꧁Prologue꧂

Prologue

The room was drenched in red. There was chaos and noise and shouts. There was yelling, lots and lots of yelling. Men carried guns, tucked away in the black trousers most wore under white shirts. The movement didn't seem to stop anytime soon, and it was the most basic of expectations from an Indian Wedding.

The entire hall was draped in red velvet curtains, and walls, though cream in colour were adorned with red swirls and patterns. The five grand chandeliers on the ceiling didn't do enough to light up the darkness that red brought with it. If not for the golden lamps on the walls, the wedding hall would have been the perfect replica of the dungeons these men hid underneath their big, lavish homes.

Women at the wedding were dressed in bright colourful clothes. Not a single dark colour in sight. Some wore lehengas of mustard yellow, sky blue, and blush pink while others wore white, orange and lavender suits.

"Om is lucky to have Akanksha as his wife," Dev Rathore said to no one in particular. But he surely was eyeing his own son, who was busy talking to Parth Rajawat.

"Yeah," was all Viraj Thakur said, as he looked over at his daughter, who sat in a chair with his niece Maithili, his son, Shivansh and that absolute fucker, who just happened to be Maithili's husband, Rudra Agrawal.

Dev's son and Viraj's daughter were not that far away from each other. Kethaki sat at the table, her phone in her hand, tapping away. Her seat faced Aryan, while he stood, leaning against a golden pillar, a whiskey glass in his hand, with Parth standing in front of him. Still, she held his attention.

"They seem happy," Viraj said. This time, Dev nodded. "I just wonder when it would be time for my Kethaki on that stage."

"Aryan has been getting on my nerves so much over this!" Dev said. "Any time I even bring up the topic of marriage, he either gets up and leaves or changes the topic. No matter how often I try to have a serious conversation with him, he deflects."

Dancing, music, and celebration were in full swing, but it still wasn't jolly enough for Dev and Viraj. They were surely happy for the couple, but their own irritation over their children's refusal to get married was everpresent.

Viraj huffed. "You know what Kethaki does? I even so much as bring the topic of marriage, she looks me dead in the eye, until I shut up!"

Dev choked on his drink and chuckled.

"Yeah!" Viraj said, nodding his head, "Me! I shut up! I am a motherfucking gangster who shuts up when his daughter glares at him!"

Shaking his head, Dev said, "I don't understand why kids these days are so against marriage. Look at us. When we were their age, we couldn't wait to get married to our wives."

Viraj turned to look at his daughter, who was now talking to Shivansh. Shivansh turned to look over at Aryan and Parth, who waved over at him, and Shivansh got up to make his way over to Aryan when Kethaki grabbed his hand.

He looked at his sister, and even Maithli and Rudra turned to look at her. Kethaki, after glaring at her brother, shifted her gaze at Aryan. Her eyes, which were burning hot with anger, when her brother tried to abandon her, turned ice-cold when she looked at Aryan.

Aryan, unlike Viraj, didn't back down and held her gaze. Kethaki tugged her brother down, to sit right back where he did before, and she looked at her brother again. Shivansh shook his head, but remained seated.

"And this is something I will never, ever understand," Viraj started, while still looking between his daughter and Aryan.

Dev, who was busy looking for his wife amidst the crowd and missed the exchange, said, "What?"

"This!" Viraj said while pointing between Kethaki and Aryan.

Kethaki had resumed her conversation with her brother, and Aryan was again, talking to Parth. But when Dev looked at where Viraj was pointing, specifically, Kethaki and Aryan, he understood what he meant.

After all, their hatred was known by everyone in their world.

"Don't even try, Thakur," Dev said. "I don't think anybody does, but these two."

"What's happening boys," a voice said. Viraj didn't need to turn. He knew it was his wife behind him dressed in a silver saree, paired with long diamond earrings, that complemented her dark skin and with her long brown hair falling like a waterfall on her shoulder, she looked like the divine goddess Viraj was sure she was. His hand automatically grabbed her waist and she laid her head on his shoulder.

"Hey, have you seen my wife?" Dev asked Jaya Thakur.

