Riya's POV

“Rashmi, jaldi karo,” Papa said for the third time, his eyes darting towards the front door every few seconds.

I bit back a laugh.

It was amusing to see the man who could negotiate business deals without blinking now looking like he might personally run outside and drag the guests into the house.

“Papa,” Diya called softly.

He turned towards her.

One look at her face, and whatever he was about to say died on his lips.

“Sab kaam ho gaya hai,” Diya assured him, adjusting the pallu of her saree. “Ab bas rasm hi baaki hai.”

Her cheeks turned pink.

A bride.

My sister was actually going to be someone’s wife.

The thought felt strange.

I stared at her for a moment longer. Diya looked nothing like the elder sister who used to steal my chocolates and blame me whenever Papa found out. Today, she looked elegant, graceful, almost unreal in her designer saree, with her jewellery glinting under the warm lights.

“Acha, ye Riya kaha reh gayi?” Ma suddenly asked.

She picked up her phone and dialled my number.

I looked at the phone in my hand and smiled.

Before I could answer, the call connected.

“Hello, Riya beta, kaha ho tum?”

“Niche hun, Ma,” I whispered, looking towards the entrance from behind the wall. “Jiju ko sabse pehle main hi dekhungi.”

There was a collective groan from inside.

I grinned.

“Offo,” Diya exclaimed. “Kal toh kisi ne kaha tha ki main unko jiju nahi bulaungi.”

“Woh kal tha, Di.”

I could practically hear her eyes rolling.

“Acha, suniye,” I whispered, suddenly noticing movement outside. “Lagta hai woh log aa gaye. Abhi main rakhti hoon. Bye.”

I ended the call before Ma could scold me.

My attention immediately returned to the entrance.

Three cars stopped one after another outside our house.

I stretched myself on my toes and hid farther behind the wall.

The first car stopped.

The driver stepped out and opened the rear door.

An elderly man emerged, followed by a woman.

“Jiju ke parents honge,” I murmured.

The second car stopped.

Another couple got out.

I didn't recognize them.

“Relatives,” I decided.

And then the third car stopped.

My eyes widened.

There he was.

My brother-in-law-to-be.

He stepped out wearing a black bandhgala, his posture straight, expression composed. He looked considerably more serious than he had appeared in the photographs Diya had shown me.

“Hm.”

I tilted my head.

Not bad.

Actually...

Very handsome.

I smiled to myself.

“My sister is lucky.”

I watched as he joined his family, and together they walked towards our house carrying trays and gifts.

I quickly slipped away from the entrance.

There was no way I was going to get caught spying on my future jiju.

I hurried through the kitchen instead.

Everything was spotless.

The counters had been cleaned twice. The floor had been mopped until it shone. The servants were moving around with trays, flowers and gifts while Ma kept checking everything as though one misplaced sweet could bring dishonour upon the entire family.

I suppressed another laugh.

The house was ready.

My sister was ready.

And apparently, I was the only one who wasn't emotionally prepared for the fact that she was growing up.

I peeked into the living room.

“Aaiye, aaiye!”

Papa welcomed them with a broad smile.

Everyone exchanged greetings.

The elders blessed Diya, while the younger ones greeted one another.

I stayed behind for a little while, watching everything unfold.

The gifts were carefully carried inside and arranged on the table.

Refreshments followed.

Tea.

Juices.

Sweets.

Dry fruits.

Everything was served with the kind of perfection Ma demanded whenever relatives visited.

I finally stepped into the room.

Diya caught sight of me immediately.

Her eyes narrowed.

I smiled innocently.

She mouthed, Where were you?

I shrugged.

She knew.

Of course she knew.

Before she could expose me, Jiju's father cleared his throat.

“Sujit ji,” he said warmly, “pehle roka kar lete hain.”

Papa immediately nodded.

“Haan, bilkul.”

The chatter quietened.

Diya was guided towards the centre of the room.

Her future husband sat beside her.

I watched my sister lower her gaze.

The rituals began.

The priest recited the prayers while both families gathered around the couple.

