The office was quiet except for the soft clicking of keys and the low hum of the air conditioner. Tanishk Chandravanshi sat behind a large mahogany desk, surrounded by stacks of files and a glowing laptop screen. His fingers paused over the keyboard, but his mind was elsewhere—clouded with restless thoughts.

Just a few minutes ago, his phone buzzed. It was his mother, Malini Devi.

“Tanishk, make sure you’re home for dinner tonight. It’s important.”

Her voice was calm but carried that unmistakable weight—the kind of command that left no room for argument.

Tanishk sighed, rubbing his temple. The idea of dinner with his family felt suffocating tonight—another round of unspoken expectations and pointed looks.

He glanced around the sleek office—the city lights flickering beyond the glass walls—and considered his options.

How could he get out of it?

He thought about calling in a late meeting, fabricating an emergency, anything to escape the heavy atmosphere waiting for him at home.

But Malini Devi’s voice echoed in his mind, reminding him of the web he couldn’t easily break free from.

“It’s important.”

What was so important?

Was it about Yash’s upcoming marriage? Or something deeper, something unspoken that had been simmering for years beneath the polished surface of the Chandravanshi household?

Tanishk shook his head, forcing himself back to the present.

He rubbed his hands together, trying to clear the fog of his thoughts and focus on the files before him.

But the clock on the wall seemed to tick louder with every second—counting down to a dinner he wasn’t sure he wanted to face.

The chandeliers flickered overhead, casting golden shadows across the long teakwood table where the Chandravanshi family sat in an uneasy circle.

The clatter of silverware on porcelain echoed through the silence, but no one was really eating. The food was untouched, the aroma of rich gravies and spiced rice hanging heavy in the air, like the tension between them.

Tanishk sat stiffly in his chair, his face unreadable. To his left sat Kasish, his wife in name only. Her posture was perfect.. He hadn’t looked at her once since sitting down.

Across the table, Malini Devi observed her son and daughter-in-law with hawk-like precision. Her patience wore an expression of discipline, but underneath, her eyes revealed her true intent. She cleared her throat.

“It’s time we speak plainly,” she began. “Yash’s wedding is confirmed for the 12th of next month. The engagement ceremony is in two weeks. I expect the family to be present.”

Tanishk’s eyebrows drew together faintly. “You called us all here… for Yash Bhai?”

Malini’s gaze narrowed. “Yes. Because family matters. And it’s time we start behaving like one.”

At the far end of the table, Tarini stiffened. Her spoon rested in her bowl, untouched. “That’s rich,” she said quietly, not looking at anyone. 

“Tarini…” Angad’s deep voice rumbled from the head of the table, rasped and worn from years of silence. “Will you be-”

Tarini finally looked up, her eyes cold, a half-smile playing on her lips. “I’ll be out of the country. Singapore. Client meetings.”

Angad blinked, as if disappointed but unsurprised. Malini said nothing, her face now stone.

Tanishk shifted in his chair, his voice low. “So that’s it? A forced family reunion for appearances?”

Malini ignored him. “Tanishk,” she said slowly, each syllable like a decree, “you and Kasish will attend every function together. No excuses. No absences. No drama.”

That finally got Tanishk’s attention. “You expect me to pretend?”

“I expect you to uphold your role,” she snapped.

Tarini stood up suddenly, pushing her chair back with a scraping sound. “Well. That sounds fun. I’ll send flowers.”

“Tarini,” Malini said sternly, “this is your brother’s brother in law’s wedding—”

“And I said i have meetings” Tarini said, her voice calm but sharp as glass. “Remember?”

Then she walked out.

A silence fell, thick and bitter.

Angad stared into his glass.

And Malini looked at Tanishk, her voice quieter now. “This family is cracking. But you will be there. And you will make it look whole.”

Tanishk didn’t argue. But deep inside, a storm had begun.

The ghosts of the past weren’t the only thing they would face at Yash’s wedding.

The living had become just as dangerous.

Dinner ended without ceremony—no dessert, no warmth, no lingering conversation. One by one, the family had disappeared into the vastness of the mansion, swallowed by high ceilings and quiet corridors.

Tanishk moved quickly, his steps echoing through the marble hallway as he reached for his car keys on the console near the main door. His coat was already in his hand when a voice called softly behind him.

“Tanishk… wait.”

He turned, already exhausted by the sound of her.

Kasish stood in the hallway, barefoot, out of her heels. Her expression was different—less polished, more raw. She stepped forward, hesitant but determined, and before he could react, her fingers closed around his wrist.

“Don’t go like this,” she said.

Tanishk’s face hardened. “Let go.”

“No,” she said, voice trembling. “Just… listen.”

He didn’t move. Her hand stayed on his wrist, light but insistent.

“I know you h-hate me,” Kasish whispered. “ But we’re stuck. This marriage—it’s real, whether we like it or not. Maybe we don’t have to love each other, but we can… accept it. Move on. Stop fighting.”

Tanishk stared at her, his eyes unreadable.

“Maybe,” she continued, her grip tightening slightly, “this wedding… this family mess… maybe it’s a chance to start over.”

There was a long, cold pause.

Then, slowly, Tanishk looked down at her hand.

And jerked it away.

His voice was low and cold. “You don’t get to rewrite the past just because the house is on fire.”

He turned without another word and walked out, the door closing behind him with a dull, final thud.

Kasish stood frozen in the hallway, her hand still hanging in the air—empty now.

Behind her, the chandeliers flickered again.

Somewhere deep in the house, a clock struck midnight.

And nothing had changed.

Not yet.

Sneak peek- Chapter 9

He knocked over the stool. His hands ran through his hair, fists pulling at the roots. The room seemed too small for his rage, too fragile for his silence.

“You will not wear it...!,” he muttered.

“J-Ji, it’s just kajal. It’s not—”

“DON’T!” he shouted. “Don’t pretend it’s nothing.”

Shree stumbled back, terrified now. She pressed herself into the corner, knees pulled up, arms around herself. Her eyes never left him.