The cabin lights had already dimmed hours ago, turning the flight into a cocoon of muted whispers, occasional clicks of seatbelts, and the soft hum of engines pushing us across skies. By the time we touched down, the faintest golden light had started brushing the airplane windows, pulling us back into morning reality.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Singapore. Local time is 5:30 AM. Temperature outside is 27 degrees Celsius."
The announcement barely registered. My body was stiff, my head buzzing, but my eyes were wide awake. Janvi shifted beside me, adjusting her dupatta, her eyes still rimmed with exhaustion. Aarav stretched across the aisle, hair messier than ever, and gave us a cheeky grin like he'd been wide awake all night. Rudra? He was already standing, pulling our bags from the overhead compartment with practiced precision.
We moved through immigration and baggage claim almost like clockwork. Janvi and I clutched our passports nervously, though the process went smoothly. By the time we stepped out of the terminal, the Singapore sun had risen fully, bathing the city skyline in hues of rose gold. Glass towers glistened. The air smelled different—cleaner, sharper, like it belonged to a city that never paused.
I slowed down near the sliding glass doors, taking in the sight. The roads outside were busy already, sleek black cars weaving between buses and bicycles. Janvi's hand brushed mine, and I caught her expression—wide‑eyed wonder.
"First time?" I asked softly.
She nodded. "Yours too."
We both laughed, the kind that comes from shared nerves and childlike awe.
Behind us, Aarav jogged to catch up. "Relax, ladies. I know the hotel. I booked the rooms."
Janvi shot him a sidelong glance, her voice dropping to a mutter. "At least you did something useful."
Her sarcasm rolled off her tongue like a whip.
I couldn't help the giggle that escaped. I nudged her lightly. "Be nice. He looks proud of himself."
Aarav blinked, mock‑offended, and held out both palms dramatically. "Seriously? I drag you to luxury and this is the thanks I get?"
Before Janvi could retort, Rudra's calm, commanding voice cut through: "Cars are here."
We followed his gaze. A line of sleek black sedans stood waiting, their drivers in crisp uniforms holding signs that read Singhaniya Group. Rudra walked ahead, his stride steady, commanding without trying.
As we moved closer, Aarav slowed and leaned toward Rudra, muttering under his breath, "Bhai… I only booked two rooms."
Rudra's head tilted slightly, expression unreadable. "Mere toh chal jayega. Tu kahan soyega?"(I'll manage. Where will you sleep?)
Aarav's innocent grin spread wide. "Bhai, apke bagal mein."(Next to you, brother.)
Rudra stopped mid‑stride, the faintest flicker of annoyance crossing his face. He gave Aarav a sharp side‑eye. "Bilkul nahi. Apne liye room book kar."(Absolutely not. Book your own room.)
Aarav raised both hands in surrender. "Kya yaar, mazaak hi toh tha."(Come on, it was just a joke.)
I bit back a laugh, exchanging an amused glance with Janvi. Neither of us missed how Rudra's irritation looked more like the kind of annoyance you save for siblings you secretly love.
As the men continued their hushed banter, Janvi and I slowed to take in the view beyond the terminal doors. Singapore was alive in a way that Delhi wasn't—sleek glass buildings rose high, their reflections dancing in the morning sun. The streets looked spotless, lined with palms and blooming flowers. Even the air felt purposeful.
Janvi whispered, "It's so… perfect."
I nodded, warmth spilling into my chest. "Like a picture."
And as I turned my head, I caught him watching me.
Rudra, standing just a step ahead, eyes not on the cars, not on Aarav, but on me.
The way his gaze lingered—steady, unblinking—made the morning feel less about the skyline and more about the silent storm gathering between us.
Aarav pulled out his phone suddenly, breaking the spell. "Let me call Ravi—he should know we landed."
He dialed. The phone rang. Once. Twice. Then went unanswered. Aarav frowned, tried again. Still nothing. "He's not picking up," he muttered.
Rudra's brow furrowed for a fraction of a second, but his voice stayed calm. "He'll call back."
Janvi and I exchanged a look, sensing undercurrents we didn't fully understand. But Rudra's composure didn't waver, and somehow, that steadied me too.
We slid into the cars—Janvi and I together in the backseat, Aarav hopping into the seat in front. Rudra sat beside the driver, his profile lit by morning sunlight spilling through the tinted glass.
The ride through Singapore was breathtaking. Wide boulevards stretched endlessly, lined with palm trees. Skyscrapers pierced the blue sky, their reflections bending across the water canals. Janvi pressed her face lightly against the window, her eyes alight with wonder.
"Anaya," she whispered, "I don't think I'll be able to stop staring."
I smiled, slipping my hand over hers. "Then don't."
Behind his sunglasses, Rudra's eyes flicked toward us in the rearview mirror. He didn't speak, but his faint smirk betrayed him. Admiration, quiet and hidden, yet there.
