Shivansh's POV
The aroma of freshly chai and my black coffee and warm parathas filled the dining hall as my family gathered for Break fast—our morning meal. The night's festivities had left the house buzzing with energy, but I wasn't in the mood for their endless chatter.
I took my seat, nodding slightly as a servant placed a plate in front of me. Across the table, Maa, draped in a pastel silk saree, was watching me—not with curiosity, but with a knowing glint in her eyes.
I should've known something was coming.
"You should take Isha out for dinner tonight."
I nearly choked on my coffee. The room stilled for a second, and then, just like that, I was the center of attention.
I set my cup down and exhaled. "That's unnecessary."
"Is it?" Maa challenged, arching an elegant brow. "You two are rokafied now, Shiv. And what have you done besides brooding in a corner?"
Before I could respond, a voice way too enthusiastic cut in.
"I agree!" Juhi spoke up, her tone sugary sweet as she smiled at my mother. "Why force Shiva into something he doesn't want to do? He's already so busy, and Isha isn't the type to mind, right?"
I stiffened, recognizing her game immediately.
Juhi had always been overly attentive toward me, though she masked it under the guise of familial concern. But this—this was different. This wasn't just her being overprotective. She didn't want me to take Isha out.
And that realization annoyed me.
"It's not about what Shiv wants," Maa replied smoothly, eyes narrowing just slightly. "It's about what's right. A fiancé should make time for his bride-to-be."
"Exactly!" Dhruv jumped in, grinning like this was the highlight of his morning. "Come on, Shiv, don't be so stiff. One little date won't kill you."
Avi, always ready to add fuel to the fire, smirked. "He's just scared, that's all."
I shot him a glare. "I am not."
Dhruv leaned forward, propping his elbow on the table. "Then prove it. Take her out."
Juhi huffed, folding her arms. "This is ridiculous. Why are we forcing him? Maybe he just doesn't feel anything for her."
Silence.
The kind that held weight.
I should've ignored it. Should've brushed it off. But for some damn reason, Juhi's words itched under my skin.
Because last night—during that dance—there had been something.
A flicker of something I didn't want to name.
Before I could think too much about it, Dada sa spoke, his deep voice cutting through the air. "Shiv, you are marrying her. Whether you like it or not, you will spend your life with her. A dinner won't change that—but it will make things easier."
I clenched my jaw, knowing there was no way out of this.
"Fine," I muttered, pushing my plate away.
Dhruv grinned, looking victorious. "Say it with some excitement."
I ignored him and pulled out my phone. "I'll handle it."
"Good," Maa said, pleased. "And send her a dress."
I frowned. "What?"
She tilted her head. "A date should feel special, no? Send her something to wear. It's a small gesture, but she'll appreciate it."
Juhi looked like she wanted to protest, but one sharp glance from my mother shut her up. Her fingers curled around her spoon, and she forced a smile. "Of course. Isha will be… thrilled."
I didn't miss the tightness in her voice.
She hated this.
I exhaled sharply, already regretting this.
Dinner with Isha.
The idea shouldn't have affected me.
But as I pulled out my phone to text her, my fingers hesitated.
Sparks or not, I had no intention of letting her get too close.
And yet, here I was, planning a date.
But she couldn't argue anymore.
And for some reason, that made me feel oddly satisfied.
I stepped out onto the balcony, needing a moment to process what I'd just agreed to.
Dinner.
With Isha.
It shouldn't have mattered. And yet, as I pulled out my phone to text her, my fingers hesitated.
Finally, I typed:
Shivansh: Be ready by 7. I'm taking you to dinner.
I stared at the message for a second before hitting send.
Her reply came almost instantly.
Isha: Excuse me?
I sighed, already regretting this.
Shivansh: You heard me. Don't be late.
There was a long pause. I could almost imagine her confused frown, her lips parting slightly as she tried to make sense of my sudden invitation.
Then, another message popped up.
Isha: Is this some kind of prank?
Shivansh: It's not.
Isha: …Did someone force you into this?
I ran a hand down my face. Damn her. Of course, she'd see through me immediately.
I ignored the question and sent a second message.
Shivansh: A dress will be delivered to your house. Wear it.
She didn't reply this time.
I slipped my phone into my pocket and turned back toward the house.
