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"Are you kidding me, aadimanav?" Prakriti snapped suddenly, stiffening as Aditya casually picked up another slice.
Aditya chuckled. "Can't live without my insults for five minutes?"
"Please," she muttered. "Mujhe toh allergy hai tumhare overconfidence se."
"Overconfidence?" Aditya clicked his tongue. "No, Afat ki dukaan. It's called being self-aware. Something you clearly struggle with."
Shanaya raised her brows. "Guys…"
"No, no." Prakriti leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Let him talk. His ego needs more exercise."
Shanaya groaned. "Both of you, chup."
Aditya matched her energy, Ignoring Shanaya and his gaze never leaving prakriti. "At least my ego isn't built on fake sass and Stupid grades."
Prakriti stood, hand on hip. "Careful, Agnihotri. You don't want to see what my 'fake sass' can do."
"Try me," he whispered, tone lazy. Dangerous.
Her chest heaved. Her eyes flared. Their faces—too close. Their truths—too sharp.
Another breath and they'd cross a line they couldn't uncross.
Shanaya sat like Ghost—pretending to scroll through her phone while her world split in two.
One ear tuned into their argument.
One heart tangled in a conversation lighting up her screen.
VSR:
She's not gonna stop, is she?
Shanaya's gaze flicked upward—Prakriti's cheeks flushed, her eyes blazing. Aditya? Calm as a glacier on fire.
SHANAYA:
They're either gonna kill each other or break their phones.
She hit send. But her breath stalled the moment his reply came.
VSR:
Good. Let them.
More time for me and you.
Her heart flipped.
But the lie she had told prakriti… settled heavier in her chest.
Because secrets don't just sit still.
They fester.
They crack.
They unravel.
"Isn't Ishika taking a lot of time in the washroom?" Prakriti asked suddenly, pulling her gaze away from the volcano beside her.
Shanaya blinked. "Y-Yeah... hope she's okay."
Prakriti tilted her head. "Uska pet toh thik hai na? Paneer tikka ka kuch—"
"Kriti, stop it." Shanaya cut in quickly.
Prakriti blinked at her, a little amused. "Arre... it was just—"
"Still. Not now."
Aditya raised an eyebrow, quietly observing them both, but said nothing.
Prakriti scoffed, stabbing her pizza slice. "What kind of sadist invites himself like an unskippable ad?"
Aditya, calm as ever, leaned back. "You talk a lot for someone who claims to hates me."
She rolled her eyes. "Maybe I just don't like you."
"Good. No one ever said you had good taste."
She blinked. "You're such a jerk."
"And you're predictable. Always reacting, always loud."
"Because you're always provoking."
"And yet…" He sipped his drink, "you never walk away."
That hit deeper than she expected.
"I try to," she muttered. "Believe me, my willpower does push-ups every time I see your face."
"And fails," he added smoothly. "Spectacularly."
"You're not that irresistible, Aadimanav."
"And yet, you keep proving otherwise."
"What do you want from me?"
His smirk faded—just a little. "Nothing."
"Then why are you always…where I'm?"
His eyes darkened. "Because watching you pretend you're unaffected is fun. You're all fire, but you think no one sees through it."
"You don't know me."
"I know enough," he said, leaning in. "You'd rather fight me than admit this chaos excites you."
She paused. "You think this is fun?"
"Isn't it?"
"No. It's fucking exhausting."
"Then stop playing."
"I'm not—" she exhaled, sharp. "You act like you don't feel anything."
He shrugged. "Maybe I don't."
"Liar."
His jaw tensed. "You think I care enough to lie?"
"I think you care more than you admit. And that scares you."
Silence.
Tension stretched—sharp, thick, undeniable.
Then—
"Just reminding you two that other people exist," Shanaya said without looking up.
Aditya chuckled. Prakriti groaned into her palms.
"I hate everything."
"No," Aditya nudged her shoulder. "You hate me. And yet, here we are."
She glared at him. "You love being hated, don't you?"
He smirked, voice low. "I love being noticed. Especially by an Idiot"
________________
Niharika Agnihotri didn't care for the party. Not truly. She was only here for appearances — just like her husband. Just like the legacy they wore like armor.
Her eyes scanned the crowd, sharp and slow — until they paused.
There.
Her.
The girl seated beside her son — her elder son, The cold hearted one.
The one she had already selected a future for!
And then—stillness.
A beat passed. Then another. And her expression changed. Slowly. The polite social mask slipped, just enough for the steel beneath to show.
The slight narrowing of her eyes.
The way her clutch tensed ever so slightly in her hand.
Her gaze?
sharpened, Calculating, Remembering!
And then it hit her—the memory came crashing back like a soap opera.
FLASHBACK:
Three months ago.
The hallway outside the staff room. A file clutched in Niharika agnihotri manicured hand.
She was visiting the school, as she often did, with an air of superiority and a designer bag slung over her shoulder.
She'd spotted her, casually leaning against a wall, scrolling through her phone during free period.
"You there," Mrs. Niharika Abhishek Agnihotri had called out, "Kindly take this to Class 12-C. It's for my son."
Her eyes had flicked up for a second, barely registering who she was talking to. Then,
she'd said, without even pausing her scrolling, "I'm busy. You use your legs."
You. Use. Your. Legs.
A silence had fallenin the hallway. Even the staffs nearby had done a double-take.
Mrs. Agnihotri had blinked, stunned.
