Krisha's Pov
Today was finally Richa Didi’s Sangeet, and true to my chaotic life, I was running miserably late. My family, or my "so-called" family, had already left hours ago. Even Dadi had joined them. I had insisted they go ahead, I had a mountain of files to get through for work, and I wasn't about to let my professional life slip, even for a wedding.
"You guys go, I’m coming right behind you," I had told them, my eyes glued to the screen.
The moment the last file was closed, I sprinted. I didn't want to look like just another guest, I wanted to look like me. I chose an outfit I had designed myself, a modern Indo-western fusion that felt like a second skin.
A crop top a structured, sweetheart neckline bustier in a light cream or champagne silk. The rushing (pleated fabric) across the chest adds texture and a modern touch. For the bottom, I chose high waisted, sharara style trousers with a breathtaking ombré effect, fading from shimmering silver white to a deep, moody sage green. But the 'hero' was the shrug, a sheer, floor-length duster coat heavily embellished with vertical lines of silver sequins and beads, silver sequins that looked like falling rain every time I moved.
[A/N:- She looked like a vision carved from moonlight and emeralds. The sheer jacket trailed behind her like a silver mist, every sequin catching the dim light of the gala. The high-waisted pants flowed with a dangerous grace, the dark green hem swirling around her feet like deep water. She wasn't just dressed for a party, she was dressed for a takeover.]

I kept my jewelry minimal, letting my long, wavy hair flow freely over my shoulders. I looked in the mirror, gave myself a quick nod, and grabbed my keys.
The drive was a nightmare. Dadi, Kashvi, and Richa Di were taking turns blowing up my phone.
Uff, these girls.
Kashvi called for the third time in ten minutes. "Madam ji, shaadi ke din tak pahunch jayengi aap?" she mocked, her voice dripping with irritation.
(Madam, will you reach by the wedding day?)
"Arre, bohot traffic hai yaha!" I snapped back, leaning on my horn.
(There’s so much traffic here!)
Seriously, people in this city drive like they left their brains at home. There was clearly space in the corner, but no, the guy in front of me wanted to block the entire lane. My foot.
"Jaldi aa, sab wait kar rahe hain," Kashvi said, her tone softening with concern. I hummed a quick response and cut the call, focusing all my energy on navigating the chaos.
(Come quickly, everyone is waiting.)
An hour later, exhausted and slightly frazzled, I finally pulled up to the venue. The hall was breathtaking, a sea of warm lights and fresh flowers, but I didn't have time to admire the decor. I was walking fast, digging through my purse, desperately searching for my lipstick for a quick touch-up.
My head was down, my entire attention buried in the depths of my bag. I didn't see the shadow looming in front of me. I didn't see the wall of a man standing in my path.
THUD.
I slammed into something, no, not something. Someone. It felt like walking into a solid marble pillar. A hard, muscular chest that didn't budge an inch.
"Abe andhe ho kya? Dekh ke nahi chal sakte?" I snapped, wincing as I caressed my forehead.
(Are you blind? Can’t you see where you’re walking?)
I didn't look up at first, too busy rubbing the sore spot on my head. But then, I felt it. That heavy, suffocating atmosphere. That scent of expensive cologne and cold power. I looked up, and my heart skipped a beat, not out of romance, but out of pure, unadulterated shock.
Dhairya Singh Shekhawat.
Oh god, my luck was truly hitting rock bottom. I looked at him, unable to hide the disgust flickering in my eyes. He was dressed entirely in black, Navy blue shirt, black pants, black coat. He is looking hot, Oh God Krisha What are you thinking shut up.
that face... who stays that grumpy while everyone else is dancing? But whatever, he wasn't my problem. I moved to walk past him, but his voice stopped me dead in my tracks.
"Dhiyaan se chala karo... kahi kisi aur se takra gayi toh mujhse bardasht nahi hoga," he said. His voice was low, cold, and so dark it sent a shiver down my spine. It was barely audible over the music, like a secret meant only for me.
(Walk carefully... if you bump into anyone else, I won't be able to tolerate it.)
I blinked, my brow furrowing. "What did you just say?" I asked, my tone laced with confusion.
He didn't repeat himself. He didn't even look like he had spoken.
"Nothing," he said, the word clipped and final. Without another glance, he walked away, leaving me standing there in the middle of the hall. I had heard him perfectly fine, but what on earth did he mean by 'he couldn't tolerate it'?
