3.

"Besties 💔, brace yourselves... this chapter is heavy with heartbreak 😢, intense drama 🎭, and emotions running wild 🌪️. It's going to hit different, so keep your tissues ready 🥀. Are you ready to dive into the chaos? 🔥 If the story touches you, don't forget to drop a vote 👍, follow 🌟, and share your thoughts 💌.".

The moment I stepped inside the bathroom, I locked the door behind me, leaned against it, and finally let out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

What. The. Hell. Was. That?

I stared at my reflection in the mirror-at the bright red tilak still smeared on my forehead. My heartbeat was still racing, as if I'd just run a marathon... or faced a storm I wasn't prepared for.

How dare he?

How dare he touch me like that, without asking? That too during a sacred ritual? I should've said something. Should've slapped his hand away. Should've stormed off faster.

But I didn't.

Because for a second-just a second-I froze. Not out of fear. Not out of shock.

But because...

Because of the way he looked at me.

That gaze-it wasn't cold. It wasn't mocking. It was intense. Like he saw through every layer I wore and still stood there, unbothered. Undeterred. Unmoved by the fire I kept throwing at him.

Why did my chest feel so tight?

I splashed water on my face, trying to shake the moment off. But even as the water dripped down my cheeks, all I could think about was the feel of his fingertips against my skin, the way his smirk had lingered after placing the tilak-as if he had won something.

Ugh.

I hated it.

I hated how effortlessly he got under my skin.

I stared at my reflection again, my jaw clenched.

"You messed with the wrong girl, Mr. Arrogant jerk."

Tilting my head slightly, I wiped the tilak off with a towel-firmly, but my fingers trembled.

A sharp knock on the door pulled me out of my spiral.

"Girl, how long are you planning to hide in there?" Kiara's teasing voice rang from the other side.

I took a deep breath, forcing the chaos inside me to settle. With one last look at the mirror, I wiped off every trace of hesitation-and the smudged tilak-and unlocked the door.

She raised a brow the moment I stepped out. "You good?"

"Perfect," I lied.

Kiara smirked but didn't push. We walked back into the living area where the family had gathered again, their laughter echoing off the tall walls of Rathore Mansion.

And just as expected... they were talking about him.

How Ayansh handled business so brilliantly.

How he had made Rathore Industries reach heights no one imagined.

How disciplined, sharp, and mature he had been since childhood.

How he never let emotions cloud his decisions.

It was like watching a fan club in action.

I stayed silent, offering the occasional polite smile, nodding when required. But every word of praise felt like it was poking the very irritation I was trying so hard to bury.

They were right, of course.

He was intelligent. Strategic. Respected.

But none of that erased the fact that he was also the same annoying, arrogant man who had placed a tilak on my forehead like he owned the moment.

I clenched my jaw.

"Come, children! Everyone sit for lunch!" Dadi ji's cheerful voice pulled me back to the present.

The room began to shift, everyone moving toward the dining area.

The long table was already set, silver thalis lined up neatly, the air rich with the aroma of ghee, spices, and freshly made sweets.

Ayansh entered just as we did-and without a word, took the seat at the head of the table.

Of course. The crown prince in his rightful throne.

He didn't look at me. Not once.

As if the tilak moment, the pulse-shifting silence between us, had never even happened.

And that-that-somehow irritated me even more.

I took my seat, deliberately choosing the far end of the table. Far from him. Far from the ridiculous tension he carried like his shadow.

Conversations resumed, laughter bubbling around the table, dishes being passed, and compliments flying for Dadi ji's cooking. But all I could feel was the weight of his presence. Like his very silence was louder than the entire room.

I peeked up once. Just once.

He was sitting there like a damn sculpture. Calm. Collected. Regal. His jaw was sharp as ever, hands resting near his plate, movements elegant and precise.

Not a single emotion on that annoyingly perfect face.

I stabbed a piece of paneer with my fork a little too aggressively.

Kiara noticed. "You okay?"

I smiled sweetly. "Delicious food."

