The sun loomed high over Shree Kshetrapal Dham Ashram.
Rashmi Yadav, daughter of the influential MLA Kailash Yadav, had arrived.
Her car halted just outside the Ashram gates. Guards rushed forward to open the doors, but she stepped out herself, her heels clicking confidently on the stone path, her saree fluttering gently around her like a whisper of fire.
She was draped in crimson, lips bold, eyes sharp—yet calm. A woman who had been raised among beasts but had learned to tame them with her stare.
As she entered the courtyard, many heads turned. She was so beautiful.
Dev also watched from the far side, he was shirtless and mid-training. Seeing her, he froze a little.
His breath caught.
Something struck him—not lust, but love.
As if the world shifted on her, the moment he saw her.
He lowered the wooden staff in his hand.
The hum of noise around him faded.
Only her presence remained.
She glanced toward him, her eyes lingered with curiosity.
Then, taking a few steps toward the training ground, she smiled faintly.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"The name is Dev…" he answered, wiping sweat from his brow, voice steady but eyes locked. "Servant of the Ashram."
She tilted her head slightly, amused.
"Servant? Then why are your eyes filled with hunger?"
Dev smirked, slightly embarrassed, but didn't look away.
"I don't know... after seeing you I felt like I remembered something, which I had forgotten."
For a moment—just a moment—the air between them sizzled.
She gave him a final glance before continuing inside.
Dev stood there, still. His heart is not racing—but beating like a war drum.
---
Rashmi stepped into the marble hall where Adityanand, the proclaimed heir of Swami Vairagyanand, waited.
He sat with arrogance cloaked over him like royalty—gold rings on each finger, silk robes, a girl massaging his feet at the side.
But the moment Rashmi entered, he sat up.
His breath halted.
His eyes, lustful by nature, now burned with a different fire—a fire of obsession.
She was not the usual flesh he used and discarded.
She was a throne. A crown.
A conquest worth turning holy scriptures upside down.
"Rashmi ji," he greeted, rising. "You seem like the epitome of gods. I am happy that you are ready to be my bride."
Rashmi, poised as ever, bowed lightly.
"Whether you want to be a bride or a servant, time will tell you."
Adityanand chuckled, but inside, his pride bristled.
He had never been spoken to this way.
And now, he was obsessed.
He decided in that moment.
Rashmi would be his. Not just in name, but in control.
---
Outside, Dev stood by the courtyard wall, watching her silhouette vanish into the palace.
His fists clenched.
He didn't know why—but something ancient within him stirred.
Something said:
"This girl has not come just to become a queen… She has come to change your fate."
---
The sun was softer that day — filtered through monsoon clouds, casting a muted light over the bustling town square.
Dev had been sent by the Ashram to oversee a donation drive, one of the many public acts used to polish the Ashram's image.
It was then he saw her again.
Rashmi Yadav, draped in a pastel kurta, speaking to a group of villagers near a water tank project.
She was smiling, listening, shaking hands — not like a politician, but like someone who actually cared.
And for a moment, Dev forgot who she was.
Or maybe, he remembered exactly who she wasn't.
He walked over, pretending to be occupied with some paperwork. She caught him staring, a half-smile curling at her lips.
"Dev? Are you stalking me now?"
"If I say yes, will you report me, future MLA?"
She laughed. "I haven't even filed my nomination yet."
She was here on behalf of her father — Kailash Yadav, who was preparing to pass his political legacy to her.
Rashmi was to run in the upcoming state assembly elections as the official candidate for the local constituency.
But it wasn't just politics.
She had a presence. She listened to people.
And people listened back.
Over the next few days, their paths kept crossing — by chance at first, then by design.
She asked him to show her parts of the town the campaign never cared to visit — the slums, the broken schools, the women's shelters.
Dev agreed, watching her react with honest, at what her father's party had ignored.
"You really live in the Ashram?" she asked once, surprised by his silence about the world.
"Not live. Survive," he said, with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Rashmi felt a pang of guilt at Dev's words. She had grown up in luxury, surrounded by servants and privilege. The idea of simply surviving was foreign to her.
She reached out, placing a hand on Dev's arm, her touch gentle and comforting.