She smiled and tipped her head in the direction of Tara Rathore walking over at them. Dev turned to look at her coming over to him. Her pale blue saree looked absolutely stunning on her fair skin. Her diamond jewellery complimented the stone embroidery and her short black bob looked phenomenal. If he was the gangster, she was surely the angel on his shoulder who calmed his inner devil.

Dev extended his arm towards his wife, who grabbed it and they stood there, holding hands.

"What were you two talking about?" Tara asked.

The men pointed at their kids. "The age-old question."

The women nodded.

"I think it's cute," Tara said, smiling a little.

Jaya made a face. "I think it's annoying."

"Really?" Tara asked, "They behave like elementary school kids who like each other. It's so adorable."

Jaya just shook her head. "If that is what it is, it is so unhealthy."

Tara smiled. "This has been going on for so long, they don't know how to break or change this cycle anymore."

"They should. They are not kids anymore," Jaya said. "I am honestly so annoyed with Kethaki for being so stubborn over this. You know I talked to her about this a few days ago, after that fateful dinner at your place?"

"And?" Tara asked.

"What do you think? She tried to give me the glare that works on Veer, but, she forgot I am her mother. That doesn't work on me!" Jaya said. "This is getting so old. Someone has to interfere and do something about it."

The exchange was short. A few opinions were exchanged, and that was that. But for the men, listening to their wives it was like the sprouted wallflower hidden between two big rocks, along the river bank. Hidden in plain sight, but the sweet water of the river quenched its thirst and before anyone knew, it would grow into a beautiful flower.

Dev and Viraj were silent. At first, they were listening to what their wives thought of this dynamic between their children, but slowly, and ever so silently, a thought occurred to both of them.

Viraj turned to look at Dev, who was already looking at him. Then, they turned to look over at their kids. Shivansh must have finally convinced Kethaki because Kethaki, Shivansh, Maithili and Rudra all made their way towards Aryan and Parth.

Kethaki did not want to see him. At all. But avoiding him in social gatherings was too much to ask for. Aryan was everywhere. Before they went to school, he was at her home, because their parents were friends. When she was in school, he was there, in every one of her classes. Every social gathering, every extracurricular activity, every fucking where!

And here as well.

She knew he would be here today. Having this knowledge hadn't prepared her enough to actually tolerate him and his presence.

She ignored him, or as much as a person could while looking them straight in their eyes. He, on the other hand, didn't spare her a glance and looked straight at Shivansh. Her brother, and now, her enemy for life. Their animosity was common knowledge. But the reason behind it was a secret hidden better than their families' dirty deeds.

"Uff, Ru!" Maithili chastised Rudra. The man was draped over Maithli tighter than the wine-coloured saree she wore. She then pushed him off herself, only for him to hold her again. Kethaki knew her sister better than Maithili knew herself. It was a shame that her cunt of a husband didn't know that his wife hated PDA. Or maybe, he knew and just didn't care.

Kethaki wondered what was worse. Then as easily as the thought had come, she knew the answer.

Rudra.

He was the worst.

If Kethaki hated Aryan, she absolutely loathed her brother-in-law. A man hated so much by everyone in her family, that Kethaki didn't have to look at the other spectator's faces to gauge their reactions to his antics. She just knew that the food in their stomach begged to be let out.

"I can't believe I am actually at Om's wedding!" Parth said. "Like, that man, actually found a girl who wants to live with him for the rest of her life."

"It's a good thing that he did, though, isn't it, Parth bhaiya?" Kethaki turned to look at the girl who walked towards them. In her white lehenga with gold work, half her hair pinned up, with the rest flowing down her back and curled, Shivanya Singhania looked exactly like how the youngest sister of the groom should look. Beautiful enough to attract attention but still maintained the youth that glowed on her fair skin.

"Why?" Kethaki asked.

"He would have died the loner he was, if this miracle hadn't happened, Kethaki di," she replied and there was a round of smiles and laughs. "And he may be an idiot, but he is still my older brother."

"That only shows that she is a bigger idiot than he will ever be!" Maithili said.