The cars pulled into the sweeping driveway of The Lux Heaven—the Singhanias' own crown jewel in Singapore. The grand facade glittered, every pane of glass catching the sun like diamonds. Uniformed staff lined the entrance, bowing as Rudra stepped out first. Aarav followed, adjusting his jacket with casual arrogance.
I climbed out with Janvi, and for a moment, we stood still at the foot of the massive structure.
"This is…" Janvi whispered.
I finished for her: "Unbelievable."
She nodded, squeezing my hand.
Behind us, Rudra's gaze lingered on me again. Silent. Assessing. Admiring.
And as we walked toward the revolving doors of The Lux Heaven, I realized—this trip wasn't just about business.
It was about what waited behind his silence.
And whether I was ready to face it.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 💕💕💕 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
The lobby of The Lux Heaven glittered like a palace of glass and gold. Chandeliers spilled molten light onto Italian marble floors, orchids perfumed the air, and every corner whispered luxury. Guests turned to stare as Rudra and Aarav walked toward the reception counter.
Janvi and I sank into a velvet sofa nearby, pretending to admire the décor but really… my eyes refused to leave him. Rudra Singhaniya—calm, composed, deadly in his silence as he signed papers with his silver pen. Aarav leaned casually beside him, flashing his easy grin at the young receptionists.
And oh, the receptionists.
Three of them, hair glossy, lips painted, leaning forward far too eagerly. Their laughter was too sweet, their glances too bold. One even dared to tilt her head and whisper:
"Sir, if you need someone to show you around after hours… I'm available."
I froze.
Janvi's hand tightened around her dupatta. Our eyes met. Heat surged through me, sharp and uninvited.
Rudra didn't react. Not a glance, not a twitch. He kept signing like marble incarnate. But it didn't matter—my stomach burned all the same.
And just then—like the universe had planned the moment—an older Indian aunt passed by the lobby, phone in hand, blaring music loud enough for the entire floor to hear.
🎶 "Blame mere cheater ho gaye… baaj se titar ho gaye…Padosan ki nazro ke attention seeker ho gaye…" 🎶
The words sliced through the air.
My eyes widened. Janvi choked back a laugh. And then… fire. Not in the chandeliers. Not in the orchids.
In us.
My chest tightened with jealousy so raw it hurt. Janvi leaned forward, glaring daggers at Aarav, whose grin faltered the second the lyrics registered.
I could see the panic crawl across his face. His casual smirk? Gone. His easy charm? Vanished. Because he realized both Janvi and I were watching. Watching everything.
His Adam's apple bobbed as he whispered under his breath, "Bas ab toh main gaya…"(I'm finished now…)
Janvi's eyes narrowed. Her look could have cut diamonds.
Meanwhile, I tried to sit still—but the song's mocking rhythm, those bold girls at the counter, and Rudra's maddening calmness—it was too much.
Janvi grabbed my hand, eyes gleaming. "Bas, Anaya. We can't sit like this."
"Janvi—" I whispered, shocked.
But she'd already pulled me to my feet. And suddenly, in the middle of the luxurious lobby, we started moving with the beat.
Not a real dance. Not a performance. Just enough. Dupattas flicking, shoulders swaying, smiles plastered on faces that burned with jealousy.
Guests turned to look. Staff stifled laughs. The aunt clapped along, delighted.
Janvi spun dramatically, braid whipping, her eyes landing squarely on Aarav. His face went pale, guilt splashed all over it.
I clapped in rhythm, laughing lightly, but my eyes locked only on Rudra.
And finally—he looked up.
For the first time since we entered, Rudra's gaze rose from the counter. The receptionists leaned closer, waiting for his attention.
But he didn't spare them a glance.
His eyes found me. Only me.
Steady. Dark. Unblinking.
Heat rushed through my veins. My smile didn't falter, but inside—I was burning.
Janvi leaned close mid‑twirl, whispering, "Dekha? Ab sab samajh gaya."(See? Now it's obvious.)
I whispered back, breathless, "Shut up."
But the corner of my lips betrayed me with a smile.
Across the lobby, Aarav raised both hands like he was under interrogation. "Janvi, meri maa! Main toh bas polite ho raha tha!"(Janvi, for God's sake! I was just being polite!)
Her glare silenced him instantly.
The music faded as the aunt finally took her call. The lobby's normal hum returned.
Janvi and I sank back onto the sofa, our cheeks flushed, dupattas settling.
Aarav scratched the back of his neck, whispering frantically to Rudra, "Bhai, kuch bolna padega warna main mar jaaunga."(Brother, you need to say something or I'm dead.)
Rudra didn't even glance at him. He pocketed the keycards, straightened, and walked toward us.
When he stopped in front of me, his eyes didn't waver. Calm voice. Dangerous calm.