Lies. I could barely taste anything.

Because my mind kept dragging me back-to the moment at the aarti.

To that damn tilak.

To the heat of his skin beneath my fingertips.

To the exact second his fingers brushed my forehead.

It should've meant nothing. A tradition. A harmless ritual. But it didn't feel harmless. It didn't feel forgettable.

It felt like a silent claim.

And now, he was sitting there, perfectly poised, perfectly unaffected-like I wasn't even in the room.

How annoying.

I looked away, focusing instead on the kids running around the hall.

Anything to keep myself from doing the one thing I swore I wouldn't do-

Look at him again.

But the worst part?

I could feel his eyes now.

On me.

Finally.

And when I looked up to confirm it-he didn't glance away.

He simply... watched.

Not smirking. Not teasing. Just watching.

Calm. Still.

And somehow, that made my heart pound louder than any confrontation ever had.

But amidst the cheerful atmosphere, a subtle game of power was about to unfold.

Aabha Mukhesh Singh Rathore-elegant, composed, and as sharp as a blade wrapped in silk-took the seat beside Aadhya, her expression warm, yet her eyes calculating.

"You must be Aadhya," she said smoothly, her voice carrying the effortless charm of someone who had spent years mastering the art of manipulation under the disguise of concern.

Aadhya barely looked up from her plate, giving a polite but indifferent nod. "Yes."

"You know, dear, you should be careful. Raising your voice at Ayansh like that... it doesn't look good," Aabha added with a falsely gentle smile.

Aadhya, who had been happily munching on her food, raised a brow, her spoon pausing mid-air.

"Careful of what, Mrs. Rathore?" she asked, her tone flat with just a hint of boredom.

Aabha sighed dramatically, lowering her voice into a whisper meant only for Aadhya.

"Ayansh isn't an easy man. He's cold, ruthless, and controlling. Girls like you-he only uses them. I've seen it with my own eyes, dear. Whoever clashes with him... their life becomes hell. He only sees people for what they can offer. And girls like you? You're just tools to him."

Aadhya tilted her head, pretending to consider the words.

Across the table, Ayansh, who had been eating quietly, suddenly froze.

His fork hovered in the air, eyes slowly shifting toward Aadhya.

He knew Aabha well-how she twisted words, how she spun webs of doubt.

But this time, someone else was her target. And he braced himself.

And then-

Aadhya laughed.

Not nervously. Not awkwardly.

An unapologetic, unbothered laugh.

Aabha blinked in confusion. "Dear?"

Aadhya shook her head, placing a hand on her chest. "Oh, I'm sorry! You seriously thought I'd get emotional listening to your nonsense?"

Aabha's lips parted slightly, stunned by the shift in tone.

Aadhya leaned back in her chair, smirking.

"You're partially right, Mrs. Rathore..." she murmured, tapping her finger against the table thoughtfully.

Aabha's lips curled in premature victory.

But then-

Aadhya's eyes lifted, sharp and unapologetically bold.

Ayan froze mid-bite.

Advay struggled not to laugh.

"If Mr. Rathore is truly as ruthless as you claim, then remember-you're breathing under his mercy," Aadhya said, her voice calm and cutting.

Ayansh didn't move. His face unreadable.

Aabha stiffened, but before she could speak, Aadhya continued, her voice now colder.

"I may not know Mr. Rathore well yet. But after meeting his family, I understand one thing clearly-he didn't respond to your words. And not because you're powerful, Mrs. Rathore. But because he knows when and on whom his time and words should be spent."

Aabha's face paled.

Aadhya smiled, tilting her head. "So if you think you're powerful, maybe it's just your illusion, Mrs. Rathore."

Advay burst into laughter, earning a warning glare from Ayansh.

Dadi coughed to hide her smile. Dadu simply nodded with pride.

But instead of backing off, Aabha made her mistake-she let her frustration show.

"Girls like you never understand who's on their level and who isn't," she snapped. "I was only thinking about your well-being, but clearly, you've forgotten your place. Just because you're a doctor doesn't mean you can speak however you like. You need to learn manners."

