YASH POV – The Chairman’s Office

The conference room was empty now.
Rathore had left in a rush, nearly tripping over himself as he promised a fresh audit report by tomorrow morning.

For Yash, work was never a joke.
Either you were serious, or you could leave and find another job.
If you didn’t have the ability to work, you didn’t have the capability to survive.
It was that simple.

Silence settled again in his cabin—dense, expectant.

Yash sat perfectly still in his chair.
The Jaipur folder lay closed before him, his phone vibrating once—another update from Vikrant he didn’t bother to check.

His gaze drifted toward the window, where the city glowed bright under the noon sun, oblivious to the battles being fought behind polished glass.

He lifted his hand, brushing his thumb across the silver ring on his index finger.
A habit he never realized he did until it was already happening.

In that tiny gesture lay a memory he refused to examine too closely.
A memory he never allowed himself to dwell on for more than a moment.

Because he knew—what he felt for her was dangerous.
For her.
For him.

It wasn’t love.
It wasn’t lust.
It was something far more Dangerous.
A need so consuming it bordered on obsession.

And he was self-aware enough to admit:
He was not the man who could afford to carry that need openly.

He didn’t keep her photos in his phone.
Didn’t let himself ask about her beyond what was necessary.

Only the investigator’s monthly reports—
She’s safe.
Her classes are proceeding normally.
No incidents.
—those were enough.
More than that, he refused to allow.

But sometimes, like now—
In the lull between meetings and strategy—
Her face drifted back to him, uninvited.

Her smile.
That button nose.
The tiny mole beside her lip.
The way her eyes would widen—wide, innocent, and always a little afraid.

Everything about her was more beautiful than any wonder in the world.

Diya.

A name he never spoke aloud more than necessary. Not because he didn’t want to.But because speaking her name felt like handing a secret to the world— And he was too possessive to share this secret with even his own shadow.

The last time he saw her—truly saw her— she was sixteen.Hiding behind Ruchika’s shoulder at the palace summer gathering, clutching a medical entrance book as if it could shield her from his stare.It was the most beautiful sight he had ever admired. Nothing else ever fascinated him the way she did.She knew how to make his heartbeat stutter.How to clutch his heart in that delicate fist, without even trying.She hadn’t even dared to look up at him. And that was the moment he knew.She would never escape.

Love. It was a forbidden word to him. He didn’t know what it meant—never cared to learn.His Friends spoke of it like a blessing.He had only ever seen it as a weakness.He was too young when he lost his mother, and too well-trained by his father to be anything but a ruler.
But her…She was different. Maybe he could have loved her—if he had been any other man.
But deep down, he knew. She feared him .And he would never be capable of earning her love.

Because her fear…was the sweetest confession. And no matter how far she ran ,she would always belong here.

In Meherangarh.In his territory.In his world.In his keeping.

He picked up the pen from his desk, rolling it between his fingers,his mind tracing the outlines of her life with the same ruthless precision he applied to every business deal:

— She woke at 5 AM to study.
— Took her tea without sugar.
— Preferred white kurtis and blue jeans.
— Kept an old diary she thought no one had ever seen.
— Spoke gently to everyone… except when she was furious with Arohi.
— Hated thunder.

And one detail he almost smiled at: She could fight with Shivansh all day long. They were like sworn enemies—Tom and Jerry, as Ruchika said. Ruchika, on the other hand, was her soft spot—Diya adored her, loved her like a little sister. Shivansh and Diya were the kingdom’s best pranksters—and the worst philosophers. He never understood that bond. Never cared to. Because no detail was too small a piece of her life insignificant.

He had built an entire dossier on her—quietly, efficiently, without a trace.

Because if there was one thing Yash Singh Chauhan never tolerated,it was uncertainty.Not in business.Not in power.Not in love— if you could call what he felt by that name.He had no illusions about himself.He wasn’t the prince in her fairytale.He wasn’t gentle.Wasn’t kind.
Would never pretend to be anything he wasn’t—a man who didn’t care if she hated him, as long as she never left.

He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly.A memory returned, unbidden—her voice, soft and breaking:“Maa… I don’t want this marriage.”

