The Jaipur evening sky was a bruised palette of deep purple and burnt orange as the private jet taxied to a halt on the tarmac. The engines whined down, replaced by the heavy, suffocating heat of Rajasthan.
When the cabin door opened, Hriya stepped out. At 5'9", she towered over almost everyone waiting for her. Broad shoulders stretched beneath the tailored jacket, every step carrying the quiet certainty of someone accustomed to command. She looked less like a returning daughter and more like a monarch reclaiming her territory. Clad in a sharply tailored dark silhouette, she descended the stairs with effortless, predatory grace.
Viyaan followed a few steps behind, carrying a single suitcase.
Waiting near the tarmac were Shreya and Hritujay.
"Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence," Hritujay said with a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned against the car. "I was beginning to think you forgot the way toโ"
Hriya didn't let him finish. She stopped at the base of the stairs and looked at him.
The smirk died instantly on Hritujay's face, his lips snapping shut under the weight of her expression.
Without breaking stride, Hriya turned her attention entirely to Viyaan.
He opened a secure, military-grade tablet, the blue light reflecting off his sharp features.
"Everything's on schedule," Viyaan said, his voice low and steady over the quiet hum of the engines. He turned the screen toward her. "Here's the real-time status of the shipment."
Hriya leaned forward, her eyes scanning the encrypted manifest on the screen. Their latest shipment had reached the port, and the cargo vessel was already docked. Customs clearance was being bypassed through the channels AMETA had spent years putting in place.
"The container cleared the primary checkpoint ten minutes ago," Viyaan said, pointing to a flashing green icon on the grid. "AMETA's ground team is overseeing the offloading as we speak. No discrepancies, no red flags. By midnight, the armaments will be in our secure holding facility."
Hriya lifted her gaze from the screen to Viyaan. Whatever had happened hours earlier no longer existed behind her eyes. There was only business.
"Ensure the serial numbers are filed off before secondary distribution," she said. "If a single weapon from this batch is traced back to Jaipur before we're ready to move, it won't just be a financial loss."
"Understood." Viyaan tapped a command into the tablet, locking the encryption before sliding it back into his jacket pocket. "The tightest security is already in place."
Shreya stepped into Hriya's line of sight, her eyes shining with emotion.
"Kitna time ho gaya tha, tujhe yaad nahi aati kya?"
(It's been so long. Don't you miss us?)
Hriya shifted her focus from Viyaan and offered a single, noncommittal hum. She reached out and patted Hritujay's shoulder onceโa brief acknowledgment of his existence.
"How's everything?"
Relieved that the deadly silence had passed, Hritujay's smile bounced right back.
"Oh, you know, the usual madness. Dadda and Mummaa have been fighting non-stop over whose choice in food is betterโliterally a domestic war over dinner. Andโ"
"โand Shreya keeps complaining that the coffee in the office tastes like actual shit these days," Hritujay mocked, pitching his voice slightly higher.
"Enough of this!" Shreya interrupted, rolling her eyes before stepping forward. She grabbed Hriya's arm, cutting off his rambling.
"You can do your recap later. First, come and hug me. It's been tooo long."
Hriya gave a slow nod before stepping into the embrace.
Shreya, smaller and petite, almost disappeared within Hriya's broad frame. For a few seconds, the noise of the runway seemed to fade.
Then Viyaan's voice cut through the silence.
"Let's go, boss. We have AMETA to take care of."
That was all the reminder she needed.
Hriya stepped back from the embrace and turned toward the waiting black Rolls-Royce Ghost.
The Malhotra estate, Regelia, did not merely host events; it staged conquests.
Located in the heart of Jaipur, the sprawling palace grounds had been transformed into a labyrinth of marigolds, ivory silks, and crystal chandeliers that caught the blinding desert sun. Every corner of the estate breathed old-money opulence. The air was heavy with the scent of burning incense, expensive perfumes, and crushed rose petalsโa sensory overload meant to project absolute perfection to the elite of Rajasthan.
Today was the roka ceremony of Harshvardhan Malhotra and Kritika Chaudhary.
