Chapter 1

Two Years Ago

📍 California, USA

Veer’s days always started with a few similar things that had become the constant drill of his life. The conference room at his company, tucked high in a skyscraper, buzzed with the energy of productive morning meetings.

Being a CEO was a tough job, but that was the beauty of life. If one had no ambition, then they weren’t really living.

He was new in this race, but he could see the confidence of a lot of old players falling, like falling off a house of cards. SMtech was awarded the best start-up launch two years ago. Though it had been two years, he still had the eyes of people who had their doubts on them. Too bad for them.

Veer was sitting at the head of the long mahogany table in his office, surrounded by his dedicated colleagues—the heartbeat of his thriving company. It was because of them, they were here after all.

James, his secretary and someone he trusted the most, sat across from him on the nearby chair. They were discussing the strategies and numbers, technical jargon and financial figures. The future of their company depended on these meetings.

Veer’s gaze drifted away from the graphs and charts on the screen to the window that offered breathtaking views of the city below in this room with modern furnishings. The floor-to-ceiling stretched window caught his attention.

Actually, it was what was beyond the glass that urged him to stop the meeting. The clouds gathered in dark, heavy clusters, casting a shadow over the vibrant landscape.

“Guys, let’s take a five,” he said, his gaze still lingering over the window. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of nostalgia as the first raindrops splattered against the windowpane.

He stood up, leaving the meeting momentarily, and walked towards the window. The color of his suit merged with the darkened clouds in his reflection on the glass. A bittersweet nostalgia that seemed to surface every time the heavens wept took over him.

The city looked beautiful covered with the stretch of heavy pouring, but his mind was transported to a different time.

It had been a decade since he last saw her, since he last felt her warmth and heard her laughter. An old flame that had never quite extinguished, even as life had carried them in different directions. The raindrops ran down the windowpane, mirroring the tears he had caused her to shed.

He closed his eyes, remembering her smile—infectious and radiant—as if it had the power to chase away the gloomiest days of life. It really had. And her scent, a delicate blend of jasmine and vanilla, lingered in his thoughts—a scent he could never forget.

He knew he had made a mistake, that he had hurt her deeply. Their paths had diverged, and he had built this company, driven by ambition and dreams of success, while she had pursued her own journey. A journey that didn’t include him.

Veer opened his eyes, gazing at the rain-swept world beyond. He knew the truth, that she would never give him a second chance. The hurt he had caused was too deep, the wound too old. But as the rain continued to pour, he couldn’t help but wish for a chance to make things right, to see her again, to hear her laughter, and to hold her close.

He sighed and turned away from the window, his heart heavy with the weight of longing and regret. The meeting beckoned him back to reality, but the memory of his first love, Nitara Sharma—like the rain outside—lingered, a constant presence in his life. A reminder of what could have been.

He waited for his coffee to get prepared, and a slight smile appeared on his lips as he checked his phone. The notification tone chimed, and a video message popped up on the screen.

It was from Atty. He hadn’t heard from her in a long time, and the sight of her name filled him with nostalgia and excitement. He took his coffee mug and walked towards the couch, got settled, and tapped the message.

The video started, but he couldn’t see her face. An invitation card was right in front of the camera, hiding her face; only her forehead was visible.

When he read it completely, his heart raced and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

We invite you to come to our engagement. Aatma Kalyani Talwar & Shaurya Randhawa

“I know, I know. You are laughing. Guess everyone did when they saw the invitation card,” he finally heard her voice as she lowered the card and showed her face.

Atty had only one big regret in her life—her name. If things could have been under her control, she would have changed her name the moment she got into her mother’s womb.

Veer grinned as he saw her face after a long time. She had become more beautiful. She was the kind of friend who could brighten anyone’s day.

“I would have said that it’s been ages and I missed you, Veer, only if you could have picked up the call, but as usual you didn’t. Never mind, Mr. Billionaire. I have news to spill.”

Her face beamed with happiness as she held up her hand to reveal a sparkling diamond decorating her ring finger.

“I’m getting engaged, Veer! Yes, me! Finally.”

His smile widened and he wished to be there with her. He missed those days of school—the times when they used to be inseparable, plotting pranks, competing in class, and confiding their secrets to each other.

“I know you’re very busy making dollars, but this is my engagement. Dollars can wait.”

He knew what she was trying to say. She didn’t need to ask him for this. She was his best friend, and this was the biggest thing of her life.

He would definitely be with her.

