The office was silent.
Not the comfortable kind-but the kind that pressed against the walls, heavy with authority. Floor-to-ceiling glass framed the city below, its chaos reduced to nothing more than distant movement.
Inside, everything obeyed order.
Including the man sitting behind the desk.
Adavait Singh Rathore leaned back in his chair-large, imposing, almost throne-like. One hand rested on the armrest, the other moved across the laptop with calculated precision. His face held no expression, only a permanent trace of irritation, as if the world constantly failed to meet his standards.
Numbers. Deals. Power.
Everything was where it should be.
A knock broke the silence.His eyes didn't lift from the screen.
"Come in."
The door opened quietly. Footsteps followed-measured, careful.
He didn't look up.Didn't need to.
A low hum escaped him, acknowledging the presence standing a few feet away.
"Sir," Ronit Sharma's voice was professional, controlled, "the board members have assembled. The meeting for the new project is about to begin. Shall we proceed?"
Adavait closed the laptop with a soft click.
Finally, his gaze lifted.
Cold. Sharp. Assessing.
"Yeah. Let's go."
...............................................
Five minutes later, the atmosphere shifted.
The meeting hall was nothing like his office-larger, louder, filled with people who carried power in their titles but not in their presence.
And then there was him.
The moment Adavait entered, conversations dimmed. Not because he demanded silence-but because his presence took it.
He walked in without hurry, without acknowledgment, and yet every eye followed him.
At the head of the table, he took his seat.
No introductions. No unnecessary words.
"Let's begin."
His voice was low, controlled. Final.
The presentation started. Numbers flashed across the screen. Strategies were discussed. Arguments were raised and dismantled within seconds.
Adavait listened.
Not passively.
But with a stillness that unsettled.
Every proposal was dissected in his mind before it was even completed. Every weakness identified. Every advantage calculated.
He didn't interrupt often.
But when he did-
The room listened.
Because he didn't speak to participate.
He spoke to decide.
Minutes turned into an hour.
And then-
It was done.
The deal was sealed.
Signatures exchanged. Agreements locked. A project that would shift markets now belonged to him.
As the tension dissolved into murmurs of satisfaction, one of his business partners leaned back in his chair, a grin spreading across his face.
"This is huge, ASR," he said. "We should celebrate. A deal like this deserves a grand party."
Adavait glanced at him briefly. Parties were unnecessary,But influence wasn't.
"Fine," he said, standing up. "Plan it."
That was enough, For him-and for everyone else.
Back in his office, the silence returned.
Familiar. Controlled.
He pushed the door open and stepped inside-
Then stopped.
Someone was already there.
Sitting casually, like he owned the place.
Adavait's eyes narrowed slightly.
His best friend.
Of course.
Uninvited.
Unbothered.
And very much comfortable in a space where no one else dared to be.
The air shifted again.
Not into chaos.
But into something... personal.
Adavait didn't move further inside.
He simply stood there, eyes locked on the man sprawled across his couch like he had nothing better to do in life.
"Done staring?" the man spoke lazily, not even bothering to sit straight. "Or should I pose better for you, Rathore?"
Adavait shut the door behind him with a quiet click.
"Get out."
A smirk spread across his friend's face. "Ah. Same warm welcome. I missed this."
Adavait walked toward his desk, unbuttoning his cuffs with slow, controlled movements. "I don't recall inviting you."
"You don't have to," he shrugged. "I come where I'm tolerated."
"You're not tolerated."
"Yet here I am." He leaned back further, folding his arms behind his head. "Comfortably sitting in the lion's den."
Adavait finally looked at him fully.
Unimpressed.
"You talk too much."
"And you don't talk enough. Balance, my friend."
Silence stretched for a second.
Then-
"You closed the deal?" his friend asked, tone shifting slightly.
Adavait picked up a file, flipping it open without much interest. "Obviously."
A low whistle escaped him. "Damn. Billion-dollar move just like that." He sat up now, resting his elbows on his knees. "And here I thought you might finally fail at something."
Adavait didn't even blink. "Keep hoping."
"I do," he grinned. "Makes life interesting."
Another pause.
But this one carried weight.
His friend watched him closely now. Not casually. Not jokingly.
Observing.
"You're distracted."
That got a reaction.
A subtle one-but there.
Adavait's fingers paused for half a second before turning the page.
"No."
"Yeah, you are."
"I'm not."
"You didn't even insult me properly since I walked in. That's concerning."
Adavait closed the file.
Slowly.
Dangerously calm.
"Say what you came here to say."
His friend smirked, watching the subtle shift in Adavait's expression.
