Niya's pov:

turned to go back inside, but the weight of everything the marriage talk, Nyra’s shaking voice, Papa’s iron control, and Sahish’s broken face at the gate pressed on my chest. My footsteps felt slow, heavy, almost foreign.

Aadrik walked a step behind me, quiet, thoughtful.

He wasn’t the kind of man who filled silence with unnecessary words.

He observed, absorbed, and calculated every detail like he was reading a situation none of us were brave enough to admit existed.

When we reached the doorway, my foot caught the edge of the tile.

It wasn’t a big stumble just a tiny misstep from a tired mind

but it was enough.

I pitched forward with a gasp.

Before I even understood what happened, a strong hand wrapped around my wrist, steadying me.

Warm.

Firm.

Controlled.

I inhaled sharply, my heart thudding as I realized who held me.

Aadrik.

His fingers tightened just enough to keep me steady, but not enough to hurt.

There was a strange gentleness in his grip a kind of carefulness I didn’t expect from a man who looked like he made billion-rupee decisions without blinking.

“You’re alright,” he said quietly.

Not a question.

A reassurance.

Our eyes met for a brief second a second that felt strangely warm in a day filled with coldness.

“I--I’m fine,” I whispered, trying to regain balance.

But he didn’t let go immediately.

His thumb brushed very lightly across my wrist as if checking whether he had accidentally gripped too hard.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, voice deep but soft enough that only I could hear it.

I swallowed, pulling my hand back quickly.

“It’s just… a stressful day.”

Aadrik watched me, eyes narrowing slightly not in suspicion, but in concern.

Like he was trying to solve a puzzle without the full picture.

He inclined his head slightly, the faintest nod.

“If something isn’t right,” he said quietly, “you can tell me. You don’t have to carry it alone.”

His tone wasn’t demanding.

It wasn’t even hopeful.

It was… sincere.

And that sincerity struck me harder than anything else today.

Because in this house filled with fear, disappointment, and suppressed tears…

hearing one calm voice say

I’ll listen

felt like a tiny breath of air after drowning underwater.

Inside, the Atmosphere Had Already Shifted

When we stepped back into the living room, everything felt heavier.

Nyra sat between Mom and Papa, her posture rigid, shoulders curled inwards like she was trying to shrink herself from the world.

Her eyes stayed glued to the cup in her hands.

She looked like someone who had forgotten how to breathe.

Papa, meanwhile, looked triumphant.

His back was straight, his chin lifted, his voice loud with satisfaction.

He was already discussing wedding dates with Mr. Malhotra, each word spoken with a confidence he had no right to feel.

Mr. Malhotra smiled politely, unaware of the storm beneath the surface.

Aadrik’s assistant was jotting down notes, nodding at every detail.

Everything looked normal.

Everything was wrong.

I sat beside Nyra slowly.

Her hand immediately slipped into mine cold, trembling, seeking an anchor.

I squeezed gently.

A silent promise.

I’m here. I won’t let you face this alone.

Across the room, Aadrik’s gaze flickered toward us again.

He didn’t stare long.

Just enough.

Enough to notice everything Papa missed.

Papa cleared his throat.

“So, Nyra,” he said, too pleased with himself. “Do you have anything to say?”

Nyra’s fingers tightened painfully around mine.

Her lashes trembled.

Her chest rose and fell in a tight, shallow breath.

Then, with a voice that barely sounded like hers, she whispered:

“I… am okay with this marriage.”

My heart stopped.

Her voice cracked sharply on the last word, like the truth was begging to escape.

Mom looked away, hiding her tears before Papa could see.

Papa smiled, pride lighting his eyes.

Mr. Malhotra nodded in approval.

“Well, that’s wonderful to hear. Our families will make a good match.”

And through all of it…

Aadrik’s expression didn’t change.

Not happy.

Not convinced.

Just quietly watching.

Not Nyra.

But me.

As if he knew Nyra’s trembling hands weren’t nervousness

they were fear.

And the way I held her hand wasn’t sisterly comfort

it was protection.

His eyes lingered just a moment longer, subtle, unreadable.

Then he looked away.

The Room Turns Louder, But We Fall Silent

Papa and Mr. Malhotra discussed the engagement plans loudly, their voices filling the room with a strange, hollow celebration.

Mom brought sweets no one wanted to eat.

The assistant clicked photos for family records.

Relatives were being called, dates were being suggested, rituals discussed.

But Nyra and I…came to her room

…we sat frozen in our small shared world of silent pain.

"don’t know, Niya, what to do… Papa is threatening to file an FIR against Sahish if I reject the proposal, I–I just don’t know what to do, Niya... I don’t know, Sahish is trying his hardest to pass the IAS exam. But if Papa files a case against him, it will have a huge impact on his career. I won’t let that happen. I won’t let anything destroy his dream… I won’t.”

I leaned closer and whispered, “Didi… I’ll fix this. I don’t know how but I will.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, falling on her suit.

