The Rajvansh mansion was alive with color and excitement as preparations for the Mehndi ceremony reached their peak. The sprawling courtyard was adorned with vibrant decorations, flowers, and twinkling lights. Traditional songs and laughter echoed through the air, blending with the sweet scent of henna. Tashvi sat in the center, surrounded by her friends and family, her hands and arms being adorned with intricate mehndi designs.

The mansion was alive with colors and laughter as the mehndi ceremony began. Tashvi looked radiant in her green lehenga, the intricate embroidery catching the light as she moved. The deep green contrasted beautifully with the dark henna designs being applied to her hands. Her dupatta, delicately draped over her shoulder, added an elegant touch to her overall look.



Kiara, standing nearby, wore a vibrant pink lehenga that perfectly complemented Tashvi's attire. The pink fabric shimmered under the lights, accentuating her lively personality. Kiara and Yuvaan stood close together, whispering and exchanging amused glances as they observed the proceedings. Their conspiring smiles did not go unnoticed by Tashvi, who felt a mix of curiosity and warmth at the sight of their easy camaraderie.



As the mehndi artist delicately worked on Tashvi's hands, she couldn't help but glance at Kiara and Yuvaan. She noticed Kiara leaning towards Yuvaan, whispering something that made him chuckle softly. The two seemed completely engrossed in their own world, planning and plotting, no doubt, to bring Tashvi and Aayan closer.



Aayan Rajvansh, the groom-to-be, was his usual aloof self. He stood at a distance, observing the festivities with a cold detachment that seemed to define his existence. Dressed impeccably in a traditional kurta, he looked every bit the reclusive billionaire he was known to be. His sharp eyes missed nothing, but he remained an island unto himself, distant and unapproachable.



Tashvi felt a mix of excitement and nervousness as the mehndi artist, an elderly woman with deft hands, carefully drew elaborate patterns on her skin. The artist paused and looked up,asking, "Whose name should I write in the design?"

Caught off guard, Tashvi glanced up, her eyes instinctively seeking Aayan's. She spotted him standing near a pillar, his expression unreadable. Her heart raced, and she quickly lowered her gaze, unsure of what to say. She felt the weight of tradition and the expectations of everyone around her.

Aayan, sensing her gaze, looked over but didn't move. His cold demeanor was a barrier he rarely lowered, especially not for someone he barely knew.

Kiara, Tashvi's best friend and an inveterate matchmaker, noticed her dilemma and nudged Yuvaan, Aayan's younger brother. They had been plotting ways to bring the couple closer, hoping to melt the ice around Aayan's heart.

"Time for phase one," Kiara whispered to Yuvaan with a mischievous grin.

Yuvaan, always the cheerful and easygoing counterbalance to his brother's sternness, approached Aayan. "Bhai, why don't you join us? It's a celebration, after all."

Aayan shot him a withering look. "I have more important things to do," he said curtly, turning back to his thoughts.

Yuvaan, unfazed, turned to Tashvi and the mehndi artist. "I believe the name you're looking for is Aayan," he said loudly enough for everyone to hear.

A blush crept up Tashvi's cheeks. She looked down at her hands, where the artist had already started incorporating the name into the intricate designs. The room seemed to buzz with renewed excitement at the mention of Aayan's name.

Tashvi heard a faint, reluctant sigh and looked up to find Aayan approaching. His expression remained unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes-curiosity, perhaps, or a hint of amusement.

"The name is Aayan," he repeated, his voice softer than usual but still carrying an air of command.

Tashvi's blush deepened, but she managed a small smile. Aayan's presence, though intimidating, brought an unexpected warmth to the ceremony.

As the evening wore on, Kiara and Yuvaan continued their efforts to bridge the gap between Aayan and Tashvi. They orchestrated games and small interactions, each designed to force the couple into closer proximity. Aayan, though visibly annoyed, played along, more out of obligation than genuine interest.

"Are you always this rude?" Tashvi asked him quietly during a brief moment when they were alone.

Aayan looked at her, surprised by her directness. "I'm not here to make friends," he replied bluntly. "This marriage is a duty, not a choice."

Tashvi's heart sank at his words, but she refused to be discouraged. "Maybe it doesn't have to be so cold," she suggested gently. "We could at least try to make it work."

Aayan's eyes hardened. "I don't believe in fairy tales, Tashvi. Life is about survival and success, not fantasies."

