At Raheja Mansion — Morning
Mahir's POV
It had been nearly ten days since that mysterious girl crossed paths with me—once at the accident site, and again at the hotel. I’d instructed Khanna to dig up every possible detail about both girls. Yet, as expected, the man had delivered nothing of substance.
I dialed his number, irritation already bubbling beneath my calm.
Me: "What’s the update, Khanna? I need information on both—the accident girl and the hotel girl."
Khanna: "Sir, the accident girl's name is Shivani. She’s an orphan, but currently staying with the Singhanias at their mansion. The couple you met at the site? None other than Mira Singhania and Anvay Singhania."
Me: "I see... and what about the hotel girl?"
Khanna: "Sir, I still don’t have any concrete information. The hotel footage wasn’t clear. The girl’s face is never visible—she had her dupatta wrapped tightly the entire time. Even the frame where she collided with you only caught the moment her dupatta slipped, but it’s too blurred to recognize her."
Me: "What the hell are you saying, Khanna? A five-star hotel is lined with cameras and you couldn’t get a single decent shot?"
Khanna: "I understand, sir. But every angle shows the same thing—her face is hidden. That one moment when her face was visible wasn’t captured clearly."
Me: "Don’t give me pathetic excuses. I want that girl identified. You have two days—if not, consider this your last assignment and hand in your resignation."
I ended the call, my frustration mounting. Not because she was beautiful—though she undeniably was—but because ever since that fleeting moment, her memory had haunted me. There was something oddly peaceful in recalling her face... even her indignation. It made me wonder what her smile might look like. How would her laughter sound—was it sharp and teasing, or soft and melodic?
And then there was Shivani—the accident girl—now under the Singhanias’ roof. That stung more than I cared to admit. Our families had been business rivals since the time my father led Raheja Enterprises. It wasn’t a blood feud, but it might as well have been, given how aggressively we competed for dominance in the corporate world. We stood as India’s top business house, with the Singhanias trailing closely behind.
Shaking off the spiral of thoughts, I made my way to the breakfast table. After finishing my meal, Dadu dropped an unexpected announcement—my alliance had been finalized with Tia.
I had no objections. Tia had already agreed to keep her nose out of my affairs post-marriage, and frankly, that was all I asked for. She was ambitious—greedy and cunning, too—but as long as she minded her own business, we’d have no conflicts. I had even made her sign a contract to ensure that very thing.
Mother seemed pleased, though I couldn’t understand why she didn’t see through Tia’s façade. Regardless, I had given my nod for her sake.
The announcement was met with warm wishes from the family. Even my younger cousins—my little gang—rushed forward to envelop me in a congratulatory hug.
Soon after, I headed to the office, pushing aside the unease that clung to me like a shadow.
At the Singhania Mansion – Shivani's POV
It’s been two days since I arrived at the Singhania mansion. With time and care, my wounds have healed, and I can now walk without much discomfort. Physically, I’m getting better—but there’s something more. Something unexpected. A sense of warmth… of belonging.
In these past two days, I’ve spoken to everyone in the house. Each one of them, in their own way, made me feel welcome. Their kindness has been... disarming. And after finishing breakfast today, I couldn’t bear to stay in the room any longer. I was itching to step outside, breathe in the city air, and feel something other than stillness.
Omkar and Adwait were taking me out for what they called a “city show”—a tour of Mumbai’s famous spots. I was quietly thrilled. Mira aunty had given them strict instructions before we left: take care of her, don’t let her get exhausted, and be home early. I smiled inwardly at her concern.
I dressed in an outfit chosen by Meenu aunty—an elegant piece that surprisingly looked stunning on me. As we drove through the city, we visited several iconic places: Marine Drive, Gateway of India, the vibrant streets of Colaba. I had desperately wanted to go to the beach, but by the time we realized how much we’d explored, night had fallen.
It was almost 11 PM when we returned. The house was quiet, everyone asleep—except for Kartavya bhai.
Yes… bhai.
