There’s something uniquely unsettling about waking up to your face plastered across India’s top gossip pages—with a ring you never wore and a man you never kissed.
"Reewa Singhal Engaged to Rajasthani Prince & Business Tycoon, Rudraksh Rathod?"
The headline blinked at me like a bad joke. I nearly dropped my almond latte.
The picture wasn’t even real. A badly edited snap from last night’s dinner event in Dewdrops, where we just happened to be standing next to each other—me mid-smile, him looking like sin in a three-piece suit. The perfect fodder for clickbait.
Except now my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.
“You could’ve at least told us before the tabloids,” Ishaan’s text read. “Dad is ready to book a flight to Udaipur to punch him.”
Of course, Father.
Because why not? My emotionally constipated childhood nemesis kisses me one day, confesses like a Bollywood villain at dinner the next—and now apparently, we’re engaged?
What the actual hell?
I tossed the paper aside, fingers trembling as I dialed my PR team. This had to be handled before it snowballed. Before clients started calling. Before the board questioned if my personal life was affecting Dewdrops.
But most of all—before I saw him again.
Because if I did... I wasn’t sure if I’d slap him for this mess.
Or kiss him again.
Rudraksh’s POV
The ring in the headline didn’t exist.
But the claim? That was deliberate. Personal. Mine.
I leaned against the bulletproof glass of my Udaipur office, unmoved by the city humming below. My team had just finalized a multi-crore deal in Jodhpur, yet the only news that mattered was already flooding every screen.
“Reewa Singhal & Rudraksh Singh Rathod—Childhood Enemies or Secret Fiancés?”
I didn’t blink.
Because I was the one who orchestrated the leak.
Not for headlines. Not for her.
For him—Yug. The man who once cheated on her. Who now hovered around her business like a parasite dressed as a savior. He was poking at her vulnerabilities, trying to act like he belonged in her orbit again.
He didn’t.
Because she already belonged to someone else.
Me.
Not because of some childish pact or fleeting obsession. But because of the day she was born.
I was eight years old when I first saw her—swaddled in soft pink, two days old, in a glass crib at the Delhi hospital.
I remember the silence in the hallway. The faint cries of newborns. The antiseptic scent clinging to the air.
My mother had taken me to visit Aunt Meera after her delivery. Everyone had been fawning over the baby, but I had stood in the corner, watching.
And then, she turned her face toward me.
Barely moving. Barely breathing.
But something… shifted.
Her skin was wrinkled, her fists were tight, her eyes closed. But when my mother brought her to me and she opened her eyes, I couldn't breath. Her dark brown eyes were something that had already wrapped me in their enchantment.
And then—I knew. She was mine.
Something ancient and terrifying settled in my chest that day. Like an oath whispered by fate before I even knew how to spell her name.
I’ve belonged to her since that moment.
And if fate made the claim, I would enforce it with blood, fire, and deception.
So yes—I leaked the engagement rumor.
Let Yug read it over his morning espresso and choke.
Let investors in Dewdrops hesitate just enough to make Reewa reach out to me.
And when she did?
When she stormed into my office, dressed in power and rage, demanding answers?
I’d stare at her with the same calm I wore the day I first saw her through hospital glass.
Because obsession doesn’t always look loud.
Sometimes, it looks like a boy who never forgot the first girl who made his world go still.
Reewa barged into Rathod Rajya Corporation’s skyscraper like she owned the damn place—chin high, fire in her eyes, heels clicking across the marble like war drums. She didn’t wait for his assistant to announce her.
Security hesitated, but one glare from her and they backed off. They knew who she was.
And Rudraksh?
He didn’t flinch when she slammed open his glass door. He had been waiting for her.
“Did you lose your mind, Rudraksh?” she hissed. “Engaged? Are you insane?”
He looked up from his sleek desk, expression maddeningly calm. “It’s trending, I heard. Congratulations to us.”
Her nostrils flared. “There is no us!”
“Are you sure?” he leaned back, lacing his fingers under his chin. “Because last I checked, you let your guard down enough for someone like Yug to crawl back in.”
Her face stiffened.
He smirked. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice? His name is suddenly all over the Dewdrops expansion project. Or did you forget he already broke you once?”
“That is none of your business,” she bit out.
“But you are,” he said darkly. “And I protect what’s mine.”
Reewa’s jaw clenched. “You had no right to leak that rumor.”
“Maybe not,” he admitted with a shrug. “But it was the only language people like Yug understand. Ownership.”
“I'm not something you can claim,” she snapped.
His eyes softened. Just for a moment.
“You’ve been mine since the day you were born, Reewa.”
She froze.
He didn’t elaborate. Didn’t need to.
Because he remembered everything—from the moment he first saw her to the summers she danced around Holi bonfires, her laughter ringing through the Rathod palace courtyards like temple bells.
Flashback: A Festival in the Past (Rudraksh’s POV)
Holi, 2009 – Reewa was twelve, he was twenty.
He should’ve stayed inside. He never played with the younger kids.
