｡⁠.ﾟ✧✧｡⁠.ﾟ

_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠__⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠__⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_

"How many days, Father?"

"One month. The elections start in three months, and we can't afford to waste a single day. I need you by my side in a month. Can you do it?"

"Yes, I will. For you, for Mom."

There was a moment of silence. She knew how much weight her next words carried.

"I'm ready, Father. I'm ready to become Mrs. Agnihotri and destroy every last one of them."

｡⁠.ﾟ✧✧｡⁠.ﾟ

_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠__⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠__⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_

"ॐ गं गणपतये नमः"
(Om Gan Ganapataye Namah)

The mantra symbolized the start of the marriage ceremony as the bride and groom sat in front of the fire. Family members surrounded them, the chants continuing in the background as the priest recited the mantras and instructed the couple to perform the rituals.

Agni.

The hot, burning fire. The same fire that provides comfort and warmth on a cold winter night is also the inferno capable of reducing anything to ashes.

And today, I sat before that fire, taking marriage oaths with my soon-to-be husband.

Yuvaan Ranvijay Agnihotri.

It was an arranged marriage, meant to transform the friendship between the Malhotras and the Agnihotris into a lifelong bond.

"I request the var and vadhu to stand up for the pheras," the priest announced, drawing everyone's attention.

A hand extended in front of me, offering support to help me stand. It was Yuvaan's.

I had almost no firsthand experience with who Yuvaan really was as a person, aside from knowing he was just a pawn in my game. Beyond that, I didn't care much.

Still, I offered a small smile, acknowledging his gesture, and placed my hand in his. I couldn't afford to appear rude or arrogant by ignoring him. He smiled back, his boyish charm evident in the way his chocolate-brown eyes lit up.

As we stood and began circling the fire, the family rose to bless us, showering us with flower petals.

I'm marrying someone.

But not for love. For power.

For justice.

My eyes instinctively scanned the room, studying the people who mattered most.

Samrat Singh Agnihotri. The head of the family. Yuvaan's grandfather. A three-time Chief Minister of the state before passing the title to his wife. His aura was commanding-whether you loved him or hated him, you couldn't ignore him. He was one of the top three people I needed to be cautious around. When we first met, his scrutinizing gaze made me fear he might see through my mask. But my well-rehearsed act of the perfect daughter-in-law had convinced him. Getting a proposal from his family was a miracle in itself.

Vaibhavi Samrat Singh Agnihotri. His wife. Twice undefeated as Chief Minister after her husband and now a cabinet minister in the Lok Sabha. A woman of iron, she stood tall and confident in a patriarchal world, an inspiration to many. If there were ever a benchmark for power couples, they'd be it. Vaibhavi was firmly on my list of people to be wary of. Her sharp eyes always seemed to look right through me, as though she knew every secret I was hiding. It terrified me. Later, I realized she looked at everyone that way, but that didn't make earning her trust any less daunting.

These two were the true players of the game-the biggest obstacles in my path.

"Ruhi," Yuvaan's voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

I looked at him, his light brown eyes filled with expectation.

I quickly realized I was supposed to perform the next ritual.

Ruhi, focus!

Forcing myself to focus, I completed the task.

Task

As Yuvaan tied the sacred thread around my neck and carefully applied vermillion to my forehead, ensuring not a single drop fell on my face, I felt my stomach drop, when it did. But he gently wiped it away. Somewhere deep inside, guilt began to creep in.

I glanced at him again-Yuvaan Ranvijay Agnihotri.

The youngest son of the Agnihotri family. Standing 5'11, with lean muscles and remarkable intelligence. An architect by profession, he was passionate about music and travel. A kind soul, he spent his weekends volunteering for cleanliness drives and contributing to animal rescue NGOs.

The one time we met before the marriage, he had been nothing short of a gentleman. On our coffee date, he pulled out my chair, thanked the waiter with a warm smile, and even questioned me about my consent for the marriage. He brought me a bouquet of yellow roses and lilies, suggesting we start as friends.

I couldn't refuse.

Men like Yuvaan Agnihotri were rare, almost too good for this world.