"Makes you believe that there is an idiot made for another idiot, doesn't it?" Aryan said. He wore the exact same thing as most men in the event hall wore. Black and white tuxedo. But it was this brooch he wore, which she couldn't help, but admire. It was rudraksh chain with gold links. The pin that attached one end of that rudraksh chain to his lapel had a lioness and the one that attached the other end to the pocket of his coat jacket had Shiv's trident. It didn't take a genius to know what it represented.

'You finally open your mouth and that's the bullshit you say?' Kethaki thought, and even though she didn't realise, her eyes shouted the same sentiment to him.

His eyes shot to hers and Kethaki froze.

Aryan was sure Kethaki cursed him in her mind. He was ready to bet all the five million, thirty-eight hundred thousand and sixty-nine bucks he had made that evening. Albeit it was not as high as he usually made, he was also on a half day, that day. It was his cousin's wedding, after all. But Kethaki cursed him in her head for the bad joke he made and he knew it. He could feel it.

He would usually grab the tongue of the person who even dared to curse him and cut it, with the blade he kept with him. Or maybe just bash their head against the nearest hard surface, preferably a wall, but if nothing was available, then it would be his knees and shoes. Or maybe if he was feeling extra naughty and if he had time, he would torture them a little, then do both these things in that particular order.

He was Aryan Rathore. His name was enough to bring dread. And his presence was enough to bring a man to his knees.

But here she was, dressed in mustard yellow and red salwar kameez, backless, of course, red five-inch heels, her long hair falling down her back, with long gold earrings and an emerald fitted in it, and ruby red lips and black kajal eyes, taunting him. Or maybe it was the mole just above her cleavage which peeked through the sweetheart neckline. He had always hated it.

He wished he could throttle her for being so insolent with him. Maybe not harm her, because that was the one thing he couldn't bring himself to do to her, but also, show her that she was arrogant and sassy in his presence, only because he allowed it. Only because he refused to put her in her place. And only, because as much as he was annoyed by it, it was also entertaining to have someone other than Parth getting on his nerves.

As he locked eyes with her, her reaction confirmed his suspicion. And if he didn't know any better, it had to be along the lines of him being a fool and beneath her. Just like the term of endearment, she had for him.

"What? Didn't you like my joke?" He asked her.

'Of course she didn't. Nobody did, in fact. You are not funny. Deal with it.'

"If you have to ask that question," she started, "You have your answer!"

Others noticed that she didn't call him the 'P' word but didn't show. In fact, whenever it was them talking, arguing, or screaming and shouting and throwing things at each other, everyone else knew it would be in their best interest to stay away. As far as possible. Even Rudra wasn't stupid enough to comment on it. He had learned his lesson the hard way, unfortunately.

The storm was brewing. It was palpable. It was in the air between them, around them and was slowly consuming the entire wedding hall. The two couples, viewing from a distance, could even notice. They were already moving.

"Too bad, I couldn't give a single shit to that even if I wanted to," Aryan said, then finished, "Princess."

Her indifferent stare turned into a full-blown glare. "Quite a contrary statement to your original question, Peasant."

Aryan's knuckles turned white. "Rhetorical questions and their understanding seem to go over your head, Princess."

"Like how humour goes over yours, right Peasant?"

Aryan straightened, and opened his mouth to retort, but never got to. Viraj had already grabbed Kethaki's hand and was taking his precious daughter away from the group, and Dev was slinging his arm around Aryan's shoulders, walking him in the opposite direction.

Even though Parth sighed, glad that the fight was stopped before it could turn into a Public Display of Action, Maithili just shook her head, grabbed Rudra's arm and walked away. Shivansh was so used to this side of them, that he just decided to follow Maithili. Shivanya stayed with Parth.

"Maybe it's the drama-lover in me saying this, but I would love to see what would happen if we locked them in a room once," Shivanya said.

Parth laughed and said, "It did not end well. Neither for the school windows nor the three boys, who thought it would be hilarious." He started walking towards the stage, over to the Groom, with Shivanya following him.

After a while, she asked. "Was it though?"

Parth smirked. "The shouts that were coming from the room? Not so much? But the way these two punished the three boys? Oh hell yes!"