Udaipur ~ The Next Afternoon
The Rathore villa hadn’t been this alive in years.
Warm sunlight filtered through the open verandah, glinting off the polished marble floors and catching on the golden frames of old family photos. The air smelled of cardamom and jasmine, with faint laughter drifting from the kitchen where Ishani had somehow convinced the house staff to let her “help” with desserts — which, for everyone’s safety, meant stirring sugar once before getting distracted by something shiny.
Sia sat in the living room, folding napkins neatly into triangles while her father, Nikhil, and grandfather, Sarthak, discussed like generals planning a battle.
“They’re supposed to reach by three,” Sarthak said, glancing at his watch. “We should make sure everything’s ready.”
“It’s a casual lunch, Dadu,” Sia reminded him gently. “Not a state dinner.”
Dadu frowned as if that was exactly the problem. “Casual doesn’t mean careless. We have guests — and not just any guests. Raghav and his family are old friends. Decent people. Jaipur folks have taste.”
“I’m Jaipur folks too,” Nikhil muttered dryly, pretending to adjust the flower vase.
Sia smiled faintly, hiding a laugh. Her father’s easy sarcasm and her grandfather’s old-fashioned perfectionism were constant entertainment.
“Where’s Ishani?” Nikhil asked finally.
Sarthak groaned. “Hopefully not setting fire to the kitchen again.”
As if summoned, a loud crash echoed down the corridor.
Sia winced. “That answers your question.”
Upstairs ~ Ishani’s Studio
Ishani crouched beside a pile of glitter and fabric, holding what used to be a perfectly innocent glass bowl. “Oops,” she whispered. “Not my fault it decided to jump.”
Her best friend and unwilling assistant - Aditi rolled her eyes. “You dropped it.”
“I set it down enthusiastically,” Ishani corrected, brushing off imaginary dust. “There’s a difference.”
“You know you’re supposed to be downstairs, right? The guests—”
“I’ll come down in five minutes! I just need to finish this—” She paused, biting her lip. “Okay, maybe an hour.”
“Ishani!”
“Fine, fine, thirty minutes!”
She stood, smoothing her hands over her (or her sister's) kurta, then grimaced at the faint streak of paint on the sleeve. “Ugh, di’s going to kill me if she sees this.”
|>~~~~❄️~~~~<|
At exactly three seventeen, the sound of a car engine rumbled outside the Rathore gate.
Sarthak was already halfway down the steps, his cane forgotten, eyes bright. Raghav Rajvansh stepped out of the car first, his familiar smile splitting his face as he opened his arms wide.
“Sarthak Rathore, you old goat!”
“Still alive and kicking, you drama king!”
They hugged like brothers who’d been apart for lifetimes, laughter echoing off the courtyard walls.
Behind them, Yuvraj got out of the car with a patient smile, Sakshi beside him — warm, graceful, her dupatta fluttering in the breeze.
And then came the brothers.
Dhruv Rajvansh, tall and neatly dressed in a crisp white shirt, stepped out first — quiet, composed, eyes flicking briefly across the villa as if assessing his environment like an operating theatre.
Beside him, Kabir Rajvansh emerged with sunglasses, an unbuttoned linen shirt, and the energy of a man who had never known awkward silence in his life.
“Wow,” Kabir whistled softly, taking in the sprawling courtyard and blooming bougainvillea. “This place looks like a movie set.”
“Behave,” Dhruv said flatly, though the corner of his mouth twitched.
“Relax, bhai. We’re guests, not exam candidates.”
“Which is exactly why you shouldn’t talk.”
Kabir grinned. “You love me too much to silence me.”
Dhruv made a cringed-out face at that.
Inside, Sarthak ushered everyone in with grand enthusiasm. “Come, come! You must be tired. Sia! Ishani! Where are you girls?”
Sia appeared almost instantly, calm as ever, her smile polite but genuine. She wore a simple beige kurta with delicate embroidery, her hair tied back neatly.
“Namaste” she greeted.
Sakshi returned the greeting warmly, instantly drawn to her grace. “Such a lovely home, beta.”
“Thank you, aunty. Please come in.”
Nikhil joined them a moment later, shaking hands with Yuvraj. “It’s been years, Yuvraj. I’ve heard so much from Dad about you all.”
“Likewise,” Yuvraj said, smiling. “Dad hasn’t stopped talking about this reunion since the idea struck him.”
Raghav puffed his chest proudly. “Because it’s a brilliant idea.”
|>~~~~❄️~~~~<|
Only one person seemed missing.
“Ishani!” Sarthak called again. “The guests are here!”
“Coming!” came a distant reply — followed by hurried footsteps, a muffled yelp, and the distinct sound of something falling.
Kabir arched an eyebrow, amused. “Should we be worried?”
Before anyone could answer, Ishani came bounding down the stairs, one earring on, the other in her hand, still brushing strands of hair out of her face. She looked radiant — chaotic, yes, but radiant nonetheless.
And directly in her path stood Kabir, who, for reasons best known to himself, had decided to lean casually against the base of the staircase, mid-conversation with Sakshi.
Ishani didn’t see him until it was too late.
Her slipper caught on the edge of the carpet.
Kabir turned just in time — and the next second, there was a spectacular collision.
“Ow!” Ishani exclaimed, clutching her wrist as Kabir steadied her instinctively. “Do you just stand in people’s way for fun?”
Kabir blinked, completely thrown off. “You nearly crashed into me!”
“Because you were blocking the stairs!”
“I was standing, not blocking!”
“Same thing!”
The entire room went silent — except Sarthak, who tried not to laugh.
Sia rubbed her forehead. “Ishani…”
Kabir stepped back, raising his hands. “Okay, fine. Truce. No harm done.”
