Aaradhya’s hand still resting lightly on Shekhar’s thigh, her red nails tracing lazy circles against the expensive fabric of his trousers, a gesture that would have gone unnoticed by most.

But not by him.

Without a word, Shekhar reached down and gently removed her hand, placing it back on her own lap. The warmth in his eyes was gone. What remained was cool steel.

“Aaradhya,” he said evenly, his voice calm but cutting enough to silence the noise between them, “you’re a good friend. Probably one of the few I have left from that part of my life.”

Aaradhya blinked, a little thrown by the sudden seriousness. “I… know that.”

“Then you should also know,” he continued, leaning forward slightly, “that being my friend doesn’t give you the right to pay editors and journalists to print whatever nonsense you want and think I wouldn’t find out.”

For a brief second, a flicker no more, something shifted in Aaradhya’s expression. The practiced smile faltered, the mask slipped. But then, as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. She gave a soft laugh, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“Come on, Shekhar,” she said with feigned innocence, “you don’t really think I had anything to do with that article, do you? It’s just the press being dramatic. They always do that.”

Shekhar’s gaze didn’t waver. He had spent too many years reading boardroom opponents to fall for such easy theatrics.

“I know exactly what you’re trying to do,” he said quietly. “And I’m telling you now it won’t work.”

Her smile tightened. “And what exactly am I trying to do?”

He set his glass down, his tone controlled but cold enough to make her pulse skip. “Use publicity to corner me. Create a story loud enough that I have no choice but to make it real. Tie my name to yours so tightly that backing out would look like betrayal.”

Aaradhya’s lips parted, a half-formed denial died before it could leave her mouth. He was too sharp, too precise, and she knew there was no point in pretending.

Shekhar’s voice softened, but there was nothing gentle about the words. “I’ve seen men destroy empires chasing illusions like that. I’ve seen friendships rot because someone thought they could buy love the way they buy influence. And I swore I’d never let money, power, or business decide the course of my personal life.”

He leaned back in his seat, eyes locked on hers, steady, unblinking. “So if you think you can trap me into anything, you’re wasting your time.”

For the first time that evening, Aaradhya didn’t have a rehearsed reply. The poised actress, the media darling, sat speechless under the weight of his words. Only the faint twitch of her jaw betrayed the irritation simmering beneath her polished exterior.

Trying to recover, she offered a small, brittle laugh. “You’re overthinking, Shekhar. I was just…”

“No,” he interrupted, his voice quiet but absolute. “You were planning. And I noticed.”

The silence that followed was different now, heavier, sharper. Around them, the club hummed with life, but at their table, the temperature had dropped.

Shekhar reached for his drink again, swirling the amber liquid slowly before taking a measured sip. He is a man who can't be fooled in the disguise of friendship.

He knows very well that Aaradhya is just after his status. The power he earned and the empire he is building.

First of all, he is not interested in the idea of settling down yet and secondly, even if he does one day, he wants someone to be with him for what he actually is, not for what he is earning.

And Aaradhya Kapoor is exactly the opposite of what he values. He knows that woman inside out and would never fall for her trap.

When he spoke again, his voice was almost conversational, but the meaning beneath it was anything but.

“Don’t mistake my politeness for blindness, Aaradhya. You and I are friends and that’s all we’ll ever be. But if you try to manipulate that, if you try to turn it into a business arrangement dressed as love…” He set the glass down, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I’ll end this friendship too.”

Aaradhya’s chest rose and fell a little too quickly in terror, but she forced a smile back onto her lips, flawless, practiced, brittle. “It’s nothing like that, Shekhar,” she murmured.

Shekhar didn’t respond. He looked away, out the wide glass window overlooking the glittering city, the city that bowed to his will but that he refused to let define him.

For a long time after Shekhar fell silent, Aaradhya said nothing.

The silence at their table wasn’t awkward, it was dangerous. The kind that carried the taste of humiliation and the slow burn of wounded pride.

She picked up her wine glass and took a small sip, staring at the city lights glittering beyond the glass wall. In their reflection, she caught a glimpse of her own face, perfect, composed, beautiful… and utterly unreadable and defeated.

On the surface, she laughed softly, brushing off the sting of his words as if they hadn’t cut right through her ego. But beneath that mask, something colder stirred.

