In the bustling heart of Delhi,four childhood friends navigate the complexities of love, ambition, and family expectations.
In this tale of romance, laughter, and heartfelt moments, will they find their happily ever after, or will the burdens of the...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Shivansh's POV
I knew something was off the moment Avya called me.
"Yes, Avya?" I answered the phone.
"Shivansh bhai, can you join me for dinner tonight?" she asked, her voice too sweet for comfort. Suspicion crept in-she never called me "bhai" unless she had an ulterior motive.
I raised an eyebrow. Dinner? Yeah, right. I could smell the manipulation a mile away. "I'm a bit busy, Avya," I said, trying to wiggle out.
"Bhai, don't be like that! I hate eating alone. Come on, can't you join your little sister for one meal?" She laid it on thick, her voice syrupy enough to drown me in guilt.
"Fine," I gave in with a sigh, knowing it was pointless to argue. When Avya wanted something, she'd get it, no matter how hard I tried to avoid it.
I arrived at the hotel and immediately saw a familiar figure sitting at the table Avya had mentioned. From the back, I couldn't tell exactly who it was, but for a moment, I thought, Who the hell is she meeting? Her boyfriend? But as I got closer, it clicked. Of course. Reeyansh.
I grumbled under my breath. So this was her plan-to get us to patch things up. As if a dinner could magically fix the rift between us.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, even though I already knew.
"Dinner," he replied arrogantly, barely glancing up.
"I was expecting Avya," I shot back, sitting down with a thud.
"And I was expecting her too," he responded, the arrogance thick in his tone.
I muttered a curse under my breath. Reeyansh, in his usual pompous way, smirked and said, "Some respect, Shivansh. I'm still your elder brother if you've forgotten."
I rolled my eyes. "By one month, Reeyansh. That hardly makes a difference."
"One month and three days," he corrected.
"And four hours," I added smugly. "But guess what? That doesn't make you special."
"You still admit I'm older," he said, a smirk creeping across his face as if he'd just won a courtroom battle.
"I swear, I want to punch you," I muttered, glaring at him.
"But you won't," he said casually, leaning back in his chair. "Because you love me Shiv."
"Stop calling me Shiv," I snapped.
He chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. I stood up, my irritation mounting. "You're ruining my mood."
But when he stood up too, I found myself following him. Instinctively. It was like a habit, as much as I hated it.
"Why are you following me? Don't you hate me?" he teased, glancing over his shoulder with that infuriating smirk.