I shook my head, trying to brush off the weird feeling crawling over my skin. Aah, I don't know. And I honestly don't give a sh*t about him.
I adjusted my shrug, lifted my chin, and walked toward my family. But deep down, I could still feel his eyes on my back, watching me like a predator watches its favorite prey.
I navigated through the shimmering crowd, my eyes searching for a familiar face until I spotted her. Kashvi. She looked breathtaking, a literal vision in the outfit I had poured my heart into designing. She was my biggest fan and my best muse, and seeing her wear my creation always gave me a sense of pride that nothing else could match.
"Aaj kitno ko maarne ka irada hai?" she teased as soon as she saw me, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she pulled me into a warm hug.
(How many people do you intend to kill today?)
I laughed, the tension from the drive finally starting to melt away. "You look so beautiful, Kashvi," I whispered, kissing her cheek. She was glowing, radiant in a way that only someone truly happy can be.
"Chal, tujhe sabse milwati hoon," she said excitedly, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward a group of guests.
(Come, let me introduce you to everyone.)
She introduced me to cousins, friends, and lawyer associates, and I played the part of the graceful guest perfectly. But then, she stopped in front of a group that made my blood run cold.
Ugh. Not again.
"So Krisha, he is Dhairya. Dhruv Jiju’s friend," she said casually, her voice light and cheerful. She had no idea. She didn't know or the way his very name felt like a curse in my mouth. God, why do You always play against me? I screamed internally.
"Dhairya, she is Krisha. My best friend," she added, introducing me to him.
I felt his gaze before I even looked up. It wasn't just a look, it was a cold, piercing glare that sent a literal chill down my spine. It felt heavy, possessive, and dark. To keep the peace, I forced a tight, fake smile onto my lips, though my eyes remained like ice.
He looked at me with an intensity that felt like hellfire, his jaw set in that familiar, arrogant line. Kashvi then introduced me to Reyansh, who seemed far more human than the monster standing next to him.
Suddenly, a voice called out to Kashvi from across the hall.
"Krisha, main aati hoon abhi. Excuse me," she said, squeezing my hand before disappearing into the crowd. And just like that, I was left alone with them. The silence between us was deafening, charged with the memory of our encounter on that deserted road. My skin felt like it was crawling under Dhairya’s unyielding stare.
But before the silence could swallow me whole, a familiar voice broke the tension.
"Krisha?"
I turned to see Advik walking toward us, a gentle, hopeful smile on his face. My heart sank. Advik was kind, loyal, and had been always there for me. I knew how he felt about me, I could see it in the way his eyes lit up whenever I entered a room. I didn't want to break his heart. I really didn't. But standing here, caught between the warmth of a man who loved me and the suffocating darkness of a man I despised, I felt like I was walking on a tightrope over a sheer drop.
I caught Dhairya’s eyes for a split second as Advik reached us, and the flash of raw, lethal jealousy I saw there made my breath catch in my throat.
Third Person
The atmosphere in the hall shifted the moment Advik stepped into the frame. To an outsider, it was just a friend approaching a friend, but to Krisha, the air suddenly felt heavy and scorched. She could feel a strange, suffocating heat radiating from the man standing behind her.
Dhairya didn't move, but his presence expanded, dark and predatory. His hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing the skin in a rhythmic, restless motion, a tell-tale sign that the beast inside him was clawing at the bars. His eyes were fixed on Krisha, burning with a lethal mix of possessiveness and a jealousy so raw it was almost tangible.
"Hi, Krisha. You look beautiful... as always," Advik said, his voice soft and laced with a genuine warmth that made Krisha feel like a fragile, precious gem.
He looked at her with the kind of adoration that only comes from a heart that has been pining in silence. Advik had been in love with her from the very first moment they met at Kashvi’s birthday party, but he had never found the courage to bridge the gap. He was the light to her darkness, the safety she deserved, but he had no idea he was standing in the shadow of a hurricane.
"Thanks," Krisha replied, offering him a small, sincere smile.
That smile was the breaking point.
Dhairya took a sharp step forward, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might shatter. His hand dropped from his neck, his body coiling like a spring ready to snap. He was ready to erase Advik from the hall or the earth.
But before he could make a move that would change everything, Reyansh’s hand shot out, gripping Dhairya’s arm with a strength born of pure desperation. Reyansh knew that look. He knew that if he didn't hold Dhairya back, the night would end in blood. He had to keep the monster on a leash, even if the leash was fraying.
