CHAPTER 8: Part 1 (FIRST DATE PART 1)
~ MRITYUNJAY (POV) ~
The polished chrome and glass of my office usually hummed with quiet, efficient power.
This morning, though, I felt charged with a different kind of energy - raw, volatile, and dangerous. The echoes of a monumental shouting match with Bade Rana Sa still vibrated in my head.
His fury had swept through the palace like a sandstorm. Now, here, I stood by the panoramic window, hands clasped behind my back, jaw locked.
That idiotic newspaper, crumpled on my desk, screaming about some fabricated marriage, added to the tension.
All I truly wanted was to savour the intoxicating memory of my Ishika and her sweet, reluctant nod from yesterday.
A soft knock, then the heavy door creaked open. Kartik, Agastya, and Vidyut strolled in. They moved with a casual ease, despite the tense air.
Kartik, ever direct, spoke first, a half-eaten energy bar in hand. "Rough morning, Mrityunjay? Sounded like Bade Rana Sa was doing his best impression of a dying lion. What's got his boxers in a twist now?"
I turned from the window, my gaze a cold, simmering intensity that made them subtly tense. "Family matters," I stated, my voice low. "And this." I gestured vaguely towards the desk.
Agastya, scrolling on his phone, finally looked up, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, the big news! 'King of Jodhpur to marry!' And they even listed 'Ishika Jaiswal' as a top candidate? Seriously, Mrityunjay? Is this some elaborate prank, or are you finally losing your mind?"
Vidyut chuckled, pushing off the doorframe. "Yeah, everyone's buzzing. We've had calls. People are genuinely confused, given your... well-known opinions on that particular family."
"Confused?" My voice was flat, devoid of outward emotion, yet the steel beneath it was unmistakable.
"Woh Jaiswal, aur shaadi? Yeh toh maut se bhi badtar hai! (That Jaiswal, and marriage? That's worse than death!) It is a fabrication. A slight." My words were measured, but the underlying threat in their delivery was profound.
I paused, my anger a cold, hard knot. Then, a different image surfaced in my mind.
Her face.
My little rabbit. The intensity in my gaze softened, shifting into something else entirely - a strange, almost dreamy possessiveness.
I walked over to my desk, picking up a heavy silver pen and absently twirling it.
"However", I said, my voice dropping to a near murmur, the abrupt shift in my demeanour jarring.
"That news... led to a breakthrough. I met her yesterday. My little rabbit." A faint, possessive smile touched my lips, a stark contradiction to the earlier coldness.
"She agreed to dates. She is truly magnificent. Perfect. And she is mine." My eyes, fixed on some unseen point beyond my friends, shone with an almost frightening conviction.
"This 'Ishika Jaiswal' nonsense is just noise. I have found my queen."
Kartik, Agastya, and Vidyut exchanged quick, bewildered glances. Their easygoing expressions faltered, replaced by a mixture of confusion and suppressed alarm.
They were familiar with my calm, dangerous nature, but this level of abrupt emotional pivot, this glaring contradiction - hating one 'Ishika Jaiswal' while adoring 'my little rabbit' - clearly threw them off balance.
They knew the depths of my animosity towards certain families, but this newfound obsession with her was something else entirely. It was unsettling. It was perfect. She was perfect.
Vidyut, perhaps trying to break the tension, opened his mouth. "So, you're saying you found your 'queen' from a newspaper headline you just called 'filth'? Is she, like, the good kind of evil, or just a really good distraction from the Jaiswals? Because I know a guy who can-" He trailed off abruptly as my gaze, sharp and cold, cut him short.
He clamped his mouth shut, a flicker of genuine fear crossing his face before he looked away, chastened.
Agastya, picking up on the sudden silence, cleared his throat. "So, about this date, Mrityunjay. Where are you taking her? Do you have anything planned?" His tone was cautiously inquisitive.
I paused, my eyes still fixed on the distance, but the sharpness in them softened once more, replaced by a rare flicker of something akin to uncertainty. "I... have some ideas," I said, my voice still low, but with a subtle change.
I looked at each of them in turn, my gaze unblinking. "But I need your advice. What would be... appropriate? How does one impress a queen?" The question, coming from me, was almost shocking in its unexpected vulnerability.