He remembered standing beyond the corridor,listening to every word.And his heart hadn’t broken at her plea.No—it had burned hotter. Because Diya could say she didn’t want this a thousand times.It wouldn’t change anything.

He would make her his.At any cost.On any terms.The marriage was a promise made long ago.
A promise her mother had asked of him when he was still a boy— to care for Diya. To treat her like a queen.And he would.In every way. Even if it meant caging her in a palace made of his obsession.He opened his eyes again—sharp, cold, resolved.There was no turning back. And he didn’t want one.

She could run.She could cry.She could hate him for a lifetime.But she would be his.And someday—when she finally understood that no one would ever love her the way he did—she would stop fighting. And maybe then—only then—he would learn how to be soft.Until that day, he would remain exactly what he was: Her shadow. Her cage.Her inevitable fate.

YASH POV – Meherangarh Fort, Private Study

1:15 PM

By the time he returned to the fort, the staff was already lined up near the main foyer.
Nobody spoke as he walked past—just slight bows, murmured “Kunwar sa.”He didn’t acknowledge them. Respect, he believed, wasn’t a favor. It was the bare minimum. Which u need to earn and with his hard work he has earned it.

Inside his private study, Yash removed his black suit jacket and placed it neatly over the back of the leather chair.
The marble-topped desk was covered in files—hotel occupancy reports, construction site updates, guest complaints none of his managers dared to forward without filtering first.

But he didn’t look at any of them.
His focus was only on the slim black folder Vikrant had delivered earlier.

JAIPUR – PROPERTY AUDIT AND LOGISTICS

He opened it and scanned every page—eye flicking across numbers, signatures, expense tables.It took him exactly seven minutes to identify the discrepancy the Jaipur GM had tried to hide.He picked up his phone and dialed Vikrant.
“Vikrant.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Contact Rajeev. Tell him if he can’t explain the 2.4 crore discrepancy in the Jaipur property accounts by tonight, he can clear his office tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Send me the revised inventory list within the hour.”
“It will be done.”
The call ended.

Yash closed the file.Efficient. Unemotional.The way he handled everything in life. Except her.

He pushed the thought aside and pressed the intercom.
“Reema.” The most elder Servant who take care of Yash when he lost his mother
A measured voice answered. “Yes, Kunwar sa?”
“Prepare the car for 4 AM departure. Have security ready by 3:45. No delays.”
“Yes, Kunwar sa.”
“Inform Jaipur housekeeping to prepare the penthouse suite at the heritage hotel.”
“Understood.”
“And send my travel bag upstairs. Pack only the essentials.”
“Yes, Kunwar sa.”

He ended the call.Stillness settled over the room.

A storm, waiting.His gaze moved to the old grandfather clock by the window. Tick…tick…tick.
Each second sounded like a warning.

In 16 hours, he would be standing in Jaipur.
And she would be there.”Diya“

He thought about her quiet defiance, her soft voice when she said she didn’t want the marriage.
A muscle in his jaw ticked. He didn’t blame her for wanting a simpler life. But some things were never meant to be simple. He would remind her of that soon enough.

3:30 PM – Yash’s Bedroom

Reema had laid out his travel clothes: A crisp white shirt, black trousers, a steel-grey waistcoat. Minimal. Precise. Immaculate.

Next to it sat a smaller velvet box, embossed with the Chauhan crest. Inside—an heirloom ring. The one that would be slipped onto her finger when the time came.
A promise sealed years ago. But it still not the time he need to bring her back soon and its still long time to complete her MBBS.

He ran a thumb across the gold and emerald, expression unreadable. No matter how long she tried to pretend… No matter how much she resisted…

She was his. She had always been his. He placed the box back inside the travel bag, zipped it shut, and exhaled slowly. Then he stepped out of the room.

By Afternoon , they would be in Jaipur. And she would have no place left to hide.

DIYA POV – Jaipur, Late Evening

The room smelled faintly of rose talc and old books. Arohi’s half-open suitcase lay on one bed—clothes spilling everywhere like the aftermath of a cyclone. Why She is so Clumsy? The Question she always asked herself.

Mine was neatly arranged. Every fold in place. Every label facing upward.