Then, casually-almost like an afterthought-he added,
"Waise..." he dragged the word, amusement clear in his voice, "ghar ja saale... teri biwi tera intezaar kar rahi hogi."
Silence. Not loud.
But sharp.
Adavait didn't react immediately.
Didn't snap. Didn't glare.
That was worse.
His fingers tightened slightly against the glass.
"Mind your words."
His friend chuckled, completely unfazed. "Kyu? Galat bola kya?"
No answer.
Only that same cold stillness.
The kind that warned before it destroyed.
But the friend knew him too well to stop.
"Or wait..." he tilted his head, mock thinking, "intezaar karti bhi hai ya nahi?"
That did it. Adavait turned.
Slow.
Measured.
Dangerous.
"Say what you came here to say," he repeated, voice lower now.
But the teasing didn't leave.
Instead, it softened-just enough to reveal something underneath.
Truth.
"You hate the word 'marriage'," he said, watching him closely, "and yet you're tied to it."
A pause.
Then-
"Funny, isn't it?"
Adavait's jaw clenched.
His gaze hardened-not at his friend.
But at something else.
Something far away.
Something buried.
Not chosen.
Forced.
And just like that-
The present blurred.
.........................................................
Ten months earlier...
The Rathore mansion stood in silence-grand, ancient, and suffocating with legacy.
Not a single decision made within those walls was ever just personal.
Everything carried weight.
Everything carried consequence.
And tonight-
Was no different.
The lobby was lit in warm gold, chandeliers casting shadows over faces that had learned long ago how to hide intentions behind politeness.
Adavait Singh Rathore walked in through the main entrance, loosening the cuff of his sleeve slightly, his expression unreadable.
His gaze swept across the room once-
His grandfather.
His parents.
His grandmother.
And unfamiliar faces.
Guests.
That was enough for him to lose interest. Without a word, he turned-
Ready to leave.
"Adavait."
The voice was firm. Authoritative. Final.
He stopped.
Slowly turning back, his eyes met his grandfather's.
A command.
Not a request.
"Sit."
No room for refusal.
No space for argument.
Adavait walked forward, every step measured, controlled. He took a seat among them-leaning back slightly, posture relaxed but presence dominating.
The conversation resumed.
Business.
Investments.
Formalities.
Words that meant nothing to him in that moment.
He wasn't listening.
Not until-
The direction shifted.
Subtly.
But unmistakably.
Marriage.
His body stilled.
Not visibly.
But internally-everything sharpened.
He straightened slightly, jaw tightening just enough to show he understood exactly where this was going.
His mother exchanged a glance with his father.
Then spoke.
"Adavait," her tone was careful, almost gentle, "there's something important we need to discuss."
Silence settled.
Heavy.
Prepared.
"This alliance..." his father continued, voice steady, "was decided years ago."
A pause.
Then the name dropped-
"Ruchika Sen."
The room didn't react.
Because everyone already knew.
Everyone-
Except him.
His gaze shifted, landing on his grandfather.
Cold.
Questioning.
But the older man didn't flinch.
"This was my promise," his grandfather said, voice deep with authority. "To my closest friend."
A beat.
"You were sixteen."
That explained everything.
And nothing.
Adavait leaned back again, his expression returning to calm-but this time, it wasn't indifference.
It was restraint.
"So," he said slowly, voice low, controlled, "my life was decided fifteen years ago... without my consent."
No one interrupted.
Because no one could deny it.
His grandmother spoke this time, softer-but no less firm.
"This is not just about marriage, Adavait. It's about lineage. About legacy."
His eyes darkened slightly.
Of course it was.
It was always about legacy.
Never about choice.
"She is suitable," his mother added. "Educated, well-raised... from a respected family."
His father followed, "And this alliance strengthens more than just relations."
Of course it did, Everything was strategy, Everything was calculated.
And him-
He was part of that calculation.
Silence stretched again.
All eyes on him.
Waiting.
Measuring.
Expecting.
Adavait exhaled slowly, running his thumb across his knuckle-a habit when controlling irritation.
When he finally spoke, his voice carried no emotion.
"I'll think about it."
That was it.
No agreement.
No refusal.
Just-
Control.
Because in a room full of people trying to decide his life-
That was the only thing he still owned.
.........................................
Dinner was served.
The long table was filled, conversations resumed, laughter forced into spaces where tension still lingered.
Adavait sat at his place, untouched food in front of him.
His mind wasn't there.
Not in the room.
Not in the conversation.
But somewhere else-
He knew even if he declined this proposal something else was waiting maybe someone else.
He felt off marriage without love although he was never interested in LOVE, but for the throne he had to say Yes.
After a while he said "I am ready"
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