, and of course, my daughter-in-law, Tara.”

I offered them a stiff nod. "Congratulations," I said, my voice void of any real emotion.

Ranvijay returned the gesture with the same formal politeness, while Tara smiled at me with a warmth I didn’t reciprocate. It didn’t matter. I had done what I was asked to do.

But then, Mr. Chauhan turned toward the fairy in blue, and I felt my pulse spike again.

"And this," he said, his pride evident, "is my daughter, Aahana."

Aahana.

The name hit me like a jolt. I looked at her, really looked at her, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Those green eyes, full of life, met mine, and I felt something stir inside me—something that shouldn’t be there.

"It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Thakur," she said, her voice soft, melodious.

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come. I was… frozen. Me. The man who never lost control. The man who never hesitated. All I could do was give her a curt nod, barely able to trust myself to speak.

She smiled again, and it felt like the ground beneath me shifted. Damn it. I needed to get out of here.

Before I could say anything more, someone called for her—probably one of the many guests eager to bask in her presence. She excused herself, and I was left standing there, my mind racing, my heart pounding.

Mr. Chauhan continued speaking, asking me to join them for the reception the next day. I barely heard him. I muttered something—a vague agreement—and excused myself as quickly as I could.

The moment I stepped outside, I could breathe again. I loosened my tie, yanked open the top buttons of my shirt, and took a deep breath. What the hell had just happened? How had this woman—this stranger—gotten under my skin so easily?

I climbed into my car, slamming the door shut behind me. My driver glanced at me, but wisely said nothing.

"Home," I ordered, my voice sharper than I intended.

As the car sped away from the mansion, I leaned back against the seat, trying to clear my head. But all I could think about was her. Her face. Her smile. Those green eyes that seemed to hold the entire world in them.

My jaw tightened, frustration coursing through me. I didn’t get affected. I didn’t get distracted. But now, I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Aahana Chauhan.

I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the image of her face, but it was no use. She was there, in my mind, refusing to leave. And as the car sped down the empty roads, one thought burned into my mind with a frightening intensity.

She’s going to be mine. Only mine.