Arohi was already lying sideways, scrolling through her phone, humming a Bollywood song off-key. She looked so carefree—so free.I ran my palm over the last kurta I’d packed, smoothing the fabric again even though it didn’t need it. My fingers paused on the delicate embroidery near the neckline.

He’d once told me that white suits me.
Back then, I was too young to understand that sometimes, a compliment isn’t just a compliment.
Sometimes... it’s a quiet claim.

It took me years to understand—
White didn’t suit me because he said it.
It suited me because white means peace...
And in a world where I feared him more than I feared anything else, peace was the only thing I ever craved.

I closed my eyes, my throat tightening. The last time I saw him—truly saw him—I was sixteen.
Nose-deep in NEET books, still a nerd, still naive, still untouched by the storm that was him.

It’s been five years. Five whole years. He went to London for his master’s, and now... he owns over 20 luxury hotels across the globe. A man whose name makes headlines. But to me, he was never just a name. He was a storm in silence.

That day—the day he said white suits me—it wasn’t even meant to happen. It started with that Bandar… Shivansh.

He came to me too sweetly, the way only Shivansh can fake when he’s about to unleash mischief. “Diya jaa na, le aa ball please,” he pleaded. “Ek khabar dunga tujhe—bhai sa London jaa rahe hain.”

I paused, my fingers frozen on my Chemistry book. “What?! Kunwar sa is going to London? Why?”

He grinned. “Ball laa, pehle. Then I’ll tell you everything.” With a groan, I pushed my N.C.E.R.T aside and ran to the garden. Sure enough, the ball was floating in a shallow mud puddle—probably left there after last night’s winter drizzle. I tiptoed past the bushes, muttering under my breath, picked it up— And then—
“BOO!”

I screamed. Slipped. Landed straight in the pool of mud.

“Oops... sorry, chashmish!” came Shivansh’s laugh. “You looked too pretty—I couldn’t resist!”

“You Gadha, Bin Puch ka Bandar! Kaccha khatta angoor! Bandar! Langoor!”
I shouted every insult I could remember as he ran off, laughing like a maniac.

And there I was.
Dripping in muddy water. Wearing white. Of all days. “Haaye Mata Rani... ab kya karu! Maa’s going to kill me! This bandar ruined my dress!” I kept ranting— Until someone cleared his throat.

I froze. And turned.Seeing Him. Standing there in silence. Kunwar Yash Singh Chauhan.

My words died. My heart thudded. My face burned hotter than the sun.He stepped closer, held out his hand.
“Take it.”

“N-no, Kunwar sa, aap... aapke haath gande ho jaayenge...” I stammered, panicked, trying to stand on my own— And slipped again.Uff Why it is happening with me Mata Rani.

“Take. My. Hand.” That time, I didn’t argue. I placed my muddy hand in his, and he pulled me up—strong, steady, silent. Without a word, he walked me to the water pipe.
Turned it on. Gently began washing the mud from my hands, then my face.

I stood still. Unable to move. Unable to breathe. No one had ever looked at me the way he did that day. Not with warmth. Not with a smile. But with something else. Something that both scared and... held me still.

When he was done, he stepped back. “Go change. You’ll catch a cold.”

I blinked. “Aapke haath... woh bhi gande ho gaye...” He said nothing, just held out his hand.
I washed them the same way he did mine.

And then, just as I was about to walk away, He leaned in, close enough for his breath to touch my cheek, and whispered: “White suits you.”

And walked away. That was the last time I saw him. Five years ago. Now... I’m going to see him again.

And I don’t know what scares me more— That he’ll be the same... Or that he won’t be. Is He going to be more cold now?

“Tomorrow.” Tomorrow I will have to see him. And pretend nothing inside me was breaking. This time, God may save me from him. I dont know why, but I have no good feelings about this meet-up.

Arohi suddenly looked up. “Diya…”
“Hmm?” She propped herself on her elbow.
“You sure you don’t want to come in our car? Sachin is coming too—he’s booked an SUV. It’ll  be more fun.” I forced a smile. “No…Bapu Sa already arranged for me to travel with Someone.”
Her grin faltered. “Oh.” Silence settled between us. Even Arohi didn’t dare question further.