Her smile turned wistful as she looked straight.

“Aaja yaar. I’ll be waiting for you.”

The video ended, leaving him all washed with memories of them.

What if he’ll see her there?

He felt a renewed sense of hope and purpose.

Maybe Atty’s engagement would give him a chance to lessen the burden over his chest.

At Sabharwal Manor

📍Delhi, India.

The first rays of the morning sun painted the empty roads of Delhi in a warm, golden hue as Maan rode his Harley Davidson back home. The engine's purr had been his only companion, a soothing lullaby on his solitary ride.

There was something about those early morning rides—the world still asleep, the streets his to conquer—that spoke to his soul. The wind against his face, the hum of the engine in his ears; it was his meditation, his escape.

The Sabharwal manor came into view, a sprawling mansion that had been in the family for generations. A rich old-money aesthetic radiated from every brick and column.

As he parked the bike and dismounted, a smile tugged at his lips. The thrill of the ride was something he could never put into words. It was his morning ritual, his therapy—and in some ways, his defiance against the world.

His father had never liked him riding bikes, and that very dislike had only fueled his desire to ride even more. He and his father had shared a very different equation of love.

As Maan entered the grand hall, the scent of fresh coffee and warm pastries wafted through the air. Though half the world must have been asleep at this hour, the Sabharwals? The urge to wake up the earliest in the world seemed to run in their genes.

The family was gathered around the large dining table; some had joined for breakfast and some were still in the process. It was sharp seven in the morning, and the Sabharwals were ready to start their day.

Their voices carried animated conversations. Maan leaned on the doorframe, taking a moment to watch them, unseen.

His mother, Neeta Sabharwal—elegant, poised, the head of the family and his everything—paced back and forth with a concerned frown etched on her face.

"Where is Maan?" she asked, her voice tinged with annoyance.

His elder sister, Gunjan, chimed in with a teasing grin, "He's probably out on that ridiculous bike of his again, Mom."

Gunjan was engrossed in her laptop, studying the figures of last month's collection sales for their fashion brand, PANASH! She was one hardworking woman, with sass dripping from her tone.

Across from her, Maan’s elder brother, Rohan, sat at the head of the long wooden table, sipping a cup of masala chai. Beside him sat his bhabhi(sister-in-law), Aarohi Sabharwal.

Rohan was the eldest and far more understanding of Maan’s quirks than Gunjan. He simply shrugged and said, "Let the boy have his morning ride, Mom. It's his way of finding peace."

Neeta stopped her pacing for a second and glared at him. He dipped his eyes back onto his iPad, reading the news.

Hunny Kohli, Maan’s jiju(brother-in-law) and a permanent ghar jamai by choice, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I think it's cool, Mom."

Maan couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he watched the exchange. Their complaints about his early morning rides were nothing new. His mother, in particular, had always been a worrier. She still fretted over him as if he were a child, even though he was a grown man now—the COO of PANASH.

Neeta hated the idea of him moving out to an apartment near the office since the manor was in the outer parts of Delhi. But managing PANASH's headquarters was his responsibility now. Gunjan worked alongside him as CEO. Rohan had taken over the other lines of their family business since, after their father's death, he was next in line to own the empire.

Unnoticed by them, Maan pushed away from the doorframe and took a few silent steps into the hall. His mother, growing more impatient by the minute, finally exclaimed, "He should have more sense than to ride around the city at this hour. I don't understand his obsession with that bike."

She paused for a second and sat on the chair behind her. "In fact, I don't understand his weird habits of getting obsessed with stupid things. First this bike and second that Kashmir wali ladki."

(Trans: that girl from Kashmir)

"I agree with you, Mom—he's still obsessed over her," Gunjan added.

"It was his love at first sight, baby, just like ours," Hunny replied, earning a blank stare from his wife.

"Yeah, I regret it now. Why are you here? Why don't you ever go home? Our home, I'm talking about. Do you really wish to be ghar jamai for life?" she snapped, while hunny ignored her, winking and grinning widely.

"I still remember that day when he came back from that trip to Kashmir with a broken hand and plaster around his arm. He saw me and came running like a kid and said, Mom, mom, mom, mujhe pyar ho gaya."

(Trans: I fell in love)

"I asked with whom? And he replied—with the world's most beautiful yet lethal woman. I said—that's me. And he had the audacity to deny it, just because he saw a pretty girl."

