Chapter Two
Morning light slipped quietly into the Mehta house, filtering through tall glass windows and settling over marble floors that reflected wealth without trying to announce it.
Aarush Mehta buttoned his shirt as he walked into the dining area, rolling his shoulders once as if shaking off the last traces of sleep. He moved with effortless confidence—tall, broad-shouldered, sharply built. His jawline was clean and defined, giving his face a composed severity that made him look distant at first glance. It was a face people noticed immediately, even when he said very little.
His mother was already seated at the table, stirring her tea.
"You're up early," she said, looking at him over the rim of her cup.
"A lot to get through," Aarush replied, pulling out a chair.
His father glanced up from his newspaper. "You always say that."
"And it's always true."
She smiled faintly. "You barely sit at home these days."
"I sit," Aarush said mildly. "I just don't stay."
Footsteps echoed down the corridor. His elder brother walked in, phone pressed to his ear, already deep in a business call. He nodded briefly at Aarush before stepping aside. His wife followed, greeting Aarush warmly as she took her seat.
"Meetings already?" she asked.
He nodded. "As always."
Their younger sister appeared moments later, hair still damp, stealing fruit from Aarush's plate without hesitation.
"You weren't eating it," she said.
"I was," Aarush replied calmly. "Just not fast enough."
She grinned, entirely unapologetic.
Breakfast moved in familiar rhythms—meetings, schedules, traffic complaints. Safe conversations. Predictable ones.
"Kabir called yesterday," his mother said casually.
Aarush looked up. "Everything alright?"
"Yes. Wedding preparations."
His father folded the newspaper slightly. "Dates are finalised."
"I've blocked the time," Aarush said.
His sister tilted her head. "Is everyone coming?"
There was a pause—not heavy, but noticeable.
"Your second brother won't be able to," their mother said.
"Oh," his sister murmured.
Aarush reached for his coffee, expression unchanged.
"He sent his congratulations," his mother added, a little too quickly.
"That's good," Aarush replied.
No one pushed further.
As he stood to leave, his mother looked at him carefully. "Don't overwork yourself."
He smiled then—softer, genuine. "I won't."
---
The shift happened the moment Aarush stepped into his law firm.
The warmth he carried at home disappeared.
Here, he was precise. Controlled. Cold.
His footsteps echoed across polished floors. Conversations dipped as he passed. People noticed him—not just because of his height or the way his tailored suit fit him perfectly, but because of the quiet authority he carried without effort.
A junior associate stood stiffly across his desk, explaining a case strategy.
Aarush listened without interrupting, fingers steepled, gaze unreadable.
"Redo it," he said finally. "And don't defend weak logic. Strengthen it."
No anger. No reassurance.
Just ice.
Behind closed doors, Aarush worked in silence. Files aligned. Notes meticulous. His internship under one of the country's most formidable lawyers had carved discipline into him. Harvard Law had sharpened it. This firm—his firm—was where both came together.
By the time the city softened into night, Aarush felt the weight of the day settle into his shoulders.
The bar he chose was discreet, tucked away from the noise. Low lights. Muted music. Familiar comfort.
Rishan Shah was already there, jacket loosened, charm switched on effortlessly.
"Mehta," Rishan grinned as Aarush sat down. "Still looking like you stepped out of a magazine."
Aarush glanced at him. "You still look like trouble."
Rishan laughed. "And yet, life treats me kindly."
They clinked glasses.
"Long day?" Rishan asked.
"Productive."
"You say that like it's your entire personality."
Before Aarush could respond, a woman approached their table. Confident. Curious. Unapologetic.
"Hi," she said, eyes fixed on Aarush. "Can I get your number?"
Aarush looked up briefly. "No."
Polite. Calm. Final.
She blinked, clearly unused to hearing that, then laughed awkwardly before walking away.
Rishan stared at him. "Do you realise how offensive that was?"
"I was honest," Aarush replied, taking a sip of his drink.
"You could've entertained it," Rishan teased. "You're wasting prime material."
Aarush glanced at him. "I'm not interested in collecting moments."
Rishan leaned back, studying him. "So what are you waiting for?"
Aarush's gaze drifted toward the crowd—not searching, not restless. Just thoughtful.
"Something that matters," he said quietly. "Or nothing at all."
Rishan smiled slowly. "You're going to make life very inconvenient for yourself."
Aarush didn't disagree.
Outside, the city pulsed with movement and noise—unaware that two lives, moving in entirely different rhythms, were slowly being drawn toward the same place.