The helicopter blades cut through the warm Mumbai air, whipping Rithika’s long, caramel-highlighted hair into a frenzy. Her oversized sunglasses sat perched on her nose, Louis Vuitton tote in one hand, and a phone in the other as she casually clicked a selfie with the skyline in the background.
The second her Jimmy Choo heels hit the tarmac, she let out a dramatic sigh.
“Ugh. Couldn’t even bother to pick up his favorite sister himself,” she muttered under her breath, pulling her sunglasses down just enough to scan the landing area.
Her eyes locked onto the tall figure standing near the black Singhania SUV—Vyom.
Sharp as ever in a dark grey three-piece, arms crossed, jaw tighter than airport security.
She smirked.
“Well, well… if it isn’t Singhania’s ice prince,” she drawled, walking toward him with the effortless poise of a runway model. “Tell me, Vyom, is it company policy now to send statuesque men to receive tired fashion students, or is this a special favor for Vikram bhaiya’s baby sister?”
Vyom gave her a short nod, his voice clipped and smooth. “Welcome back, Miss Rithika. The car is ready.”
She rolled her eyes playfully. “Still allergic to small talk, I see.”
He opened the door for her without a word.
Rithika slid inside, tossing her bag in and leaning toward him. “You know, Vyom, a girl might start to think you’re avoiding eye contact on purpose. It's been what—two years? And still no smile?”
Vyom finally glanced at her, cool and unreadable. “Your brother trusts me to be efficient. Not entertaining.”
She laughed, a bright, melodic sound that bounced off the car interior. “That sounded suspiciously like a compliment. Or was that your version of flirting?”
Vyom shut the door.
A moment later, he was behind the wheel, sunglasses on, jaw clenched tighter than ever. “You’re twenty minutes late,” he said flatly. “Mr. Vikram adjusted his schedule to allow this pickup. Let’s not waste more time.”
Rithika leaned back, unfazed, tugging off her gloves with theatrical flair. “Tch. You’re no fun. And here I thought Milan had made me used to cold-hearted men. Turns out, the real competition is still in Mumbai.”
Vyom said nothing. His fingers tapped once on the steering wheel before the engine growled to life.
As they drove out of the helipad gates, Rithika glanced sideways at him, a teasing glint in her eyes.
“Don’t worry. I like a challenge.”
Vyom’s response was silence.
But in the rearview mirror, her reflection smiled.
---
The towering gates of the Singhania Estate opened slowly, revealing manicured gardens, fountains dancing in symmetry, and staff lined up in crisp uniforms near the portico. As the SUV curved into the driveway, Rithika rolled down her window, smiling softly at the sight of her childhood home.
Home.
Vyom parked with precision. Before the staff could even approach, Rithika was already out, tossing her hair back and adjusting her cream blazer. A steward moved to take her bags.
“Be careful with that one,” she warned, pointing to a red case. “It has vintage Dior.”
“Rithika.”
The deep baritone made her pause—and then beam.
Vikram descended the steps, blazer off, sleeves rolled, the faintest smile on his lips as he walked toward her. She jogged up the steps and threw her arms around him.
“You didn’t come to pick me up,” she mock-complained, burying her face in his shoulder.
“You arrived twenty minutes late and demanded a helicopter,” he replied dryly. “And I sent Vyom. That’s still premium service.”
“I missed you, Vikram bhaiya,” she murmured, holding on a second longer than needed. Then she stepped back and looked at him, eyes narrowing. “You’ve lost weight.”
“Board meetings,” he said simply.
“Lies. It’s stress. You only look like this when someone’s messing with your schedule or your heart,” she said with a knowing smile, her eyes mischievous.
He said nothing.
She tilted her head. “Don’t tell me… is it the infamous Parineeti Gupta?”
Vikram arched a brow. “Let’s get you inside before you start speculating in front of the entire staff.”
He turned, and she grinned, falling into step beside him. The house was sun-drenched and elegant, filled with portraits and polished marble. Familiar scents—sandalwood, fresh flowers, and Meera Singhania’s signature jasmine tea—wafted through the halls.
Inside the drawing room, Meera stood waiting, graceful as ever in a soft green saree.
“Rithika!” she exclaimed, arms open. “Finally. The house feels whole again.”