Now came the next task—choosing the dress.
I wasn't the type to care about fashion, but I wasn't about to let anyone else handle this either.
Dialing a number, I waited for the voice on the other end to answer.
"Sir?"
"I need an evening dress delivered to Isha's house by this afternoon," I said smoothly. "Something elegant. Something… red."
I didn't know why I chose that color.
Maybe because it suited her. Maybe because I remembered the way she'd looked last night—bold, defiant, and entirely too captivating.
"Yes, sir. I'll send a selection—"
"One dress," I interrupted. "A red one. Make sure it fits her And matching heel also. "
"Understood, sir."
Ending the call, I exhaled slowly.
The place was already booked—an exclusive rooftop restaurant overlooking the city, private, away from prying eyes.
Which is already belong to us.
All that was left was to survive the evening.
And to remind myself that this was just a dinner.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
The sky had begun its descent into twilight when I stepped out of the car, adjusting the cuffs of my black suit. The air was crisp, tinged with the scent of rain that never quite fell.
Isha was late.
I checked my watch—7:10 PM.
Typical.
I leaned against the rolls-royce phantom staring at the dimly lit entrance of her house. The dress had been delivered hours ago. She had no excuse.
A minute later, the door opened.
And then—I forgot how to breathe.
Isha stepped out in the red dress I'd chosen, the silk hugging her frame, the deep neckline teasing just enough without being overbearing. Her long hair cascaded down her back, and her eyes—those damn eyes—widened slightly when they met mine.
I forced myself to look unaffected.
"You're late."
She rolled her eyes, descending the stairs slowly. "You're early."
I didn't reply, just opened the car door for her.
Her gaze flickered with something—surprise, hesitation—but she slid inside without protest.
I rounded the car and got into the driver's seat. The silence between us wasn't uncomfortable, but it was heavy, filled with things neither of us were ready to address.
"So," she said after a while, staring ahead. "You suddenly decided to take me to dinner?"
I kept my hands on the wheel, eyes on the road. "My mother decided for me."
She let out a small snort, turning to face me. "I knew it."
I arched a brow. "Knew what?"
"That you'd never willingly ask me out." She smirked. "You're too—"
"Careful with your words, Isha."
She bit her lip, as if holding back a laugh. "Too… stiff. Too controlled."
I exhaled sharply. "And you talk too much."
"Someone has to, or this ride would be painfully silent."
I didn't respond. Mostly because she was right.
A few minutes later, we pulled up at the restaurant—a rooftop venue, overlooking the glittering skyline of Delhi. The soft glow of fairy lights hung across the terrace, and the city lights stretched far beyond the railing.
I stepped out and went around to her side, opening the door. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking my hand to step out.
I felt it then.
The heat where our hands met.
She quickly pulled away, smoothing down her dress as if the moment hadn't happened.
We were led to a secluded table, away from the main crowd. Privacy was a necessity in my world. I didn't need cameras and whispers ruining the night.
"Impressive," Isha murmured, taking in the view.
I took my seat across from her. "You sound surprised."
She gave me a sideways glance. "I thought you'd take me somewhere boring. Like your study."
I almost laughed. Almost.
The waiter arrived, and she skimmed the menu with interest.
"You're ordering for me, aren't you?" she asked, not looking up.
"Yes."
She sighed dramatically but didn't argue.
Minutes later, the dishes arrived. I watched as she picked up her fork, hesitating for a moment.
"You're staring," she muttered, not meeting my eyes.
"I'm waiting."
"For what?"
"For you to criticize my choice."
She took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, then set her fork down. "Not bad."
I smirked. "Admit it. I have good taste."
"In food? Maybe."
I narrowed my eyes. "And in other things?"
She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand. "Questionable."
There was something dangerous about the way she looked at me. Challenging. Curious. Bold.
"You like provoking me," I observed.
She smiled, sipping her drink. "You're fun to mess with."
I exhaled, shaking my head. This woman was impossible.
But as the night went on, the atmosphere shifted.
The teasing faded into something softer. The conversation deepened into something neither of us had expected.
She talked about her work, her struggles, her victories. And I… I found myself actually listening.
At some point, she leaned back in her chair, exhaling. "This isn't as bad as I thought it'd be."
