VII

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Jo shor ka hissa hui

Woh aawaz hoon

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Par tanha hoon main

Haan tanha hoon main

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AUTHOR'S POV

"Update?"

"No movement, sir!"

"Notify me if there's any change."

Rudransh ended the call and settled into one of the private rooms of Ajmer's finest hotel, which he owned. Fifteen minutes had passed since he arrived to wait for her, yet she hadn't left her apartment.

"What are you trying to prove, Miss Nair soon-to-be Mrs. Shekhawat?" he mused, shaking his head at her stubbornness while working on his laptop. Roughly an hour later, a message lit up his phone screen. He glanced at it,

At the entrance.

The text read. He smirked, shut his laptop, and straightened up, his face stoic and eyes devoid of emotion, as he awaited her arrival.

Aradhana approached the restaurant's entrance and parked her car outside, not bothering with the parking lot since she planned only to inform him of her refusal to marry and then leave—a matter of 10 minutes at most.

Afterward, she would proceed with her monthly grocery shopping. With that thought, she exited her car and walked towards the entrance door.

As she entered the hotel, it exuded a royal aura that made her wonder if she had stepped into a palace. The furniture, lighting, and intricate details all conveyed a regal elegance. She approached the reception with a smile, but before she could speak, the receptionist—a young woman in her mid-twenties—greeted her with a warm smile.

"Good evening, ma'am. Are you Aradhana Nair?" she inquired politely. Taken aback yet maintaining her composure, Aradhana nodded affirmatively.

"Please follow me," the receptionist said, leading her down a corridor. Aradhana became self-conscious as she noticed the stares of the other guests, all dressed in classy, elegant, and expensive attire.

In contrast, she was clad in a blood-red full-sleeved top with a deep back, blue skinny jeans, and plain white sneakers. Her low ponytail allowed a few strands of hair to dance beside her face with each step she took.

 Her low ponytail allowed a few strands of hair to dance beside her face with each step she took

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She looked sublime, the red top serving as the perfect accent to her fair, milky skin.

"You're just going to reject him, so it doesn't matter what you wear," she told herself, following the lady who soon stopped to open a door for her with a polite smile, saying,

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