Chapter 2

The night wind whipped against Aaradhya's face as she sat stiffly in the backseat, her arms crossed, her brows furrowed. The ride was eerily silent, with only the occasional sound of crickets and the jeep's engine breaking the stillness.

But her mind was far from quiet.

Who was this man?

There was something about him—something unsettling yet oddly familiar.

His presence commanded rather than requested. His voice held power rather than persuasion.

And the way his intense gaze had settled on her for those brief seconds...

She shivered.

No. It must be her imagination.

To distract herself, she focused on Agastya instead. He seemed much friendlier, much easier to talk to.

"So... you're his brother?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

Agastya glanced at her through the rearview mirror, smirking. "You sound surprised."

Aaradhya shrugged. "You both seem... very different."

Agastya laughed. "Matlab tu kehna chahti hai ki main accha hoon aur Bhaisa darawane hain?" (So, you're trying to say that I'm nice and my brother is scary?)

She pursed her lips. "I didn't say that."

"Par tu soch rahi hai." (But you're thinking it.)

Aaradhya sighed, choosing to look away. She didn't want to admit it, but yes—this  man was terrifying.

And the worst part?

He hadn't even done anything yet.

The jeep rumbled down the narrow road, its headlights cutting through the eerie silence of the late-night village. The cool wind brushed against Aaradhya's face, but she barely noticed.

The only sound in the jeep was the soft hum of the engine and the occasional murmur of Agastya, who had gone back to his usual cheerful self.

"Chhori, tu Jaipur se aayi se kya?" he asked, turning toward her with curiosity.

Aaradhya blinked out of her thoughts and nodded. "Haan."

"Padhti thi waha?"

"Ji," she answered softly. "Intermediate exam diya tha... poore Jaipur mein sabse zyada marks aaye."

A hint of pride flickered in her voice as she spoke about her achievement. Studying as a girl in this time was no small feat, and topping the entire city was something even bigger.

She expected a reaction—surprise, maybe admiration.

But instead, the air turned heavier.

The grip on the steering wheel tightened, knuckles turning slightly white under the dim light.

Aaradhya noticed the subtle change and frowned slightly.

"Padhai?" Agastya let out a small, amused chuckle. "Yeh bhi koi ladkiyon ke karne ki cheez se?"

Aaradhya stiffened.

She had heard these words before—from relatives, neighbors, and even strangers who thought a girl's place was within the four walls of a home, not in books.

Still, hearing it again made her stomach twist in irritation.

"Kyun?" she challenged, lifting her chin. "Agar ladkiyan nahi padhti toh tum jaise logo ko chhitti likhni bhi nahi aati."

Agastya's mouth fell open, stunned by her unexpected sass.

Aaradhya smirked, pleased with herself.

But before Agastya could reply, the deep voice she had been unconsciously waiting for finally spoke.

"Bas."

One word. That was all it took.

Agastya immediately fell silent.

Aaradhya turned sharply, eyes widening slightly as she realized the authority in that voice.

Her curiosity spiked.

Who was this man?

Why did Agastya, who seemed so carefree and talkative, turn quiet the moment he spoke?

Before she could think further, the jeep slowed down in front of a large haveli—its towering structure casting shadows under the moonlight.

Aaradhya blinked, recognizing it instantly.

Home.

Her lips parted in relief as she turned to Agastya with a grateful smile. "Shukriya. Bohot madad ki tumne."

Agastya grinned, back to his playful self. "Koi baat nahi, chhori. Lekin agli baar gaadi ke samne kudne ka iraada ho toh bata dena pehle."

Aaradhya rolled her eyes, but a small giggle escaped her lips.

Just as she was about to climb down, she hesitated.

Her gaze subtly flickered toward the driver's seat, hoping to finally get a good look at the man who had been silent for most of the journey.

But before she could speak, he turned his head slightly—just enough for the moonlight to graze his face.

Aaradhya's breath hitched.

