The illegitimate daughter of a powerful businessman, she was sent to live with her six half-brothers after her father's sudden death.
The boys were born from privilege, pride, and perfectly manicured bloodlines. No one welcomed her. No one cared.
De...
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"You're packing like I'm moving to another continent. It's a wedding venue, not Mars."
I watched as Kavya tried—again—to stuff my third pair of heels into an overburdened suitcase already threatening to burst at the seams.
"Extras are always good," she argued, struggling with the zipper like it had personally offended her.
Eeshan looked up from where he was folding my shawls like they were bulletproof armor. "And what if it rains? Or if there's a surprise Mehendi after the Mehendi? Rich people are like that."
"You are the rich people," I said dryly, tossing aside a beaded clutch he'd just packed with great ceremony.
"Yes," he said proudly, "and we are dramatic."
Samrat walked in, enjoying the show.
Xavier came in, carrying an oddly shaped box.
"I included emergency sewing supplies," he said. "In case someone's lehenga has a nervous breakdown."
Eeshan perked up. "See? He gets it!"
Kavya narrowed her eyes. "You packed sewing stuff?"
"Yes," Xavier said, blinking. "Statistically, lehengas malfunction more frequently than elevators."
I blinked. "You researched that?"
Samrat clapped him on the back. "You're an emotionally unavailable treasure."
"I try."
Another stuffed tote came out of nowhere. Kavya shoved it into the growing pile. I opened it and began removing things like a customs officer at airport security.
"Two full packs of sheet masks?" I said.
"You'll thank me when your skin is glowing like a bride's!"
"I'm not the bride."
"Exactly. You need to outshine her," Eeshan deadpanned.
Kavya looked mildly betrayed. "I heard that."
Before the debate could spiral into skincare philosophy, the doorbell rang.
I excused myself, brushing invisible lint off my pants as I walked to the door.
When I opened it, I froze.
Adarsh.
Tall, well-dressed, calm.
Not him—but...
So much like Lakshay.
Same posture. Same faint tilt of the head when waiting. Same polite but impersonal smile.
He greeted me with a slight nod. "Miss Maheer."
I nodded cautiously.
He extended an envelope toward me. "I was instructed to deliver this to you personally."
