Whisper in the Night|18+(hold)

Chapter 4: Welcome Party

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Kaira's POV:-

Tonight was the night – Bhaiya's 'welcome home' masquerading as his engagement announcement with Aradhya.

Surprising? Not to anyone who knew my parents. They operated with the surgical precision of seasoned CEOs, and this wedding was their latest meticulously engineered merger. Love was a liability, and family merely a well-oiled corporation. Sometimes, I truly wondered if I was an accidental byproduct of their grand scheme.

"No drama tonight, Kia. Just... observation," I muttered to my reflection, a wry twist to my lips.

I spun slowly, catching the light, allowing the emerald green silk to ripple around me like spilled moonlight on water. It clung, then flowed, a second skin of quiet defiance. The off-shoulder neckline bared a subtle expanse of collarbone, a deliberate invitation to look, but not to touch. Beadwork, like scattered starlight, caught every glint. And the slit—oh, the slit. A confident whisper running up my thigh, daring anyone to mistake elegance for passivity.

A slow, wicked smile curved my lips. Rishav. If he didn't find himself utterly disarmed by this vision, then all my efforts would be utterly wasted. And I hadn't dressed like this for waste.

The matching stilettos elevated me, literally and figuratively, their sharp points echoing the edge I cultivated. Diamond drops kissed my neck, tiny icicles of defiance. A delicate bracelet around my wrist glinted, a silent promise of calculated impact. 

Minimal, yes, but potent. Designed to leave a mark, not just an impression.

My smoky eyes, reservoirs of quiet fire, held my gaze. Loose waves, the color of midnight, tumbled over my shoulders, framing a face set with purpose. A nude lip, a mere hint of color, sealed the resolve. 

Sophisticated, yes, but no demure wallflower. Just like me.

For a beat, I simply stood, mirroring my reflection. The girl staring back was polished, untouchable, a perfectly crafted facade. But beneath the stillness, a storm brewed: a tempest of anticipation, a whisper of dread, a surge of defiant excitement. All tangled, all mine.

I pressed my palms flat against the cool dresser, leaning in closer until my breath fogged the glass. A grin, sharp as broken glass, stretched my lips. 

"Alright, Singh Mansion," I murmured, my voice a low challenge. "Let's see if you're truly ready for Kaira Singh."

I snatched my clutch, the cool metal a grounding weight. My spine straightened, a silent steel rod. One final, almost imperceptible adjustment of the slit, catching the silk just so. Then, I turned and walked out. Kaira Singh? Tonight, she was merely the vessel. Tonight, I was the silent, emerald storm, about to break.

I stepped out of my apartment, locking the door behind me, heels clicking against the cold floor as I made my way to the parking lot. My car waited, sleek and polished, like a partner in crime. Sliding into the driver's seat, I turned the key, the engine roaring to life.

"Kaira," I muttered under my breath, lips curling into a smirk. "Get ready for the real drama."

With that, I hit the accelerator, the city lights flashing past as Bandook Meri Laila pulsed through the speakers, matching the beat of my racing heart. The drive stretched on for an hour, but anticipation only sharpened with every passing mile.