The Enemy Returns

Aaradhya —

I always knew he’d return.

But I didn’t expect him to walk into my engagement ceremony… as the best man.

The Udaipur sun had melted into a honey-gold horizon. Strings of marigold swayed in rhythm with the shehnai, and the mehendi on my hands was still darkening—deep, bold, stubborn. Much like the past I had buried.

And then, like poison stirred into kheer, he arrived.

Veer Malhotra.

My breath caught somewhere between my throat and ribs. The glass of rose milk I was holding slipped slightly, but I caught it just in time. I didn’t need to turn around to know it was him. His presence had that kind of weight. Heavy. Familiar. Unforgiving.

“Raavi, that’s him,” whispered Meera, my cousin, tugging at my sleeve. “The best man. Veer. Malhotra’s heir.”

As if I could ever forget.

He walked through the gates like he owned the palace—because at one point, he nearly did. Tall. Black kurta with golden embroidery. Hair slicked back but messy enough to say he didn’t care. And those eyes… damn those eyes.

Once, they had worshipped me.

Now? They looked through me like I was dust beneath his designer shoes.

I held my chin up. Rathores don’t flinch. Not even when the boy who shattered them walks back like he never did.

He reached the stage where my fiancé—Riyan—was giving a painfully polite smile to elders. Veer whispered something to him, and they shared a brief laugh. My stomach twisted.

How does one behave around the man who once kissed you like salvation and cursed you like sin?

He turned.

Our eyes locked.

And the world paused.

My first instinct was to look away. But I didn’t. I stared right back. If he was fire, I’d be gasoline. If he came for war, I wouldn’t hide—I’d reignite.

His lips curled into a smirk. That arrogant tilt I hated. Loved. Feared.

“Hello, Aaradhya,” he said as he approached.

I blinked. His voice was deeper. Richer. But it still had that edge—like velvet wrapped around a knife.

“Veer,” I answered. My voice, thank God, didn’t shake. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Clearly.” His gaze dropped to my mehendi. “Still like lotus patterns, I see.”

My fingers twitched.

He remembered.

“Still obsessed with women you’ve destroyed, I see,” I said softly.

He laughed. Dark and low. “You still sting.”

“You still deserve it.”

The air between us crackled. Riyan stepped forward, clueless and charming. “You two know each other?”

Before I could answer, Veer said, “College friends.”