Before Tashvi could respond, they were interrupted by Yuvaan, who dragged Aayan away under the pretense of needing help with something. Tashvi watched them go, feeling a mix of frustration and determination.

Kiara joined her, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, Tashvi. We'll crack that icy exterior of his. You'll see."

As the night drew to a close, Tashvi looked at the henna on her hands, now darkening into a rich, deep brown. Aayan's name was intricately woven into the design, a symbol of their impending union. Despite his coldness, she held onto a glimmer of hope. The mehndi, with its promise of good fortune and happiness, seemed to whisper that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for warmth and love to bloom even in the coldest of hearts.

Back in his room, Aayan stared at his reflection in the mirror. The evening's events played back in his mind, and he couldn't shake the image of Tashvi's hopeful eyes and radiant smile. He was a man of logic and reason, but for the first time in a long while, he felt the stirrings of something beyond his control.

As he lay down to sleep, Aayan wondered if perhaps he had underestimated the power of tradition and the subtle, insistent pull of destiny.

Despite these moments, Aayan's cold demeanor often resurfaced. One evening, as the family gathered for dinner, Aayan made a rare appearance. His presence, though imposing, added a certain gravity to the room. Conversations hushed, and all eyes turned to him.

"You're actually joining us?" Yuvaan teased, breaking the tension.

"I have some free time," Aayan replied tersely, taking a seat. His eyes met Tashvi's briefly, and she offered him a small smile, which he did not return.

The dinner was a mix of lively chatter and awkward silences, punctuated by Aayan's occasional curt remarks. Tashvi tried to engage him in conversation, but his responses were monosyllabic, if not outright dismissive.

"So, Aayan," Tashvi ventured, "do you have any favorite places in the city?"

Aayan looked at her as if the question was a waste of time. "I don't have time for favorites," he said bluntly. "I'm usually working."

Tashvi's smile faltered, but she pressed on. "Well, maybe we can explore some places together once things settle down."

Aayan's expression didn't change. " I am always busy in work so its not possible " he said, effectively ending the conversation.

Yuvaan and Kiara exchanged worried glances. After dinner, they pulled Tashvi aside.

"Don't let him get to you," Kiara said. "Aayan's just... difficult."

"I know," Tashvi sighed. "But I can't help feeling like there's more to him. Something he's hiding."

"You're right," Yuvaan said. "Bhai wasn't always like this. Something changed him. We just need to figure out how to reach him."

A Glimmer of Understanding

That night, unable to sleep, Tashvi wandered the halls of the mansion. She found herself outside Aayan's study, the door slightly ajar. Inside, Aayan sat at his desk, staring at a framed photograph. He looked so different-lost, almost vulnerable.

Tashvi knocked softly. "May I come in?"

Aayan looked up, his mask of indifference slipping back into place. "What do you want?"

"I couldn't sleep," she said, stepping inside. "I saw the light on."

Aayan sighed but didn't send her away. "What is it, Tashvi?"

She hesitated, then spoke softly. "You know, you can talk to me about anything. I'm here for you."

Aayan looked at her, his eyes flickering with a mix of emotions. "Talking won't change anything."

"Maybe not," Tashvi said gently, "but it might help you feel less alone."

Aayan's expression softened slightly. "You really think talking will help?"

"I do," Tashvi replied. "It's worth a try."

Aayan sighed, leaning back in his chair. "My parents, Ashwin and Amina Rajvansh, are wonderful people. But my Badi Maa, Gayatri Rajvansh, and Bade Papa, Yashwardhan Rajvansh, raised me like their own son. They've always been supportive, but there's so much pressure to live up to their expectations."

Tashvi nodded, understanding the weight of familial expectations. "It sounds like you've been carrying a heavy burden."

"I have," Aayan admitted. "But that's not the only thing."

Tashvi looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

"There was a time," Aayan said slowly, "when I believed in love. But... things happened. I learned that love can be a weakness."

Tashvi's heart ached for him. "Love isn't a weakness, Aayan. It's a strength. It's what gives us hope and makes us human."

Aayan shook his head. "Maybe for you. But not for me."

"Then Mr. Rajvansh let me show you," Tashvi said softly. "Let me prove that love can be a strength."

Aayan looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and fear. "We'll see, but i am not sure if you can prove me wrong" he said finally.

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