Location: Mumbai, India
The car was gliding through the Mumbai haze when Ivikaa suddenly clutched her stomach. A tight wave rolled up her throat, and her hand shot to the window.
"Stop the car. Now," her father commanded sharply before anyone else could react.
The screech of brakes cut through the chatter, and the door flew open. Ivikaa stumbled out in her heels, barely making it to the side of the road before throwing up violently. Her hair, usually sleek and camera-ready, clung messily to her face. The nausea came like a slap - fast, unexpected, and absolutely revolting.
Maya was the first to jump out behind her, heels clicking recklessly. "Iva!" she called out, voice pitched with worry.
Virya and Vayu flanked her on either side, both alarmed and unsure whether to comfort or call for security.
Viren Ambani, who rarely lost his composure, came up beside her with a chilled water bottle in hand. One look at his daughter's face and his jaw tightened.
"We're going to the hospital. No arguments." His voice was low, stern - the kind that could silence a boardroom or bring a tantrum to its knees.
Iva wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, tried to wave them off, but her legs betrayed her - she stumbled slightly, and Virya caught her just in time.
"No arguments," her father repeated. That tone-that tone.
Her father, who never raised his voice, had a way of freezing time with just a sentence. The world called him the kindest billionaire alive, but Ivikaa knew-when Viren Ambani became serious, even the devil took notes.
She was in a hospital suite-private, pristine, and surrounded by top professionals moving quietly but swiftly around her.
Whatever this was-it wasn't passing.
"I've called Devaki," her father said, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
Ivikaa raised an eyebrow, too tired to protest. "Papa, you didn't have to-"
But before she could finish, the door opened, and in walked Devaki Agnivanshi, composed yet visibly worried, followed closely by Rudra, who for once wasn't wearing his signature smirk.
"Iva..." Devaki moved to her side with maternal warmth, brushing a strand of hair away from Ivikaa's face. "How are you?", Iva gave a small smile to her.
"You sure you're okay?" he asked, not like a formal host, but concerned.
Ivikaa gave a faint smile, brushing her hair back. "I'm fine, Rudra. Just... overwhelmed, maybe. But I'm good."
The doctor returned, checked the vitals, and gave a light nod. "She needs rest. We've run the basic tests. No cause for alarm as of now, but I'd advise light meals, hydration, and no stress. We'll share full results in a few hours. You can take her home."
"I think we should take Iva to our house until she feels better," Devaki announced gently, her voice calm but decisive.
The twins, Virya and Vayu, immediately exchanged a glance. The thought of their sister, already unwell, staying in a stranger's home-even if it was the prestigious Agnivanshi palace-didn't sit well with either of them. Virya's jaw clenched, and Vayu took a breath, clearly about to object.
But before they could speak, their father stepped in.
"I understand your concern," Viren said, placing a hand on each of his sons' shoulders. "But right now, my daughter's comfort comes before anything else."
His words, steady but full of emotion, silenced any further protest.
Still pale, Iva raised her head from the hospital bed and looked at her brothers. "I'll be fine," she said, her voice softer than usual but steady. "You both need to be in Delhi. I know why you're flying out in the morning."
"But-" Virya started again.
"I have Maya and Papa here," she cut in with a faint smile. "And I'll be back in Delhi by tomorrow. Promise."
After a long pause, the twins nodded reluctantly. It wasn't easy, but they trusted her-and their father.
They took her straight to the Agnivanshi mansion, where the atmosphere had shifted from grandeur to quiet concern. Rudra's parents, Abhay and Divya, were already informed and stood waiting at the entrance, their expressions shadowed with genuine worry.
"Is she alright?" Divya asked softly, eyes darting to the pale figure stepping out of the car, supported by Maya.
Viren offered a small, reassuring smile. "She's better now. Just needs some rest."
"Of course," Abhay replied, nodding firmly.
The moment Ivikaa entered, the familiar salt-tinged breeze welcomed her again. She was guided upstairs into a beautiful sea-facing room-airy, quiet, and tastefully done in soft blues and creams. She could hear the same waves she remembered from the night of the party, crashing rhythmically against the shore.
The world outside slowly faded away, and the calm lullaby of the Arabian Sea washed over her. Wrapped in that rare comfort, she finally let her body give in to exhaustion. Within moments, Ivikaa drifted into sleep, the sound of the waves folding over her like a whispered promise of peace.