“Maa!” Rithika rushed forward, hugging her tightly. “You haven’t aged a day!”
“Liar,” Meera laughed, cupping her daughter’s cheeks. “And what are you wearing? Are Milan designers allergic to fabric now?”
“It’s couture, Maa,” Rithika said dramatically. “You wouldn’t understand.”
A hearty laugh echoed behind them.
“Still dramatic as ever, Ritzy!”
Aaryan strolled in from the hallway, tan and charming in a relaxed white linen shirt, a cup of black coffee in hand.
“You didn’t forget your favorite cousin, did you?” he said, pulling her into a hug.
“Favorite?” she sniffed. “We’ll see after you show me what you’ve got me from Rome.”
“Expensive silence,” he said, tapping his pocket.
“God, I missed this house,” Rithika said, flopping down on the couch like she owned it. “Luxury, sarcasm, family dysfunction… everything I love.”
“Add ambition, secrets, and a few unspoken wars,” Aaryan muttered under his breath, earning a warning look from Vikram.
Rithika didn’t miss it.
Her eyes danced between them.
“Ooh. Someone catch me up over tea. Or wine. Preferably with gossip.”
Meera sighed fondly. “Let her settle in, boys. She’s been in the air for fourteen hours.”
“And she’ll be running her mouth for the next forty,” Aaryan joked.
Rithika smiled, eyes flitting briefly toward Vyom who stood discreetly near the entrance, ready to excuse himself.
“Vyom,” she said sweetly, “Will I be seeing you around more often?”
“No, Miss Rithika,” he replied flatly. “Unless you get into trouble.”
“Tempting,” she murmured.
He walked away, and she leaned toward Vikram with a conspiratorial grin. “Tell me everything. I want details. About Parineeti. About the Russians. About the storm you’re clearly brewing.”
Vikram only smirked. “First, lunch.”
---
The house was louder again.
Laughter in the hallway. A pair of heels clicking against marble. The scent of imported citrus perfume mixed with Meera’s homemade rose incense. She hadn’t even been home for half a day, and already, Rithika’s presence filled every corner of the estate like sunshine after a long grey monsoon.
Vikram leaned back in his leather chair, a file open before him but long forgotten.
He could still remember the day she left for Cambridge.
The morning had been unusually quiet. Rithika, just seventeen then, had dressed in navy blue—her hair in a braid, eyes sparkling despite the tears threatening to fall. Meera had made laddoos she didn’t eat. Shaurya had skipped college to stay home. Aaryan had pretended to be indifferent, cracking jokes until the very moment she left—and then disappeared for hours. And Vikram?
He hadn’t said much. Just pressed a card into her hand at the airport gate, a platinum black card and a handwritten note: Fly high. But always know where home is.
He never told anyone, but that night, he couldn’t sleep.
Her departure had been a quiet earthquake—one that cracked the rhythm of the house. She was the youngest, the chaos in their clockwork, the laughter in between their silences. A storm in pink sneakers who had somehow softened even the likes of Vyom.
And when she left, the silences grew longer.
For Vikram, Rithika had always been a tether to something softer. Something innocent.
The weight of the Singhania legacy hadn’t fully reached her when she boarded that flight. She left before the darkness became visible—before the Russians reemerged, before the political scandals, before Prabhas turned distant, before the name ‘Parineeti Gupta’ began echoing in every quiet corner of his mind.
Evening – The Whiskey Lounge, Mumbai
The lounge was dimly lit, the buzz of chatter around them mixing with the soft jazz in the background. Vikram, Aaryan, Arjun, and Dev had taken over their usual corner of the bar—a quiet booth where they could unwind without the prying eyes of the public. They had grown up together, studied together, and now they were navigating the complex world of business, family, and life, all while keeping their camaraderie intact.
Vikram leaned back in his seat, swirling the glass of scotch in his hand. His thoughts were still a little clouded from earlier—work, family, the case with Parineeti, and the never-ending pressure of being the head of the Singhania empire. But for now, he let the weight of it all slip away, if only for a few hours. His friends made it easier to forget.
Aaryan, ever the charming one, raised his glass. “To old friends and even older stories,” he said with a smirk.
They all clinked their glasses, laughing.
Dev took a long sip of his whiskey, his usual teasing smile in place. “So, Vikram, how’s the love life? Or should I ask, how’s the woman keeping you on your toes?”
