.

.

.

.

.

WARNING ⚠️ This work is pure fiction of mine (author), it is N.O.T real, N.O.T factual and N.O.T connected to the real world in any way, any resemblance to actual people or events is entirely coincidental, if you find the content disturbing, offensive or uncomfortable, stop reading immediately and proceed only at your O.W.N discretion.

.

.

.

.

Mumbai

.

.

.

.

Zavian Rajvansh

CEO of Rajvansh Industries and ZR Corporations. Born into an empire and quietly, ruthlessly built another beside it. Cold to the bone sharp like glass the kind of man people talked about in whispers even when he was not in the room. To the world untouchable. To his enemies a nightmare. But behind closed doors, inside the walls of the home he grew up in

.

.

That was also Zavian Rajvansh. Ice to the world. An absolute fool in love with his family. A man who could end billion rupee deals without blinking and drop everything the moment his baby nephew took his first steps. The world only ever saw one side of him. The cold one. The dangerous one they had no idea the other side existed.

.

.

.

.

on the other side of Mumbai

.

.

.

Aarvika Oberoi

Founder of Oberoi Enterprises. No family. No legacy. No one who held her hand and told her she could do it. She grew up in an orphanage with four walls and no warmth and she carried that loneliness like a second skin for years. But she also carried something else. Something stubborn and burning and completely unbreakable. She had built her company from a single rented desk. From instant noodles and cold chai and nights that never seemed to end. No one believed in her. So she believed in herself. Every single day. Until the world had no choice but to believe too.

.

.

.

.

The entire room went still. Nobody breathed. Nobody moved. Because nobody in recent memory had ever dared.

And Zavian Rajvansh for the first time in that room looked up. Really looked. Not at a business rival. Not at a threat. At her.

And that was it. That was the moment. He did not know it then. But something shifted that day. Something quiet and irreversible. Because Zavian Rajvansh had sat in a hundred boardrooms

Had heard a thousand presentations. Had been challenged by men twice her age and twice her experience. And he had never not once said those two words to any of them. But he said it to her

Without hesitation. And when she walked out of that room he watched her go. And for the first time in a very long time he wanted to know someone's name

.

.

.

.

.

.

What followed was two years of a rivalry that never quite felt like a rivalry. Two years of crossing paths at events and conferences. Of watching each other from across rooms of a quiet, unspoken respect that neither of them named out loud he never sabotaged her

Never used his power against her. He watched her grow from a distance like someone who already knew the ending of a story that had barely begun

And then she came to him.

The room went quiet. His expression did not change. But something behind his eyes did

.

.

.

.

.

.

And what she walked into was a family. A home. A warmth so loud and so overwhelming that it cracked open every wall she had ever built around herself.

Aarvika sat. And stared at the plate. And felt something in her chest do something strange. Because nobody In twenty seven years Had ever called her beta.

And then there was this. The moment she did not see coming. The moment that broke something open in her chest without any warning at all.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

She stood outside that door. Hand pressed over her mouth. Eyes burning. And for the first time in her life Aarvika Oberoi did not know what to do with what she was feeling.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The fourth floor of the Rajvansh penthouse was nothing short of breathtaking floor to ceiling glass walls. The entire Mumbai skyline visible from every corner dark tones, clean lines, everything expensive and everything perfectly in place. Cold and beautiful just like the man who lived there.

The alarm went off at 5AM

It was never needed for twice

He was dressed crisp white shirt dark suit. Not a single thing out of place he stood at the window for a moment coffee in hand, eyes on the city below. Mumbai was still waking up. He had already been awake for an hour.

.

.

.

Downstairs

Ranveer was already downstairs when the doors opened six years as Zavian's bodyguard , but Zavian trusted him more than most people he had known his whole life.

The smell of parathas and chai and something sweet drifting from the kitchen the sound of voices overlapping. Someone laughing. A television somewhere in the background. Warm and loud and alive everything that Floor 4 was not

Then Siyara came back Ruaan in her arms Four months old Blinking slowly at the world

And just like that the man who had made grown men nervous in boardrooms was sitting at a breakfast table holding a four-month-old baby against his chest. One large hand supporting his head the other holding him close. Like it was the most natural thing in the world

.

.

.

.

.

.

At ZR Corporations

The lobby straightened the moment he walked in conversations dropped people moved aside without being asked. Not because anyone told them to. Just because he walked in and the room already knew

The quarterly review had already started when he entered the boardroom. It stopped the moment he sat down

Silence

Two hours. Sharp and efficient and completely in control until someone at the far end of the table mentioned something almost in passing

Murmuring of agreement around the table

But under the table his phone screen lit up he had already pulled up the article. Read it once and put the phone face down.

