[12th February 2025: Evening]
The engagement had concluded. Applause had faded. Smiles had dulled.
Now, only silence remained.
It stretched awkwardly across the grand hall like a heavy blanket. The guests exchanged uncertain glances. Some whispered. Others simply watched—waiting for what came next.
Then—
A cry. Sharp and high-pitched.
Followed by another. Louder. Echoing.
The twins.
Their cries broke the silence like shattered glass, turning everyone's attention toward the pair of strollers parked near the dais.
Dev's face was red with distress, his fists clenched tightly. Beside him, Navya sobbed louder, her tiny hands flailing toward the ceiling as if reaching for something only she could see.
They were scared. Startled. Hungry.
Overwhelmed by the sea of strangers.
Aria flinched. Her instincts kicking in.
In swift, practiced strides, she crossed the room, her heartbeat matching with the echo of Dev's cries. She picked him up gently, and his cries softened as he felt the familiar rhythm of her heartbeat. Her hand rested protectively over his back.
Before she could reach for Navya, a pair of steady hands moved ahead of her.
Ahaan.
He didn't say anything—didn't even look at Aria. Just gently and carefully picked Navya up.
But his arms, unfamiliar with the motion—held her awkwardly at first, then more naturally, as he adjusted her against his chest.
She didn't stop crying immediately, but her sobs slowed. Ahaan whispered something too low to catch, but his tone was calm, almost gentle.
Navya stared at him—still confused but calmer.
Aria paused. Her fingers twitched.
Something in her screamed to take Navya back right away.
She even took half a step forward—then stopped herself.
'But not here. Not now.'
Not with eyes on her like daggers waiting to wound.
Snatching the baby from him would only ruin what she had so carefully kept under control.
So she breathed in, swallowing the impulse.
'Let it be. For now.'
Across the room, Kalyani had already begun issuing orders to the hotel staff.
"Bring warm bottled milk. Quickly," she said. Her voice clipped, yet softening slightly as her eyes lingered on the twins.
For a moment, something flickered in her gaze—an old memory, perhaps—but it vanished before it settled.
She did not move closer—but she watched.
"Manik," Aria called sharply, her tone carrying more command than request. "Their baby bags—bottles are inside."
Manik, who had been lingering near the refreshment table with a confused scowl, jerked to attention. "Yeah—yeah, I'm on it," he mumbled, before rushing toward the luggage corner, fumbling through the bags to hand over the bottles to the staff.
Soon, warm milk bottles were brought to Aria and Ahaan.
Aria fed Dev, his fingers curling tightly around her saree, eyes closing as he drank. She swayed gently on her heels, her focus entirely on him.
Across from her, Ahaan held Navya more steadily now. She drank slowly too, eyes wide—watching him curiously.
He wasn't smiling, but the sharp edges of his expression had softened. His detachment, usually so cold and distant, was replaced by something quieter—something more dangerous:
Wonder. Awe.
Whispers started again, louder this time.
"Looks like the Rajvanshi heir is already acting like a father."
Aria hadn't expected it to scare her so much—seeing him with the babies. But it did. It terrified her.
No words passed between them, but something else did anyway.
A small thread. Unspoken. Fragile. Real.
Knotted with everything they didn't say.
As the twins finished drinking and their breathing softened, Uttam Maheshwari stood up. His voice was calm, but it carried authority.
"Now that the engagement is over, and the children are settled—I'll be taking my family home, where my daughter and her children belong."
A few heads turned in surprise: A claim had been made, one that placed boundaries.
From the other end of the hall, Adityanath Rajvanshi rose to break it.
The old lion moved with the grace of someone who had ruled too long to fear losing. He chuckled softly, but there was no warmth in it.
"For now, Uttam," he replied. "But once the marriage is complete and Aria moves into our estate with her children, I doubt you'll get to see them much."
He smiled.
But his eyes said something else—something colder.
He looked at Aria, then at the twins.
To him, they were not children. Not his family.
But his—possessions—pawns for a larger game.
Kalyani's hand twitched at her side, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her nails dug into her palms.
Ahaan's jaw clenched.
He'd heard the threat buried beneath the civility.
The steel returned to his spine. Quiet fury simmered beneath the surface.
Not the babies. Not Aria.
He won't let them be claimed like trophies.
His thumb brushed Navya's blanket, smoothing a wrinkle that didn't need fixing.
But Aria caught it in his eyes—a silent promise.
One she hadn't asked for.
One she didn't trust.
But one that still made something ache in her chest.
Later, when the twins had finished their bottles, eyes calm and curious—unaware that their mere existence had redrawn lines of loyalty, rewritten fates, and reawakened a war no one dared name—Ahaan gently placed Navya back into her stroller.
His hand hovered over her chest for a moment, watching it rise and fall.
She was lighter than he expected. Warmer.
Fragile in a way that made his every movement feel too rough.
As she stared up at him with quiet eyes.
Longing. Trusting.
He didn't know what to do with that.
So he stepped back. And said nothing.
He didn't look at Aria.
But he looked at the twins as if memorizing them—in case they're taken from him too.
No more words. No more gestures.
The families started to leave.
The Rajvanshis exited through a side hallway, every step a reminder of their power.
The Maheshwaris followed Uttam's lead toward the main door—Aria walked beside him, pushing the twins in their strollers.
She didn't look back.
Neither did Ahaan.
But tonight, under the crystal glow of the hotel chandeliers, in a hall where truth wore masks and silence bore teeth—
Something old had ended.
And something far more dangerous had begun.