[ This Book is under editing]
Niharika Verma is a stunning semi-classical dancer who wants nothing more than to travel the world, but the shackles of her dreadful past keep her grounded. On the other end, Asia's well-known businessman and CEO of Ra...
As this is my first time writing a book, there are some points that you should keep in mind.
Because English is not my first language, you will notice numerous grammatical and spelling errors; please do not contact me claiming to have poor grammar.
MMC is a fucked up person, and you are free to abuse any character, but trust me no abuse is romanticized or glorified.
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The heavy silence of the dimly lit room was broken only by the rhythmic clatter of fingers flying across a keyboard. A lone figure sat on a sleek leather couch, his piercing black eyes fixed on the laptop screen, his expression unreadable. The glow from the screen illuminated his sharp jawline, casting shadows that deepened the intensity of his features.
The air around him was thick, not with nerves or excitement, but with the suffocating weight of a decision forced upon him. His fingers never faltered, his focus unwavering. For a man like Maanveer Rajvanshi, work was the only constant in his life—the one thing that never disappointed him.
The sudden thud of his door being flung open jolted him out of his thoughts. His fingers froze mid-motion as his gaze snapped up, locking onto the imposing figure standing in the doorway.
His mother.
Shreya Rajvanshi entered the room with a commanding presence, followed by a few servants carrying an ensemble of richly embroidered fabrics. The moment her eyes landed on him—still glued to his laptop, still immersed in work on this day—her lips pressed into a thin line.
Without giving him a chance to speak, she cut straight to the point.
"Today is your wedding, Veer," she said, her voice calm but firm. "Can you, for once, forget about your work and focus on your marriage? It only happens once in a lifetime."
Maanveer clenched his jaw. He knew that tone. No room for argument.
His mother didn’t stop there. "And don’t even think about touching that laptop again. Your clothes are here. Get ready and come downstairs. The rituals are about to begin, and everyone is waiting for you."
