Mythili Kapoor, in her eyes,is a nobody. Her parents were always in want of a son and were granted that wish post twelve years of her birth and since then her brother Rajveer has been the apple of her parents eyes. Oh yes, she is remembered when the...
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Shivaay's POV -
I glanced at my watch, the ticking second hand echoing my growing impatience. The hotel was set, and the guests were arriving, but Mythili and Baba should have been here by now. With a sense of urgency, I decided to drive home and pick them up. Everything was supposed to be perfect for Anamika and Nupur's wedding, but the absence of Mythili was troubling because she had been almost anxious about every little detail, ensuring everything was perfect for them.
Pulling into the driveway, an uneasy feeling gripped me. The house was too quiet. I parked quickly and went inside, calling for Mythili and Baba. The silence that answered me was bone chilling.
I swept through the rooms, my growing anxiety transforming into a suffocating dread. My heart pounded as I dashed to the garden, desperate to find any sign of them. The sight of scattered boxes and an unfinished game of hopscotch struck me with a cold wave of panic.
Frantically, I dialed Mythili's number, but it went straight to voicemail. Anger and fear surged through me. Ignoring the knot in my stomach, I jumped back into my car and headed towards Kapoor mansion. The thought of them being involved in this made my blood boil.
The Kapoor mansion loomed ahead, a symbol of their disdain and arrogance. I didn't wait for the gate to fully open. My car screeched to a halt, and I stormed out, my fists clenched and my mind focused on the confrontation ahead.
The guard at the gate stammered a nervous greeting.
"Are Mythili and Baba here?" The question erupted from me as a barely restrained growl, my grip on the steering wheel tightening into a white-knuckled vice.
"N-no sir," the guard stuttered, his fear evident.
They wouldn't have come here willingly. The realization was a physical blow. The guard, trembling, started to speak, but I cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Open the gate," I commanded, my voice ice-cold, demanding compliance.
He hesitated for a moment before fumbling with the controls. The gate creaked open, a slow and agonizing movement that mirrored the rising tide of fury within me. I charged through without a second thought.
I was already inside, storming up the steps, my fists clenched as I prepared to face whatever smug nonsense awaited me inside. The front doors swung open as I shoved them with more force than necessary, and there he was—Kapoor, lounging in his overstuffed chair, as though he owned the world.
And seated beside him, to my utter disgust, was the man who calls himself my father.
"Well, well, well. Look who's here," Kapoor greeted me, his voice dripping with false warmth. "Shivaay, I didn't think you'd come this quickly."
I ignored the pleasantries, stepping forward with barely controlled rage. "So this is what you both had to resort to? Abduction?"
Kapoor chuckled, exchanging a look with my father, who had the audacity to sit there silently, as if he wasn't complicit in this madness.
