𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐒

𝟔

The Malhotra family's dining hall exuded an air of timeless elegance and old-world charm. Rich, dark wood paneling enveloped the room, its polished surface gleaming softly in the warm glow of a magnificent brass chandelier. The ornate light fixture hung from the ceiling like a cascading bouquet of golden flames, its candles casting a gentle, flickering light across the opulent space.

Tall, arched windows with delicate muntins framed views of the lush estate grounds, allowing slivers of daylight to mingle with the room's intimate illumination. Ornate sconces adorned the walls, their soft light accentuating the room's warm ambiance and highlighting carefully chosen artwork.

At the heart of this grand chamber stood a long, oval dining table of deep mahogany, its surface reflecting the chandelier's glow like a mirror. Elegant place settings awaited the family's gathering, fine china and sparkling crystal arranged with meticulous care. High-backed chairs upholstered in muted fabric surrounded the table, each one a silent invitation to an evening of refined dining and familial conversation.

A plush carpet in rich hues of burgundy and gold sprawled beneath the table, its intricate patterns telling tales of distant lands and bygone eras. The room's corners held hints of the Malhotras' legacy - a gleaming silver service cart, an antique sideboard, and the subtle scent of polished wood and beeswax that spoke of generations of rituals and traditions.

The grand Malhotra dining hall buzzed with quiet conversation and the gentle clink of silverware. The entire clan had gathered, save for one notable absence: Abhimaan Malhotra. His wife, Shraddha, stood nervously by the chairs, her fingers unconsciously fidgeting with the delicate silk of her saree pallu. Behind her, Drishti and Kiara moved with quiet efficiency, serving the elders their morning meal.

At the center of the long table sat Rajveer Malhotra, the family patriarch, his presence commanding even in the informal setting. Beside him, Meera Rajveer Malhotra cradled young Rudra on her lap, patiently coaxing spoonfuls of cereal into the child's mouth. The empty chair next to her seemed to grow more conspicuous with each passing moment, a silent testament to Abhimaan's absence. Flanking the vacant seat were Abhimanyu and Abhiveer, their eyes occasionally darting to the door with worried expression for their Brother.

Kalyani Malhotra, the formidable grandmother, had decreed that the daughters-in-law were not to dine with their husbands or the elders. Meera had briefly considered challenging this outdated custom but thought better of it, knowing that any protest would only lead to chaos and suffering for her beloved daughters-in-law. So Shraddha, Drishti, and Kiara stood dutifully by, having finished serving the family, their own hunger ignored for the sake of tradition.

The air in the room suddenly grew thick with tension as Abhimaan Malhotra burst through the doors, his face a storm of barely contained fury. With a harsh scrape of wood on marble, he yanked out his chair and threw himself into it. Shraddha's worried gaze followed her husband, acutely aware of the volatile temper that simmered beneath his surface. In moments like these, Abhimaan became a force of nature, a walking flame that threatened to consume everything-and everyone-in its path, heedless of familial bonds or consequences.