London

A private jet touched down smoothly on the runway.

The door opened.

First, stepped out Tarini..

Sharp saree. Controlled posture. Power in every step.

Behind her came her husband, Navdeep Saxena, calm and composed.

A luxurious black car waited beside the runway.

Tarini entered without looking back. Navdeep followed.

As the car began moving through the quiet London streets, Tarini crossed her arms.

“I don’t understand why we had to come personally to invite them,” she said coldly. “A call would have been enough.”

Navdeep smiled gently.

“Baby… they’re your family.”

She didn’t respond.

“Your mother. Your brother. You need to come.”

Silence.

“And we talked about this,” Navdeep continued softly. “Inaya will be happy to see them at her engagement.”

Tarini looked out the window.

“I haven’t seen Maa sa in years,” Navdeep added. “And I haven’t met Tanishk properly since…”

He paused.

“Since Shree died.”

The car grew heavier with the name.

Navdeep exhaled.
“I came for her funeral. You didn’t.”

Tarini’s jaw tightened.

“I don’t consider that woman my brother’s wife.”

Navdeep looked at her carefully.

“Tarini—”

“She was a mistake,” Tarini cut him off. “A mistake my brother made when he left Kashish for her.”

Navdeep’s voice softened.

“It’s the past. Forget it.”

“They have children now,” he continued. “Saransh and Sahera. They won’t like it if we speak about their mother like this.”

At the mention of Taniskh, something flickered in Tarini’s eyes.

But she masked it instantly.

The car slowed.

Stopped.

Tarini stepped out of the car.

She looked at the mansion in front of her.

Grand.

Respectable.

But not comparable to the Chandravanshi Palace.

Their estate was larger. More luxurious. More dominant.

This one felt… warm.

Less intimidating.

She adjusted her saree and walked forward.

Navdeep followed quietly.

The maid opened the door.

“Yes, ma’am?”

Tarini didn’t waste words.

“I want to meet Tanishk.”

Her tone carried authority.

The maid hesitated slightly before stepping aside.

“Please come in.”

As Tarini stepped inside—

The air felt different.

Familiar.

But unresolved.

Years of silence.

Years of judgment.

Years of distance.

And tonight—

All of it stood in the same house again.

The door to the inner hall opened.

And standing there was Malini Chandravanshi.

For a moment, she couldn’t believe her eyes.

“Tarini…”

Her voice trembled slightly.

After years.

Her daughter.

Her son-in-law.

Standing under the same roof again.

Malini didn’t wait.

She walked forward and pulled Tarini  into a tight embrace.

“Tarini… how are you?”

For a second—

Tarini forgot everything.

Forgot how she had always felt her mother chose her brother.

Forgot the silent comparisons.

Forgot the anger she carried for years.

She hugged her back.

Not as a businesswoman.

Not as the face of an empire.

Just as a daughter.

Navdeep stood a little behind, quietly watching.

He smiled softly.

He knew this.

His wife had grown tough.

Sharp.

Unbreakable in the world’s eyes.

But she still craved her mother’s touch.

Still softened in her arms.

Footsteps echoed.

Tanishk Chandravanshi walked into the living room from his office wing.

He stopped mid-step.

“Di…”

Years passed in that one word.

Tarini turned.

He still carried that quiet aura.

Calm. Grounded. Unapologetic.

He greeted her as if nothing had happened.

As if he hadn’t walked away from legacy.

As if he hadn’t given up wealth and royal inheritance without protest.

As if he hadn’t handed everything to her.

“Kaise ho?” he asked evenly.

Navdeep stepped forward and hugged him warmly.

But Tarini?

She gave him only a brief nod.

Not warmth.

Not hostility.

Just distance.

“Sit,” Tanishk said simply.

They settled on the couches.

The room felt heavier now.

Navdeep began gently,

“Inaya is getting engaged. And married soon.”

Malini’s face lit up.

“Really?”

“We came to invite all of you to India,” Navdeep continued. “For her engagement.”

Tanishk smiled faintly.

“Wow. She became so big, huh?”

There was genuine fondness in his tone.

Malini asked eagerly, “Who is the boy?”

Tarini answered with pride.

“Son of Jodhpur’s biggest industrialist — Rahul Oberoi.”

The name carried weight.

Alliance.

Status.

Power.

Malini nodded approvingly.

“Stay tonight,” she insisted. “After so many years…”

Tarini was about to refuse.

“I have a meeting—”

But Navdeep gently interrupted.

“We can stay for a day.”

Tarini glanced at him.

He gave her a look that said — don’t run again.

She exhaled.

“Fine. One night.”

The atmosphere had shifted.

More formal.

More observant.

The front door opened.

Saransh walked in, dropping his car keys casually.

He paused upon seeing unfamiliar faces.

He assumed they were his father’s business associates.

He nodded politely.

Before he could move further—

Malini called out,

“Saransh, beta. Come here. Meet your Bua sa and Fufa sa.”

He stopped.

Bua sa?

He walked closer.

Navdeep stood first and hugged him warmly.

“Saransh! You became such a big boy, huh?”

Saransh smiled politely.

“Namaste.”