.

.

.

.

.

At night in Zavian's bedroom

The city below was glittering and alive the way it was always never stopping for anyone from somewhere below came the faint sound of a television. Anvay's voice briefly. Then quite the kind of quiet that only came after a baby had finally fallen asleep.

He stood at the window. Tie loosened. Coffee gone cold on the table beside him. That quiet restlessness sitting in his chest that he could never quite put a name to

He picked up his phone the article was still open. He read it again slowly. Founder and CEO Aarvika Oberoi.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Sunday morning at the Rajvansh penthouse was a completely different experience from the rest of the week and there were no alarms or back to back meetings or calls that started before the city had even woken up and just the smell of whatever Sanvi had decided to cook since 6AM was drifting up through every floor

And somewhere below Adavat and Anvay were already arguing about something completely unnecessary and Ruaan was four months old and somehow already the loudest presence in the entire house

Zavian was still on Floor 4 when his phone buzzed

He puts the phone down and looks at the ceiling for a moment and outside the floor to ceiling windows Mumbai was doing what it always did and it was moving and breathing and never stopping for anyone but up here it was quiet and it was the good kind of quiet

For the first time in what felt like weeks does not reach for his suit

.

.

.

By the time he came down to Floor 1 the entire family was already there and Sanvi was in the kitchen refusing everyone's help as always and Vikram was at the dining table with his chai and his newspaper

Ishaan was on the couch watching cricket and providing commentary that nobody had asked for and Shritika was pretending to read but actually watching the match and Adavat was flat on his back on the carpet staring at the ceiling

Anvay was pacing back and forth with Ruaan in his arms and Ruaan was crying and clearly not interested in settling down for anyone and Siyara was sitting watching Anvay with the calm patience of a woman who knew exactly how this was going to end

As some things are just not worth the energy (ehhehee 😙)

From across the room Anvay is still pacing with Ruaan and Ruaan is still crying and not settling for anyone

Anvay hands Ruaan over with the expression of a man admitting defeat and Zavian settles onto the couch and holds Ruaan against his chest and one hand supports his tiny back and the other holds him close and Ruaan looks up at him

And just like that stops crying completely

The entire room goes quiet for a second

The dining table on a Sunday was its own kind of chaos and everyone was talking at the same time and Sanvi was going back and forth from the kitchen even though there was already enough food on the table to feed twice as many people and Ishaan was still somehow following the cricket from where he was sitting and Adavat had finally gotten up from the floor and was eating with the enthusiasm of someone who had not seen food in days

.

.

The table continued and someone said something about Mehra Group's expansion plans and Ishaan steered it back to the cricket somehow and Adavat asked for more parathas

Zavian said nothing

but he had put his fork down for just a second

He does not argue with that because she is right and they both know it

.

.

.

.

.

After breakfast the afternoon stretched out in that slow comfortable way that only Sundays allowed and Vikram and Ishaan moved to the sitting area with the cricket still going and Shritika and Sanvi were somewhere in the middle of a conversation that had started about a recipe

and somehow ended up at a wedding they had attended three years ago and Adavat had relocated back to the carpet and Anvay and Siyara had taken Ruaan upstairs for his afternoon nap

Zavian was on the balcony and his phone was in his hand and he was not working but just existing which for him was almost the same thing

His phone buzzed and it was not Krish this time

.

He puts the phone down and leans against the railing and the city spreads out below him and it is wide and restless and endlessly moving and somewhere out there in all of that a woman had built something from nothing and she had done it alone and with no one behind her

He thinks about that for a moment and just a moment

.

.

.

.

.

By evening the penthouse had that specific Sunday energy and it was somewhere between winding down and not quite ready to let the day go and Sanvi was already planning next Sunday's menu out loud to nobody in particular and Vikram had fallen asleep in his chair in front of the cricket

And Ishaan was providing commentary for an audience of zero and Shritika had given up and gone upstairs and Adavat had eaten dinner and declared it the best day of his life and disappeared to his room

Zavian came back down from Floor 4 around 7PM and he had his jacket on and his keys in hand

Before walking out and Sanvi watches him go with that expression that mothers have and it is equal parts love and worry and pride all at once

.

.

.

.

Ranveer is already waiting by the elevator and he has a container of food tucked under one arm and the keys in his other hand

the elevator doors close behind them and the penthouse settles into its Sunday quiet and Ruaan is sleeping soundly and Vikram is still in his chair and Sanvi is humming something softly in the kitchen and Ishaan is finally watching the cricket in peace

and somewhere in the city without knowing it two lives are already moving toward each other

One quiet step at a time

.

.

.

.

.