'Ishan Oberoi' - The name that echoes success, power, and resilience. A rising billionaire who carved his empire with his own hands, refusing to ride on his father's wealth. Yet, he never turned his back on his responsibilities as a son. Balancing h...
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AUTHOR'S POV :
SATURDAY NIGHT
The wedding preparations were in full swing, with barely two or three days left before the actual functions began. After the Ganesh Pooja, both families had gone back to their own rituals and arrangements—but today felt different.
Tonight was the last celebration of Ishaan’s so-called “freedom”—at least, that’s how Shivay had put it. It was the night of the bachelor’s party.
The men entered the club, their hearts light and their moods high, buzzing with the excitement of the night ahead. Without lingering, they headed straight to the VIP area.
“You all order something, I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Shivay said, making his way towards the washroom.
After freshening up, he was heading back when his gaze caught on a lone figure at the bar. A girl sat hunched forward, her face hidden beneath a messy curtain of hair. She kept tapping her empty glass against the counter, muttering for more. The bartender, however, shook his head each time. She didn’t seem to be listening. Instead, she slammed the glass down so hard that cracks spread across it.
Intrigued, Shivay walked closer. “What happened? Why aren’t you serving her?” he asked the bartender.
“Sir, she’s already too drunk,” the man replied, lowering his gaze respectfully.
Shivay gave a small nod of understanding and signalled for him to step away. Turning to the woman, he spoke gently, “Miss, I think you should leave.”
At the sound of his voice, she slowly pushed her hair back, revealing her face. Shivay’s breath caught; his eyes widened in disbelief.
“Ishi?” His voice was sharp with shock as he lunged forward, catching her just in time when she swayed, nearly losing her balance.
“Shivay bhaiii…” she whispered.
(Shivay… brother…)
“Beta, what happened? Did you drink?” he asked, holding her upright.
(Dear, what happened? Did you drink?)
“No… no, bhaiii,” she protested, shaking her head vigorously.
(No… no, brother…)
“I swear, I didn’t,” she said, pressing a hand to her throat as if making a solemn vow like a child.
“I mean—we… we didn’t,” she corrected herself, stumbling over the words.
“We?” Shivay repeated, frowning in confusion, his grip still firm to keep her from collapsing.
