The Promised Queen

𝓉𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓎 𝑜𝓃𝑒

Ishaan was sprawled comfortably in the passenger seat of Hruday's sleek, black SUV, humming along to the music playing softly in the background. He'd convinced Hruday to come to the party tonight, though it took more than a little persistence. Now, he was watching his cousin with a mischievous grin as Hruday's face hardened, his attention focused on the phone call he was finishing up.

Hruday's tone was clipped as he spoke to someone from work. Even in moments like this, he was all business. "Yes, I'll handle it tomorrow. Make sure the files are ready by morning," he said before ending the call. He tucked his phone away, letting out a frustrated sigh, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"You really need to relax, bro," Ishaan said, his voice light, though he shot a glance at Hruday. "We're here to have fun tonight, remember?"

Hruday didn't respond, his sharp eyes scanning the driveway. Just then, his gaze froze. Ridhima was walking toward them, her evening dress shimmering under the soft glow of the estate lights. She looked... stunning. Her midnight blue dress fit her perfectly, and the loose waves of her hair framed her face in a way that made her look both elegant and effortlessly beautiful.

Hruday's jaw clenched, though his heart betrayed him with a sharp thud in his chest. He had told himself over and over again that this was a simple arrangement—a duty to his father and their families. But every time he saw her, something in him stirred, something he didn't want to admit, even to himself.

"Waah!" Ishaan whistled softly from beside him, nudging Hruday with his elbow. "Look at that. Ridhima's seriously turning heads tonight. No wonder you're staring like you've forgotten how to blink."

Hruday's jaw tightened. "I wasn't staring."

Ishaan smirked knowingly. "Sure, and I'm the Maharaja of Suryagarh."

Ishaan, always quick to notice these things, smirked to himself. "I invited her, by the way," he said casually, watching for Hruday's reaction.

Hruday shot him a glare, his voice low. "Why?"

Ishaan shrugged. "Why not? She deserves a night off from all the wedding madness too. Don't you think?"

Hruday's eyes narrowed, but before he could say anything, Ridhima was standing next to the car, looking between the two of them, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"Hey, Am I late?"

Ishaan shot her a wide grin. "Not at all, bhabhi. Just in time to save me from your grumpy fiancé over here."

Hruday ignored Ishaan's teasing, his expression remaining stoic, but he couldn't help the way his gaze lingered on Ridhima for just a moment longer than necessary. She caught his eyes, and for a second, something unspoken hung between them. For a brief moment, they flickered with something—something Ridhima couldn't quite place, but it made her pulse quicken all the same.

Ishaan noticed this too, of course. He leaned back, crossing his arms with a smug grin. "You know, you don't have to pretend to be annoyed. We all know you're smitten. No use hiding it."

Hruday shot him a withering look. "You're delusional."

"Am I?" Ishaan grinned wider, wiggling his eyebrows. "I'm just saying, you've been acting like you couldn't care less, but I know what's really going on in that thick head of yours."

"Enough," Hruday snapped, his voice edged with irritation. "Sit in the back."

"What?!" Ishaan exclaimed, clearly offended. "Why? I'm already sitting here. It's my spot. I'm perfectly comfortable here."

Hruday turned to him, his expression sharp, the kind that ended most arguments before they even began. "Because I said so."

Ishaan threw his hands up dramatically, shaking his head. "Oh, right. You just want the front seat to yourself, huh? Or maybe you want it for Ridhima. You know, you could just say you want to sit with your future wife."