There was something strangely beautiful about the simplicity of it.

No outsiders.

No unnecessary crowd.

Just family.

The people who had watched them grow, the people who would witness their marriage, the people who would stand beside them through everything that came after.

Ma's eyes became suspiciously wet.

I nudged her.

“Ma.”

She wiped them quickly.

“Chup.”

I smiled.

Papa looked happier than I had seen him in weeks.

The elders exchanged gifts.

The rings were brought forward.

Diya's hands trembled slightly.

I grinned.

She looked at me.

I mouthed, Jiju.

She glared.

I laughed silently.

Finally, the ceremony reached its most awaited moment.

The families formally accepted the alliance.

The priest blessed them.

Everyone applauded.

Diya looked at her fiancé.

He looked at her.

And for a fleeting second, I saw something soften in his otherwise serious expression.

My smile faded.

Maybe this was what love looked like.

Not dramatic.

Not loud.

Just two people quietly choosing each other.

I felt oddly emotional.

My sister was leaving us someday.

The thought hurt more than I expected.

I looked around the room.

Everyone was busy congratulating the couple.

And then my gaze wandered towards the guests.

That's when I noticed him.

A man standing slightly away from the main group.

I didn't know who he was.

He wasn't one of the elders I'd seen earlier, nor did he seem particularly interested in the rituals.

He stood with his arms loosely folded, watching everything with a quiet expression.

For some reason, my eyes lingered.

Then he looked up.

Our eyes met.

I immediately looked away.

My heart gave a strange little jump.

Why am I nervous?

I glanced back.

He was still looking at me.

I frowned.

Who was he?

Before I could figure it out, Diya called my name.

“Riya!”

I turned.

“Haan?”

“Idhar aa.”

I hurried towards her.

As I moved, I could feel those eyes following me.

I didn't look back.

Not this time.

But somehow, I knew that when I finally did...

He would still be watching.

***

Prakash's POV

I had attended countless family functions.

I had sat through endless ceremonies, listened to prayers I barely understood and smiled at people whose names I forgot five minutes later.

None of them had ever interested me.

Until today.

I was standing near the far side of the room when I saw her.

At first, I noticed movement.

A girl slipping quietly through the kitchen entrance.

Then she stepped into the room.

And everything else became background noise.

She wasn't dressed extravagantly.

She didn't need to be.

There was something effortlessly striking about her.

The confidence in the way she walked.

The mischief in her eyes.

And, that curvy body, uffff, I want to taste her, to see if she tastes as sweet as she looks.

The small smile playing on her lips as she watched her sister's ceremony.

I couldn't look away.

Who was she?

I watched her laugh with her mother, tease her sister and whisper something that made the woman beside her shake her head.

She was alive in a room full of restrained smiles and formal conversations.

Then she looked at me.

Our eyes met.

For one suspended second, neither of us moved.

Something shifted inside me.

She looked away first.

I should have done the same.

I didn't.

I watched her.

The curve of her face.

The way a loose strand of hair brushed against her cheek.

The slight nervousness that appeared when she realized I was looking.

Fuckable.

That was the only word that came to my mind.

And, strangely, it wasn't enough.

I had no idea who she was.

I didn't know her name.

I didn't know whether she was someone important in the family or merely a guest.

But I knew one thing.

I wanted to see her again.

More than that. I want to touch her, those curvy hips, those enticing boobs. Ufff!!! She's looking like a vision.

I wanted to know what that smile looked like when it wasn't meant for a room full of people.

I wanted to hear her laugh when she wasn't trying to hide it.

And the most dangerous thought of all came quietly, almost innocently.

I want her.

Not tomorrow.

Not someday.

At least once in my life, I wanted to experience what it would feel like to have that woman look at me the way she had looked at everyone else.

Then she walked away.

I watched until she disappeared into the crowd.

And for the first time in years, I found myself hoping a family ceremony would last a little longer.

Riya, you'll be mine. My personal toy whom I would fuck every day and quench my thirst.

Will Prakash succeed in his aim to claim his saali?

Follow me to know that.