I moved to the dressing table and started checking my small pouch of medicines and essentials.
My hands were steady. My heart wasn’t. It was beating more loudly than i can ever imagine. What the hell is happening with me?

Why does it still feel like I’m a child?  Why does the thought of seeing him still feel like… punishment?

He never raised his voice. Never lost control. He didn’t need to. His silence did what shouting never could. It wrapped around you— Colder than chains.

I heard Arohi sigh behind me. “I still don’t get why you’re so scared while going to home…”
She mumbled softly, not realizing I could hear.
“…he looks at you like you’re his whole world.I remember Maa Word,” I swallowed hard.
That’s exactly the problem.
When a man like Yash Singh Chauhan decides you are his world… He doesn’t leave any place for you to be yours. I zipped my pouch and turned back. “I’ll go sleep early,” I whispered.
“Okay,” Arohi said gently, her eyes worried.“You’ll be okay, na?”

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure what okay even meant anymore. I switched off the main light and slipped under the blanket, pulling it up to my chin.

In the darkness, I let my mind drift to tomorrow— to the inevitability of Meeting him, to the inevitability of being part of his life again, whether I was ready or not.

He would look at me with those eyes that didn’t ask. They declared.

And no matter how much I wished it were different— Some part of me knew… Tomorrow, the life I’d tried to build away from him… Would end.

And the life he had planned— Would begin.

YASH POV – Meherangarh Fort, Departure Morning

4:00 AM

The sky over Meherangarh was still dark, painted in the deep hues of fading night. Stars blinked their final breaths before the sun would chase them away. The wind was sharp, crisp—almost biting. A silence stretched across the fort, broken only by the distant rustle of leaves and the low hum of engines warming up near the main courtyard.

Yash stood on the palace steps, dressed in a black tailored kurta layered with a stone-gray trench coat that kissed his knees. Sharp. Minimal. Regal. His boots clicked softly against the marble floor. Every line of his body was poised, precise—like a blade ready to be unsheathed.

Reema, standing a respectful few feet away, held out his leather travel bag.

He took it with a nod, eyes never leaving the fog-covered path ahead.

Two black SUVs waited by the main gate. Security personnel stood by with measured discipline, not daring to speak unless spoken to. Vikrant had arrived already, standing beside the lead vehicle with a folder clutched in his gloved hand.

Yash glanced at the sky.

"Ruchika aur Shivansh?" he asked without emotion.

Reema replied gently, “Uth gaye hain, Kunwar sa. Tayyar ho rahe hain.”

He simply nodded.

Seconds later, hurried footsteps echoed from the corridor behind him. Ruchika, wrapped in a long shawl, appeared with her sketchbook clutched tightly to her chest.

“Bhaiya…” she called softly.

Yash turned, his eyes briefly scanning her appearance—simple jeans, soft blue kurti, no makeup, still glowing with youth.

“You’re late,” he said, voice flat.

“I’m not. You’re early.” She smiled, trying to soften the tension in the air. “Besides… it’s freezing.”

Shivansh followed moments later, yawning dramatically, wearing a hoodie, jeans, and dragging a small backpack like it weighed a ton.

“Do you know what time it is?” he muttered. “Who in their sane mind travels before sunrise?”

Yash didn’t even blink. “The one who owns the road, Shivansh.”

Ruchika laughed softly. Shivansh rolled his eyes.

Vikrant stepped forward. “Sir, final check. Hotel team in Jaipur has been notified. The penthouse is ready. Security convoy is on standby. Diya Baisa’s pickup route has been assigned as per your instructions.”

Yash’s jaw clenched subtly at the mention of her name.

“Good,” he said.

Without another word, he walked to the car, opened the backseat door himself, and got in.

No fanfare.

No drama.

Only silence and a storm brewing behind quiet eyes.

The convoy rolled out at exactly 4:15 AM—just as he planned.

IN THE SUV – YASH POV

As the fortress shrank in the rearview mirror, Yash leaned his head back and stared out the tinted window. The roads curved ahead like fate—unavoidable and already written.

He thought of her.

Diya.

Somewhere in Jaipur, she would be waking up soon. Packing her bag. Brushing her hair. Thinking she still had choices.