Her stomach let out a low, grumbling protest, waking her up from the most peaceful sleep she'd had in days. She blinked at the clock - 8:30 AM. Not too late. And definitely not too early for hunger. She sighed, freshened up quickly, and decided to head downstairs.
As she descended the wide staircase of the Agnivanshi mansion, she caught sight of the breakfast table already set and buzzing with quiet conversation. Everyone seemed to be there - Devaki, Raghav, Abhay, Divya, and Rudra - except Raha.
The moment Rudra spotted her walking in, he stood up almost instinctively, his eyes scanning her face as if assessing every flicker of discomfort.
"Light food. No spice. Now," he barked toward the kitchen staff without breaking eye contact with her.
Ivikaa raised an eyebrow at his sudden command but didn't comment. Instead, she offered a soft, polite smile to everyone seated.
Ivikaa's eyes swept across the long breakfast table, taking in the contrasting spread. One end was a riot of Indian indulgence - steaming aloo paranthas glistening with butter, puffed puris paired with spicy chhole, soft idlis beside a pot of aromatic sambar, and a tall kettle of strong masala tea that seemed to perfume the entire room. Her stomach growled louder.
The other end, where she now stood, looked more like a detox retreat - fruit bowls, oats, juice, coconut water and multigrain toast. Her instinct was immediate. She was about to walk toward the Indian side, lured by the smell of fried ghee and tempered spices, when a butler - sharp-featured and stiff-backed - stepped directly into her path.
"Not this side," he said, almost coldly, his eyes narrowing at her like she didn't belong there. She was not habituated to this tone. She would kill this fucking butler.
Before she could even process the rudeness, Rudra's chair scraped loudly against the marble floor.
"Martin," Rudra snapped, his voice hard as steel, "Don't talk to her like this."
The silence that followed was sharp. Even the clatter of cutlery paused.
"Iva, come sit here," Rudra said, softer now.
An attendant entered, carefully guiding an elderly woman wrapped in grace and quiet strength - Meera Samrat Agnivanshi. All conversation paused as she was respectfully helped into her seat at the opposite side of the long dining table. A hush of reverence followed her presence, as if the very walls stood taller for her.
"Maria, Veer nahi aaya?" Meera asked softly, glancing to the side.
[Veer hasn't come?]
Before Maria could reply, the sound of soft, unhurried footsteps echoed through the marble corridor.
He walked in lazily, his black vest hugging his lean frame, messy hair tousled like the sea breeze had styled it, sacred red threads wrapped around his right wrist, and that unmistakable black bracelet on the left. The same ones from last night. Her eyes widened in disbelief. The flute player. So fucking handsome. Grey eyes, sharp as storm clouds. A faint birthmark rested on the right side of his forehead-subtle, but impossible to miss once seen.
For a split second she thought she had seen him before.
He bent to touch Meera's feet and then enveloped her in a warm hug. The way he smiled - that slow, effortless dimpled smile - was enough to make something flutter painfully in Ivikaa's chest.
Before she could gather her thoughts, she heard Rudra calling her name - "Iva?" - but she barely registered it.
Her gaze remained fixed on him, the mystery man. He was here. In flesh and blood. Laughing with Meera, feeding her little bites of food with the tenderness of a child pampering his grandmother. Meera ruffled his hair affectionately, and Ivikaa instinctively curled her fingers under the table - a surprising longing bubbling up. She wanted to touch that hair too.
Just then, a butler placed her plate in front of her - Upma, toast and clear soup. Her face visibly dropped.
She exhaled, clearly unamused, but health was priority, so she picked up the fork and started eating - slowly, politely, even if every bite felt like penance. Veer hadn't even looked at her.
It wasn't rudeness. No arrogance. Just... complete unawareness. As if she didn't exist. As if her presence held no ripple in his world.
Strangely, none from that side of the table - neither Meera nor Veer nor even Maria - acknowledged this side. No greetings exchanged, no polite nods. It felt like an invisible wall split the table in two. The palace's divide was not just in food preferences, but in relationships too.
Her thoughts were still caught between that dimple and the haunting flute when she heard her name again. New addition his rich laughter.
"Iva?" Rudra repeated, this time gently nudging her hand.