He was not what she had expected.

His features were sharp, carved with the kind of intensity that demanded obedience. High cheekbones, a strong jawline, and dark, piercing eyes that seemed to see right through her.

Even seated, his presence dominated the space, exuding power, control... danger.

Her heartbeat quickened involuntarily.

For a brief second, his gaze held hers—unreadable, unwavering.

And then, just as quickly as it happened, he turned away, dismissing her as if she were nothing but a passing moment.

Aaradhya swallowed, suddenly feeling small.

Something told her this would not be the last time their paths would cross.

And somehow... that thought unnerved her.

---

Meanwhile...

As Aaradhya disappeared behind the gates of her haveli, Vijayendra Thakur remained seated, his fingers tapping lightly against the wheel.

Agastya glanced at him.

"Bhaisa... woh ladki toh bohot tez nikli," he chuckled. "Poore Jaipur mein top kiya hai, soch toh alag hogi hi."

Vijayendra's jaw tightened slightly.

His gaze flickered toward the haveli for a moment before he pressed his foot down on the accelerator, the jeep roaring to life as they drove away.

Agastya stretched, letting out a tired sigh. "Waise... pata nahi kyun, par woh mujhe pehle se jaani-pehchani si lagi. Aapko bhi?"

Vijayendra said nothing.

His expression remained unreadable, his thoughts hidden behind the cold exterior he wore so well.

Because unlike Aaradhya... he already knew exactly who she was.

And soon, she would know too.

---

Homecoming

As soon as Aaradhya stepped inside, a gasp of surprise echoed through the grand hall.

"Didi!"

A rush of fabric, jingling bangles, and soft giggles surrounded her before she could react. Her younger cousin, Meera, nearly threw herself into Aaradhya's arms, clutching her tightly.

"Aap wapas aa gayi!" (You've come back!)

Aaradhya let out a soft laugh, hugging her back just as fiercely. "Haan, chhoti," she murmured, pressing a hand against Meera's back. "Main wapas aa gayi." (Yes, little one, I've come back.)

Before she could catch her breath, more voices filled the air.

"Aaradhya bitiya!"

"Arey, kitni badi ho gayi hai!"

The warmth of home enveloped her as she was pulled into more embraces, her family surrounding her with laughter and questions. She felt her father's presence before she even saw him—Raghuvendra Singh, standing tall in his white dhoti, his sharp eyes softening as they met hers.

She stepped forward, her heart clenching as she whispered, "Baba sa..."

His mustache twitched slightly, as if suppressing emotion. Instead of words, he placed a firm hand on her head, the weight of his blessing familiar and grounding.

Her  Kakisa, came forward, her smile kind but reserved. Aaradhya had never been close to her, but tonight, she welcomed the warmth, the feeling of being back where she belonged.

For a while, the grand hall was filled with stories, laughter, and endless questions.

"Sheher kaisa tha?" (How was the city?)

"Wahan sab log alag hote hain na?" (People there must be different, right?)

Aaradhya answered as best as she could, her voice tinged with amusement as her cousins hung onto her every word. And in that moment, as she sat among them, surrounded by the people who had watched her grow, she felt something she hadn't felt in a long time.

Belonging.

---

After freshening up, Aaradhya changed into a soft cotton suit, the delicate embroidery reminding her of childhood. The night had deepened by the time she stepped into the courtyard, where her cousins were already gathered, eager to hear more about her life in the city.

Meera, the most impatient, pulled her down onto the cushioned mattress laid out on the floor. "Jiji, batao na! Wahan ki duniya kaisi hai?" (Didi, tell us! What is the world like there?)

Aaradhya chuckled. "Bohot badi hai." (It's very big.)

She described the towering buildings, the endless roads, the bustling markets filled with strangers who never stopped to greet each other. Her cousins listened, wide-eyed, their giggles breaking through her words as they interrupted with their own theories about city life.