But she didn’t.

Not really.

Not when her path had already been etched in stone by promises older than time.

His fingers tapped once on the armrest.

By the time the sun rose high over Jaipur, she would be in his world again.

And this time…

She wouldn’t be able to run. Yash is not the Person who jokes when its come to Family and Diya is more than his Family more than the Obsession which he is not able to name or his heart is not allowing the name yet. 

Ruchika had her headphones on, swaying gently to her playlist. A soft smile lingered on her lips—music was her escape, her calm, her little rebellion against the chaos she was born into. She had just started humming along when—
Thump!

“Ouch!” she yelped, pulling out one side of her headphones. “Bhai! Aap kya kar rahe ho? Thik se baithiye na! Itni badi gaadi bhi aapke liye chhoti pad gayi kya?”

Shivansh, half-asleep and clearly grumpy, murmured, “Shhh... chup ho ja Ruchi. Mujhe bohot neend aa rahi hai. Kal raat soya nahi... aur aaj Bhaiya ke chakkar mein subah bhi uth gaya.”

“Bhaiya ke chakkar mein?” Ruchika scoffed, throwing him a glare. “Tum khud keh rahe the, 'Main bhi chalunga Bhai ke saath Jaipur, Diya ka reaction dekhna hai.' Ab drama mat kar!”

Yash didn’t even turn around. His voice came low, controlled, and unmistakably irritated.
“This is not a trip.”
His tone sliced through the car like a blade.

Ruchika rolled her eyes dramatically. “Whatever, Bhai.”
Then louder, turning to Shivansh, “Aur tu thik se baith. Agar itni hi neend aa rahi thi, toh aaya hi kyun?”

Shivansh cracked one sleepy eye open. “Kya matlab hai aapka? Main kyun nahi aata?”

“Hmm, kyun aaya?” she teased.

“Aree mera bachha... chotu sa,” he grinned, pulling her cheeks. “Chipkali ko tang kaun karega phir? Tum dono ke saath hoti hai, toh usse toh aur bhi boredom ho jaayegi. Pure 6 mahine ho gaye hain, quota pura karna hai. Waise bhi ek mahine ke liye hi aa rahi hai, main toh plan bhi bana chuka hoon—kahan kahan usse phekna hai is baar.” He laughed at his own imagination.

Ruchika gasped. “Oo please! Diya di will never get bored with me. But I can’t say the same about you-know-who…”

Yash cleared his throat—loud and clear.
“Uhh-hmmm.”

Both of them froze for a beat.

Shivansh dared a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Bhaiya... but sach bolo toh Chipkali aapke saamne sirf 'Haan ji,' 'Ji,' aur 'Hmm' hi bolti hain. Bass yehi vocabulary hai unki jab aap saamne hote ho.”

Ruchika laughed under her breath. “Burn.”

“Shut up, both of you,” Yash said sharply, his eyes fixed on the file in his lap now. “Ek aur lafz bola, toh yahin utar dunga tum dono ko.”

Vikrant, from the driver’s seat, hid a chuckle behind a polite cough. The car drifted back into a momentary silence, broken only by the whir of the air conditioning and Shivansh whispering dramatically to Ruchika—

“Plan cancel ho gaya lagta hai… Bhaiya mode mein aa gaye hain…”

She giggled silently.
Yash didn’t look up. But his jaw had clenched, and that was enough of a warning.

The fort was far behind them now.
Jaipur waited ahead.
And somewhere in that city, a girl still slept—unaware that her world was about to shift again.

12:48 PM

After a long eight-hour journey, the convoys finally came to a halt at The Regal Walks Jaipur, the city’s most exclusive luxury hotel. Gleaming marble, intricate Rajasthani carvings, and chandeliers large enough to shame palaces welcomed them.

The moment the SUV doors opened, Yash stepped out first.
He slipped on his shades.

Sharp jawline, jet-black hair swept back, black tailored suit in place—he walked like a man who owned the world and warned it to stay out of his way. No emotion. No smile. Just cold, commanding presence.

Behind him, Ruchika and Shivansh followed, quieter now.
The other staff members moved quickly, collecting luggage and murmuring instructions. Vikrant was already walking beside the General Manager Rajeev, who looked like he was about to faint from nerves.