She blinked, slowly turning her head - but her thoughts hadn't left him.
Ivikaa's fork paused mid-air.
"Main inko le jaata hoon."
So soft. So polite. So effortlessly warm.
The same hands that had played the flute like magic were now gently supporting the old lady as he guided her out of the dining hall. No royal stiffness, no unnecessary drama - just a calm reverence in every move. The way he held her arm, matched her slow pace, as if time bent itself around them.
And then that tone - when he asked Martin and Maria to eat. Not ordered, not suggested - asked, like a request from one equal to another. She'd never seen anyone in power speak like that in a house this powerful.
Martin's "Almost ready" came quickly, his voice stripped of the earlier arrogance.
Ivikaa was still staring at the doorway even after Veer and Meera had disappeared.
She didn't realize she'd been playing with her food for the last ten minutes, barely taking a bite. The usual curiosity in her eyes had deepened into something quieter. Something thoughtful.
Maya's voice rang in her head: "So again, core Iva, huh?"
Yeah. This was getting interesting. She shook her head and started gulping the soup - slow at first, then faster, just to get it over with. It was bland. Tasteless. Like liquid cardboard. But she needed to eat. Her body needed strength.
Just as she set the bowl down, nausea clawed at her stomach again, sharp and sudden. Her breath hitched. She pushed the chair back in a rush and stood up, wobbling, her hand over her mouth. She didn't even manage a word.
She turned - and slammed right into someone.
And then she threw up.
Right on him.
All over his chest.
Ivikaa froze, wide-eyed in horror, but her knees buckled and he steadied her immediately, his arms catching her before she could hit the floor. Her vision was blurry with tears of embarrassment, but she could see the mess she'd made - and still, there was no sign of disgust on his face. No wrinkle of the nose. No step back.
Just calm.
Devaki, Rudra, and Divya came rushing toward them, the sound of chairs scraping and footsteps pounding filling the room.
"Iva!" Rudra yelled.
She looked up - eyes locking with him.
Veer.
Veer - That's what Dadi called him.
"Take her to the washroom, you idiot!" Rudra's voice cut through sharply, all command and impatience.
Aah Rudra is so like me. Maya was right, she thought in a hazy second.
But before she could say anything - before she could even breathe properly - her stomach twisted again, violently. And she threw up again, right on him. Her legs gave out entirely this time.
She expected him to flinch. To curse. To back off.
Instead, he scooped her up like she weighed nothing, holding her close despite the vomit, the smell, the mess. One hand was under her knees, the other behind her back, fingers curled gently as though she might break.
She hid her face in his soaked shirt, mortified beyond belief.
God, Veer must be feeling disgusting. I am myself feeling like this. But his body language hadn't shifted. Not once.
He carried her out without a word. And all she could do was hold on. Veer placed her gently on the marble slab of the washroom, careful not to hurt her. The chill of the surface made her flinch slightly, but his hold lingered a moment longer, as if making sure she wouldn't fall again.
"Aap thik hain?" he asked, his voice deep, smooth, and laced with concern - the kind that didn't ask for politeness but genuinely needed an answer. His Hindi was rich, warm, and carried a weight that made her heart feel heavier in her chest.
Ivikaa gave a small nod, avoiding his eyes.
Her hands were sticky, gross, and trembling slightly. She stared at the sink, unsure how to even touch the faucet without making things worse. Her hesitation must've been obvious, because without a word, he stepped forward and turned the tap on for her.
When Ivikaa finished cleaning herself - rinsing away the embarrassment, the smell, and whatever pride she had left - she turned around, ready to thank him.
But the washroom was empty.
He was already gone.
A moment later, the door creaked open and a staff member entered hesitantly, followed closely by Rudra and Devaki aunty.
Maya rushed in right behind Devaki, her hair still messy from sleep, wearing an oversized T-shirt and joggers. One look at Ivikaa was enough - she didn't ask, didn't scold. She just came to her side and slipped her arm around her gently, supporting her like she always did.
"No more heroics, Iva," she murmured. "You're done for the day."
Ivikaa didn't resist. She was drained - physically, emotionally, and whatever else was left in between. Maya helped her walk back slowly, her steps unsteady. Rudra was saying something in the background, probably about calling the doctor again or doubling the meds, but Iva tuned it out.