"Enjoyed yourself?"
My chin lifted, lips curving. "Immensely."
A pause. His lips twitched—the ghost of a smile.
He extended his hand. "Let's go. Time to see your room."
And as I placed my hand in his, one thought flared in my mind louder than the aunt's phone ever had:
If this was just the lobby… what storm was waiting in the days ahead?
⋆｡°✩༘───༶⋆˙⊹⋆｡°✩༘───༶⋆˙⊹
The keys were cold against my palm, slick little cards carrying far more weight than they should have. The lobby buzzed behind us, whispers and perfume lingering in the air, but I wasn't listening.
I'd already heard the only sound that mattered.
Her silence.
Anaya hadn't said a word after that ridiculous scene with the song. But she didn't need to. I'd seen it—the flare in her eyes when those receptionists leaned too close. The way her smile tightened, all sugar on the outside but fire underneath.
And it did something to me.
It pleased me.
I smirked, tilting the key between my fingers. So you feel this too, Velvet. Finally.
"Sir," the manager stammered, bowing low as Aarav scooped up two keys from the desk. "Your suites are on the 17th floor. Please enjoy your stay."
Aarav pocketed them with a grin. "One for me, one for Janvi." He flashed me a brotherly look, like he'd won a prize.
Anaya stepped forward quickly, her voice calm but edged. "I'll stay with Janvi."
The words were casual. But her face? The flush at her cheeks, the stiffness in her jaw? They screamed otherwise.
I didn't argue. Not yet.
I simply reached down, picked up her bag from beside the sofa, and slung it easily over my shoulder. "Chalo," I murmured, nodding toward the elevators.
She blinked, lips parting as if to protest, but nothing came. She followed.
The four of us stepped into the mirrored elevator, the air suddenly too still. The soft hum of the lift filled the silence as doors closed us in.
I stood just behind Anaya and Janvi, Aarav at my side. The mirrors on three walls gave me every angle of her face. I didn't even have to look down. Her expression was right there in the glass—clear as daylight.
Furious. Beautifully furious.
Aarav leaned toward me, whispering so low only I could hear. "Bhai… bhabhi gussa hai."(Brother… sister‑in‑law is angry.)
My lips curved into a smirk. "Vo meri biwi hai, Aarav. Mujhse gussa nahi hogi toh tujhse hogi?"(She's my wife, Aarav. If she won't be angry with me, then who else would she be angry with?)
He snorted softly, pretending to look at the floor. "Kyōn, bhai? Meri wali hai na… mere liye wahi kaafi hai."(Why, brother? I have my own one… that's enough for me.)
We shared the kind of grin only brothers could. A quick, sharp flicker of mischief. Bro‑code sealed in silence.
Ahead of us, Anaya and Janvi were murmuring about the room numbers.
"Seventeen‑oh‑three is ours," Janvi said softly.
"Seventeen‑oh‑five then," Anaya added, not looking at me but very aware of my presence.
I let her speak. Let her think. The mirror didn't lie—her eyes darted once, sideways, then back to Janvi. She was burning inside. And I liked it.
The elevator hummed upward, digits blinking one by one.
Finally, I leaned forward just slightly, my voice calm, slicing through the soft chatter.
"Aarav," I said, eyes still on her reflection, "did you notice something in the lobby?"
The words weren't loud. But they were enough.
Both girls froze mid‑sentence. Their heads turned, almost in sync, eyes widening.
Janvi spun halfway around, her braid brushing Anaya's shoulder. Her expression sharp, playful, but edged with suspicion. "Sir, you were… flirting with them? Weren't you?"
The accusation hung heavy in the air.
Aarav blinked dramatically, clutching his chest. "Flirting? Main waha nahi tha kya, Janvi?!"(Flirting? Wasn't I standing right there, Janvi?!)
His tone was half‑defensive, half‑comic. Overdone. But Janvi wasn't laughing. She folded her arms, lips pressed tight, eyes narrowed.
"Exactly," she shot back. "You were standing there. And still you smiled like—"
"Arre!" Aarav cut in, throwing his hands up theatrically. "I was being polite!"
The tension sparked hotter, her glare like a live wire.
Meanwhile, Anaya's reflection stayed on me. Not the argument. Not Aarav's antics. Just me.
I tilted my head, letting a low chuckle slip. Calm. Controlled.
The kind of laugh that says I know more than you want me to.
Her lips parted, as if to ask me something—demand, maybe—but the elevator dinged before she could.
Seventeenth floor.
The doors slid open.
I stepped forward first, still carrying her bag. Aarav tried to defuse Janvi with more chatter, but her glare stayed steady.
And Anaya? She walked past me, chin lifted high, but I saw it in her eyes as she brushed close.
The jealousy hadn't faded.
It had only begun.