One of the books from the 'Fine As Wine' series.
It can be read as standalone.
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❝When archenemies fall for each other, it doesn't just sparkle... Stars explode to rain stardust on their bodies as they make love to each other and satisfy their s...
♪ sochenge tumhe pyaar karein ke nahi? ye dil bekraar karein ke nahi?
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"Papa..."
Veer knocked softly on the door of his father's study, his heart pounding with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. All day, a single thought had gnawed at him, a question that demanded an answer. The day had bled into twilight, and he knew delay meant another agonizing week. The mere idea of spending even one more day without Yashoda, without the promise of her being his, was unbearable. He wanted her desperately, needed her in an all-consuming way. It was evident in Yashoda's eyes as well; she desired nothing but him.
Summoning every ounce of courage he had, Veer slowly pushed open the door and entered Satyajit's study. The room was dimly lit, the warm glow of a single lamp casting long shadows across the walls lined with bookshelves. Satyajit was seated at his desk, engrossed in a thick tome, his glasses perched on the tip of his nose. Veer stood in front of him, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on his shoulders. A nervous cough escaped his lips, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
Satyajit looked up, his expression one of mild surprise. He closed the book and removed his glasses, studying Veer's face with a keen, probing gaze. "Veer," he said, his voice calm and steady, "What brings you here?"
It wasn't particularly late, but Veer was always hesitant to disturb his father in his study. Satyajit, the District Magistrate of Mathura, had an incredibly demanding job. The responsibilities of maintaining law and order in a town as vibrant and bustling as Mathura were immense. Veer understood the weight of his father's duties—the constant pressure, the complex decisions, and the unending stream of issues requiring attention and resolution. Every moment Satyajit stole in his study felt carved from solid rock, dedicated to the town's well-being.
Veer revered his father's work. Satyajit, renowned for fairness, sharp wit, and unwavering justice, commanded respect and admiration. Yet, this esteem came at a cost. His time was a rare commodity. Resolving disputes, implementing policies, extinguishing flares—Satyajit's workload never relented. Veer had witnessed the toll it exacted—late nights drowning in paperwork, stolen mornings prepping for meetings, and the ever-present crease etched between his brows, a testament to the weight he carried.
Veer took a deep breath, his thoughts racing as he searched for the right words. "Papa," he began, his voice wavering slightly, "I need to talk to you about something important."