And that terrified me.

Because if I wasn't careful, I knew I'd ruin Yuvaan Agnihotri.

｡⁠.ﾟ✧✧｡⁠.ﾟ

_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠__⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠__⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_

The vidaai didn't take long. I didn't cry much-barely at all-even though it was all an act, even though I had prepared myself for this day.

I hugged my dad, and he patted my back. We both knew this was just a one-month mission. Hopefully, if everything went according to plan, that's all it would take.

Still, the thought of going to a new place unsettled me. There's a difference between being mentally prepared for the inevitable and actually facing it.

The other family members welcomed us warmly as we stood at the threshold, a small urn placed in front of me, waiting to be overturned to complete the ritual.

In front of me stood Sarika Raghav Chauhan, the daughter of Samrat Singh Agnihotri and Yuvaan's aunt. An artist who now ran an NGO for orphaned children, Sarika Aunty was another kind soul with a picture-perfect reputation. The ideal daughter, the perfect wife, and now the exemplary mother. Her husband was one of the wealthiest businessmen in the country.

I focused on the diya as she completed the ritual, her eyes lingering on us with pride.

"Nazar na lage inhe kisiki," she said, stepping back with a gentle smile.

"Kitne pyaare lag rahe dono," Amaira, Sarika Aunty's daughter and Yuvaan's cousin, chimed in. "Especially bhai, dekho toh zara."

Her teasing tone made me glance at Yuvaan, who looked caught off guard.

"Blush karte karte, laal ho gaye aap toh bhai," Khushi, Amaira's younger sister, teased, making Yuvaan's face flush even more.

His cheeks turned brighter than my lehenga as he glared at his cousin sisters, his embarrassment only fueling their laughter.

I remained silent, my expression carefully schooled into neutrality.

"Shh, tang na kare," Sarika Aunty gently shushed them, though her tone carried amusement.

Everyone was here, laughing and enjoying themselves. The atmosphere was lighthearted and warm, filled with playful banter. Even Dadi and Dadu looked genuinely happy for their grandson, their smiles lighting up the room.

And yet, my stomach twisted with guilt.

Ignoring the sinking feeling, I noticed something-or rather, someone-missing. The one person who had yet to make an appearance. The person who effortlessly topped my list of people to avoid or be wary of.

Rehaan Ranvijay Agnihotri.

The eldest of the family.

My biggest obstacle.

"Come on, dear, it's time for the grih pravesh," Sarika Aunty's voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back to reality.

I nodded, moving forward to complete the ritual.

With deliberate steps, I finally entered the Agnihotri household.

A slight smirk graced my lips; Let the game begin.

｡⁠.ﾟ✧✧｡⁠.ﾟ

_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠__⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠__⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_

I stepped out of the closet, now dressed in my night clothes-a simple kurti. It wasn't the comfiest option, but it was practical enough to hide a small knife.

Lesson number one of this mission: always be on guard. No matter who you're with, where you are, or what time it is.

The clock read a little past midnight. My body ached from carrying the weight of the heavy lehenga all day, and I was grateful to finally be rid of it.

The sound of the bathroom door opening pulled my attention. Yuvaan emerged, fresh from his shower. He had changed into his night clothes too, thank God. Not that it made the situation any less awkward-it still was.

We had skillfully danced around the concept of a "wedding night."

He caught my gaze and offered me a soft smile. I returned it out of politeness, though the silence between us was undeniably awkward.

"It was a tiring day. Are you okay?" he asked, his tone gentle.

"Just tired," I replied, stifling a fake yawn for effect.

He studied me for a second before turning toward the bed. "We better sleep then."

Nodding, I sat on the edge of the bed, watching as he began to arrange a wall of cushions and pillows between us. My brow furrowed.

"If you're uncomfortable, you can tell me," he said softly, his concern evident.

Uncomfortable? With a barrier of pillows between us and zero risk of any unwanted advances from a stranger husband on our wedding night? I think any wife would feel not just comfortable, but relieved.

"No, I'm good," I assured him, keeping my voice soft and pleasant.

