Until You Are Mine
Character Aesthetic
𝑉𝓮𝓮𝓻 𝑆𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓱 𝑆𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓱
◉ 𝐕𝐞𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝟯𝟬 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝.
◉ 𝐇𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐤𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬.
◉ 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥, 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲.
◉ 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐢𝐜, 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬.
◉ 𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬.
𝒮𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓇𝒶 ℛ𝒶𝓉𝒽ℴ𝓇ℯ
◉ 𝐒𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝟮𝟰 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝.
◉ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜, 𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥, 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲.
◉ 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲.
◉ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐫.
“𝑨 𝒓𝒂𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒕𝒉 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆—𝑨 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒎 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆”
𝓞𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓯𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓵𝔂 𝓶𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻.....
◈ Rajeshwari Devi -- Veer's Grandmother
◈ Harsh Shekhawat -- Veer's Father
◈ Shikha Shekhawat -- Veer's Mother
◈ Atharv Shekhawat -- Veer's Brother
◈ Myra Shekhawat -- Veer's Sister
◈ Dev Rathore -- Sitara's Father
◈ Varsha Rathore -- Sitara's Mother
◈ Satyam Rathore -- Sitara's Brother
◈ Amaya Rathore -- Sitara's Sister-in-law
◈ Aashi Rathore -- Sitara's Niece
"𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝."
Prologue
He once loved with all his heart—
until love was stolen from him,
wrapped in silence,
and buried with a name he no longer speaks.
Veer Singh Shekhawat
“Some wounds aren’t meant to heal. You just learn to walk with them.”
He had once said quietly.
She, on the other hand, believed in restoration.
In stories lost to dust and silence. In picking up the pieces others left behind.
Sitara Rathore
“Every ruin was once someone’s home.”
She whispered once, running her fingers over a fading photograph.
Neither of them wanted this marriage.
Yet both had said yes.
He, out of obligation.
She, out of something she couldn’t name.
There were no promises exchanged. No hopeful vows.
Only silence—and the sound of two lives being stitched together by fate.
But in the quiet corners of a house too big for words,
in rooms echoing with absence,
grief began to soften.
And warmth began to stay longer.
Laughter came in fragments.
A shared glance.
A late night cup of tea.
A hesitant “Good night” spoken at the threshold of distance.
It was not love—not yet.
But something had begun to shift.
Like sunlight spilling slowly into a locked room,
this was a story of healing.
Of strangers.
Of silent prayers.
And perhaps—of a love that doesn’t arrive with thunder,
but with the hush of something sacred.
"𝗙𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗴𝗶𝗻𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗺𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗲𝘁, 𝗽𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁."
Chapter 1
The meeting room was shrouded in a tense silence, thick enough to choke on. No one dared to breathe too loudly, let alone move unnecessarily. All eyes were fixed on the man at the head of the long table—cold, composed, and unreadable.
His sharp eyes moved across the document in his hand. A subtle frown crept onto his face, and immediately, several employees broke into a cold sweat. They had grown used to this tension. For the past three years, impressing him had felt like trying to catch smoke with bare hands—impossible and frustrating.
Suddenly, he set the file down.
Veer Singh Shekhawat
"The proposal is quite impressive. We’ll proceed with it."
He said in his deep, indifferent voice, calm but commanding.
A wave of relief swept through the room. Shoulders relaxed, silent exhales were released.
Employee
“Thank you, Mr. Shekhawat,”
Said the employee who had prepared the presentation, barely containing the tremble in his voice.
Veer gave a small nod and stood.
Veer Singh Shekhawat
“The meeting is dismissed."
He said curtly before walking out, his assistant, Gautam Sharma, quickly falling into step behind him.
Gautam
“Sir, you have ten missed calls from home,”
Gautam informed, handing him his phone.
Veer accepted it with a glance.
Veer Singh Shekhawat
“What’s the schedule for the rest of the day?”
