Hello peeps, here's the next chapter.

I really hope you're enjoying the read. Do let me know what think about it since comments not only motivate us writers to write but also give inspiration on how to continue the story and even recognize possible blunders and plotholes :D

Love,

Pari

The grand double doors of the Raizada Mansion swung open as Akash and Payal stepped inside, the soft murmur of their voices mingling with the clinking sound of luggage being rolled in. The newlyweds had returned from their honeymoon, and the house was abuzz with excitement, festive air filling the grand halls of Shantivan.

The Raizada ladies had gathered eagerly, their anticipation palpable. As soon as Akash and Payal entered, their faces lit up with joy, met with an exclamation of pure delight from Anjali.

"Finally! The dulha-dulhan are back!" she said, her tone vibrant with happiness.

The family rushed forward, encircling the couple in a warm embrace.

Nani smiled affectionately. "Akash bitua, Payal bitiya," she said, raising her hands in blessing as they knelt to touch her feet, "it is so good to have you both home again. The house feels lively once more."

Payal turned to touch Manorama's feet next, a gesture of respect she never missed. Manorama grimaced slightly, her habitual disdain barely concealed, but she placed her hand on Payal's head in response. Without waiting another moment, she turned to Akash and enveloped him in a tight hug.

"Hello hi bye bye, Akash bitwa, do you know how much I missed you?" Manorama sniffed dramatically, her bejeweled hands gripping her son's shoulders as she gave Payal a quick glance.

"Ma, we missed you all too," Akash replied softly, casting a reassuring look at his wife.

"Oh, I hope you both didn't spend all your time missing us and actually enjoyed your honeymoon," Anjali teased, winking playfully as she pulled Payal into a warm hug.

Payal's cheeks flushed deep crimson at the insinuation, and she hid her face in Anjali's shoulder, eliciting a round of laughter from the family.

"We had a lovely time, Di," Akash chimed in, his voice steady as he gently nudged Payal forward toward the seating area.

Everyone settled into their places, chatting lightheartedly as HP appeared with a tray of water. Akash took a glass and handed one to Payal before drinking his own, the cool liquid soothing after the long journey.

"Papa and Bhai must be at the office," Akash asked, looking around the room, his sharp gaze catching the absence of the household's two senior men.

Anjali tilted her head, her voice as sweet as ever. "Yes, Chote wanted to come pick you up, but he's caught up in meetings. Mamaji couldn't leave work either."

"That's alright, Di. I know Bhai's been busy handling everything while I was gone," Akash replied, his tone understanding but tinged with a sense of responsibility.

"Enough work talk now," Nani interjected, her voice firm yet warm. "You don't become another Chote, too." She smiled knowingly, a subtle reminder that their household thrived on such bonds.

"Fair enough, Nani," Akash agreed, leaning back slightly.

"So, bitwa," Nani started, her tone softening. "How was your trip?"

Before Akash could reply, Manorama interrupted, her impatience finally bubbling over. "Haan, haan, Switzerland must have been lovely, but more importantly, did you bring some fancy gifts?" Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, and she sniffed for effect.

"Manorama!" Nani snapped gently, shaking her head. "They just got home after a long flight. Let them catch a breath." She turned to Payal, her tone kind. "Payal bitiya, go freshen up and rest. Mohan has already taken your luggage upstairs."

Payal nodded, grateful for the reprieve, and stood up alongside Akash. She offered her mother-in-law a quick smile before following her husband toward the stairs.

As the couple ascended to their room, the sound of their footsteps fading, Manorama sighed dramatically and turned to Nani. "Hmph. Sasu Ma, I just wanted to know what they got for me."

"Manorama," Nani warned, rolling her eyes. "You'll never change."

*

Shyam sat slouched in the driver's seat of his car, his sharp eyes scanning the bustling street ahead. The steady hum of city noise—a mix of honking cars and chattering pedestrians—barely registered in his mind. His focus was singular, locked on the figure stepping out of a black car and heading toward a shop.

Mehul.