‘So you think you can’t be played, Shekhar Raichand?’ She thought to herself. ‘You think you’re too clever, too in control. Let’s see how long you will resist this beauty. Every man in this country dies to be mine and one day you will beg me to be mine.’

She set the glass down with delicate precision and crossed one leg over the other, the faintest smirk playing at the corner of her lips. 

Shekhar stood up abruptly and left without even sparing her another glance, which hurt Aaradhya’s false pride but she kept her composure.

Outside the cold winter wind rushed through the slightly open window of the Mercedes as it glided down the quiet stretch of road.

Shekhar leaned back in the passenger seat, the city’s neon glow washing across his face in flickering shades of orange and blue. His phone buzzed twice in his pocket, two missed calls from Aaradhya. He didn’t bother calling back.

The conversation replayed in his mind, but there wasn’t even a hint of regret. If anything, there was a strange sense of relief. It was as if he had finally drawn a line, a line he should have drawn long ago.

“Sir, we’re home,” the driver said from the front seat.

Shekhar glanced out the window. The familiar iron gates of Raichand Mansion loomed ahead, guards snapping to attention as the car approached. He sighed, straightening his cuffs and loosening his tie, the armour he wore every day, both in boardrooms and in life.

The car rolled to a stop.

But before Shekhar could step out, he noticed the faint, warm glow of a single lamp burning in the main hall.

His father never waited up for him.. never… which meant only one thing.

“Great,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing his coat from the seat beside him. “The general’s awake to court martial me.”

Inside, the air smelled faintly of sandalwood and old leather. The long corridor was silent, save for the ticking of the old clock. And at the far end, seated in his favourite high-backed chair, was General Jagdish Raichand… newspaper folded neatly in his lap, spectacles perched low on his nose.

He looked up as Shekhar entered. There was no anger on his face, no disapproval, just that unnervingly calm, calculating expression that had once commanded entire battalions and now commanded boardrooms.

“You’re late,” Jagdish said simply.

“The meeting ran long,” Shekhar replied, loosening his tie further. “Had a drink with a friend.”

“Ah, yes.” Jagdish’s voice was casual, almost too casual. “The same ‘friend’ the papers seem to think you’re going to marry?”

Shekhar froze mid-step, then sighed. “I suppose you’ve seen it.”

“I suppose the entire country has,” Jagdish said, folding the paper and setting it aside. “And while I know the story isn’t true… I don’t like the picture it paints.”

Shekhar frowned slightly. “You don’t like Aaradhya.”

“I don’t trust Aaradhya,” Jagdish corrected, his tone cool but honest. “And there’s a difference. I’ve been alive long enough to know when someone is in love with you… and when they’re in love with what you represent.”

There was a pause, heavy, deliberate.

“She’s not the woman I see as the heart of this family, Shekhar,” Jagdish said finally. “Not now. Not ever.”

Shekhar exhaled slowly, shoving a hand into his pocket. “And what if I told you I have no intention of marrying her?”

“Then,” Jagdish said, leaning forward, his voice dropping to a calm, measured weight, “Stop hanging out with her. Instead invest your precious time in a sensible person like Yogeshwar.”

“So…umm” Shekhar cleared his throat, deliberately steering the conversation elsewhere, “what happened with the Fatehpur Beri land?”

Jagdish’s gaze didn’t waver. “That… you can leave to me. I’ll handle it.”

Shekhar frowned slightly. “Handle it how?”

“Just trust me,” Jagdish said, his voice measured. “For now, that matter is no longer your concern.”

Something in his father’s tone made Shekhar pause. It wasn’t evasion, it was certainty. The kind that meant something was already in motion.

“Fine,” he said finally, nodding. Trusting his father's way of handling whatever it is. “I trust you.”

“Good.” Jagdish mumbled. “Because there’s a far more important conversation we need to have. But not tonight.”

Shekhar’s brows furrowed. “What conversation?”

“One best had in the morning,” Jagdish replied, his tone light but deliberate. “When your head’s clear… and your drink’s worn off.”

For the first time that evening, a faint, boyish smile tugged at Shekhar’s lips. “Touché.”

“Go get some sleep,” Jagdish said, leaning back in his chair. “We’ll talk at breakfast.”

Shekhar stepped back, shaking his head with a small, embarrassed chuckle. “Fine. I’ll be sober and obedient by sunrise.”