"Dev, I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. I know our lives are very different."
Dev looked at her hand on his arm, feeling the warmth of her skin through the fabric of his sleeve. He knew he should pull away, maintain his distance, but he found himself leaning into her touch instead.
"It's alright, Rashmi. It's not your fault you were born into a different world." His gaze met hers, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes.
"But I'm glad you want to see the truth, even if it's ugly. Most people like you... they prefer to look the other way."
Rashmi laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Dev, are you implying that I'm naive? That I don't see the reality of the world?"
Dev grinned, enjoying their banter. "No, no. I would never accuse you of being naive. Just... sheltered, perhaps. But I like that about you. It's refreshing to meet someone who still believes in the good in people."
Rashmi playfully punched his arm. "Hey, I'm not that naive! I know people can be selfish and greedy. But I also know that there's good in everyone, if you look hard enough."
She paused, her gaze turning serious. "Like you, for instance. There's more to you than meets the eye, Dev. I can feel it."
Dev felt his heart skip a beat at her words. He quickly looked away, focusing on the path ahead. "You're reading too much into things, Rashmi.
"Am I?" Rashmi teased, a smirk playing on her lips. "Or maybe you're just not used to someone seeing past the facade you put up."
Dev chuckled, shaking his head. "You're trouble, you know that? I should be careful around you."
Rashmi laughed, the sound like music to Dev's ears. "Trouble? Me? I'm the epitome of innocence and virtue."
Dev raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "Oh really? Then what would you call this little adventure we're on? Going against your father's wishes, sneaking out to meet me..."
Rashmi's cheeks flushed, but her gaze remained steady. "I call it following my heart. And my heart tells me that there's something worth exploring here, something special."
Dev's breath caught in his throat at her words. He wanted to believe her, wanted to trust in the connection he felt between them.
---
One night, they stood beneath the old banyan tree, near the edge of the village. The crickets had just begun their evening symphony.
Dev turned to her, his voice quiet but unwavering.
"Rashmi… I need to say something."
She looked up, sensing a shift.
"I don't know what you feel. I don't even know what this is between us… but I haven't stopped thinking about you. And I don't think I can."
There was a pause.
Then he stepped closer, gently reaching for her hand.
"I want you to be mine."
She looked startled. "Dev—"
Rashmi's breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest as Dev's words washed over her. She had been expecting this moment, and had dreamed of it in the quiet hours of the night. And yet, now that it was here, she found herself tongue tied, unsure of how to respond.
Dev's hand tightened around hers, his thumb brushing gently over her knuckles. "I know it's complicated," he murmured, his gaze never leaving hers. "I know there are a million reasons why this can't work. But I also know that I can't ignore what I feel for you any longer."
Rashmi swallowed hard, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. "Dev, my father's already fixed marriage with Adityanand."
Hearing it Dev became a little angry, he already knew about this.
"I know, but that doesn't matter to me. You're not his. You're not anyone's. You're mine. I love you, Rashmi. And you need to know that… you are only mine. You can't marry Adityanand."
There was silence between them.
Then, quietly, she whispered:
"Dev… I didn't know."
She took a shaky breath.
"I didn't know my father had already chosen Adityanand. He only told me last week. I thought he respected my choice… I was wrong."
Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back.
"And now I don't know what's right anymore."
Dev's heart ached at the sight of Rashmi's tears, at the anguish in her voice. He pulled her into his arms, holding her close as she trembled against him.
"Shh, it's alright," he murmured, his lips brushing against her hair. "It's going to be okay. I'm here, Rashmi. I'm not going anywhere."
He gently tilted her chin up, wiping away her tears with his thumb. "Listen to me, my love. You don't have to marry Adityanand. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. Your father may have chosen him, but he doesn't own you. You have a choice."
Rashmi's eyes searched for him, a flicker of hope igniting in their depths. "But Dev, what about my duties, my responsibilities? I can't just abandon everything my father has worked for…"
"We don't have to decide tonight."
She nodded, eyes brimming, her heart pounding.
Then, slowly, she leaned in.
Their lips met—soft, hesitant at first.
When they finally pulled apart, she whispered:
"I don't know what will happen next. But I want to find out—with you."