Stick to the image, Ruhi.

"Good night, Ruhi," Yuvaan said, switching off his bedside lamp.

"Good night," I whispered back, reaching to turn off mine as well.

And then, I held my breath.

I began to count.

One, two, three... all the way to one hundred.

The window balcony was open. The night wasn't breezy, but the faint chill still crept in.

I waited, my breath shallow, my eyes fixed on the clock as its hands ticked forward.

Not yet.

Not yet.

Too early.

When the clock struck one, I exhaled a slow, measured breath.

Carefully, I sat up, ensuring I didn't disturb anything. Yuvaan lay fast asleep, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight.

He looked... peaceful. Younger, almost.

He was, after all, a year younger than me. Yet so far, he had been nothing but polite and considerate. I had expected someone less mature, perhaps even spoiled. Instead, he'd surprised me with his sweet, thoughtful nature.

I stood completely now, tapping the drawer lightly to test his reaction. He didn't stir.

I tapped again, this time harder. Still nothing.

So, he's a deep sleeper.

Relieved, I silently slipped out of the room, fast and swift.

Now came the real challenge. Out here, the chances of encountering someone were much higher-almost guaranteed.

I tread carefully. I had memorized the layout of the Agnihotri mansion to perfection. Every corridor, every staircase, every turn-I knew where I was headed.

The third floor, my first clue.

No one lived there. It had been abandoned for decades. Not even the servants were allowed up there, except for a select few, and only under the supervision of a family member.

The rooms were all locked, their doors untouched. The villa itself was old, its architecture a testament to ancient wealth and tradition. There were no modern lock mechanisms here, only heavy, intricately designed locks that required specific keys. Those keys, of course, were in the possession of family members alone.

And therein lay the intrigue. According to the reports, those locks-big, heavy, and unique-might hold the first clue to my mission.

The first piece of the puzzle.

I walked towards the stairs quietly, my senses on high alert. I had one month. One month to complete this task. I couldn't afford to waste a single second.

This was a mission. To find. To search.

Search in the darkest corners, but don't miss where the light shines the brightest either.

My father's words echoed in my mind as I reached the stairs of the third floor.

｡⁠.ﾟ✧✧｡⁠.ﾟ

_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠__⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠__⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_

I had barely taken a step toward the stairs when I saw Sarika Aunty coming in my direction.

"Arey, Ruhi dear, why are you up so late?" she asked, her saccharine smile fixed on me.

Something about that overly sweet smile unsettled me, though I couldn't pinpoint why. The better question was, why are you up so late, Aunty?

"I was actually looking for the kitchen. I'm thirsty, and the flask in the room was empty," I replied, keeping my voice light and casual.

Cover your tracks, Ruhi: empty the flask when you return to the room. Noted.

"Oh," she said, her smile widening. "Alright, let me help you to the kitchen. It must be difficult finding your way in this new house."

"No, Aunty, it's completely fine. I can find it on my own. You'll be disturbed-"

Before I could finish, she was already walking ahead.

"Nonsense. You're the house's first daughter-in-law, our youngest. Don't be shy," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Reluctantly, I followed her. This was going to complicate things.

"I'm so happy Yuvaan finally said yes to marriage and settled down," she began as we descended the stairs.

I forced myself to listen to the conversation, knowing I had no choice, as she continued talking without pause.

"I was scared, you know," she admitted. "What if he followed in his brother's footsteps and refused to marry at all?"

She sounded genuinely relieved, and for a moment, I nearly missed her reaching for the flask-which was right in front of her, though she hadn't noticed it yet.

I busied myself by taking a glass from the first row on the shelf, but my mind latched onto her words.

Brother's footsteps?

She must have meant Rehaan Agnihotri.

The man. The myth. The legend.

Being the grandson of Samrat Singh Agnihotri came with both power and responsibility. Everyone once believed he was destined to be the next great leader, the face of the party, the family's legacy. He was everything-until he wasn't.

After his mother's death, Rehaan disappeared. The last time the media caught a glimpse of him was at her funeral. Since then, he had vanished completely.