"Arre, Krisha! Abhi bhi yahan hai? Chal mere saath," Kashvi’s voice broke the tension like a glass shattering. She appeared out of the crowd, oblivious to the war happening in the silence, and grabbed Krisha’s hand.
"Bhai, come, let’s go," Kashvi added, glancing at Advik.
As the three of them walked away, the vacuum they left behind was instantly filled with Dhairya’s rage.
"Control, Dhairya," Reyansh hissed, his grip tightening as he leaned into his friend’s ear. He wasn't just angry, he was genuinely terrified of what Dhairya was becoming. "Think about where we are. Control it."
"Bhench*d!"
The curse ripped out of Dhairya’s throat like a snarl. He jerked his arm back, throwing off Reyansh’s grip with a violent force that sent a clear message he was beyond listening. He wasn't just out of control, he was a man watching his only obsession walk away with someone else, and the fire in his eyes promised that tomorrow, no one would be safe.
The atmosphere was thick with the scent of lilies and expensive perfume, the golden glow of the chandeliers reflecting off the joyous faces in the hall. Everyone settled onto the plush velvet couches, the air humming with the kind of excitement only a wedding can bring.
Krisha navigated through the crowd, her presence like a soft breeze amidst the heavy silk sarees. She reached Richa and Dhruv, her face lighting up with a rare, genuine warmth.
"Kitni pyari lagri ho, Di," Krisha whispered, pulling Richa into a tight embrace. Richa looked breathtaking, a vision in an intricately embroidered lehenga that seemed to glow under the lights. Krisha looked at Dhruv, offering a nod of approval, he truly was a lucky man to have found a soul like Richa. They were the perfect picture of a 'happily ever after.'
But the moment of peace was short-lived.
"Okay, everyone! Pay attention!" the host’s voice boomed over the speakers. "Our soon-to-be bride is about to give her performance! Let’s hear it for Richa!" The hall erupted in hooting and applause. Krisha and Kashvi retreated to the corner of the stage, standing in the shadows to give the bride her moment.
In the center of the room, on the primary couch, sat the trio Dhruv, Reyansh, and the man who seemed to absorb all the light around him, Dhairya.
Dhairya wasn't looking at the stage. His eyes were anchored to the corner. To her. Seeing Krisha there, laughing, clapping, her face unguarded and radiant, sent a jagged spike of possessiveness through his chest. Something flickered in the dark depths of his eyes, a dangerous hunger he couldn't mask. His knuckles turned white as he tightened his fist against his knee.
"Le ho gaya ye bekabu," Reyansh leaned in, whispering into Dhruv’s ear with a smirk of pure amusement.
(Look at that, he’s lost control already.)
"Thoda aur tez bol leta," Dhairya’s voice cut through, cold and lethal. He didn't even turn his head.
(Say it a little louder next time.)
Reyansh let out a free, barking laugh. "Oh, sunai de gaya tujhe? Mujhe laga ki andhe ke sath behra bhi ho gaya tu!"
(Oh, you heard that? I thought you’d gone deaf along with being blind!)
Dhruv joined in the laughter, but Dhairya merely leveled them with a death glare that could have frozen blood.
Then, the lights dimmed.
The haunting, soulful notes of Madhaniya began to fill the hall. The room fell into a heavy, emotional silence.
[A/N:- Listen Madhaniya song for better experience]
“Beete saare mausam babul, tere ghar mein...”
Richa began to move. It wasn't just a dance it was a story. Her fingers pointed toward her father, her movements as fluid as water, capturing the bittersweet ache of leaving her childhood home.
“Ab chale paanv mere piya ke shahar mein...”
She glided across the stage, her steps leading her toward Dhruv. She leaned forward slightly, her gaze fixed on her future, her hands gesturing toward the man who was now her world.
Dhairya watched, but his mind was weaving a different tapestry. He saw the way the fabric of Krisha’s outfit shimmered as she watched the performance, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"Beete saare mausam babul, tere ghar mein"
"Ab chale paanv mere piya ke shahar mein"
"Ho tune vidayiyan kaise likhi marjaaniyan... kaise bataye O rabba sahi naiyon jaaniyan..."
Richa twirled, her lehenga flaring out around her like a swirling whirlpool. The lyrics spoke of the unbearable pain of parting, and the raw emotion in her steps brought a lump to everyone's throat.
"Madhaniya... haaye O mere babula teriyan mithiyan yaadan..."