Shyam's fingers drummed against the steering wheel, a rhythm of frustration and calculation. His anxiety simmered beneath the surface. As long as Mehul lived, it felt like a noose tightening around his neck.

"I'm going to get rid of you..." Shyam muttered under his breath, his lips twisting into a bitter smile. "...for good."

He impatiently glanced at his phone on the dashboard. He had sent a message to one of his less-than-savory contacts earlier, demanding immediate results. So far, no reply.

Turning his gaze back to the shop, Shyam leaned forward, his jaw clenched as he studied Mehul. The man exuded an air of quiet confidence, greeting someone with a firm handshake before stepping inside. Shyam hates his confidence and the fact that he knew far too much.

Shyam's mind raced, threading together the fragments of his plan. Mehul wasn't just a thorn in his side; he was a threat—a dangerous one. If Mehul ever uncovered the full extent of Shyam's deceit, it would all be over. Anjali, the Raizadas, the cushy life he had built for himself—it would all crumble like a house of cards.

The mere thought made his grip on the steering wheel tighten until his knuckles turned white.

He let out a slow, measured breath, forcing himself to relax. This wasn't the time to lose control. He needed to think clearly. Carefully.

Pulling his phone back into his hand, Shyam unlocked it and opened a private messaging app. A conversation with a nameless contact popped up—a person he only referred to as Fixer. The last message he had sent read: "Make it look like an accident. No mistakes this time."

A new notification blinked at the top of the screen. His heart leapt as he tapped on it.

Fixer: Understood. Following him now. Awaiting your confirmation.

Shyam smirked.

He fired off a quick reply: "Ensure no witnesses."

Shyam's thoughts spiraled as he stared at the send button. This plan had to work flawlessly.

But before he could hit send, his phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn't the Fixer. It was a message from an unknown number, and the words on the screen sent a chill down his spine.

"I know what you're doing, Shyam. The truth always finds its way out."

His smirk froze. He read the message twice, then a third time, his stomach knotting with dread. Who was this? Mehul? No, it couldn't be. Mehul is a fool, he can't play games like this or can he? But then, who else knows about him to send such a cryptic warning?

For a brief moment, Shyam considered deleting the message, pretending it didn't exist. But he knew better. This was a crack in his carefully constructed armor, and cracks had a way of spreading.

He quickly typed a response: "Who is this?"

No reply came. The seconds stretched into minutes, and the tension clawed at his insides.

Then, another thought struck him like a lightning bolt. Arnav.

His jaw tightened as his mind replayed the last few weeks—Arnav's uncharacteristic hostility toward him, the way his once-respectful demeanor had shifted into sudden veiled aggression.

Has he discovered something? Was this his way of testing Shyam's reaction?

Shyam's paranoia began to seep in, coiling around his chest like a serpent. If it was Arnav, how much did he know? And worse, how much longer could Shyam keep his truths hidden?

His phone buzzed again, and he snatched it up, relief and fear battling for dominance.

Fixer: He's leaving the shop. Follow or execute?

Shyam stared at the message, his fingers hovering over the screen. He glanced back at the shop. Mehul was stepping out now, his stride as confident as ever.

He wanted to end it now. To silence Mehul before he could dig deeper. But the message from the unknown number had shaken him. If this was Arnav—or anyone else who suspected him—eliminating Mehul will bring nothing except blood on his hands.

His knuckles whitened as he gripped the phone.

"Not yet," he muttered, typing a reply to Fixer. "Don't do anything."

The air in the car felt suffocating. His mind raced with possibilities, each darker than the last. He watched as Mehul disappeared down the street, his figure melting into the crowd.

Shyam leaned back in his seat, his jaw clenched. He couldn't afford to act rashly. Not now. Not when the game had shifted.

Somewhere, someone was watching him. And for the first time, Shyam felt like the hunter was becoming the hunted.