"Advice for dating?" Kartik echoed, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Never thought I'd hear that from you. Alright, for your little rabbit, we need something unforgettable. Forget a simple dinner. Does she have any particular interests? Something she loves?"
"It's ironic, isn't it?" Vidyut muttered, still a bit wary but unable to resist. "You find 'your Ishika' just as the papers are shouting about 'Ishika Jaiswal'. What an irony that they both are Ishika." He quickly glanced at my face, ready to recoil if I reacted.
My gaze flickered to Vidyut, cold. "The names bear no connection. One is a fabrication, a symbol of everything I despise. The other..." My voice softened, my eyes distant, filled with a possessive warmth.
"She is the woman I want. My queen. She is intelligent. Fiery. Not easily swayed. She challenges. And she is... captivating. Beyond anything I've encountered." I paused, then a rare, almost shy confession escaped my lips. "She likes Bollywood songs. Old ones."
Kartik's eyes lit up. "Old Bollywood songs? Now that's what we can work with, Mrityunjay! A private concert? A drive through the city under the stars, with a classic playlist? This is something we can arrange. Tell us, when is this grand affair?"
"This evening", I stated. "My car will pick her up."
Agastya nodded thoughtfully. "This evening! . How about starting with a quiet dinner? Not some fancy new place, but somewhere with character. Somewhere that tells a story."
My mind immediately went to a place I cherished. "There's a small, old restaurant in Jodhpur," I mused aloud, a faint smile touching my lips.
This place was personal, a quiet retreat from my world. Bringing her there... it felt right.
Vidyut's eyes widened slightly. "Oh, is it that place? The one with the best dal baati in the entire state? Wow, Mrityunjay, you're actually pulling out the big guns for this one. That's a good move. It's... authentic."
"And after dinner," I continued, ignoring Vidyut's commentary, a new idea forming, something bold and romantic.
"I want to impress her. She needs to see the magic. Arrange for rain. A sudden downpour. Somewhere private. And music. Old Bollywood." The thought brought a fierce longing, a vision of her laughing, uninhibited under a fabricated storm, with me holding her close.
Kartik exchanged a look with Agastya. Faking rain in the desert city of Jodhpur was a monumentaltask. It was a testament to my desire and my willingness to bend reality for her.
~ ISHIKA (POV) ~
The air in Saanvi's living room was thick with the scent of jasmine, baby powder, and the triumphant chaos of a nearly concluded baby shower.
Pink and blue ribbons hung everywhere, slightly askew, and a mountain of gifts threatened to topple over. Saanvi's bhabhi, glowing and round, was laughing as she opened another tiny onesie.
"Thank God this is almost over," Anika whispered, tugging at the pallu of her elegant, deep blue saree. "My social battery is at zero, and I've faked excitement over enough rattles to last a lifetime."
Mehak, looking surprisingly demure in a forest green saree, rolled her eyes. "Speak for yourself, Anika. At least you weren't stuck explaining the legal ramifications of naming a child 'Khiladi Kumar' to Auntie Premila for twenty minutes."
Saanvi, however, beamed, adjusting her own vibrant yellow saree. "Honestly, I think my bhabhi almost cried when she saw us all in sarees. She kept saying how lovely we looked and how traditional. Little does she know, we're mostly just trying not to trip."
I smoothed down my own saree, a pristine white one. It was beautiful, undeniably. And terrifyingly, it was also my chosen battle attire for what came next. "It's perfect," I murmured, more to myself than to them. "He'll... he'll like this."
My friends exchanged a look.
"You're actually going to wear that on the date?" Mehak asked, her voice a mix of awe and dread. "Ishika, are you sure? It's stunning, but... it's also what you wore to a baby shower."
I met her gaze, a strange mix of giddy anticipation and stomach-churning anxiety. "Yes," I stated, a firm nod. "It feels... right. And besides," I added, a small, defiant smile touching my lips, "he thinks I'm perfect in everything, right?"
Anika stifled a giggle, then her eyes widened as she caught sight of the time on the antique grandfather clock in the hall. "Oh my god, Ishika! It's almost time. Your chariot awaits... to take you to your doom!"
Saanvi, ever the flirty one but now a nervous wreck, grabbed my arm. "Okay, deep breaths, Ishika. Remember the plan: charm him, don't mention the J-word, and for Shiva's sake, try not to reveal you're basically a walking, talking royal scandal!"