I tilted my head. "Dinner with me?"
She gave a slow nod. "You're not… always unbearable, you know."
I didn't reply immediately. Because for the first time, I realized something.
I didn't hate this.
I didn't hate her.
And that was dangerous.
The dinner had gone surprisingly… well.
Too well.
Isha was too comfortable, too at ease, and for some reason, I didn't mind it. That was the problem.
I stood up, adjusting my cuffs. "Let's go."
I expected her to follow, but instead, she remained seated, a slow smile playing on her lips.
"Not so fast, Your Highness."
I arched a brow. "Excuse me?"
She gestured toward the dance floor—a small open space where a few couples swayed to the soft melody of a violin. The city lights twinkled beyond the terrace, the night air crisp but warm enough to tempt one into staying.
I sighed. "No."
"Yes," she countered, pushing her chair back. "It's only fair after making me sit through dinner with you."
I exhaled sharply. "You talk as if it was a punishment."
She grinned, stepping closer. "It wasn't." Her gaze flickered up at me, her tone teasing. "But it could have been better."
I stared at her. "How?"
"By you actually enjoying it."
Her words caught me off guard, but before I could respond, she grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the floor.
I let her. That was my second mistake of the night.
The music shifted into something slower, deeper. The kind that made people lean into each other, that blurred the lines between casual and intimate.
Isha hesitated before placing her hands on my shoulders. I rested mine at her waist—keeping a respectable distance.
At first.
She was graceful, moving effortlessly with the rhythm, her body responding instinctively to mine. It was infuriating.
Because I felt it.
The heat. The pull. The way the space between us kept shrinking with every step.
Her fingers curled slightly against my suit. "You dance well."
"You sound surprised," I murmured.
"A little."
I smirked. "Did you think I'd step on your feet?"
She looked up, amusement flashing in her eyes. "No. I thought you'd refuse altogether."
I should have.
But now… I wasn't sure I could.
She moved in sync with me, the soft glow of the hanging lights casting a golden hue over her skin. And for a moment—just a fleeting moment—I forgot.
Forgot that I wasn't supposed to enjoy this.
Then, it happened.
Isha gasped. Her step faltered.
I barely had time to react before she twisted her ankle, her balance tipping dangerously.
She let out a soft cry, her fingers clutching my suit.
Without thinking, I caught her.
Not just caught her—I lifted her.
Bridal style.
Her eyes widened in shock, her hands instinctively grabbing onto my shoulders.
For a second, neither of us spoke.
Neither of us moved.
The world around us faded, the music, the lights, the people—it all disappeared.
It was just her. Just me.
Her breath hitched, her body tense in my arms. "Shivansh…"
I said nothing.
Because if I did, I wasn't sure what would come out.
I carried her off the dance floor, ignoring the whispers, the stares.
Ignoring the way my own heart slammed against my ribs.
I reached the car, placing her down gently on the seat. But as I leaned in to adjust her dress—she looked up.
Too close.
Far too close.
Her eyes flickered to my lips, just for a second. But it was enough.
I exhaled, my hands still braced on either side of her.
I could kiss her.
The thought hit me like a punch.
I could kiss her. Right now.
And she wouldn't stop me.
She wasn't pushing me away.
Her fingers brushed my collar. A simple touch. A fleeting, accidental graze.
It was almost enough to break me.
Almost.
But I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to pull back.
"You should be more careful," I said, my voice low, rough.
She swallowed. "You caught me."
My eyes met hers. "I won't always."
The words hung between us, heavy with unspoken things.
Then, without another word, I shut the door.
And just like that, the moment was over.
But I knew.
We both did.
Something between us had just shifted.
Irrevocably.
The silence inside the car was thick, heavy—almost suffocating.
I stole a glance at Isha. She sat still, her hands resting on her lap, her face turned toward the window. But I could see it—the way she bit her lip, the way her fingers clenched slightly every few seconds.
She was in pain.
I sighed, pulling the car over to the side of the road.
She blinked, turning to me. "Why are we stopping?"
I didn't answer. Instead, I shifted toward her, reaching for her foot.
She stiffened. "What are you doing?"
"Checking your ankle," I said flatly.
"It's fine," she muttered, pulling her leg back.