*

Khushi stared at her phone for what felt like the hundredth time that day. The missed calls, the curt responses, the heavy silence—it was all too much. Buaji had gotten into her head and she'd started overthinking. And in all her craziness, she'd blurted all that to him. Three days had passed since their last proper conversation, that conversation during lunch and now that she has had time to reflect on their relationship and the last few weeks, perhaps she'd overreacted.

After all, it's her who's stalling their marriage. It's not like he's not ready to marry her. He'd proposed to her right after she'd mentioned marriage. If it were up to him, they'd been married already. It wasn't fair of her to go after him like that. And it hadn't done any good either. He's been distant ever since. She didn't get to see him much, only while passing by in halls. Even then someone or the other was with him and then when they had talked over the phone, he hadn't exchanged much stating he's busy and will talk to her later. He wouldn't leave any chance of even looking at her. He was crazy about her.

"Pagal hoon tumhare liye. Nahi jee paunga tumhare bina. Kamzor kar diya hai tumhare pyaar ne mujhe. Itna...ke aisa lagta hai tum mujhe nahi mili toh...shayad main mar-"

He'd poured his heart out to her that day and still she was doubting him. Why was she self-damaging what they had?

He had reassured her even then, still her doubts had lingered, festering into fears. Only after moments of tranquility and self reflection after she couldn't talk to him properly for just two days, had clarity dawned upon her. She missed him, his company, his teasing, his love, his attempts to come close to her at any given chance. Yesterday's brief phone call had been distant, as though neither of them could bridge the silence that stretched between them. But she didn't want that anymore.

Her gaze shifted to the clock. It was past six in the evening. Most of the office was emptying out, but Arnav's cabin light was still off, and she hadn't seen him all day.

Before she could lose her nerve, Khushi made her way to Aman's cabin. Her steps faltered as she reached his door, but she knocked lightly and waited for his response.

"Come in."

Pushing the door open, she peeked in to find Aman seated at his desk, his laptop glowing faintly in the dim light as he put his phone aside. He looked up, his expression as unreadable as always.

"Ms. Gupta," he greeted with a polite nod. "Something I can assist you with?"

Khushi hesitated, clutching a file in her hands as a pretense for being there. "I...was just wondering if Arnavji...has returned to the office."

Aman leaned back in his chair, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. "He's been in meetings all day. Last I heard, he was wrapping up with a client call."

"Oh," Khushi said softly, her gaze dropping to the file in her hands.

Aman tilted his head slightly, studying her. "He's been a little...preoccupied," he said carefully, his tone neutral yet laced with understanding. "But I'm sure he'll make time if you need to see him."

Khushi's cheeks flushed at his insinuation, though she knew Aman hadn't meant it unprofessionally. His subtle words carried no judgment, only quiet observation.

"I...thank you," she said quickly, excusing herself before her emotions could betray her.

*

The Raizada mansion was alive with chatter and the scent of freshly brewed chai as the family gathered in the living hall. Akash and Payal descended the grand staircase, their arms laden with colourful shopping bags. Looking at the gifts, Manorama's eyes shone bright like a star.

Akash grinned as he set down the bags, brushing a hand through his hair. "There you go, Ma. Payal and I made sure to pick out something special for everyone."

Payal followed, her hands steady but her heart fluttering with anticipation as she reached for the first gift. They had gotten something for everyone including the Guptas. But for now Anjali was given a slim Swiss bracelet watch while Nani received a handmade woolen shawl. They were both very content with their presents.

"It's beautiful, Payal bitiya," Nani said, her voice heavy with emotion. "You've chosen these so thoughtfully."

Akash stepped forward with his mother's gift and held it out to her with a hopeful smile. "And for you, Ma, we got you a luxury perfume. Payal chose it—it's one of the finest from Geneva."

Manorama's eyes gleamed as she opened the elegant bottle, inhaling the rich, sophisticated fragrance. "Oh-ho, this is very classy!" she said with approval, examining the intricate design of the bottle. But her smile faltered for a moment, and she tilted her head. "Hello hi bye bye, Khoon Bhari Taang- I mean, Payal bitiya," she corrected after earning a look from her own Sasu Ma and with a hint of condescension, she said " this will do now, but next time, try to ask me what suits my taste better. You're still learning, you know."

