The Royal Masquerade at ITC Maurya
The 5-star ITC Maurya looked less like a hotel and more like a royal palace today. Such opulent decoration was a rare sight even for the elite of this city. The glitter of millions of glass beads and shimmering fairy lights acted as a beacon from afar. From the main gate to the entrance, a plush Kashmiri carpet was laid out. Antique decor pieces from around the world—the legacy of Bhavani Narang—proudly displayed his expensive and grand tastes. In the garden, a small pond with colorful swimming fish provided a cooling contrast to the dazzling lights.
The parking lot was equally extraordinary; a lineup of Rolls Royce, Lamborghini, Jaguar, Bentley, and Audi—the kind of fleet people usually only see in their dreams.
Suddenly, a young man's voice pierced through the scenery.
"Drishti, my dear sister! Did you arrive in a taxi? You should have called me; I would have sent a car. You should have at least considered the reputation of the Narang family today."
The young man stepped out of his Porsche 911, slammed the door, and walked toward Drishti and Shivam. His tone and body language made it clear: he didn't feel concern for his sister, only mockery and sarcasm.
Drishti swallowed her pride and remained silent, just as she had done before every member of the Narang family ever since her father, Akhil Narang, lost his status, and even more so since her marriage to Shivam. Her inability to arrive in a private car was due to her father's falling fortunes, yet as always, while the Narangs' eyes were on Drishti, their target was the "pauper" Shivam.
"Drishti, why are you so foolish?" her brother continued. "I offered you so many times. Singhania Uncle has three sons; I was ready to set something up with the youngest. Your life would have been set. But I guess you've grown fond of this wretched lifestyle."
As Karan continued his taunts, his voice dripped with more hatred and venom. Blinded by wealth and ego, he seemed to forget that the man he was insulting was standing right in front of him.
"It's still not too late. There are many families of our standard with boys worthy of you. If you get rid of this loser today, I'll talk to someone immediately."
Shivam stood beside Drishti as if he knew he had no existence there. But Drishti could no longer bear the humiliation. In a low but angry voice, she said:
"Karan, you've said quite enough. Is there anything left? Just because you're the elder brother doesn't mean—"
"I'm thinking of your well-being!" Karan interrupted. "Do you actually like this man? This two-bit poverty and life full of insults? Then live it. Go to hell!"
Fuming with rage, Karan turned to Shivam and let out a cynical smile. "You... you never had any self-respect, but where did you get the nerve to show up at the grand wedding of a Narang daughter, my younger sister?"
He paused for a second, sensing something. "Oh! Wait. The 'orphan son-in-law' picked up by the Narangs would only dare show up here for a reason. Is that reason...?"
Karan stopped without finishing his sentence, staring directly into Shivam's eyes. Shivam's eyes flashed with anger, but before he could speak, Drishti grabbed his arm and whispered, "Please, endure it. Don't say anything. Our purpose for being here is more important than his nonsense."
Shivam suppressed his rage and looked away. Karan threw one last barb. "Now that you're here, let's see if you can even last until dinner."
He turned and walked into the hotel with a wicked smirk.
"I am sorry," Drishti said to Shivam, her voice heavy with guilt.
Shivam looked at her, knowing she was ashamed of her family's behavior toward him. He nodded a silent "I know." After a few seconds of silence, he put his hands in his pockets and spoke like a friend.
"About what Karan said..."
"Please, Shivam!" Drishti's tone turned sharp.
"But you're here—"
"Shivam! Even if you know why I am here, do not talk about it. It is none of your concern."
None of your concern. Those words hit Shivam's heart like a cold gust of wind. He knew Drishti had married him under her grandfather's pressure but could never give him the status of a husband. They lived in the same house, the same room, but she couldn't even give him the right of a friend. To her, giving someone that right meant giving them a claim over her, which her pride wouldn't allow. She was fighting for her father's lost respect, and she wanted to walk that path alone.
Seeing her struggle, Shivam decided to ignore the sting of her words. He took his hands out of his pockets and raised them in the air as if surrendering.
"My mistake, Lady Bheem! Shall we go inside now?" he joked.
Drishti looked slightly embarrassed. Taking a deep breath to cast off her frustrations, she nodded and walked toward the entrance. Shivam followed, his smile vanishing. He drifted back to that moment two years ago when Bhavani Narang had approached him personally with the proposal for Drishti's hand. The world was shocked, and the family mocked the decision then and now, calling Shivam a "useless orphan."
They didn't know that Bhavani Narang was a master judge of character. He knew Shivam was no ordinary boy—he was Shivam Shah, the grandson of the world-famous industrialist Shivamvardhan Shah, and the true heir to the Shah empire.
Suddenly, the bright lights of the ballroom snapped Shivam back to the present.
The Cold Reception
The interior was a dreamscape: massive crystal chandeliers, plush carpets, grand water fountains, and gardens made of imported flowers. The guests were the "Who's Who" of the world—VIPs, politicians, and film stars.
The Narang family was already busy attending to guests. Drishti's eyes were searching for the bride, Tanya.
"There she is," Shivam whispered.
Drishti looked around to see if anyone had noticed him whispering in her ear. Seeing no one, she hurried toward Tanya.
Tanya was sitting on a grand sofa, surrounded by friends. Dressed in almond-colored bridal wear and laden with diamonds and emeralds, she looked like a princess who was very proud of her status.
"Congratulations, Tanya! I hope you get all the happiness in the world," Drishti said sincerely, handing her a gift.
But as soon as Tanya saw Drishti, her smile vanished. Her friends moved away, whispering and looking at Drishti with a mix of mockery and pity.
"Thanks. Put the gift there," Tanya said coldly, pointing to a cluttered table.
Drishti didn't take offense. "Can I walk you to the stage?" she asked affectionately.
Tanya's face twisted with arrogance. "In what capacity?"
"I'm your sister. Your Drishti Di."
Tanya couldn't hold back anymore. She leaned in and whispered with venom, "Stop this drama. I know exactly why you're here."
Drishti froze.
"You're here to beg for help for Akhil Chachu, aren't you? To save his factory which is about to shut down? The funding has stopped, and he can't even pay the laborers. There's nothing I, my father, or my fiancé Darsh can do. So don't even think about it."
It was as if Tanya had slapped Drishti multiple times without lifting a hand. The sting was so sharp that for a moment, Drishti couldn't see or hear anything. Tanya walked away, leaving Drishti standing there with tears in her eyes.
Even if that was the reason she came, did she deserve to be treated this way? The once-favorite niece and beloved cousin was now an eyesore to everyone, simply because she said "Yes" to her grandfather's wish to marry Shivam.
Shivam watched all this from a distance. Just as he had endured his own insults, he had to swallow the pain of seeing Drishti insulted. He did nothing—not because he couldn't, but because he was waiting for the right moment. Every day, every second. And he knew... that day would come.
Questions for the Next Chapter:
What is the "Right Moment" Shivam is waiting for?
Will Drishti find any ally in this den of lions to save her father's factory?
What happens when the "Shah" presence inevitably makes itself felt at this high-profile wedding?
Would you like me to continue the story or help you develop the specific "secret" Bhavani Narang left behind for Shivam?