(Kruthi's POV)
The courtyard looked different today.
Not cold. Not suffocating.
Just… staged.
A wide silver bowl sat in the center, filled with milk, rose petals, and floating marigold flowers. The surface shimmered under the soft morning light filtering through the high glass ceiling.
Around it—family.
Watching.
Waiting.
Judging.
I stood beside Vivaan.
Close enough for people to assume intimacy. Far enough to know the truth.
"Find the ring rasam," Naina announced cheerfully, clapping her hands once. "Jo pehle ring dhundhega, wahi ghar mein rule karega!"
(Some light laughter followed.)
Rule?
I almost smiled.
If only they knew.
I glanced sideways.
Vivaan stood beside me, sleeves rolled slightly, watch gleaming, expression unreadable as always.
Not interested.
Not amused.
Just… present.
Like a man attending a meeting, not a ritual.
"Bhai, at least pretend to look excited," Naina whispered to him, nudging his arm.
He didn't even look at her.
"I am," he replied flatly.
She rolled her eyes.
I almost did too.
We both sat across each other.
The silver bowl placed between us.
Milk. Petals. Silence.
"Ready?" someone said.
I dipped my hand first.
Cold.
The liquid brushed against my skin, petals shifting under my fingers as I searched blindly.
And then—
Another hand.
His.
Our fingers brushed.
Just slightly.
But enough.
I stiffened.
He didn't react.
Didn't pause.
Didn't pull back.
Just continued searching—as if nothing happened.
I swallowed.
Focused.
Not on him.
On the ring.
But then—
His fingers closed around my wrist.
Firm.
Sudden.
I froze.
"What are you doing?" I whispered under my breath, eyes flickering up.
His gaze met mine.
Sharp.
Controlled.
"Stop moving," he murmured.
I frowned.
"Why—"
"Just do it."
Low. Final.
Not a request.
Something in his tone made me obey.
I stilled my hand.
Completely.
And that's when I felt it.
His fingers moved—quick, precise—through the bowl.
Not searching.
Locating.
As if he already knew where it was.
Within seconds—
He caught the ring.
Gasps. Claps. Laughter.
"Vivaan bhai jeet gaye!"
"Dekha! Power toh inke paas hi rahegi!"
He pulled his hand out.
Ring between his fingers.
Victory.
Effortless.
Too effortless.
I slowly withdrew my hand.
Water dripping.
Mind racing.
That wasn't luck.
That wasn't chance.
That was…
certainty.
(Narration)
Vivaan stood up calmly, as if nothing unusual had happened, while the family reacted around him.
But Kruthi didn't move.
Her eyes remained on the bowl.
Milk still.
Petals floating.
Disturbed only seconds ago.
Something wasn't right.
(Kruthi's POV)
"Bhabhi, you lost!" Naina teased playfully, pulling me up.
I forced a smile.
"Clearly," I said.
But my mind was elsewhere.
I glanced at Vivaan.
He was already stepping back, uninterested in the celebration.
Like the outcome didn't matter.
Like he already knew it wouldn't.
How?
Later—
When everyone got distracted—
I walked back toward the bowl.
Quietly.
Carefully.
I dipped my hand again.
This time slower.
Observing.
Feeling.
And then—
My fingers touched something.
Not the ring.
Something… fixed.
I pushed aside the petals.
Looked closer.
A tiny metallic piece.
Barely visible.
Attached to the inner base of the bowl.
My breath hitched.
A magnet.
I pulled my hand back slowly.
Heart racing.
He didn't find the ring.
He controlled where it would go.
I turned—
And there he was.
Standing at a distance.
Watching me.
Not surprised.
Not caught.
Just…
aware.
Our eyes locked.
For a second, neither of us spoke.
Then—
He walked toward me.
Slow. Measured.
Dangerously calm.
"Curiosity," he said quietly, stopping just in front of me, "is not always a good habit."
My throat went dry.
"You knew," I whispered.
Not a question.
His gaze dropped briefly to the bowl.
Then back to me.
"Of course."
No denial.
No excuse.
"Why?" I asked, my voice barely steady.
I frowned, heart still unsettled.
"You manipulated it."
He stepped closer.
Not threatening.
Not distant.
Just… close.
"For them," he said.
Then his gaze softened—just slightly.
Barely noticeable.
"But not for you."
I blinked.
"What?"
His eyes held mine.
Steady.
Unwavering.
"I didn't need to win," he added quietly.
A pause.
"But I didn't want you to lose either."
My breath caught.
That didn't make sense.
He won.
Clearly.
"Then why—"
"Because" he interrupted softly,
"if I had let you win… they would've turned it into something else."
His jaw tightened faintly.
"They don't celebrate. They compare."
Silence.
"And I don't let anyone reduce what's mine… into a comparison."
My heart skipped.
That word again.
Mine.
Before I could react—
he reached out.
For a second, I thought—
But instead—
he gently wiped a drop of milk from my wrist.
His touch was slow.
Careful.
Unexpectedly… gentle.
"You should be more careful," he said.
I looked up at him.
Confused.
A little breathless.
"You trust too easily."
His voice wasn't mocking.
It wasn't harsh.
It was…
warning.
And something else.
Something I couldn't name yet.
"But," he added after a pause,
his thumb brushing away the last drop,
"not everything you trust… will fail you."
And then—
just like that—
he stepped back.
Distance restored.
Walls back in place.
But the feeling?
It stayed.