Once back in the room, Maya helped her lie down, adjusting the pillows behind her with practiced ease.
"Want anything? Warm water? Ginger candy? Punch in the face for Rudra?" Maya asked dryly, brushing a strand of hair off Iva's face.
Iva managed a weak smile. "Just stay."
"Always."
Once Iva slept, Maya quietly slipped out of the room and headed to Viren Ambani's suite to update him on Ivikaa's condition, assuring him that everything was under control. Viren nodded, agreeing that staying at the Agnivanshi mansion had been the right decision.
Ivikaa rested the entire day, and by evening, she was feeling much better. Maya and Viren had been on their toes all day, making sure she had everything she needed. Rudra, ever the responsible host, had assigned a staff member solely for her care and even checked on her twice himself.
When Raha woke up and heard about Iva's sudden illness, she rushed to her room looking genuinely concerned. Her first reaction was sadness, but within moments she dramatically gasped, "Nazar is real! You should not posted on Instagram without the evil eye emoji."
Everyone chuckled, and for the first time that day, Ivikaa smiled. "Thank you, Papa," she said softly. "For handling the twins... I really wasn't in a state to deal with them."
Just then, Viren's phone buzzed with an emergency call from Delhi. His expression shifted instantly, and after a brief conversation, he stood up with a sigh.
"I have to leave tonight. It's urgent," he said, his voice laced with regret. "Maya will bring you to Delhi tomorrow."
Ivikaa blinked at him, stunned. "So, you both just decided? Without asking me?"
Maya tried to ease the tension. "Iva, it's just for a day-"
But Ivikaa cut her off, her voice tight with frustration. "Don't talk to me like I'm five. You both are treating me like I'm an idiot."
Her father muttered a soft "sorry" under his breath and gently kissed her forehead before leaving.
"Sorry Iva. I was just-" Maya began, but one sharp glare from Iva was enough to silence her mid-sentence.
"Go and sleep. It's late. I also want to sleep," Iva said firmly.
Maya gave a small nod and quietly exited the room, leaving Iva alone in the dim glow of the bedside lamp.
But sleep didn't come easy.
She turned, tossed, sighed, and finally flung the comforter aside. The room felt stifling. She walked to the balcony and pushed the doors open. Cool sea breeze welcomed her, and the scent of salt calmed her nerves a little. The balcony was spacious, elegant-oddly reminiscent of the one from the night before.
The memory hit her again.
The giant terrace. The moonlight. The man with the flute.
Veer.
What was it huh? One glimpse a day? She didn't get a chance to thank him.
She hadn't gotten a chance to thank him.
That thought kept circling her mind like a restless moth drawn to a flame. Without thinking much, she slipped on her slippers, opened her door, and quietly padded down the hallway. The Agnivanshi Palace was silent at night, dimly lit, every corner breathing history and grace. She kept walking, her feet taking her toward the west wing.
The memory of the flute haunted her in the gentlest way.
She was just about to step across the threshold of the west corridor when a familiar, stern voice cut through the silence.
"Not this side."
She stopped abruptly.
Martin. He stood there, tall and rigid, holding a silver water jug like it was a sword of duty. His eyes narrowed as always, his tone clipped and unmistakably commanding.
"Why?" Ivikaa asked, eyes narrowing slightly, her voice calm but edged with steel. She had never taken kindly to rude tones-certainly not from staff, and definitely not in a house where she was recovering as a guest.
"It's forbidden," Martin replied, his voice a touch softer now but still firm enough to mark a boundary.
Good, she thought. Another second of that arrogance and she was ready to knock the jug out of his hands.
Before she could retort, a graceful woman in a light cotton saree appeared from the west wing hallway.
"Martin, what are you doing?" she asked, her voice patient but questioning.
"Nothing, Maria. Just informing the new guest of a few family rules," he said, suddenly much gentler, his tone almost deferential.
Maria gave Ivikaa a brief nod, then continued past them toward the west wing without pause.
Ivikaa stood there for a second longer, watching Maria disappear into the corridor she wasn't allowed to enter.
"Wait for tomorrow, Martin," she thought with a sly smirk, a glint of mischief dancing in her eyes as she turned away. Then she thought out loud -
If I had a rupee for every mystery in this place, I'd buy my own palace-with no Martin, thank you very much.
✧ ✦ ✧
Author's Note:
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