He had never really met them.

Only heard names.

Family politics were never openly discussed in front of him.

He greeted them respectfully.

But with his usual subtle sass.

His sharp eyes quickly observed Tarini.

The way she carried herself.

The way she scanned the house.

Measured.

Evaluating.

Noticing what was smaller than her palace.

Something about her felt…

Distant.

Unreachable.

Strange.

Tarini looked at him too.

And for a second—

She saw a resemblance.

Not just to Tanishk.

But to someone else.

To Shree.

She looked away almost immediately.

Dinner continued.

Polite conversation.

Hidden judgments.

Unspoken comparisons.

The table was full.

Silver cutlery.
Warm dishes.
Cold tension.

As dinner continued, Navdeep Saxena smiled at Saransh and said casually,

“Your didi is getting married.”

Saransh froze mid-bite.

“My didi? Sahera? What? When? To whom?!”

His reaction was instant.

Protective.

Alert.

Before Navdeep could respond, Tanishk Chandravanshi calmly said,

“Relax, son. Not your sister Sahera. Your Bua sa and Fufa sa’s daughter. Inaya.”

Saransh exhaled dramatically.

“Oh.”

A small chuckle escaped the table.

Dinner resumed.

After a few minutes, Saransh grew more comfortable with Navdeep.

“Fufa sa… what exactly do you guys do in India? I mean, Papa does business here. I didn’t even know we had family there.”

Navdeep exchanged a brief glance with Tarini before answering.

“Beta… your Dada sa was a Raja.”

Saransh blinked.

“A Raja?”

“Yes,” Navdeep continued warmly. “Your papa was born into royalty. But he chose to come here.”

Saransh’s eyes slowly shifted to his father.

Navdeep added softly,

“We still have estates there. Palaces. Culture. When you visit India one day, you’ll be mesmerized.”

Malini smiled gently.

“We never mentioned all this because your father wanted to raise you and Sahera without the weight of legacy.”

She looked proudly at Tanishk.

“He always believed his children should stand on their own feet. Not because of a family name.”

Saransh’s throat tightened slightly.

He remembered earlier in the evening how casually he had assumed they were just business associates.

He didn’t say sorry.

But he looked at his father.

Tanishk simply smiled back.

A silent reassurance.

Everything’s fine.

Saransh nodded.

“I know, Dadi. Papa loves us a lot. He gave both mother and father’s love to me and Sahera.”

The table grew quiet for a moment.

At the mention of Shree—

Tarini’s hand paused slightly on her fork.

She didn’t comment.

She didn’t acknowledge.

She kept eating.

Composed.

Detached.

Saransh noticed.

He had been observing her since she entered.

The way she didn’t greet him warmly.

The way she avoided eye contact.

The way she seemed… uninterested.

He wasn’t foolish.

He sensed something.

Maybe she didn’t like them.

Maybe she didn’t approve of his father.

But Saransh was different.

He might argue with Tanishk.

He might question him.

But he would never allow anyone to silently disrespect him.

His jaw tightened slightly.

Yet he remained polite.

Because that’s how his father raised him.

Dignified.

Controlled.

Strong.

Across the table, Tarini continued listening.

Watching.

Judging.

And somewhere deep inside—

She realized something she didn’t expect.

Her brother hadn’t lost anything when he left royalty.

He had gained something she never truly understood.

Peace.

The sky was still pale blue.

Crew members stood wrapped in jackets, half-awake, rubbing their hands against the cold breeze that refused to settle.

Cameras were being adjusted.

Lights flickered on.

The lake behind them looked frozen in silence.

The director clapped loudly.

“Come on, everyone! Energy! We don’t have all day.”

Kabir stood in his long dark coat, breath slightly visible in the cold air.
Inaya stood opposite him, draped beautifully yet shivering slightly between takes.

The director stepped closer.

“Okay. This is a softer scene. Walk toward each other. Eye contact. Pause. Then subtle smile. No overacting.”

Kabir nodded.

Inaya composed herself instantly.

Professional mode.

Meanwhile—

A little away from the set, Myra walked toward Yuvaan.

“How’s your health now?” she asked gently.

Yuvaan smiled.

“Better. Thanks for the medicine yesterday.”

She shrugged lightly. “You looked terrible. Someone had to help.”

He chuckled.

“Still bossy.”

“Still dramatic,” she replied.

Before they could continue—

“Action!” the director shouted.

Kabir and Inaya stepped into frame.

This time—

There was no stiffness.

No forced chemistry.

They walked slowly.

Eyes meeting.

Holding for a second longer than required.

Something quiet passed between them.

Not romance.

Not yet.

But awareness.

The director watched closely.

“Good… good… hold it…”

“Cut!”

He clapped his hands.

“Excellent. That’s the one.”

The crew visibly relaxed.

Someone immediately announced, “pack up”

Yuvaan stretched his arms dramatically.

“That’s it. I’m freezing. Let’s go have coffee after this.”

Myra smiled. “Yes. I need something hot too.”

Yuvaan nodded, then added casually—

“Let me ask Kabir as well. After this cold shoot, hot coffee will work for all of us.”