But that day, she’d thrown color at him—unafraid, rebellious. Her face smeared with pink, her hair wild in the desert wind, her smile brighter than the sun.
“You’re no fun, Rudraksh!” she’d yelled, grabbing his kurta and flinging purple powder into his chest.
He remembered blinking, stunned by her audacity.
No one touched him like that.
No one ever dared.
But her?
She laughed in his silence.
And he never forgot it.
That was the first Holi he allowed color on his body. Because it came from her.
Back to Present:
“Tell me one thing, Reewa,” he said quietly now, voice a silk threat wrapped in nostalgia. “If it wasn’t Yug who sent you running here… why did you come?”
She swallowed, her voice caught between rage and confusion.
“Because only you would pull something so insane,” she whispered.
He smiled.
“Exactly. Because only I would go this far… for you.”
Flashback
The rooftop restaurant was everything Yug remembered Reewa loving—subtle lighting, soft classical music, vintage silverware, and a curated vegan menu. It was supposed to be a casual “catch-up” dinner. Rebuilding trust, he’d told her.
But Yug’s eyes kept wandering to her wrist—the one that no longer wore the bracelet he had once gifted. Instead, a delicate, royal Rajasthani gold cuff circled it—crafted like a whisper of possession. One she hadn’t noticed yet.
“Reewa…” Yug leaned forward, his voice lower. “I know I messed up. But I’m not that man anymore. And I’ve been thinking—maybe we could give us a real shot this time.”
She blinked. Caught off guard. “Yug, I didn’t agree to dinner for—”
A sudden hush swept the rooftop.
And just like that, Rudraksh Singh Rathod walked in.
In a crisp black suit with the breeze making his coat flare like a villain’s cape, he stole every eye in the room—and his gaze went only to Reewa.
“Sorry I’m late, jaan. Traffic.” His voice was too smooth, too controlled.
“What—” Reewa stood up, shocked.
Yug glared. “What the hell is this?”
Rudraksh didn’t even look at him. He kissed Reewa’s temple like he’d done it all his life, then smoothly pulled out the chair next to her. “We were celebrating, weren’t we?”
“Celebrating what?” she hissed, cheeks burning.
He turned to Yug and smiled. “Our engagement.”
Yug nearly choked on his wine.
Reewa’s breath caught. “You’re unbelievable.”
Rudraksh whispered, “You always say that right before you give in.”
And then, as if the entire restaurant were a movie set under his direction, a violinist started playing a familiar tune. A Bollywood melody from the movie Reewa once obsessed over as a teenager.
She froze.
He remembered?
“You still like this song?” he asked, offering his hand. “Dance with me.”
“I am not dancing with you,” she said, voice trembling.
“Then let me ruin your night properly.”
She didn’t know what made her accept his hand.
But suddenly, they were dancing.
His palm pressed against the small of her back. Her heart thundered in rhythm with the music. His scent—dark cedar and saffron—wrapped around her like memory.
She looked up.
And he leaned in close, mouth brushing her ear. “Every year. Every festival. Every birthday. I wrote to you, Reewa. You never knew. You were mine before the world even knew your name.”
Her steps faltered.
And then—he whispered what she never expected.
“I don’t want to pretend anymore.”
Yug’s shadow lingered too close, his words dripping with arrogance, smirking as if he still owned a piece of her life. His gaze on Reewa was anything but respectful — a predator smelling old prey.
Reewa stiffened but there was a flicker of relief beneath her skin. Rudraksh had been there—quiet, relentless, protective. He had stopped Yug from slipping back into her world, from tearing apart her business with cruel whispers and power plays. For that, she was grateful.
But when Rudraksh stepped forward, his eyes stormy and fierce, Reewa couldn’t hold back. She pushed him hard.
“Don’t think this means anything,” she snapped, voice sharp. “I don’t need you playing the hero. I’m not yours to claim.”
Rudraksh’s jaw tightened. The flicker of anger in his eyes was almost dangerous.
“Protecting you isn’t a game, Reewa. It’s my promise. From the moment I saw you—two days old, crying in your mother’s arms—you belonged to me. Not because I said so, but because I always have. And no creep like Yug will ever get close again.”
Reewa’s breath hitched. His words were possessive, heavy—but behind them lay an obsession she could no longer ignore.
“You think you own me,” she said, voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance. “But you don’t.”
His voice dropped, low and intense.
“I don’t care what you think. I know the letters I wrote but never sent. Every birthday, every festival, every summer—I was there. In ways you never saw. And now? I’m not letting go.”
His fingers curled, knuckles white.
“You can push me away, call me crazy… but you’ll always be mine, Reewa.”
And with that, Rudraksh turned, leaving her trembling between anger and the undeniable pull of the man who haunted her every waking moment.
Rudraksh POV
She pushed me.
And for a second, I let her.
Because her fire was what I’d fallen for—back when she couldn’t even walk straight and I watched her throw tantrums in her princess pajamas.
But this?
Seeing her flinch when that bastard Yug tried to come close?
I saw red.