"Wahan log toh bhaag bhaag ke rehte honge na?" Meera teased. (People must be running all the time there, right?)

Aaradhya laughed. "Tum wahan hoti, toh khud kho jaati." (If you were there, you'd get lost.)

The night stretched on, the soft glow of lanterns casting golden light over their faces. The air smelled of earth and jasmine, the distant sounds of crickets filling the silence between their conversations.

At some point, little Pihu, the youngest of them all, climbed onto Aaradhya's lap, her tiny fingers tracing patterns on the edge of her dupatta. "Didi, aap ab wapas toh na jaogi?" she asked sleepily. (Didi, you will not leave na?)

Aaradhya's fingers stilled.

For the first time, she had no answer.

Instead, she pressed a soft kiss to Pihu's forehead. "Abhi nahi," she whispered. "Main kahin nahi ja rahi." (Not yet. I'm not going anywhere.)

And she hoped, for just a little while, that it was not true.

Next morning

The morning sun bathed the village in golden light as Aaradhya and her cousins set out for a tour. The air was fresh, carrying the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers. Women in colorful ghaghara choli drew water from the wells, children ran barefoot through the narrow streets, and shopkeepers called out their wares with familiar enthusiasm.

Aaradhya walked among them, feeling the old familiarity seep into her bones. The village hadn't changed. And yet... something felt different.

As they passed the bustling market, something made her stop.

A strange pull. A whisper of familiarity.

And then—she saw him.

The man whose name she didnt knew.

Dressed in an all-black kurta, his tall frame stood out against the bright morning light. He wasn't looking at her, his attention focused on a conversation with an elderly man. But even from this distance, his presence was impossible to ignore.

Her fingers curled around the edge of her dupatta.

What was he doing here?

"Meera," she whispered, nudging her cousin. "Woh kaun hai?" (Who is he?)

Meera followed her gaze and then let out a small laugh. "Oh, jiji, aap unko nahi jaanti?" (Oh, didi, you don't know him?)

Aaradhya shook her head, her pulse quickening.

Meera's voice dropped slightly, as if sharing a secret.

"Yeh Vijayendra Thakur hain. Pura gaon inka naam izzat se leta hai. Bade taqatwar aur samajhdar insaan hain." (He is Vijayendra Thakur. The entire village speaks his name with respect. A powerful and wise man.)

Powerful. Respected.

That much, Aaradhya had already sensed.

But why did she feel like there was something more?

Something she wasn't supposed to know.
.
.

The marketplace bustled around her, filled with the scent of fresh spices, ripe mangoes, and the rhythmic clang of metal as a blacksmith hammered away in the distance. But Aaradhya heard none of it. Her focus remained solely on the man standing a few feet away, his tall frame exuding an aura of quiet command.

Vijayendra Pratap Singh.

Now that she had a name for him, it felt even heavier in her chest.

He stood there, dressed in a simple black kurta, his sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the firm lines of his forearms. His broad shoulders were relaxed, but there was a sharpness in his stance, as if he was always prepared for something—or perhaps, someone. The sun cast a golden hue over his skin, but nothing about him seemed warm.

Aaradhya found herself gripping the edge of her dupatta tighter.

"Bade taqatwar aur samajhdar insaan hain," Meera had said. (A powerful and wise man.)

Powerful.

That word lingered in her mind longer than it should have.

She was used to strong men—her father, her uncles, the elders of the village—but something about Vijayendra was different. Even standing still, he owned the space around him. There was an unspoken weight to his presence, an authority that didn't need to be declared.

As if sensing her gaze, he turned.

Aaradhya sucked in a sharp breath.

For a moment, their eyes met.

Dark. Intense. Calculated.

His expression didn't change, not even a flicker of recognition from their encounter last night. But the way he looked at her—steady, unreadable, almost assessing—sent a shiver down her spine.

Her fingers twitched against her dupatta. Should she look away? Act as if she hadn't been staring?

