A Glimpse of Red

A Dinner to Remember

The tension left behind at the dinner had everyone introspecting in ways they hadn’t before. Ishika was determined to complete her studies, no longer content to be a mere ornament in her sister’s shadow. She wanted to be Nitya's strength, not her weakness. Akhil, the quiet observer, for the first time admired someone other than his brother—Nitya’s commanding presence had left an impression. Nitya herself, after the sharp exchange with Pratham, vowed to grow so powerful that no one would dare insult her or her family again. And Pratham, back at his estate, found himself consumed by the mystery of what Nitya had said—her mocking tone about his family still gnawed at him, pushing him to dig into his past. As for Riyansh, he could no longer deny his feelings for Nitya. He was sure now—he loved her. 

  

--- 

  

The night was alive with the roar of engines on a clandestine racetrack hidden away from the eyes of the law. This wasn't just any race—this was about life, pride, and ego. The stakes were higher than usual, and the crowd buzzed with anticipation, their eyes glued to the polished cars lined up: Rolls-Royce, Lamborghini, Ferrari, Aston Martin—you name it, it was there. But tonight, all eyes were on the red Austin Martin DB12, its 670 bhp engine ready to roar. The car belonged to none other than Princess Nitya Ranjith Singh Rajput, the enigma wrapped in fury, whose red eyes tonight matched the gleam of her vehicle. 

Ram Singh, standing by the track, was a mess of nerves. He was a man in his fifties, but his heart had aged far beyond that. His body bore the marks of Nitya’s wrath—the bruises from a sparring match that had left him physically battered, its the punishment he receives on hiding information from his Yuvrani even its for her own good . Nitya had shown no mercy, not a single mark on herself, but she had left Ram Singh with enough wounds to remind him never to cross her again. But somehow he tried his best to calm her after that dinner incident with this sword fight, but nitya is still angry and restless and this is the reason why they both are standing here in this track course. As he watched her get into the car, clad in a leather-black suit, exuding confidence, Ram Singh’s heart pounded. She wasn’t like the others, who has worn body suit to protect their lifes. No, Nitya wore cotton—because she didn't need protection. She trusted her skills more than any safety gear. 

The race began with the deafening blast of the horn, and Ram Singh’s pulse raced alongside the cars. Nitya, as always, dominated from the start, but there was a blue Lamborghini hot on her trail, giving her a run for her money. The crowd watched, captivated by the sheer audacity of the race. This wasn't about speed; it was about control, precision, and the unspoken war between the drivers. 

In the midst of it all, Ram Singh’s phone rang. The caller ID showed it was from Nitya’s father, King Ranjith. Hesitating, he answered.  

“Nitya Ranjith Singh Rajput—this is how you protect the crown? By letting Rawal walk away unharmed?” Ranjith’s voice was sharp, laced with the authority of a king who had seen far too much.  

Ram Singh, trembling, could barely form the words. “Hukum... Hukum… It’s me… Ram Singh. 

“Where is she, Ram Singh? WHERE?”  

Ram Singh could feel the weight of the moment crushing him. “She... she’s on the track,” he finally blurted out. 

There was a silence on the other end before Ranjith abruptly hung up. He knew there was no stopping her now. Immediately, he called his son, Ishaan, and commanded him to go to the track. 

--- 

  

Ishaan arrived at the track with Ishika by his side and informed Riyansh on his way to here about Nitya racing, both moving with the kind of grace and authority that could only belong to royalty. As they entered, the very air seemed to shift. It was as if the entire atmosphere bent to their will, calming the chaos that had engulfed the racetrack. Ram Singh, despite his pain, bowed deeply, recognizing the power these twins held over their sister. Together, they were the only ones who could calm Nitya when she was like this—a storm wrapped in human form. 

Ishaan approached Ram Singh, his voice calm but firm. “On a scale of 1 to 10, what’s the score of today’s anger?” 

Ram Singh, still struggling to stand straight, replied, “Twenty-four, Rajkumar.” 

Ishika and Ishaan exchanged a knowing glance.  

Meanwhile, Nitya felt their presence even before she saw them. She knew her siblings had arrived, and their calming influence washed over her like a tide. She slammed on the brakes, her car screeching to a halt, completing her final lap in a record time of just 17 seconds. The crowd erupted in cheers as the announcer declared her victory, but Nitya’s mind was already elsewhere. 

She stepped out of the car, her leather suit gleaming under the floodlights, and Ishaan rushed to her, touching her feet in respect. “Jiji Sahib, you increase my heartbeat with every second. Please, enough,” he pleaded. 

Nitya looked at her younger brother, her heart swelling with affection. He had grown into a fine young man, handsome in his green polo, leather jacket, and the brown boots she had gifted him on his 19th birthday. “On seeing you both, my heart settles down,” she said softly. “My peace lies between you, Ishaan and Ishika.” She pulled them both into a warm embrace, and for the first time that night, Ram Singh allowed himself to relax. 

But the calm didn’t last long. Riyansh, entered the track course with stumbling toward them, his face twisted with frustration and intoxication, broke the moment. His eyes locked onto Nitya, and with a shaky voice, he finally spoke the words he had been holding back for too long.  

“All this... it has to stop. I can't control myself when I see you putting your life at risk like this,” he said, his voice raw and vulnerable. 

Ishika, sensing something deeper, narrowed her eyes at Riyansh. “Why?” she asked, her tone demanding an answer. 

Riyansh, unable to hold back any longer, looked Nitya straight in the eyes and said, “Because for God's sake, Nitya... I love you. I can’t live without you.” 

The silence that followed was deafening. Shock rippled through the crowd, and even Nitya, always in control, felt the ground shift beneath her feet. 

--- 

  

Far away, Pratham Singh Rawal was a beast unleashed. In his estate office, destruction lay in his wake—papers, glass, furniture—all in ruins as he drowned his frustration in rum and cigar smoke. His mind couldn’t escape that dinner, that conversation with Nitya. Why had he let a stranger’s words affect him so deeply? The insult to his family burned in his soul. 

Keshav Singh approached cautiously, knowing full well the storm brewing within Pratham. He entered the wrecked office, bracing himself. 

“Hukum,” Keshav began. 

Pratham, his eyes gleaming dangerously, raised an eyebrow. “You know what you’ve done by stepping into my territory now, Keshav?” 

“Hukum, it’s important,” Keshav replied, steeling himself. 

Pratham leaned back, exhaling smoke. “It better be.” 

Keshav took a deep breath. “Riyansh Sinhaniya... he confessed his love for Nitya Ranjith Singh Rajput.” 

The glass in Pratham’s hand shattered on the floor, and for a moment, there was a heavy silence before Pratham broke into a bitter, mocking laugh. 

“Fool,” Pratham muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. “He has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.” 

Keshav stood frozen, the chill of Pratham’s words settling into his bones. He had seen many sides of his master, but this... this was new, and it was dangerous.