That man had once touched her heart and then shattered it like glass. And now he dared to return, lurking near her like a vulture—charming smiles and arrogant words, trying to rewrite what he broke.
Not on my watch.
I didn’t stop the engagement rumors out of impulse. I spread them. Quietly. Strategically. Ruthlessly. Because I needed the world to know—she was taken. Mine. Bound by history, blood, and obsession.
She might not wear my ring yet, but the world needed to feel the weight of my presence beside her.
And still… she pushed me.
Even after I crushed Yug’s chances, even after I shielded her business by making calls no one would dare to ignore. Even after I reminded Delhi’s elite who she belonged to.
But I knew her.
She wasn’t angry at me. She was angry at the truth.
Because deep down, she felt the pull too.
She just didn’t want to admit it.
I remembered every birthday I spent in silence, writing letters and burning them after. The one time I nearly sent a sapphire bracelet on her 18th—engraved with forever mine. But I held back.
I had waited.
Waited for her to come back into my world.
Now she was here—and she thought she could fight this?
No.
If I had to wage war with the world, with her stubborn pride, even with myself—I’d do it.
Because she’s been mine since the day I saw her wrapped in a pink hospital blanket, blinking up with eyes wide like galaxies.
And she doesn’t get to walk away.
Not anymore.
I watched Reewa disappear behind the glass doors of her restaurant, her spine straight, chin lifted—like she hadn’t just been harassed by the man who once shattered her.
I didn’t follow her.
Not yet.
Because I had work to do.
I stepped into my car, dialed one number, the only one I needed in moments like this.
“Veer.”
“Yes, Bhai?”
“There’s a man named Yug Mittal. Track him.”
“Purpose?”
“He’s breathing near what’s mine.”
Silence. Then, the soft laugh of my younger brother. “Understood.”
I leaned back, eyes on the skyline of Delhi, each light flickering like a warning. I didn’t need to kill Yug. Not yet. I just needed to remind him that Reewa Singhal’s life was guarded by shadows no one escaped.
Within hours, his father’s import license was under audit. His luxury car fleet? Vandalized in broad daylight by a gang no one dared to arrest. Clients pulled out of deals like rats abandoning a sinking ship.
All while I kept my hands clean.
And when I heard from Ira that Yug showed up at another of Reewa’s branches the next evening?
I doubled the security at Dewdrops, handpicked from RRC’s most discreet team. No black suits or earpieces—just plainclothes men trained to break bones with silence.
But none of that was enough.
Because I couldn’t sleep.
Not when I knew he was trying to come back.
Not when Reewa was pretending she didn’t need me.
So, I sent her flowers.
Not tulips
She hated tulips.
I sent her white rose
With a note tucked beneath:
“He doesn’t get to look at you, Reewa. Only I do.”
Then I called the media again.
A second wave of rumors.
This time?
The headlines didn’t say ‘engagement speculation’.
They said ‘Power Couple of the Year – Rudraksh Singh Rathod & Reewa Singhal?’
Let the world talk.
Let Yug choke on it.
Let her fight me with all that fire in her eyes.
Because I wasn’t just laying a claim anymore.
I was building a kingdom for her.
And I would burn anyone who dared trespass.
Even her… if it meant saving her from herself.
Rudraksh – Rathod Rajya Council Chambers
The long marble table stretched before me, polished until it reflected the faces of my empire’s most powerful men.
Seven of them.
Generals. Strategists. Enforcers.
And now — skeptics.
“Your attention,” Vedang Rathod, my uncle, said coolly. “It’s been slipping.”
A file landed in front of me. My face didn’t flinch. I already knew what was in it.
Surveillance.
Me. Reewa. The dinner. The flowers. The media storm.
“This?” he gestured to the news clippings. “This isn’t strategy, Rudraksh. This is exposure. Emotion.”
“You think I don’t know that?” I said, voice low, calm. Dangerous.
“Then explain the loss of two international deals in the past week. Explain the delay in shipments from the Black Sea port. Explain why every man in this room knows you’re building an empire around a woman who doesn’t even know she belongs to it.”
My jaw clenched. “She does.”
“Not yet,” Veer, my cousin, cut in. “And until she does, she’s a liability.”
The room stilled.
I stood up slowly. My voice was a whisper — quiet enough to make them lean in.
“You call it a distraction. I call it a weapon.”
Veer’s brow lifted.
“She makes me burn, yes,” I continued, pacing. “But that fire fuels every move I make. Every threat I issue. Every enemy I bury. You think I’m weaker? I’m deadlier.”
Silence again.
Then I turned to Veer. “And if any of you—anyone—lays a finger on her, I’ll burn this council to ash. Remember that.”
I poured a glass of dark whiskey and downed it without a flinch.
“She’s not a liability,” I said coldly. “She’s the reason this kingdom won’t just survive. It’ll reign.”
I walked out, the doors slamming behind me.
But inside?
My pulse raged.
Because what they didn’t know… was that Reewa Singhal wasn’t just my obsession.
She was my plan.
And the war hadn’t even started.
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