ISHQ-E-MOHABBAT

1. the king's Domain

Abhimaan Deep Shekhawat, the King of Rajasthan, sat in his luxurious office, a symbol of his power and authority. His gaze swept across the room, taking in the ornate frescoes on the walls. Rajeev, his assistant, stood before him, awaiting orders.

"Rajeev, what’s the status on the Maity deal?" Abhimaan’s voice was cold and commanding.

"It’s finalized, sir. The wedding is scheduled for next week," Rajeev replied, his voice tinged with anxiety.

Abhimaan’s expression remained impassive. "Make sure everything is perfect. I won’t tolerate any mistakes."

Rajeev nodded quickly, fully aware of the consequences of failure. "Yes, sir. I’ll see it ."

Abhimaan turned his attention to the window, his mind consumed by the impending marriage. Mayura Maity, the woman chosen to be his wife, was merely a pawn in his game of power. In his world, love was a weakness, and he couldn’t afford to be vulnerable.

"One more thing," Abhimaan said, his tone sharp. "Keep a close watch on the Maity family. I don’t want any surprises."

Rajeev bowed slightly, understanding the implicit threat. "Of course, sir. I’ll take care of it."

With a dismissive wave, Abhimaan sent Rajeev away, leaving him alone with his thoughts. The King of Rajasthan was a man of few words, but his presence alone was enough to remind everyone of his unyielding control.

Later, Abhimaan left his office, his long strides purposeful as he made his way to his car. The wind howled outside, whipping through the streets as he approached the sleek black sedan. For once, Abhimaan was driving himself—a rare occurrence for the King, who usually had a chauffeur at his disposal.

As he sped down the empty road, a sudden flash of white caught his eye. A young woman, dressed in a flowing white Anarkali, stepped off the curb, her attention on her phone. Abhimaan’s heart skipped a beat as he slammed on the brakes, the car screeching to a halt just inches from her.

The woman looked up, her eyes meeting Abhimaan’s intense gaze. For a moment, they stared at each other, the world around them fading into silence. Abhimaan’s eyes narrowed, captivated by this mysterious stranger who had so suddenly crossed his path.

She quickly sidestepped the car, her eyes never leaving his. Abhimaan felt an inexplicable pull toward her, a curiosity that left him unsettled. As she hurried across the street, her white dress fluttering behind her, he couldn’t shake the urge to follow her, to learn more about this woman who had unknowingly captured his attention.

As he drove on, Abhimaan’s thoughts remained fixed on the girl in white. He knew nothing about her, yet she had stirred something within him that he couldn’t ignore.

When Abhimaan arrived at the Maity residence, he stepped out of his car with his usual air of authority. The Maity family greeted him with eager smiles, particularly Mayura’s father, Dhanraj Maity, who approached with  greeting.

"Welcome, Abhimaan! We’re so pleased you could come," Mr. Maity said, his tone was overly enthusiastic.

Abhimaan responded with a curt nod, his expression unreadable. He wasn’t interested in pleasantries, nor did he care about the Maity's attempts to impress him. This marriage was nothing more than a strategic alliance, a means to solidify his power.

As they moved inside, Mr. Maity wasted no time discussing the business benefits of the union. "Our companies will thrive together. It’s a perfect match, don’t you think?"

Abhimaan listened without much interest, his thoughts drifting back to the girl he had nearly run over. He found himself wondering who she was, and why she had made such an impact on him.

But those thoughts were pushed aside as Mr. Maity continued to prattle on. The King had no intention of discussing Mayura’s feelings or opinions. He had heard she agreed to the marriage without hesitation, which he assumed was out of a desire for wealth and status.

Finally, Abhimaan’s patience wore thin. "Call Mayura," he said, cutting through the chatter. "I need to speak with her."

Mayura’s mother, Priyanka Maity, quickly left to fetch her, casting a nervous glance at her husband. The room fell silent, everyone sensing the tension in the air.

When Mayura entered the room, her eyes were downcast, her demeanor calm and composed. But as Abhimaan looked at her, he realized with a start that she was the same girl in white he had almost hit with his car. The revelation hit him like a jolt, but he kept his expression neutral.

He couldn’t help but notice a subtle defiance in Mayura’s posture, something that intrigued him. She wasn’t like the others who cowered in his presence. There was something different about her, something that made him want to know more.

"I want to talk to you alone," Abhimaan said, his voice firm.

Mayura didn’t respond verbally. She simply followed him out of the room, her footsteps light and silent.

Abhimaan led her to the garden, the rustling of leaves filling the silence between them. He stopped by a secluded bench and gestured for her to sit. She obeyed, her gaze still lowered.

"So, Mayura," Abhimaan began, his voice measured, "do you really want to marry me?"

Mayura’s eyes flickered with an emotion he couldn’t quite place. Abhimaan found himself growing impatient. Why wasn’t she speaking? Did she truly want to enter into this business arrangement masquerading as a marriage?

Without waiting for an answer, Abhimaan pulled out a ring and thrust it into her hand. "Wear this. Pretend we’re engaged. The wedding will happen soon."

Third person's pov -

Mayura’s eyes widened as she stared at the ring, her face growing pale. But Abhimaan was already walking away, leaving her alone in the garden.

The weight of the ring in her hand felt like a shackle, a symbol of the prison she was about to enter. But as Mayura stared at the glittering stone, she consoled herself with the thought that perhaps life with Abhimaan would be better than the hellish existence she had endured at home.