I know, I know. Just yesterday, I told Adwait that I wouldn’t call him bhai, that I didn’t want to form relationships I couldn’t keep. But things have changed. The care this family has shown me isn’t something I can ignore. Initially, I was afraid that calling someone bhai or aunty would mean attaching myself to something I couldn't be part of for long. But now I realize—it isn’t a burden to form bonds. Not when you’re treated with love.
So this morning, I’d called him Adwait bhai. He was stunned—probably recalling our garden conversation where I bluntly refused him. But the grin that lit up his face the moment he heard me say it… I’ll never forget it. He practically lunged at me, pulling me into a crushing hug.
“Thank you! You’re the best!” he shouted, squeezing the life out of me.
“Bacche ki jaan loge kya?” I panted, pushing him away while gasping for air. That only made everyone laugh.
“Hilarious,” I muttered with a pout. “Here I am dying and you all are laughing at my misery.”
“You’re the best, angel,” Adwait bhai said fondly.
“What did I even do?” I asked, genuinely confused.
“You called me bhai. That’s enough.”
“But you told me to,” I reminded him.
“I did. But when you said no, I thought you never would. Hearing it now… makes me happy.”
I smiled—just a little.
Later, before we left for our outing, Kartavya bhai handed me a small box. I opened it to find a sleek phone inside.
“I can’t take this,” I said, quickly handing it back.
“Why not?” he asked.
“I don’t need it. If I have to make a call, I can use Adwait bhai’s or Omkar’s phone.”
He chuckled. “And what if these two monkeys get distracted by bananas—sorry, I meant beautiful girls—and leave you behind in a crowd? Or worse, what if you get lost? Take the phone, Shivani. Just in case.”
He had a point. Reluctantly, I took it. “Thank you, Kartavya… bhai,” I added with a small pause.
His brows rose with amusement. “Kartavya? That’s it?”
I blinked. “What?”
“You’ll call Adwait bhai but not me?”
“He told me to,” I defended.
“Well, I’m telling you now. Call me bhai, too.”
I laughed softly. “Alright then—thank you, Kartavya bhai.”
His smile was subtle but genuine.
“And me?” Omkar asked with hopeful eyes. “You should call me bhai too.”
“But you’re younger than me,” I teased.
“So what?” he pouted. “I want equal treatment!”
“Fine, Omkar bhai it is,” I giggled.
Kartavya bhai sighed dramatically. “Can you all just leave now?”
“Jealous much?” Adwait bhai quipped, and we all laughed again.
Three brothers. Somehow, in just two days, I’d earned three brothers.
Before heading to my room, I turned to Kartavya bhai and asked, “You’re still awake. Were you waiting for us?”
“Of course. I was dying to hear all about your wild little trip,” he replied with a smirk.
“Trip?” Omkar bhai snorted. “You can call it shopping.”
“And you won’t believe what she bought,” Adwait bhai added.
“What?” Kartavya bhai asked.
“A pair of jhumkas. For just 99 rupees!” Omkar bhai exclaimed.
“That’s it?” Kartavya bhai looked genuinely shocked.
“That’s it,” Adwait bhai confirmed.
I flopped onto the couch, exhausted. “Please no more questions, bhai. I’m drained.”
They both began giggling again.
“Shut up,” Kartavya bhai ordered with mock sternness, and they fell silent.
“Go freshen up and rest,” he added gently.
“Okay,” I said, getting up. I’d already had dinner at the restaurant, so I headed straight to my room.
After washing up, I lay down, letting the comfort of the bed embrace my tired body. But sleep didn’t come just yet. I was waiting.
A few moments later, I heard the soft click of the door. I shut my eyes and pretended to sleep.
Kartavya bhai stepped in, quiet as ever. He tucked the quilt around me carefully and stroked my hair once, gently, before leaving the room.
Only once the door closed did I open my eyes.
In just two days, I had seen a side of him that most people probably miss—his quiet protectiveness. From the very first night, he’d come to check on me after everyone else had gone to bed. And each time, I had pretended to sleep.
This time, I didn’t just pretend—I drifted off for real, the exhaustion finally pulling me under, a strange warmth blooming in my chest.
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