“Welcome, Kunwar sa,” Rajeev greeted, his forehead glistening with sweat.

Yash didn’t blink.
“Boardroom. 30 minutes. Everything should be ready.”

“Yes, sir!” Rajeev nodded frantically, already signaling his assistant to get moving.

Yash turned without waiting and made his way toward the Penthouse Suite—his personal reserved space whenever he visited Jaipur.

PENTHOUSE SUITE – 1:00 PM

The door clicked shut as all three entered the expansive suite.
High ceilings. Sheer drapes. A panoramic view of the Pink City.

Without missing a beat, Yash removed his coat, draping it over the sofa.

“I have a meeting in 30 minutes,” he said, voice flat. “Freshen up. Ruchi—you can ask the driver to take you wherever you want after that.”

Ruchika nodded immediately, already eyeing her cosmetic pouch.

Shivansh darted into the washroom.
Ten minutes later, he came out, fixing his hair in the mirror.

“Okay, Bhaiya—bye!” he chirped cheerfully. “We’ll meet you at Diya’s college.”

Yash looked up sharply, one eyebrow arched.
Ruchika, from across the room, narrowed her eyes. “Wait… you were sleepy this morning. Now suddenly you can’t wait to meet Diya dii?”

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Shivansh grinned, waving her off. “I just—need to see her, my yaar.”

Yash’s voice came out like steel.
“Don’t call her yaar.”
It wasn’t loud, but it sliced through the room.

Shivansh paused. “Bhaiya… chill. I’m not pranking her. I swear. I just want to visit her hostel before you go. Your meeting will take at least two hours, and Ruchika will take the same for her stationery shopping—”

“I’m not buying the entire market!” Ruchika yelled from the other room.

“Still… I’ll get bored,” he continued. “Let me meet Diya and her group too. It’s just for an hour or so. Please, Bhaiya?”

Yash stared at him for a moment.

He didn’t like it. But... it did make logistical sense.
If Shivansh reached her earlier, helped her pack, then Yash could pick her up and leave straight for Meherangarh tonight. The less time she had to resist or panic... the better.

He gave a curt nod.

“One condition,” Yash said, his tone low, warning laced in every syllable.
“Not a word. No dramatics. No nonsense.”

Shivansh gave a mock salute. “Yes, sir. No nonsense. No Pranks. No drama. Only packing.”

Ruchika snorted. “We’ll see.”

Yash turned away, heading to his closet.

Today had already begun with a weight in his chest.
But the end of the day…
It would bring Diya back to him.
And this time—no games, no escape.

DIYA’S POV – JAIPUR HOSTEL ROOM

6:45 AM

I woke up earlier than usual today.

Maybe because it’s hard to sleep when you know… you have to return to a place that’s no longer just your home—but someone else’s world.

Arohi was still snuggled up in her blanket, sleeping peacefully. I smiled softly. How can she sleep like that? So calm. So carefree.

I walked over and switched off the AC. Then quietly grabbed my towel and went to freshen up. The cold water felt sharp on my skin but it helped me wake up—helped me forget the restlessness of the night.

Back in the small kitchen corner, I made myself a simple cup of green tea. No sugar, just the way I like it.

I took it out to the little balcony. The early morning breeze brushed against my face as I watched the city slowly come alive.

It was 6:30 AM.

Ruchi had said they’d leave by 4:15 AM.

That means… they’ve already left.

A thought slipped into my mind before I could stop it—
“Is Yash ji coming too?”

I didn't want to think about him. But I couldn't help it.

It’s been five years.

I don’t know how he is now.
Is he still cold? Still unreadable?
Or worse… has he changed into something even more difficult to face?

I sipped my tea slowly, trying to calm my nerves.

Today was supposed to be the start of my holiday.
College was done for now. I had no lectures, no exams, no deadlines.
And now… no excuses.

No reason to avoid the palace.

No reason to avoid him.

After finishing the tea, I unrolled my yoga mat and sat down. Breathing in. Breathing out.

Trying to stay in the moment.
Trying not to think about how close he might be already.

I focused on my stretches, like I always do.