The table fell silent.

Ayan and Advay stopped chewing. Dadi's smile vanished. Dadu's expression turned hard.

And Ayansh?

He stilled, fingers tightening around his fork.

All eyes were on Aadhya.

But instead of reacting with anger, Aadhya leaned back, crossing her arms, a slow smirk spreading across her lips.

"My place?" she repeated, tone amused. "So you were trying to remind me of it, Mrs. Rathore?"

Aabha lifted her chin. "I just meant people should stay in their limits. You tried to insult me."

Aadhya chuckled. "So you're saying I insulted you? Insult only exists if I had respect for you in the first place-and I don't."

Aabha's expression soured. "Your tongue runs too much. That doesn't suit a well-mannered girl."

Aadhya tilted her head with mock innocence. "Well-mannered? Sorry, I believe in tit for tat."

She turned to Dadu, her voice sweet and sincere. "Dadu, did you feel insulted by me? By inviting me here?"

Dadu chuckled, stroking his beard. "Honestly, I think someone else did the insulting-and you just gave a reply worth remembering."

Ayan and Advay grinned. Dadi smiled proudly.

Aabha opened her mouth again, but Aadhya raised a finger.

"And Mrs. Rathore, if you feel I insulted you-remember one thing-I only speak the truth. And if the truth offends you, the problem isn't me... it's your mindset."

Silence again.

But Aadhya wasn't done.

She leaned in slightly, voice calm but razor-sharp.

"And about knowing one's place? Place isn't defined by profession, it's defined by thought. You think because I'm a doctor, I need a reminder of where I belong? Well, I've never judged someone by their status-only by their mindset. And after seeing yours today, I know exactly where the lack of class is."

Aabha's face burned with embarrassment.

Ayan and Advay exchanged looks, trying to contain their laughter.

Ayansh, however, was still. Watching.

No one had ever dared like this.

Not to Aabha.

And certainly not for him.

Aadhya stood up, adjusting her dupatta. She looked at Aabha one last time.

"One thing you should remember, Mrs. Rathore-wrong is wrong. Doesn't matter if it's done by Mr. Rathore, you, or anyone else. I don't care."

Her voice dropped slightly, final and unshaken.

"And being manipulated by others? That's not my cup of tea."

She picked up her glass of water, took a slow sip, and placed it back down with a light thud.

The message was loud and clear.

She's just a mirror... reflecting what others try to hide.

As she sat back down to finish her lunch, the entire Rathore family stared at her-some stunned, some deeply amused.

Except Ayansh.

He sat still.

Expression unreadable.

But something flickered behind those ocean-blue eyes.

Something he didn't fully understand yet.

As Aadhya finished her meal, she turned to Kiara, who had chosen to stay back at Rathore Mansion to keep an eye on Dadu. A soft glance passed between them-silent, reassuring.

Dadu gently cupped Aadhya's face. "Beta, your presence here meant a lot to me. Your Dadu was always proud of you... and today, I am too."

Dadi kissed her forehead. "God bless you, my child."

Aadhya swallowed hard, a lump forming in her throat. She wasn't the emotional type-but something about Dadu's words... they hit home.

She nodded softly. "Thank you, Dadu. Thank you, Dadi."

They both gave her another playful glare.

Aadhya chuckled at their theatrics.

"Thank you for inviting me, handsome. Goodnight, sweetheart. Goodnight, handsome."

The entire room broke into laughter again.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

As she turned a corner near the main hall entrance, her shoulder collided with someone-hard.

She stumbled slightly, taken aback by the sudden impact. "I'm so sorry," she said instinctively, looking up.

The man she had bumped into, tall and sharp-jawed, stared down at her with narrowed eyes, annoyance flaring in his expression.

"Don't you have eyes?" he snapped coldly, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve like her mere presence had stained it.

Aadhya blinked, startled. Her lips parted to retort, but something about him... the arrogance, the venom in his tone-it didn't sit right with her.