She reached out toward her parents, her expression so vulnerable that tears finally spilled from her mother’s eyes. Even Kashvi was dabbing at her cheeks, her heart breaking for her sister. Dhruv sat there, his usual composure shattered, his eyes red and brimming with love and sorrow.
"Mere peeche peeche auniyan haaye, Haaye O mere babula meriyan..."
"Hun gudiyan, kol tere reh jaaniyan haaye..."
Richa moved with the grace of a porcelain doll, her hands swaying backward as if leaving her childhood toys behind. It was a performance that stripped the room of its pretenses, leaving nothing but raw, aching love.
In the corner, Krisha stood frozen, the emotional weight of the song crashing over her. And from the center couch, Dhairya’s gaze never wavered. He didn't care about the lyrics of parting he was only thinking about the 'holding on.'
The heavy, emotional lingering of Madhaniya was suddenly broken by a vibrant, upbeat rhythm. The mood shifted from the sorrow of parting to the magic of falling in love as the first notes of "Teri Ore" filled the air.
[A/N:- Kya pyara song hai yeh sunna toh banta hai friends.🥹]
Richa didn't miss a beat. Her expression transformed from vulnerable to radiant, her eyes locked onto Dhruv as the lyrics began.
"Dil kho gaya, ho gaya kisi ka... Ab raasta mil gaya khushi ka..."
"Aankhon mein hai khwaab sa kisi ka, Ab raasta mil gaya khushi ka..."
She moved with an effortless grace, her hands weaving through the air as if she were literally carving out a path, a raasta, straight to him. Every flick of her wrist, every swirl of her champagne colored lehenga, was a tribute to the man sitting before her. Dhruv didn't even try to hide his awe he sat there, mesmerized, watching his world dance just for him.
"Rishta naya rabba, dil chhu raha hai... Khiche mujhe koi dore, teri ore..."
"Teri ore, teri ore, teri ore, hai rabba, Teri ore, teri ore, teri ore"
As the chorus hit, Richa pulled her hands close to her heart, her fingers clenching her blouse for a fleeting second before she began to glide. It was as if an invisible thread was tugging at her soul, pulling her toward him. She didn't just walk she drifted toward Dhruv, her face glowing with a love so pure it made the surrounding lights seem dim.
"Khulti fizaaein, khulti ghaataein... Sar pe naya hai aasman..."
"Chaaron dishaaein hans ke bulaaein"
"Kyun sab huye hain Meherbaan?"
Dhruv couldn't stay seated any longer. As the lyrics spoke of open skies and laughing horizons, he stepped onto the stage. He moved with a suave, protective energy, his hands reaching upward toward the imaginary sky before he finally reached out and captured her hands in his.
"Haan, humein toh yahi, rabba, kasam se, pata hai"
"Dil pe nahi koi zor, koi zor... Teri ore, teri ore..."
Together, they were a vision. They moved in perfect synchronization, like two meticulously crafted dolls brought to life by a master clockmaker. Every step matched the beat every turn was an echo of the other. The crowd was lost in their chemistry, they were the perfect.
But in the midst of the cheering crowd and the romantic melody, there was a different kind of magic happening in the shadows. Dhairya wasn't watching the couple on stage. He was looking at Krisha. She was standing in the corner, her hands coming together in a soft, rhythmic clap.
She was lost, completely and utterly lost in the beauty of the moment. For once, the guard was down. The fire in her eyes had softened into a gentle shimmer of admiration for her sister’s happiness.
Dhairya’s gaze changed. The lethal, jagged edges of his obsession seemed to smooth out for a heartbeat. He looked at her with a raw, terrifying purity, a look so intense it could have burned her if she had turned around. He wasn't just watching her, he was breathing her in, admiring the way a stray lock of hair danced against her neck, the way her lips curved into a genuine smile.
In that moment, Dhairya Singh Shekhawat wasn't a predator. He was just a man helplessly anchored to his North Star. He was so lost in her that the world around him, the music, the cheering, the lights, became a blur. There was only Krisha.
“Teri ore, teri ore, teri ore...”
The music reached its crescendo and faded into a final, beautiful chord. The hall erupted. People were on their feet, hooting and whistling for the couple who had just set the stage on fire.
The thunderous applause acted like a bucket of ice water. Dhairya snapped his head back, his eyes clearing as the "beast" regained its composure. The softness vanished, replaced instantly by his signature cold, unreadable mask. He blinked, the dark shutters of his soul closing once more, but his heart was still thudding a rhythm that only knew one name.