Now, he was nothing.

Except for his name.

I still didn't understand why my father claimed he was my number one obstacle. Rehaan Agnihotri was just some man in his 30s, supposedly living his life far away from the politics and power struggles that consumed this family-or so the media claimed.

But if my father said he was an obstacle, there had to be a reason why.

"Ruhi, beta," Sarika Aunty's voice snapped me out of my thoughts as she handed me the glass of water.

"It's late now. I should get to sleep, and you should, too. Morning will come soon, and you must be exhausted from such a long day," she said, smiling as she gently patted my head in farewell.

She smiles way too much.

I watched her retreating figure until she disappeared from the kitchen. Then, I downed the glass of water, waiting for the coast to clear.

The minute I heard a door click shut, I moved, heading back toward the stairs.

Be careful, Ruhi. Every moment is being watched.

Except for the third floor. It didn't have a single camera.

Not even at the entrance. I didn't know if I should take it as a sign-or a warning.

"I don't share, Mr. Sharma. Try to snatch it, and you're as good as dead," an angry voice shouted, cutting through the silence and making me freeze on the spot.

The voice echoed from the main hall. The dimly lit chandelier provided the only light amidst the darkness. I couldn't make out the figure, but whoever it was, their voice alone commanded attention-and fear.

"So, you want to back out of the deal now, Mr. Sharma?" the voice asked, calm, cool, and collected on the surface, but with a distinct tinge of barely restrained anger.

I heard a faint buzzing sound. A telecom? He must have been speaking on the phone.

Deal?!

My heart skipped a beat. Ruhi, this might be the chance to gather some real information!

I took a cautious step closer to the source of the voice, far enough to avoid detection but close enough to make out a silhouette. The figure stood tall-easily six feet-with broad shoulders and an imposing presence.

Who was he?

"Yes or no? It's a damn simple question!" he snapped, his voice cutting through the stillness like a blade.

Curiosity tugged at me, urging me closer. Carefully, of course. If he turned and saw me, I needed it to look like an innocent mistake, not deliberate eavesdropping.

At this distance, I could make out a faint, panicked voice pleading from the other end of the phone call.

"Kill him," he commanded, his voice devoid of emotion.

It wasn't just terrifying-it was astonishing.

Terrifyingly astonishing. The sheer lack of remorse with which he gave the order to end a man's life made my blood run cold.

"Remember, Rehaan Agnihotri hates traitors," he said before ending the call.

Rehaan Agnihotri.

The name hit me like a thunderclap.

Before I could process the shock, three things happened simultaneously. A lamp crashed to the floor, the chandelier's lights flickered ominously, and the third-floor lights blinked erratically.

My heart raced.

The fallen lamp was my mistake. Damn it, Ruhi. How did I get so invested in his call that I forgot to pay attention to my surroundings?

I instinctively picked up the lamp, placing it back where it belonged, and turned toward the silhouette-only to find no one there.

Holy hell.

Did he see me? The flickering lights and the chaos might have covered for me, or maybe he was too engrossed in the call to notice. Or am I just overthinking-

A cold, sharp blade pressed against my neck, cutting off my frantic thoughts as I was shoved against a pillar.

"Who are you?"

The question was low and menacing, accompanied by a pair of dark, honey-brown eyes staring into mine. His raven-black hair glinted faintly in the dim light.

My eyes widened, first in shock and then in horrified recognition. Those same dark brown eyes.

As if he'd realized the same thing, his face shifted from calm detachment to startled surprise, his brows shooting up.

"You!" we both said at the same time.

Life truly is unpredictable, I thought numbly.

I just hope he isn't who I think he is.

Oh, who was I kidding?

He was exactly who my father claimed was my number one obstacle in this mission.

The man. The myth. The legend.

Rehaan Ranvijay Agnihotri.

｡⁠.ﾟ✧✧｡⁠.ﾟ

_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠__⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠__⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_

How was the first chapter?

• The Book doesn't have cheating involved when it comes to main leads •

｡⁠.ﾟ✧✧｡⁠.ﾟ
_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠__⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠__⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_