Mehak stepped forward, her lawyer brain kicking in, despite the absurd situation. She adjusted my pallu with a firm hand.
"Look, Ishika. From a legal standpoint, right now, you're just on a date. There's no binding contract for anything more. No verbal agreement has been sufficiently witnessed or notarised for a forced royal marriage. You can always plead misrepresentation of identity later, though I don't recommend it. For now, just focus on the 'charm him' part. Don't worry about the bigger picture tonight. We'll handle the contingency planning when you get back." She offered a rare, reassuring smile.
"Just go, have your date. We'll be here."
I took a shaky breath, my heart doing a frantic dance. The car will be here any minute. My phone vibrated in my hand, his name appearing on the screen. My breath hitched.
I excused myself, stepping out onto the porch, leaving the last of the party behind. My fingers trembled slightly as I answered.
"Ishika", his voice, deep and resonant, was a low melody that seemed to wrap around me. "I am here."
A simple statement, yet it vibrated through me, a promise whispered in the quiet night. "I'm coming out now," I managed, my voice barely a breathy whisper.
Ending the call, I took a slow, steadying breath, my heart a frantic hummingbird in my chest.
My cheeks felt hot. I walked down the steps, the cool evening air, a soft caress against my skin.
There he was. Leaning against the sleek, black car, its dark surface reflecting the faint starlight, he held a vibrant flower bouquet of red roses with white orchids in one hand, his head slightly bowed, engrossed in his phone.
As I emerged into the light, his head lifted. His scrolling stopped.
His entire world seemed to distil into a single, unblinking gaze that locked onto me. A nervous thrill, sweet and sharp, coursed through me, making my cheeks burn even more.
With a playful, almost defiant grace, I gave a little twirl in my white saree, its fabric flowing around me like a dream. I raised my eyebrows in a silent question.
The phone, forgotten, slipped from his grasp, clattering softly on the paved driveway. But his gaze, so utterly captivated, never wavered from my face; a deep blush bloomed, a fierce, delicious warmth spreading through me.
I walked towards him, each step bringing me closer to the magnetic pull of his stare. I felt an undeniable pull to drop my gaze, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear and briefly looking down at my feet.
We both seemed to instinctively lower ourselves, his movements mirroring mine, until we were nearly at eye level, just inches apart.
I picked up his fallen phone, his focus still entirely on me, as if nothing else existed. My hand trembled slightly as I offered it to him.
He took it, his hand warm against mine, but his eyes never left mine, making my blush deepen further.
I tucked my hair behind my ear again, my eyes dropping to the ground for a shy moment. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he extended the bouquet, a silent offering of beauty and devotion.
My blush became a furious inferno.
I accepted the fragrant blooms. Overcome with an almost unbearable shyness, I instinctively leaned in, my head finding refuge against his shoulder for a few precious seconds, my face burning against his suit.
He remained perfectly still, a silent, unmoving anchor in my swirling emotions. I lifted my head, my eyes still mostly downcast, before taking a quick, shy glance at his face.
Gently, his hand moved, warm and strong, and helped me to my feet.
As we stood close, my eyes, still heavy with shyness, flickered up to meet his for a fleeting moment, deepening a connection that felt destined, impossibly real, and utterly, wonderfully overwhelming.
His grip on my hand tightened, not painfully, but with a sudden, possessive strength.
His eyes, still holding mine, seemed to darken, a new, thrilling intensity sparking within their depths. Without a word, he didn't lead me to the back seat of the waiting car.
Instead, he pulled me around the front, his hand still warm around mine, and opened the passenger side door.
My heart fluttered as he gestured for me to enter. I slid onto the plush leather seat, the interior smelling faintly of expensive cologne and something subtly powerful.
As I settled, I instinctively brought the bouquet to my nose. The fragrance was wonderful, a sweet, heady mix that filled me with a delightful calm.
He then walked around the front, his presence a silent, magnetic force, and slid into the driver's seat beside me.
The door clicked shut, sealing us inside. His gaze burnt into mine, a silent challenge, a promise of the thrilling unknown.
The engine purred to life, a low rumble beneath us, and the car glided forward, taking an unexpected turn down a narrow, unlit lane, leaving Saanvi's house and its fading lights behind in the darkness.
My breath hitched. This wasn't just a date; it was an abduction wrapped in velvet.
To Be Continued...