This routine—it’s the only thing that makes me feel normal. Like I still have control over something. Like I still belong to myself.

But the truth was…

No matter how many deep breaths I took—
No matter how calm I tried to be—
A part of me knew…

He’s coming.
And this time, there’s no running away.

Jaipur – Diya’s Hostel Room | 6:45 AM

Diya stretched a little after her yoga and looked at Arohi, still bundled in her blanket like a sleepy burrito.

"Arohi… uth jaa, 7 bajne waale hain," Diya said softly, brushing the curtain aside to let some sunlight in.

"Mmhh… thoda aur so leti hoon na, Sunday hai," Arohi mumbled, pulling the blanket over her face.

Diya smiled lightly and walked back to her side of the room, sipping her green tea slowly.

Her eyes shifted to her packed bag.

Today I’ll be leaving for home. After six months…

Her heart twisted a little at the thought. Not because she didn’t want to go, but because of who she might see again.

“Ruchi ne bola tha 4:15 tak nikal jaenge… toh dophar  tak woh Jaipur pahunch jaenge.Toh kya… Yash ji bhi aaye honge?” she whispered to herself, not even realizing she said it aloud.

She shook her head, trying to ignore the sudden nervous flutter in her chest.

Why am I even thinking about him?

She pulled out her Towel from the hanger and pinned it around her shoulder. Her phone vibrated. It was a text from Sachin.

"Good morning, chashmish, ready ho jae! Please be prepared by 12:00 PM. Main aa raha hoon tumlog ko lene. Arohi ko please utha dena, we will be leaving by 3 pm.

Diya rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself.

She saw that it was still early morning; it was going to be 8 am soon. She decided to take a bath and read until then. Arohi would also wake up.

"Yeh bandar kabhi serious ho sakta hai kya?" she murmured, seeing the new Insta pic posted by Shivansh in a top-notch business look with a so serious and handsome face.

Just then, Arohi sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Diya… tu jaa rahi hai aaj?"

"Haan, Shivansh,ruchi aa rahe hai mujhe lene. Tum log bhi milne aa jana na afternoon tak?"

Arohi smiled sleepily. "Of course… waise Sachin bhi milne aaega. Usne bola hum dono ko coffee treat bhi deni hi." Then we will be leaving it's still early, mai soo jati hu arohi murmured going back to her beauty sleep

"Acha Sachin se kehna uska camera le aaye, mujhe kuch photos bhi chahiye,” Diya replied, grabbing her light sweater.

Arohi grinned. “Mujhe lagta hai tumhare ghar wapis jaane ka asli reason woh nahi, kuch aur hai…”

Diya froze just for a second.

Then gave a half-smile. “Kya matlab?”

Arohi winked. “Kuch nahi… bas feeling aayi. Woh aankhon ka darr, woh dupatta thik karna baar baar… kya aapke wou Jaipur aaye hain?” Arohi teased diya

Diya didn’t answer.

She just turned to her mirror and quietly tied her hair into a messy bun.taking her towel and necessity she went for a bath.

1:00 PM “Diya hostel”

Outside the hostel gate, a black SUV rolled in slowly. Shivansh sat in the front seat with a mischievous grin, already planning what chaos he could stir up before the day even began.

He scanned the area, eyes twinkling with ideas. And then—boom—it struck him.

“Let’s shake things up.”

Without wasting time, he got out of the car, adjusted his shirt collar, and walked confidently toward the warden’s office. Looking dashing and sharp, as usual.

Warden (slightly cautious): “Yes? Who are you, young man? And whom do you want to meet?”

Shivansh (grinning like a devil): “Hello ma’am, I’m Yash Singh Chauhan. I’m here to meet my wife—Diya.

Warden: Please call Miss Diya. Looking at the Staff, she spoke.

 Shivansh: And just to clarify, it’s Mrs. Diya Yash Singh Chauhan, not Miss.”

The warden’s eyes nearly popped out of her head.

“Wife?!”

Stunned, she immediately signaled the hostel staff to go call Diya at once.

Inside the Room

Diya, already ready in her light pink kurti and white dupatta—no makeup, just her simple, radiant self—was sipping on warm green tea. The sun felt nice through the window. She had even finished her yoga session, calming her nerves for the day ahead.