“Try being awake first,” Jagdish shot back dryly.

The faintest laugh escaped Shekhar’s lips, rare, quiet, genuine. He offered his father a respectful nod before turning toward the staircase, his footsteps echoing softly through the vast marble hall.

Jagdish watches his son walking away with unreadable expressions. He knew that Shekhar would see this proposal in exactly the same light Kulbhushan had, with suspicion and resistance.

Convincing Kulbhushan had been difficult enough, but convincing his own son… that would be far more complicated.

That’s why he wanted to handle this entire matter delicately, with patience and precision.

He didn’t want Aaradhya, a woman dazzled by the glare of the glamour world as the daughter-in-law of his house.

He wanted someone like Naintara.

A girl grounded in values and tradition. A girl who would hold the Raichand family together, not scatter it.

But as Shekhar climbed the stairs to his room, a strange heaviness pressed against the back of his mind, the kind that came not from whiskey, but from instinct that he ignored and dozed off into deep slumber.

Meanwhile, in one of the rooms of the Rajawat haveli, someone else was wide awake.

Naintara hadn’t slept a wink all night. She tossed and turned restlessly, but sleep refused to come anywhere near her eyes.

Jagdish’s words kept echoing in her mind, speeding up her heartbeat every time they did.

The very thought of leaving her father had turned her world upside down and the mere thought of leaving him is making her restless.

How was she supposed to live if she had to go somewhere far from him?

When her mother had passed away, Naintara had been just a little girl. Since then, her world had revolved entirely around her father.

But Kulbhushan had responsibilities, he had to provide for her, had to run their house and that meant he couldn’t always be there for her.

In that emptiness, Naintara found her one constant companion…Her Madhav, her Lord Krishna.

Whenever the big, silent haveli grew too quiet, she spoke to him. She shared every joy and sorrow with him because, as an only daughter, she was the centre of her father’s world, so much so that he barely let her leave the house out of worry for her safety.

The few school friends she once had, had all been married off, leaving her completely alone.

And though she had everything, a loving father, a comfortable life, there was still a hollowness and longing inside her, one that only eased a little when she sat quietly in the temple.

And that’s exactly where she was now.

Before dawn had fully broken, Naintara had risen from her bed, gotten dressed, and gone to the temple to speak to the only friend who always listened.

“Madhav,” she whispered to the small idol of Krishna before her, “what is happening all of a sudden? Why did Kaka ji say those things? I don’t want to leave Bauji (father) alone…”

“But my child,” a voice interrupted softly behind her, her father’s voice as Kulbhushan gently placed a hand on her head, “every daughter must one day leave her father’s home and build a new world of her own.”

Naintara’s eyes lifted quickly to meet his, shimmering with unshed tears.

“But you’ll be alone,” she murmured, lowering her gaze again, trying to hide the tears slipping down her cheeks. Her voice trembled as she spoke. “And I don’t want to go anywhere. I thought Kaka ji was a good man, but he came here to take me away from you. Now I don’t like him at all.”

Hearing her innocent little words, Kulbhushan’s eyes grew misty too, though a soft laugh escaped his lips.

“Beta, proposals like these come and go in every home where there is a daughter. But that doesn’t mean I will send you off with the first man who asks for your hand. No, my child. You are not a burden to your father. Don’t be afraid. I will find a man who loves you even more than I do…”

“No,” Naintara sobbed, shaking her head. “That’s a lie. No one will ever love me more than you do.”

Kulbhushan’s heart broke at her words. He pulled his weeping daughter into his arms and held her close.

Just the thought of sending her away had been enough to keep him awake all night. And now, with her tears soaking into his chest, he felt utterly helpless.

Shekhar Raichand was a successful, sophisticated man, the kind of man any father would consider a blessing for his daughter and Kulbhushan knew that his daughter would be stepping into that family means, where she would be cherished and well cared for.

Raichands are a dream that any parent wants their daughter to live in.

But a question still gnawed at him.

Will his innocent, naive little girl, the one he’s always shielded beneath the safety of his arms from the cruelty of this world, what if she loses herself among people of such wealth and stature?

The angelic daughter he raised with such love and care, even in the humble walls of their small house, will those who live in palaces treat her with the same tenderness, the same affection?

Kulbhushan is a father, and his fears are justified.

But his little doll… all she worries about is how her father will manage being alone without her.