08

Laughter and giggles filled the Singhania Mansion as the family gathered for breakfast, a rare occasion after so long.

“Bhabhi, thank you so much!” Trisha hugged Varahi tightly, unable to contain her excitement. She’d rushed to Varahi’s room first thing after waking to collect the mall purchases, thrilled to find items not even on her list.

“Trisha, my hair…” Varahi said, feeling her hair catch in Trisha’s jacket chain.

“Hehe, sorry.”

“When will Bhai come?” Trisha asked, leaning against Ragini.

“Today, late night,” Varahi replied, holding boxes Shivani carried, filled with various items they’d bought.

“Chachi, you could’ve called me.”

“Beta ji, no need,” Shalini said, setting the boxes, bags, and kits on the table.

“Mummy ji, I bought a handmade shawl for you,” Shalini said, pulling it from a pretty bag and handing it to Radhika.

“A very pretty gift from Dhruv Singhania to the most beautiful lady, Radhika Singhania,” Dhruv, the third Singhania son, said, snatching the shawl from his mother playfully. Shalini smacked his arm, and he passed it to his grandmother with a sweet smile.

Radhika’s face lit up as she took the shawl.

The next two hours flew by as they shared gifts, showed each other their purchases, and chatted.

Yuvaan arrived with his father, and the house helper brought them water.

“Where is everyone?” Yuvaan asked, placing his glass back on the tray.

“Everyone’s in the theatre room, Sir,” Ritika said, heading to the kitchen.

“Chalo,” Yuvi said, and they took the lift to the basement.

“Dad, Chachu Bhai was asking to finalize the interiors for the Lucknow project. I just remembered,” Yuvaan said, glancing between the brothers.

“Kal aa jayega, uske baad dekh lenge,” Ranvijay replied as they stepped out and approached the theatre room, opposite the gym and isolated from the swimming area. (He’ll be back tomorrow, we’ll see then.)

“He said to show you the designs already. I almost forgot,” Yuvaan added, making a face.

“Koi ni,” Nishant chuckled as Ranvijay opened the door. Loud voices from the speakers hit them, and they hurried inside, closing the door. They sat next to their wives, with Yuvaan beside his Massi.

“Mr. Singhania, it’d be great if you finalize the interiors soon to avoid delays,” the man said professionally.

“Yes, Mr. Singh, you’ll have them within two days,” Avyaan replied.

“That’s great.”

“I’d appreciate it if you ensure small details that could ruin or enhance the final look,” Avyaan added.

“No need to mention, Mr. Singhania. Don’t worry.”

“Nice meeting you in person, Mr. Singh.”

“Same here, Mr. Singh.”

Avyaan and Arsh left the building, heading to their cab.

“This is a pain in the ass. You didn’t lie when you said real estate isn’t my thing,” Avyaan said as they climbed in, the driver heading to the hotel.

Arsh chuckled. “I never lie, Boss. I state facts.”

“Oh, that’s a lie.”

“Next time, it’s Yuvi, Dad, or Chachu, not me.”

“Alright,” Arsh laughed.

“We leave for the airport in two hours from the hotel,” Arsh said, glancing at Avyaan, who rested his head back, sighing.

“Hmm.”

After half an hour, they reached the hotel. Avyaan unlocked his room, stepped inside, and locked the door.

“Damn, I’m tired,” he whispered, slumping onto the bed stomach-first. Taking out his phone, he opened WhatsApp and checked updates.

Clicking Trisha’s status, he saw a selfie with his brothers, sister, and Varahi. Zooming in on her face, he screenshot her image and the full picture.

Her natural look—small red bindi, nude pink lipstick, powdered sindoor—drew his gaze. A small smile crept onto his tired face. He admired her uniqueness, feeling a strange pride calling her his wife.

He hadn’t realized his type until her. Totally his type, yet he’d been a bastard.

Unready for marriage amid his real estate ventures, he’d wed her anyway, leading to their strained relationship.

He gave her respect as his wife, but knew it wasn’t love.

“I’ll die, Avi. I can’t live without her,” Aryan had cried, clutching him, his blazer, bouquet, and ring discarded. His friend’s heartbreak had left an impression.

“Love makes a man miserable, senseless, lost in every way,” Avyaan thought, setting an alarm and messaging Arsh about a one-hour nap.