But before she could decide, Meera's voice broke the moment.

"Jiji, aap chal rahi ho na?" (Sister, are you coming?)

Aaradhya blinked, pulling her gaze away. Meera and the others had already walked ahead, waiting for her to follow.

"Haan," she said quickly, shaking off the strange tension in her chest. "Main aa rahi hoon." (Yes, I'm coming.)

But as she turned, she couldn't help but glance back one last time.

He was still watching her.

And for some reason, that unsettled her more than anything.
.
.
The morning sun climbed higher as Aaradhya and her cousins wandered through the winding lanes of the village. The air was thick with the scent of freshly made jaggery and the distant sound of a flute playing somewhere in the fields.

It had been years since she had roamed these streets. Yet, everything felt the same.

They stopped by the old well, where the village women gathered to fetch water, their bangles clinking as they gossiped. The banyan tree near the temple still stood tall, its thick roots twisting like the fingers of an ancient guardian. Children ran past them, laughing as they kicked up dust in their wake.

Aaradhya smiled, inhaling deeply.

This was home.

"Jiji, dekho!" Meera suddenly grabbed her hand, pulling her toward a small street vendor selling wooden toys. "Yaad hai? Bachpan mein yeh kharidne ke liye kitna roti thi aap!" (Remember? You used to cry so much to buy these when we were kids!)

Aaradhya let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Bilkul yaad nahi hai." (I don't remember at all.)

"Jhooth! Aap toh hamesha ek ghode wale khilone ke peeche padi rehti thi!" (Liar! You were always after the wooden horse toy!)

She playfully flicked Meera's forehead. "Tumhari yaad bohot tez hai, huh?" (Your memory is too sharp, huh?)

Meera grinned, dragging her forward. "Chalo, chalo! Hum mandir tak jaake wapas chalenge." (Come on, come on! We'll go to the temple and then head back.)

They continued walking, laughter and teasing filling the air.

But even as Aaradhya laughed with them, she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.

A lingering presence. A gaze she could almost feel pressing against her skin.

And when she turned—she saw him again.

Vijayendra.

He wasn't close, standing near a fruit vendor, speaking to someone. But his eyes... they found hers so effortlessly, as if he had already known where she would be.

Aaradhya's breath caught.

Why did it feel like she was seeing him everywhere?

Was it just a coincidence?

Or something more?

Later that evening, as the sun dipped lower into the horizon, Aaradhya sat in the courtyard, sipping chai while her cousins chatted beside her.

The day had been long but pleasant—filled with laughter, memories, and a strange undercurrent she couldn't quite name.

But her thoughts kept drifting back to him.

Vijayendra Thakur.

The way he had looked at her. The way he had been present in places he normally wouldn't be.

Was she overthinking?

"Kya soch rahi ho?" (What are you thinking?) Meera nudged her, plopping down beside her with a mischievous smile. "Koi sheher ka rajkumar yaad aa raha hai?" (Are you thinking about some prince from the city?)

Aaradhya rolled her eyes. "Bakwas band karo." (Stop talking nonsense.)

Meera laughed. "Waise ek baat puchun?" (Can I ask you something?)

Aaradhya raised an eyebrow. "Kya?" (What?)

Meera smirked. "Aap din bhar bar bar Thakur-sa ko kyun dekh rahi thi?" (Why were you looking at Thakursa again and again all day?)

Aaradhya stiffened. "Main—main nahi dekh rahi thi!" (I—I wasn't looking!)

Meera's smirk deepened. "Sach?" (Really?)

Aaradhya clicked her tongue. "Chup karo, Meera." (Shut up, Meera.)

But even as she said it, she couldn't stop thinking about that name.

Vijayendra Thakur.

Why did it feel like her life had taken an unexpected turn the moment she heard it?

And why did she have a sinking feeling... that this was only the beginning?

---

To Be Continued...

Lots of love to you all
Love you all
Itsyourblackrose