Suddenly, the hostel aunty peeked in.

Aunty (confused): “Beta, someone’s here to meet you.”

Diya (curious): “Who?”

Aunty (half-amused): “He says he’s your husband.”

Diya almost dropped her cup.

“What?”

Arohi, on the other bed, dropped her water bottle, mouth wide open.

“Wait—WHAT?!”

Diya (frowning): “Aunty, I think there’s some confusion... I’m not married.”

Aunty: “He introduced himself as Yash Singh Chauhan, beta.”

That did it. Arohi almost screamed.

“THE Yash Singh Chauhan?!”

Diya (awkwardly): “Umm, Aunty… I’ll go check. Maybe it’s a mistake.”

Arohi (jumping off the bed): “Ye guard aunty pagal ho gayi hai kya?! Diya! Phoolgobhi, tune kab shaadi ki?!"

Diya (hissing): “Shut up, Arohi! I’m going to check.”

As Diya walked toward the office, nerves kicking in, Arohi ran behind her.

Arohi: “WAIT PHOOLGOBHI! Tu akeli kyu ja rahi hai?! If it’s the Yash Singh Chauhan, I can’t miss this! Diyaaaa, do you even know who he is? Bachelor of the decade! He owns 20+ luxury hotels! DIL KA TYCOON!”

Diya (in her head): Yes, Arohi. I know him more than you ever will...

At the Garden Entrance

The warden pointed Diya toward the garden where “her husband” waited.

From behind, the man in a crisp shirt looked tall and confident, definitely giving Yash vibes.

Diya gulped.

Her palms were sweating. She took slow, hesitant steps.

Was it really… him?

But just as she reached his side, the man turned dramatically, cleared his throat, and in a deep, scolding voice declared:

“Diya, ye kya hai? Tumne kisi ko bataya tak nahi ki tum meri patni ho?! Tum hamari ARDHANGINI ho!”

Diya’s eyes widened in horror. Her heart skipped. Her brain fogged.

“Y-Yash ji… main… woh… shaadi—”

And then...

“BWHAHAHAHAA!”

The man—SHIVANSH!—turned around, laughing like a madman.

Diya (stammering, half-dead): “You... KUTTE! GADHERE!LANGOOR KACHHA KHATTA ANGOOR!”

She started punching his arm, half-angry, half-relieved.

Shivansh (holding his stomach): “Haye Rabba! Chipkali, tu toh sach mein darr gayi thi! Lag raha tha tera heartbeat band hone wala hai!”

Diya: “You IDIOT! Tujhe toh main hostel ke Pool mein dobake maarungi!”

Arohi (mouth open, heart stolen): “That’s... Shivansh Singh Chauhan?! Oh my God...”

Her face had gone dreamy. Eyes locked on the tall, confident man teasing Diya like a five-year-old with candy.

Shivansh (grinning at Diya): “Kaise ho meri chipkali?”

Diya (rolling her eyes, trying to hide her smile): “Better than you, gadhera.”

“Tu yahan kyun aaya hai?” Diya asked, her brows furrowed, eyes still wide from the earlier shock.
“Ruchi kahaan hai? Kya woh bhi aayi hai?”
She fired her questions like bullets, all in one breath—still clutching her dupatta tightly like it was the only thing keeping her sane.

Shivansh chuckled, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder like he was the hero in some filmy scene.

“Ruk ja, chipkali,” he said with a smirk, leaning against the wall casually.
“Haan, main thoda pehle aa gaya. Socha Teri packing mein help kar doon.”
Then, with a dramatic pause, he added,
“Ruchi aur bhaiya... dono aa rahe hain.”

That last line?

Hit her like thunder.

Her heart skipped.

Her fingers froze.

Her mind whispered the name she wasn’t ready to hear yet.

“Bhaiya…?” she echoed softly, voice barely above a whisper.

Yash.

He was coming.

Here.

Today.

The name she had avoided saying, even in her own thoughts, now echoed inside her like an earthquake.

Author’s Note 🌸

Hey lovely readers!
Thank you so much for reading "Diya: His Sole Obsession" 💖
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~ AuthorSrivastava7434