"I'm just fed up with his obsession with bikes and rides," Neeta rolled her eyes, recounting the incident for what must have been the hundredth time. She had been repeating it ever since last year—the time Maan had first seen that girl.

Maan decided it was time to make his presence known. With a playful grin, he said, "Maybe I just can't resist the open roads and the beauty of a Delhi sunrise, Mom."

All heads turned toward him, taking in his biker gear. Neeta’s exasperation turned into a mix of relief and annoyance as she scolded, "You made me worried, Maan!"

He approached her and wrapped his arms around her, planting a kiss on her cheek.

"I promise, Mom, I'll be careful. But there's nothing quite like the freedom of the open road at sunrise. And Kashmir wali aapse zyada khoobsurat hai."

(Trans: That girl from Kashmir is more beautiful than you)

He straightened up as soon as he finished, and the annoyance in Neeta’s eyes was palpable. Maan couldn’t control his laugh.

"Khoobsurat nahi, manhoos hai," she shot back.

(Trans: Not beautiful, she's a jinx)

"The moment you saw her, you got into an accident. And now, even after one year, you're still hinged to her like a madman." She rolled her eyes again, and he held her closely.

Rohan, Aarohi, Gunjan, and Hunny exchanged glances, silently acknowledging his enduring love—for his bike, his sunrise, and that unknown girl.

"When are we leaving for Shaurya's engagement?" Hunny asked, stuffing his mouth with a croissant.

"Did they send the invitation?" he added.

"Of course! Who doesn't know Sabharwals," Neeta said while making a plate for Maan with fresh pastries and croissants.

"I didn’t know Sabharwals." Aarohi remarked casually, dropping a little bomb as all eyes turned to her. She smiled sweetly.

Rohan took her hand and kissed the back of her palm. "And that’s why I fell harder for you."

Neeta rolled her eyes yet again. Though she was a kind, passionate woman, she was also an Indian mother-in-law. She turned her attention back to Maan.

“Son, please marry the girl of my choice—not like what your brother and sister did.”

Maan chuckled. His mother was so concerned about his marriage after seeing both Gunjan and Rohan marry for love.

"Yes, Maan, at least learn from me," Gunjan added. Hunny exchanged a look with him, and Maan nodded, assuring him that the insult was aimed squarely at him. Hunny was too busy with his croissants to notice.

"It was you who went behind Jiju and approached him. You even forced Dad to get us into St. Laurence instead of Delhi Public School."

Gunjan froze, then closed her laptop in a snap.

"Trust me, I'm still in regret."

These banters were nothing new. They had been a part of his life, and he loved them with all his heart.

Maan settled next to Rohan to discuss the next project launch. "Bhaiya, they’re increasing the taxes on raw fabrics by 5% for the next season. Isn’t it too much?"

"How many times have I told you, Maan, to call your brother veer ji, not Bhaiya," Neeta interrupted.

A/n: ["Veer Ji" is a Punjabi term used to address an elder brother with respect and affection]

The words sent a chill down Maan’s spine.

Ye bhaiya bhaiya kya laga rakha hai?

veer ji bol apne bade bhai ko.

(Trans: what is this bhaiya bhaiya?

Call your elder brother veer ji)

His breakfast suddenly tasted bitter as his father’s voice echoed in his mind like an unannounced thunderstorm.

He got up from the chair abruptly, a silent signal everyone understood. They were used to this reaction. Like he had said, his equation with his father had always been different.

"Mom, don’t act like Dad, please," he said quietly.

Realization dawned on her face. No one in this house mentioned his father in front of him.

He left the dining hall and retreated to his room. Solitude was the only way to calm the storm whenever he was pulled back into that darkness.

And as expected, within a minute, the door burst open.

"Oye, Mrs. Sabharwal’s Loverboy," Gunjan’s high-pitched voice announced her entry.

Maan smiled at the nickname she had given him when he started calling that girl Mrs. Sabharwal. "What do you want?" he asked.

Rohan stepped forward, carrying a plate of breakfast. "Don’t waste your food. And you know you can call me whatever you want, Maan. Don’t mind Mom’s words, okay?"

He nodded and smiled at both of them. They needed to know he was no longer their little brother but a grown man now. Yet, somewhere deep down, he didn’t want to stop them. They had stood by him during times when he had almost given up.

"Now relax and tell me, what’s the plan for Shaurya’s engagement?" Gunjan asked, giving him a playful headlock.

"It’s gonna be wild and crazy," Maan winked, earning looks from both of them that made him smile even more.