Ishani crossed her arms. “Truce denied.”
“You’re holding a grudge over—?”
“Yes.”
Kabir stared at her for a beat, then muttered, “This is going to be interesting.”
Dhruv coughed discreetly beside him. “You manage to start an argument in under thirty seconds. Impressive.”
“I call it a gift,” Kabir murmured.
|>~~~~❄️~~~~<|
Lunch was a beautiful chaos of introductions, laughter, and mild awkwardness.
The table stretched long and gleaming, covered in dishes both traditional and modern. Sarthak and Raghav sat side by side, trading exaggerated compliments about each other’s health.
“I tell you, Raghav still eats like a teenager,” Sarthak declared.
“And you still snore like a buffalo,” Raghav shot back.
Their families laughed — all except Dhruv, who merely smiled faintly before focusing on his plate.
Across from him sat Sia, quiet but observant. Their eyes met briefly when Raghav asked about her hospital work.
“Sia’s doing her cardiac internship,” Nikhil said proudly. “She’s got her mother’s steadiness.”
Sia’s cheeks colored slightly. “Papa…”
Raghav leaned in. “Oh Cardiac? Our Dhruv here’s a neurosurgeon.”
Sia’s head turned toward Dhruv in mild surprise. “Really?”
He nodded politely. “Yes. At CityCare, Jaipur.”
“That’s impressive,” she said, genuinely.
“Cardiac surgery’s no small feat either,” he replied.
There was a moment of quiet acknowledgement — professional respect before Kabir, oblivious to the subtle exchange, broke in loudly.
“So basically, you two can compete over who’s more stressed.”
Sia lightly smiled . Dhruv didn’t.
Ishani, still annoyed at Kabir, jabbed him with a forkful of roti. “You talk too much.”
“Ow. hey!”
“Good. You deserved that.”
Sakshi hid a smile behind her napkin. “I see we’ve already made an impression.”
“You could say that,” Nikhil said dryly. “One loud, one quiet they balance each other out.”
“Who, Kabir and Ishani?” Sarthak said cheerfully. “Oh, those two will either kill each other or become best friends.”
“Or both,” Sia murmured.
Dhruv looked at her — and for the first time that day, the corner of his lips twitched. Just slightly.
..........
Later That Evening
By late afternoon, the adults had moved to the garden, tea cups in hand, laughing over old stories. The younger ones lingered around the terrace, scattered but within earshot.
Kabir, still mildly offended by Ishani’s fork attack, leaned against the railing. “Do you always attack people with cutlery?”
“Only people who deserve it,” Ishani said sweetly, sketching on her iPad.
“I didn’t deserve it. You bumped into me.”
“You were in the way.”
He grinned. “You could just apologize, you know.”
She looked up, eyes glinting. “You first.”
“Nope.”
“Then we’re done here.”
He laughed softly. “Stubborn.”
She ignored him, pretending to focus on her design, though her lips twitched.
|>~~~~❄️~~~~<|
A few steps away, Dhruv stood quietly by the garden steps, scrolling through his phone. Sia approached, hesitant but polite.
“Dr. Rajvansh,” she said, and he looked up.
“Please, Dhruv’s fine.”
“Dhruv,” she corrected, a little uncertain. “I just wanted to say — the surgery you did last month, the one on the aneurysm case? It was discussed in one of our journal groups. Brilliant work.”
He blinked, surprised. “You read that?”
“Of course. We study everything these days,” she said with a small smile. “And it’s refreshing to see someone handle such a complex case with restraint instead of overexposure.”
There was silence for a beat not uncomfortable, but thoughtful.
“You’re a cardiac intern, right?” he asked finally.
“Yes. Minter Medical.”
“Good program,” he said. “Tough rotation schedule though.”
“You’ve been through it, I assume,” she said, tone light.
He nodded.
She smiled, not pressing further. “Well… it’s nice to meet someone who understands that exhaustion.”
He looked at her for a moment longer, something unreadable flickering in his eyes, then simply said, “Likewise.”
And just like that, the quiet between them became its own kind of understanding.
Sia understood that Dhruv was a man of few words.
|>~~~~❄️~~~~<|
Inside the Villa
As the evening deepened, laughter filled the living room again — the kind that only comes when families gather after too long.
Sarthak insisted on showing Raghav his collection of old photographs. Nikhil and Yuvraj were debating cricket scores. Sakshi was fussing over serving more sweets.
Sia and Dhruv eventually drifted indoors, drawn by the noise.
Ishani was narrating — dramatically — her and Kabir’s “tragic first encounter.”
“He was just standing there, right in my path,” she declared. “Who does that?”
Kabir threw up his hands. “It’s called existing!”
The room erupted in laughter. Even Dhruv’s lips curved.
Raghav leaned back, content. “See? I told you, this was a great idea.”
Sarthak nodded, eyes glimmering. “It feels like old times already.”
|>~~~~❄️~~~~<|
Nightfall.
Later that night, as the villa quieted, each of them lay awake in their respective rooms -- thinking.
Kabir, staring at the ceiling fan, muttered to himself, “If she’s like this all weekend, I’m doomed.”
In the next room, Ishani scribbled furiously in her notebook: People I’m definitely not talking to tomorrow: 1. Kabir Rajvansh.
Down the hall, Sia stood on the balcony, watching the city lights reflect on the lake. Dhruv was outside too, on the lower veranda, taking a late phone call — both unaware that the other was just above, both thinking how unexpectedly different this day had turned out.
|>~~~~❄️~~~~<|
Neither of them knew it yet, but this quiet evening filled with small annoyances, polite smiles, and laughter between strangers — would someday become the beginning of everything.
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