Surekha Malhotra moved through the courtyard like a queen inspecting her troops, her silks rustling sharply against the marble floor. Her friend Shobhana walked beside her, both women wearing smiles that were a little too sharp, a little too transactional. Kritika, the bride-to-be, was already seated under the main canopy, looking every bit the pristine, compliant daughter of high society.
And then there was Harshvardhan.
He stood near the center of the lawn, the sunshine of the Malhotra family. Dressed in a tailored ivory *sherwani* that complemented his warm charm, he was effortlessly doing what he always did: making people smile. He laughed at something one of his uncles said, his posture relaxed, his energy bright enough to mask whatever he truly felt about this arranged alliance.
To the world, he was the picture-perfect heir, ready to step into the life expected of him.
But the atmosphere at Regelia was deceptive.
I sat sunk into the plush sofa, surrounded by my guys, directly across from Kritika. It was impossible to pay attention to a single word they were saying. My gaze kept drifting right back to her.
She was laughing at something my mom had just whisperedโprobably teasing her or giving her one last reminder that she still had a window of opportunity to dump me.
Seeing her like that filled me with an unexpected warmth.
All these people, the buzz of the room, everyone celebrating our happiness, throwing congratulations our way for the life we were about to start.
A genuine smile found its way onto my face.
But, of course, peace never lasts long when your friends are around.
The sudden burst of snickering snapped me out of it. Ivaan, my absolute menace of a best friend, leaned in with a smirk that practically screamed trouble.
I braced myself.
"Bhai, thodi toh sharam kar," Ivaan whispered loudly, nudging my shoulder. "Suhaagrat pe bhi same hi milegi. Control your eyes till then."
I immediately wiped the smile off my face and shot him a lethal glare.
"Shut the hell up, Ivaan. Keep your eyes on your own plate."
"Oh, look at him getting defensive!" Aman chimed in, chuckling. "Can't blame the guy, Ivaan. He's just doing a final inspection before signing the lifetime contract."
"Lifetime contract?" I scoffed, grabbing the nearest cushion and throwing it at Ivaan, who caught it with ease. "I'm looking at my beautiful fiancรฉe. You guys look at the catering menu, because that's the only action you're getting tonight."
"Ouch, groom's got claws," Ivaan laughed, completely unfazed. "Just saying, man, save some of that intense staring for later. You're burning a hole through her outfit."
"Get lost," I muttered, though I couldn't help the smirk tugging at my lips.
Trying to shake off their nonsense, my eyes swept over the crowded hall again.
That's when I spotted them.
Amit Uncle was entering the hall, with Reeta Aunty walking gracefully beside him.
I stood up from the sofa and quickly navigated through the guests to greet them.
"Namaste, Uncle," I said, bending instinctively to touch his feet for his blessings.
Before I could even straighten up, Reeta Aunty pulled me into a warm hug.
"Congratulations, beta," she said, her voice brimming with genuine affection.
"Thank you so much, Aunty," I replied with a smile, hugging her back.
As I pulled away, I caught sight of Amit Uncle's face.
He was glaring at me as though I'd just stolen his favourite watch.
The man's possessiveness over his wife was legendary, and apparently, even a congratulatory hug from the groom was pushing his boundaries.
"Mummy kahaan hain?" Reeta Aunty asked cheerfully, completely oblivious to the silent, jealous storm simmering beside her.
( Where's your mother?)
"Wahaan par," I replied, gesturing toward the cluster of elders near the stage, trying to hide my amusement.
(Over there)
I turned back to face Amit Uncle, fully expecting one of his trademark grumbles about "personal space," but before he could utter a single word, Maa's voice cut through the noise of the hall, calling me back because the ceremony was about to begin.
"Finally."
I let out a quiet breath, flashing Uncle a sheepish grin before making my way back toward the sofa.
โฆ โโโโโโโโโ โฆ
Before you leave... ๐ค
If you'd like a glimpse behind the pages of The Quagmire Of Her Obsession, come find me on Instagram. That's where I share spoilers, character reveals, aesthetics, edits, release updates, and everything this story couldn't fit between its pages.
Instagram: @kayraaaroy
I'd love to see you there.
Write a comment ...