Payal's smile wavered for a fleeting second before she nodded graciously. "Ji Maa ji . I'll keep that in mind," she said softly.

The room fell into an uneasy silence as Nani's expression turned stern. Anjali, quick to intervene, clapped her hands. "Mami, this perfume smells divine. It suits you perfectly— wear it at your kitty party and you'll have everyone asking what you're wearing!"

Manorama gave a haughty sniff but finally smiled, satisfied with the praise. "Well, that's true. I do have a flair for turning heads," she admitted.

As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, Payal cast a glance at Akash, seeking some silent reassurance. He met her gaze and gave her a small, supportive smile, but his reluctance to speak up on her behalf lingered like an unfinished sentence though she brushed her emotions aside, not wanting to hang onto little things.

*

Arnav leaned back in his chair, the day's exhaustion weighing on him heavily. Meetings, deadlines, and constant distractions had kept his mind busy, but the nagging memory of Friday's argument with Khushi refused to leave him.

She had questioned him—questioned his commitment to her, and though he'd reassured her at the time, her words had stuck with him. He wasn't angry; he understood her insecurities, the place they were coming from. But the idea that she doubted his love, that she feared he could walk away, gnawed at him.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply. He wasn't avoiding her, yearning to see her in fact. And yet he had been prioritising work.

A knock on the door broke his thoughts. Aman stepped in, holding a folder.

"ASR," Aman said, his tone brisk. "A quick update on the upcoming project."

Arnav nodded, gesturing for him to proceed.

As Aman outlined the details, he paused, glancing at his boss. "Ms. Gupta was looking for you earlier," he said casually, his voice devoid of any unnecessary emotion.

Arnav looked up sharply, his brow furrowing. "When?"

"Not long ago," Aman replied. "She seemed...concerned."

Arnav's jaw tightened, his eyes flicking to the clock. He sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes briefly. "I've been so caught up today..."

Aman observed him for a moment, then said, "Not all of the meetings required your immediate presence. Delegation was possible."

Arnav's eyes opened, narrowing slightly at the cryptic remark. Aman didn't elaborate and simply slid the folder across the desk.

"How do you... manage your relationship?" Arnav asked, his voice quieter, almost as if the question had slipped out without his conscious intent.

Aman stopped in his tracks, then turned slowly. Aman had been with him ever since he built his company from scratch and yet, this was the first time ASR was asking him for relationship advice.

"Didn't think I'd live to see this day." His smirk deepened.

"Don't push it." Arnav warned, though his tone lacked any real bite.

There was a long pause before he spoke again. "I wish I had an answer to that," he said honestly. "I just try to listen to her. That takes care of most of our troubles."

Arnav felt his chest tighten at the simplicity of it. He had listened to Khushi, truly. When she had mentioned marriage, he'd acted quickly—buying a ring, planning to announce their intentions to their families. But when the moment arrived, she hesitated. She wasn't ready, she had her reasons.

She had asked him to not expect much physical closeness and he had tried to respect that. How many times he had wanted to pull her into his arms, kiss her until there was nothing else but the two of them, but he had held back. He wanted her to feel safe with him, and wanted her to be comfortable. He teased her, yes—he couldn't help himself—but it was always in good humor. Her expressions, so wide-eyed and flustered, always made him smile.

Khushi Kumari Gupta was a whirlwind of contradictions, a force of nature he both admired and adored. She was unlike anyone he had ever known. And yet, despite everything, he couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't doing enough—wasn't giving her what she needed.

Arnav turned to face Aman, who was almost at the door.

He paused, his gaze serious. "I want to be there for her. I want to make it work, but..." His voice trailed off, the frustration clear on his face.

Aman didn't respond, but the look in his eyes told Arnav that he understood. Sometimes, listening wasn't enough. There was more to love, more to relationships, than just hearing the words. Arnav had to show her, in every possible way, that he would never let her go.