Vikram rolled his eyes, but there was a glint of amusement in them. “It’s complicated,” he said, shrugging. “You know how it is. The right ones are always complicated.”
Arjun, who had been silent up until then, let out a low chuckle. “Complicated? Vikram, you don’t do complicated. You like everything neat and controlled.”
Vikram grinned, a little too knowingly. “Maybe. But some things can’t be controlled, Arjun. And that’s what makes them worth the trouble.”
Dev leaned forward, raising an eyebrow. “Ah, so you’re admitting to having trouble in paradise? Do tell.”
Vikram shot him a look, but there was no malice in it, just the comfortable familiarity of years spent together. “It’s not trouble, it’s just… intense. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s not like anything I’ve experienced before.”
Aaryan leaned back in his seat, grinning. “And let me guess—you don’t want to talk about it? That’s how it always goes, right?”
Vikram shot him a playful glare. “You know me too well, Aaryan.”
Dev laughed, clearly enjoying the teasing. “Well, we can’t blame you. A guy like you, with all your power and control, deserves someone who can keep up.”
There was a pause, the easygoing mood of the conversation still hanging in the air. Then Arjun leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. “But seriously, Vikram, when are you going to let us meet her?”
Vikram took a sip of his drink, avoiding Arjun’s gaze for a moment. “I don’t know yet. It’s… still new.”
Aaryan’s tone shifted, the smile still present but with an edge of curiosity. “New, huh? What’s her story?”
Vikram’s eyes flickered briefly to his cousin. “She’s a lawyer. Strong-willed. Doesn’t take nonsense from anyone.”
Arjun nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds like she’s a match for you, then.”
Vikram didn’t say anything for a moment, letting the weight of his words hang in the air. It was true. She was strong, capable, and fierce in ways that had shaken him. But it was more than that. She made him feel like he could finally let his guard down.
Dev, noticing the slight shift in the mood, grinned slyly. “So, when’s the big proposal, Vikram? I’m guessing that’s in the works?”
Vikram almost choked on his drink, spluttering slightly. “What? No. That’s not—”
Aaryan laughed loudly, slapping Vikram on the back. “Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it. I know you, Vikram.”
Vikram shot him a playful look, his defenses easing. “I haven’t thought about it. I just… I’m still figuring things out.”
Dev gave him a knowing smile. “You’ve always been the planner, Vikram. But some things, you can’t plan. They just… happen.”
Vikram’s eyes met Dev’s, a silent understanding passing between them. The last few months had been a whirlwind—everything moving faster than he had anticipated. He wasn’t used to feeling vulnerable, but with her, it was different. She made him feel exposed in a way that wasn’t uncomfortable, just… honest.
Aaryan raised his glass again. “Alright, alright, enough about Vikram’s love life for tonight. Let’s talk about something more interesting. Like business, for instance.”
Vikram’s ears perked up slightly. “Now, that’s more like it.”
Dev’s voice turned serious for a moment, his tone no longer light. “You know the Russians are getting bolder, right? We’re going to need to tighten our grip on Singhania Industries. They’ve been making some moves, and it’s not just about the money anymore.”
Vikram nodded, his expression hardening slightly. “I know. I’ve been keeping an eye on them. We need to act fast, before they start making waves we can’t control.”
Aaryan looked between the two of them. “You know, I don’t like how they’ve been slipping under the radar lately. It’s like they’re trying to get to us without us even realizing it.”
Vikram’s jaw tightened. “That’s exactly why we can’t be careless. Not with this. We need to be smarter, more calculated.”
Dev leaned back in his seat, his expression thoughtful. “We’ll need to work together, all of us. The Russians aren’t going to back off easily.”
Vikram’s eyes narrowed, his mind already working through the strategy. “We’ll make them regret it. They won’t get away with this.”
The conversation shifted back to lighter topics as the night wore on, but there was a quiet undercurrent of tension between them—business, family, and old enemies. It was a reminder that, no matter how much they joked and laughed, the weight of their responsibilities never really went away.
As the night stretched into the early hours, the four friends enjoyed the camaraderie of old bonds. But behind their words, there was an unspoken understanding. No matter how much they tried to escape it, their legacy was always with them—pressing them forward, shaping their futures.
---
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