I shot her a sharp look. "You couldn't even stand properly a few minutes ago."
She hesitated.
I reached forward, my fingers brushing against her skin as I carefully removed her heels. Her sharp intake of breath didn't go unnoticed.
Her ankle was slightly swollen. Not too bad, but enough to make walking difficult.
I exhaled. "You're not fine."
"I can still walk," she argued.
I smirked. "Then walk."
She scowled at me.
I shook my head. "That's what I thought."
Before she could protest, I reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a small first-aid kit. I took out a cooling gel, unscrewing the cap.
"You carry a first-aid kit?" she asked, watching me.
"I'm always prepared," I muttered, squeezing the gel onto my fingers.
Without another word, I gently massaged the cool balm over her ankle. She flinched, her breath hitching at the cold sensation.
I ignored the way her skin felt beneath my touch, the way she tensed every time my fingers brushed over a sensitive spot.
"This will help," I said, finishing up. "You should rest it for a while."
She didn't say anything.
I glanced up.
She was staring at me.
Her expression was unreadable—something between surprise and… something else.
I cleared my throat, breaking the moment. "Let's go."
The car ride was mostly silent, except for the occasional sound of Isha shifting in her seat. I knew she was uncomfortable, but she wasn't the type to admit it.
As we pulled up outside her house, I stepped out first and walked over to her side. She looked hesitant but still tried to stand on her own. The moment her foot touched the ground, she wobbled, her balance faltering.
I sighed. "I told you, you shouldn't be walking."
"I can manage," she insisted, gripping the door frame for support.
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Go ahead, then."
She shot me a glare but barely took a step before stumbling forward.
Before she could hit the ground, I caught her—again.
She groaned. "Not again!"
I didn't give her a chance to protest further. In one swift motion, I scooped her up into my arms—bridal style.
She gasped, clutching my shirt. "Shivansh! Put me down!"
"Not happening," I said flatly, adjusting my grip. "Your house has stairs, and you clearly can't walk."
Before she could argue, the front door swung open.
Ishika stood there, eyes immediately widening at the sight of me carrying Isha.
A slow smirk spread across her face. "Well, well, well… what do we have here?"
Isha groaned, covering her face with one hand. "Ishika, don't start—"
"Oh, I'm definitely starting." Ishika folded her arms, leaning against the doorframe. "First, you both go on a romantic dinner date, and now he's carrying you inside like a hero from a movie? What exactly happened while I wasn't there?"
Isha whined. "Nothing happened!"
Ishika's smirk deepened. "Then why are you blushing?"
"I am not blushing!"
I rolled my eyes. "Are you going to let us in or not?"
Ishika shrugged. "Your wish, King Shivansh."
I sighed. This girl was impossible.
She stepped aside, letting me carry Isha inside.
"The parents and your brother are already asleep," Ishika informed us. "I told them you'd be late, and they didn't wait up."
I nodded, heading toward Isha's room. Ishika followed, her teasing grin never fading.
"Shivansh," she said playfully. "Do you always carry my best friend around, or is tonight special?"
Isha whipped her head toward Ishika. "I swear, if you don't shut up—"
Ishika raised her hands in surrender. "Fine, fine, I'll stop. But seriously, how did you even get injured?"
"She twisted her ankle while dancing," I answered before Isha could.
Ishika's eyes sparkled. "Oh? So you two were dancing, huh?"
Isha glared at me. "You just had to tell her, didn't you?"
I shrugged. "She was going to find out anyway."
Ishika laughed. "I love this."
I ignored her and gently placed Isha down onto her bed. She let out a relieved sigh, leaning back against the pillows.
"Thank you," she muttered.
I nodded. "Rest your foot. Don't walk around too much tomorrow."
Ishika wiggled her eyebrows. "Wow, look at you, all concerned and caring."
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I'm leaving."
As I turned to go, I heard Ishika whisper to Isha, "You better tell me everything in the morning."
And just like that, the night was over.
But something had changed.
Something neither of us could ignore anymore.
I smirked to myself and walked out, ready for the journey back to Jaipur.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
How was the Chapter??
Aage kya hoga? Hmm?
Share your thoughts and don't forget to click on the star button below.
And follow me on Instagram for spoilers.
🔗link in bio.
Love you all, bye
Ish💗