He was back to his senses, but the damage was done. He had seen her heart, and now, he wanted it even more.
The atmosphere at the dining table was a stark contrast to the celebration earlier. The massive mahogany table was laden with silver platters and aromatic dishes, but for Krisha, the food tasted like ash.
She could feel him. Even without looking up, she knew Dhairya was sitting directly across from her. His gaze was a physical weight, heavy, suffocating, and cold. It was a stare that didn't just look at her, it claimed her, sending a violent chill down her spine that she couldn't shake off.
The clinking of silverware suddenly ceased as Vikrant Mehta, Krisha’s father, tapped his glass. He stood with a practiced authority, a sharp contrast to the joyous chaos surrounding them.
"Hey everyone, listen," Vikrant announced, his voice booming through the dining hall. "I’m going to announce something serious and very important."
A ripple of curiosity moved through the guests. Kashvi’s father looked up with a grin. "What is it, Vikrant? Don't keep us in suspense!"
Vikrant’s gaze moved across the table, landing briefly on Krisha before he spoke the words that would shatter the night. "I want to marry my daughter to Advik."
For a heartbeat, time froze. Krisha’s breath hitched. Priya? she thought desperately. He must mean Priya. But the silence that followed was heavy with an omen she couldn't ignore.
"So, I want Krisha to marry Advik," Vikrant said, his tone as casual as if he were discussing a business merger. The ground slipped from beneath her feet.
The shock hit the room like a physical blow. Advik sat frozen, his fork dropping onto the porcelain plate with a sharp clack. He looked at Krisha, his eyes wide with a mix of horror. Across from Krisha, the temperature dropped to sub-zero.
Dhairya’s fist tightened until his knuckles turned a ghostly white. His jaw was clenched so hard the bone looked ready to snap. The raw, lethal energy radiating from him was so intense that Reyansh immediately reached out, gripping Dhairya’s arm under the table, desperate to keep the beast anchored.
"What are you talking about, Papa?" Krisha stood up abruptly, her chair screeching against the marble floor. Her eyes were wide with a mix of betrayal and rising fury.
"You heard me right, Krisha," Vikrant replied, dismissing her anger with a wave of his hand. "You are going to marry Advik." Before she could scream, before she could protest the injustice of her life being auctioned off, the families erupted. Hugs were exchanged, congratulations were shouted, and the sound of forced joy filled the room.
The Mehta and Rajvansh families were celebrating a union. Unable to breathe, Krisha turned and fled. She didn't look back at the "perfect" family dinner or the man she was supposed to marry. She just ran, leaving the suffocating expectations behind.
Dhairya didn't just walk out, he stormed out of the hall like a force of nature. Every step he took vibrated with the promise of violence.
The moment he reached the corridor, he swung. His fist connected with the solid stone wall with a sickening thud. He didn't flinch. He didn't cry out. He just watched as the skin split and crimson blood began to seep from his knuckles, staining the expensive wallpaper.
"Dhairya! Yeh tu kya kar raha hai?" Reyansh shouted, catching up and grabbing his shoulders to pull him back.
(Dhairya! What are you doing?)
Dhairya turned, and the look in his eyes was something Reyansh had feared for years. It was no longer just obsession, it was a death warrant.
"Aaj yahan khoon barsega, Reyansh," Dhairya snarled, his voice a low, guttural growl.
(Today, blood will rain here.)
In one swift, blurred motion, he reached into his waistband and pulled out his gun. The matte black steel glinted dangerously under the hall lights. He began to move back toward the dining room, his intent clear he was going to end the "groom" before the wedding could even be discussed.
"Nahi!" Reyansh lunged, his fingers locking around the barrel and Dhairya’s wrist. "Tu aisa kuch nahi karega! Sambhal khud ko! This isn't the time, Dhairya. You'll ruin everything!"
(You won't do this! Control yourself!)
For a long, agonizing moment, the two friends stood locked in a battle of wills. Dhairya’s chest heaved, his eyes fixed on the door where Advik still sat. The urge to kill was warring with the cold, calculating part of his brain that Reyansh was desperately trying to reach.
Finally, with a roar of frustrated rage, Dhairya jerked his hand back and shoved the gun into his holster. He didn't look at Reyansh. He just stared at his bloody hand, his mind already weaving a plan far more painful than a bullet.
He wouldn't just kill Advik. He would make sure Krisha knew that there was only one man allowed to own her soul.
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