Chapter 2: The Girl Besides Him

The hall had never felt this quiet.

Not even when Saanvi first arrived as a fifteen-year-old girl with red eyes and a shivering heart.

Now, ten years later, she stood at the same entrance, watching the boy she had married walk in with someone else by his side.

Dev’s hand rested gently on the girl’s back—his fingers curled in an instinctive, protective gesture. The girl looked no older than twenty-two. She clung to him like he was the only thing anchoring her to the world.

Saanvi stood a step behind his mother, hands folded in front of her.

Meena turned to her briefly, expecting something—shock, hurt, tears.

But Saanvi merely tilted her head. Not a twitch in her smile.

Not a tremor in her eyes.

Only the tiniest motion—her thumb rubbing her ring finger once, then stilling.

Dev hesitated. “Saanvi… this is Ria. We… met a few years ago.”

Ria gave a nervous smile and bowed slightly, “Hello.”

Saanvi nodded. “Welcome home.”

No accusation. No questions.

Just two words. Clean. Simple.

But those two words—they burned Dev like fire on his throat.

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Two hours earlier…

In the large study on the ground floor, Mr. Rajendra Mehta sat behind his heavy mahogany desk, already dressed in a tailored charcoal grey suit despite it being a Saturday. His posture was straight, unmoving—like the steel frame of a tower.

The ticking of the antique wall clock was the only sound in the room.

Until the door opened.

Rivan Sehgal stepped in, casual as ever, sleeves rolled up, blazer tossed carelessly over one arm. His expression was unreadable, though the corner of his lips curved slightly as if he were always halfway to a smirk.

“Mr. Mehta,” he greeted. “You’re early.”

Rajendra glanced up. “Punctuality is expected. Especially when handling a merger worth ₹800 crores.”

Rivan chuckled under his breath and took the chair across from him without waiting to be asked. “I didn’t realize I was here for a lecture, too.”

"You’re here for both,” Rajendra said bluntly. “Business first. Then breakfast.”

Rivan grinned. “How fatherly.”

Rajendra’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t object.

They began discussing the numbers—transfers, stock buyouts, supplier clauses. Rivan was sharp, relaxed but meticulous. Every time Rajendra thought he caught the young man off guard, Rivan countered with a better suggestion.

It was annoying.

And oddly impressive.

____________________________________________

Once the meeting concluded, Rajendra stood, motioning to the staff.

“Bring tea to the veranda. Mr. Sehgal will be staying the weekend.”

Rivan raised an eyebrow. “Will I?”

“You agreed last month. Unless you’re forgetting your promise again.”

“Right. I only forget the ones I don’t want to keep.” He smiled. “But this one… I might actually enjoy.”

Rajendra didn’t smile back. “Behave, Sehgal. This house has too many eyes right now.”

Rivan’s tone dropped just slightly, no longer playful. “And too many secrets, perhaps?”

For the first time, Rajendra looked at him—really looked.

Something passed between them. A silent understanding.

This boy knew far more than he let on.

“I’ll take your silence as a yes,” Rivan added with a smirk, then stood.

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Later that night, the house buzzed with murmurs. Meena tried to smile, tried to act like she was open-minded. The father… didn’t speak. His jaw tightened through dinner.

And Ria? She tried to help serve chapatis, but dropped the bowl of salad by accident. Her hands shook the whole time. She barely ate.

Only Saanvi noticed that Ria had worn her blouse inside out.

Only Saanvi quietly took her aside, helped her fix it, and told her, “It happens. Don’t worry. Just breathe.”

And for the first time that evening… Ria smiled genuinely. “You’re so kind.”

Saanvi returned the smile. “I try.”

But in her heart, a whisper stirred:

“She’ll be the key.

And she doesn’t even know it yet.”

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And that was how Rivan stayed.

No grand welcome. No announcement.

Just a guest who was technically there for business—but would quietly witness a family on the verge of collapse.

He settled into one of the guest rooms in the east wing—close enough to observe everything… and just far enough not to be noticed too quickly.

He watched the drama quietly from the foyer, leaning against the stair railing.

That night, as he walked past the main corridor and saw Saanvi placing water beside Dev’s room, he paused.

She didn’t see him. Her movements were silent, practiced.

But Rivan didn’t look away.

“Interesting,” he thought.

“The wife serves.

The lover smiles.

And no one seems to notice the queen."

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