She shook her head weakly.

“Niya… it’s too late.”

But I didn’t believe that.

I couldn’t.

Then we came back downstairs, And when I lifted my head,

I found Aadrik watching us again,

Not with suspicion.

Not with judgement.

But with something else

A question.

A concern.

A strange, soft curiosity.

Like he was trying to understand why I looked like the one hurting most

in a room celebrating my sister’s marriage.

And that moment

quiet, small, almost invisible to everyone

would be the first thread tying my fate to Aadrik Malhotra’s.

Priya Malhotra..Aadrik’s mother sat with a soft, graceful smile, but her eyes were sharp, observant, and warm all at once.

She looked between me and Nyra several times, her curiosity clear.

Finally, she leaned toward my mom gently.

“These two are twins, right?”

Mom nodded with a small, nervous smile. “Yes… but not identical. Only we can tell them apart quickly.”

Priya chuckled lightly.

“Oh, I can see differences already.

This one..” she pointed at Nyra “...is quieter. More delicate.”

Then she looked at me.

“And this one has fire in her eyes. Strength.”

I swallowed hard, hoping she couldn’t see the fear hiding beneath that so-called fire.

Suresh Malhotra the groom’s father added with a polite laugh,

“Twins always have complementary personalities. Balanced pairs.”

If only he knew… how unbalanced everything truly was.

Aadrik’s gaze flickered between us, thoughtful.

He didn’t comment, but his eyes held questions he didn’t voice.

When Papa asked the final question, the room grew still.

“Beta, do you agree to this rishta?”

Nyra’s shoulders tightened.

Her eyes lifted to meet Papa’s strict stare.

He didn’t say anything, but the warning was in his eyes.

She gave the smallest nod.

Barely visible.

But enough.

Everyone clapped politely.

Except me.

Because I saw it the way her fingers curled into her palm, digging into her own skin to stay strong.

The way her eyes glistened with tears she refused to let fall.

Only I knew the truth.

Only I saw her breaking.

And somewhere across the room…

Aadrik saw it too.

His eyes lingered a moment longer on Nyra’s stiff smile, then shifted to mine like he knew I was the one holding her together.

After 2 weeks of the rishta got conformed...the house was decorated with soft marigold strings and warm yellow fairy lights. Guests began to arrive, unaware of the storm beneath the surface.

Nyra wore the peach lehenga Papa selected.

She looked beautiful but hollow.

I stood behind her, fixing her jewelry with trembling hands.

“Didi… are you okay?” I whispered.

She didn’t answer.

She just hugged me tightly like she was holding on to the last piece of herself.

When she walked into the hall, everyone gasped at her beauty.

But I could see her steps faltering, one by one.

Aadrik stood waiting with his parents.

He looked crisp in a charcoal sherwani, elegant and quietly intimidating.

But when Nyra reached the stage, his brows furrowed faintly almost like he sensed her fear.

He held out his hand for the ring.

Nyra’s fingers trembled.

I stood in the crowd, my heart bleeding for her.

While the priest recited the rituals, my dupatta slipped slightly off my shoulder, and without realizing, I moved aside to fix it.

That’s when it happened.

Aadrik’s eyes drifted from the priest…

to me.

Just for a second.

But a second was enough.

There was something curious in his gaze not attraction, not interest… more like recognition.

Like he’d noticed earlier that every time Nyra was about to break, I stepped in.

Every time Papa’s tone rose, I moved closer.

Every time Nyra looked lost, she searched for me.

He saw the way I protected her.

Another moment came when Mom asked me to bring water for Nyra.

I walked toward the stage with the glass careful, nervous.

And as I approached, Aadrik shifted slightly, giving me space even though the stage was crowded.

It was a tiny gesture…

but thoughtful.

Gentle.

When I handed the glass to Nyra, she didn’t take it.

Her hands were too cold, too stiff.

So I held it to her lips.

She sipped.

And when I looked up, Aadrik was watching silently, intently.

Like he was trying to understand this invisible thread between me and Nyra.

During the ring exchange, a sudden loud cheer startled Nyra and she stumbled a little stepping back.

Before I could react,

Aadrik’s hand shot out, steadying me.

Not Nyra.

Me.

Because I had instinctively moved forward to catch her and nearly slipped from the stage edge.

His grip was firm, strong, and warm around my arm.

Our eyes met for half a second.

Just half.

But something strange passed between us Not romantic, not dramatic

Just awareness.

A flicker.

A connection neither of us expected.

He let go immediately, straightening, expression unreadable.

But he had noticed me.

Really noticed me.

By the time the rings were exchanged, applause echoed around the room.

Papa

looked proud.

Relieved.

Nyra looked numb.

Emotionless.

And me…

I stood silently, clapping mechanically while my heart tore between two truths:

My sister was getting engaged to a man she didn’t love.

And that same man…

had begun noticing me in ways I didn’t understand.

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