Gautam
“You have a lunch meeting with Mr. Shastri at 2 PM, and the charity gala organized by Mr. Pandey at 8 PM.”
Veer nodded absently, his thumb running along the edge of the phone. After a brief pause, he said,
Veer Singh Shekhawat
“Cancel the gala. I’m leaving early today.”
Without another word, he turned and walked into his office. As he dialed home, he braced himself.
The call connected—and almost immediately, a loud, scolding voice came through the receiver.
Rajeshwari Devi
“You brat! You finally remembered that you have a home? How many days has it been this time?”
Rajeshwari Devi’s voice rang out, laced with irritation and maternal concern.
Veer Singh Shekhawat
“Dadi sa, how could I ever forget you all? I’ve just been busy—”
Rajeshwari Devi
“Don’t you start with that ‘busy’ excuse again!” (snapped.)
Rajeshwari Devi
“You’ve been living in your office for two weeks now. I don’t want to hear another word. Come home tonight. No excuses.”
The call ended before Veer could utter another protest. A small sigh escaped him as he slipped the phone back into his pocket.
His gaze shifted toward the tall floor-to-ceiling window. City lights blinked in the distance, but his reflection stared back at him—tired, burdened, and haunted.
Going home meant just one thing: a conversation about marriage.
And he wasn’t ready for that.
He closed his eyes for a second, willing the painful memory to return to sleep where it belonged.
Time slipped through his fingers. By the time he glanced at the clock again, it was past 10 PM. Gathering his things, Veer finally left the office.
The Shekhawat residence was still lit when he arrived. Inside, his parents and grandmother were seated in the living room, clearly waiting.
Harsh Shekhawat
“Finally decided to show up, hmm?”
His father, Harsh Singh Shekhawat, said in his usual stern tone.
Veer opened his mouth to reply, but his mother, Shikha, placed a gentle hand on Harsh’s shoulder, silently asking him to ease up.
Shikha Shekhawat
“Have you eaten?”
She asked, her voice soft, almost hesitant.
Veer Singh Shekhawat
“I got caught up with documents. Lost track of time.”
Harsh Shekhawat
“Since you're here..."
Harsh said, gesturing toward the sofa,
Harsh Shekhawat
“there’s something we need to talk about. Sit.”
Veer complied, already suspecting what was coming.
Harsh Shekhawat
“You’ve been avoiding every blind date we’ve arranged. So this time, we’ve taken the matter into our own hands,”
Harsh Shekhawat
“We’ve met a girl—someone we believe is right for you. We’re going to visit her family with a proposal. You’ll come with us.”
Veer Singh Shekhawat
“But Papa—”
Harsh Shekhawat
“No ‘but’, Veer.”
Harsh’s voice was firm but not cruel.
Harsh Shekhawat
“You know we’re worried. You disappear for days. You don’t share anything with us. We understand that forgetting Priya is not easy...”
His voice trailed off, and the room fell into a brief, uncomfortable silence. No one liked saying her name aloud anymore.
Harsh Shekhawat
“We just want you to be happy. To at least try. Just meet her once. If you don’t like her, we won’t push you.”
Beside him, Shikha watched her son with glassy eyes, seeing the pain he tried so hard to hide. In just three years, he had aged far more than he should have. The sparkle in his eyes was long gone.
Shikha Shekhawat
“She’s beautiful, grounded, and kind-hearted,”
Shikha Shekhawat
“There’s a calmness in her that we haven’t seen in a long time. We liked her the moment we met her.”
Veer remained silent for a moment. Then he looked at them—the worry lines on his mother’s face, the quiet concern in his grandmother’s eyes, and the hidden hope in his father’s expression.
He had been the root of their concern for too long.
He lowered his gaze and nodded once.
Veer Singh Shekhawat
“Okay. I’ll meet her.”
And just like that, the first thread of a new beginning was quietly sewn into the fabric of his story.
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