No one spoke to her like that Ever!?
PRESENT MOMENT
Back in the Agnihotri mansion.
Mrs. Agnihotri's lips pursed. She didn't blink. Didn't move. Just stared.
The memory burning in her mind like a personal insult branded across her ego.
What is that girl doing here? she thought, her jaw tightening. How did someone like her—that girl—end up at my place, at my party?
And that girl — the one who had once spoken to her with sharp words and an unbowed head — sat there now, texting away, laughing softly to herself like she didn't owe anyone silence or respect.
A smirk bloomed on the woman's face, cold and wicked.
She remembered every word from their last encounter. How the girl had dismissed her instructions. How she hadn't folded when others did. How she looked her in the eye and didn't blink.
Unacceptable.
But now… now the girl had stepped into her house
Into her son's orbit
Into her world
And no one entered her world without consequence.
She turned slightly, handing her wine glass to a passing staff member, her eyes never leaving the girl.
If the girl wanted to play bold, she thought, then let her be
But she'll show her — politely, publicly, perfectly — where she truly belonged.
At the bottom
Without another second of hesitation, she began walking toward her, slow and deliberate, fury hiding behind her composed exterior. her stare sharp as a blade, heels clicking like a countdown to confrontation.
The party hummed on, all glitter and gold, but the tension at their little corner of the partyhall could slice through glass.
prakriti Malhotra and Aditya Agnihotri were still sparring, their voices tight and laced with the kind of passion that made by standers either lean in or Run.
In the middle of it all, Shanaya kept her head down, fingers still dancing over her phone as her secret chat continued — a quiet rebellion in plain sight.
Until the music cut.
Only slightly, only enough to be noticed by the ones with sharp instincts.
And then came her voice.
Smooth. Velvet-wrapped steel.
"Well, well. I was wondering who had brought the attitude into my home tonight."
Silence swept through their section like a chill wind.
Shanaya looked up slowly.
There she was — Niharika Agnihotri descending the grand staircase like a queen entering a battlefield.
Her expression was elegance forged in fire
but her eyes?
her eyes were locked on one person.
prakriti Malhotra
"Oh," she said, loud enough for the nearby guests to hear. "You again."
Shanaya swallowed hard, spine instinctively straightening.
"I must say, it's impressive," Niharika continued with a cruel smile. "How easily some girls forget their place the moment they find a little attention."
The air turned to ice. Even Aditya stopped mid-retort, confused, then alarmed.
prakriti stood immediately. "Excuse me?"
But the woman didn't even blink. "I wasn't talking to you, dear. I was addressing the one who thinks being invited into my home means she belongs here."
Gasps whispered through the surrounding crowd. Some phones were already pointed discreetly.
Drama at the Agnihotri mansion?
Priceless
prakriti stood slowly, every part of her body telling her to walk away, but her pride — her fire — rooted her in place.
"I didn't ask to be invited," she said evenly, though her voice trembled at the edges. "And I'm not here to please you."
Niharika chuckled. "Oh, darling. You're not here to please anyone. You're here to be reminded that in this world—" her gaze flicked from her to the Aditya "there are lines. And you are crossing them."
The crowd waited, breathless.
Then vedant message appeared again on her screen.
VEDANT
Want me to crash that little royal moment?
Shanaya didn't respond.
Not yet.
Because this wasn't over.
Not even close.
Gasps rippled through the crowd like an incoming storm.
Whispers flitted from corner to corner.
Eyes locked onto the scene unraveling like a scandalous play.
Aditya was the first to move.
"Mom," he said tightly, stepping in between them, hand raised as if to shield prakriti from her venom. "That's enough."
Niharika didn't even look at him.
"I was not speaking to you, Aditya Step aside."
"I said that's enough!" he snapped, voice shaking now, more from disbelief than anger. "You're creating a scene."
Niharika agnihotri turned, slow and deliberate, eyes narrowing. "I don't create scenes, beta. I reveal truths. And you—" she pointed a perfectly manicured finger at the prakriti, "—are letting yourself be blinded by... this."
That's when prakriti stepped forward.
No longer quiet
No longer watching.
She squared her shoulders like a soldier stepping onto the battlefield.
"Say one more word," she said, her voice low and deadly, "and I swear—"
"What?" Mrs. Agnihotri laughed. "Will you teach me manners now? You — the loud, ill-mannered girl always glued to your pizza plate and drama? You're not even from the same world as us."
Everyone froze.
prakriti clenched her fists and she breathed in sharply — once, Twice.
Then, with terrifying calm, she lifted the wine glass from the table.
Looked the woman dead in the eye.
And threw the wine straight at her.
The deep red liquid splashed across the woman's silk saree like spilled blood.
Gasps exploded through the room. The music screeched to a halt.
niharika agnihotri froze — shocked. Then her hands trembled.
And with one sharp motion of fury—
She threw the crystal glass to the floor.
Showing Who's dominate there
It shattered like lightning. The room held its breath.
But prakriti wasn't done.
With a single motion, prakriti turned and kicked the side of the towering pyramid of stacked wine glasses behind her — a decorative centerpiece near the drinks table.
The whole thing collapsed in a crashing, glittering waterfall of chaos.
Glass fell like rain.
Sharp
Loud.
Final
The silence that followed wasn't just shock.
It was terror.
Shanaya stood there, chest heaving, prakriti hand trembling but steady at her side.
TO BE CONTINUED...