Vrishali was popularly known as the life of the party. She had a natural ability to make friends with anyone she met. Everyone adored her, and she had yet to find her perfect match amidst all the chaos of her college parties. However, she was not in...
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Diya Kumari cradled her warm cup of tea in her hands, the steam curling up and dissipating into the air around her. Opposite her, two ladies sat with expectant expressions, their eyes darting towards her with growing urgency. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken questions. Diya could feel their anticipation, yet she was enveloped in her own thoughts, unwilling to engage. The vibrant colours of their outfits contrasted sharply with her calm demeanour, adding to the tension in the room. She took another slow sip, savouring the warmth while silently deciding to keep her answers to herself for now.
"Diya Ji—" Diya Kumari grunted and hardened her eyes, forcing the lady to stop her sentence.
"I stand firm in my decision, and I won't reconsider. My son is already married to a woman from that household, which means he is practically your brother-in-law. Even if my son were to divorce your sister, do you truly believe you would have a chance to marry him? Do you honestly think that he would choose to marry the sister of his ex-wife?" Diya Kumari said, her voice steady as she fixed her gaze on Simrita and Radhika, an air of authority surrounding her words.
Radhika clenched her jaw, a mix of frustration and bitterness swirling within her. Deep down, she understood that her dreams of marrying Padmanabh had slipped through her fingers, but her heart ached at the thought of him being with Vrishali. It stung to know her sister now held the man she once longed for, and the jealousy burned like a flame. If she couldn't have Padmanabh as her own, then she couldn't bear the thought of him belonging to her sister either. The idea twisted within her, leaving a bitter taste that lingered far too long.
"You are going to let my silly sister from New York be the wife of Sawai Padmanabh Singh?" Radhika confidently asked. There was a sense of mockery in her tone.
Diya Kumari tried not to lose her control. "Leave it for me to decide. And—" Diya Kumari narrowed her eyes at Simrita. "Your daughter better watch her tone before it irritates me more." There was an underlying threat, and Simrita knew better than to play with Diya Kumari.
Diya Kumari let out a weary sigh as she gently placed her delicate teacup on the polished coffee table, the warmth still radiating from the brewed tea. From her bag, she carefully extracted a sealed brown envelope, its edges crisp and unblemished, and set it beside her cup with a soft thud. Glancing at Simrita, she invited her to pick it up. A look of confusion passed between Simrita and Radhika, their brows furrowing in curiosity as they pondered what secrets the envelope might hold.
Simrita carefully tore open the envelope, her curiosity piqued. As she did so, a photograph slipped out and fluttered to the floor. Bending down, she picked it up, her eyes widening as they fell on the image of a man in his early thirties. Confused and intrigued, Simrita held the picture closer, her brow furrowing as she whispered, "Who is this?"
"Heard of Thakur Mahendra Kumar?"
"Yes, isn't he the one who owns the biggest manufacturing company in Rajasthan?"
