♡AUTHOR'S POV♡~
Night in Geneva Switzerland,after the Summit.
Rooftop of his luxurious mansion
The Bosphorus shimmered below like spilled ink under starlight.
The city never slept too many lives, too many deals, too many shadows.
But up here, on the rooftop of his mansion converted into a security-tightened hub, the air was quieter.
Not peace just pause.
Kiyansh stood at the edge of the terrace, sleeves rolled up, cigarette untouched between his fingers, burning itself down to the filter.
He didn’t smoke not always
But sometimes, he liked the smell of fire dying out. Reminded him people were temporary.
A door creaked open behind him.
“Thought you'd be gone by now,” Harshvardhan’s deep voice rolled out, low and calm.
Kiyansh didn’t turn. “Flight’s in two hours. Geneva’s overrated.”
Harsh let the door fall shut and walked beside him, glancing at the distant water.
He wore all black a habit neither of them had shed. Sharp watch, black gloves, a silenced gun holstered under his blazer.
Old money never meant safe life.
“You’re meeting the Russians?” Harsh asked, arms crossed now, gaze still ahead.
“Yeah,” Kiyansh replied. “They think they’re being subtle. Playing both sides. I’ll let them finish their performance.”
Harsh hummed. “Need backup?”
A long pause. Kiyansh glanced sideways, finally, a smirk playing at his lips not warmth, but a rare moment of trust and fimilarity. “You’re always five steps ahead, aren’t you?”
“You know how it is,” Harsh shrugged.
“Loyalty is a dangerous thing to have. Especially when it’s not fake.”
Kiyansh's smirk grew deeper “Which is why you and I haven’t killed each other yet.”
“I’m still considering it,” Harsh deadpanned.
They stood there for a moment, both men marked by the legacies they carried one born of regal wrath, the other of brutal perfection.
Different bloodlines. Similar burdens.
“You handled Rafiq well,” Harshvardhan said, finally.
Kiyansh’s jaw tightened at the name.
“He was family to them. They didn’t expect I’d know he was feeding intel to Raichand’s rivals.”
“You always know. That’s what scares them.”
Kiyansh turned fully now, leaning against the railing. “You’re not scared.”
“No,” Harshvardhan said simply. “I just don’t lie to you.”
And that was it no promises, no sentimental speeches.
Just a truth passed between two men who didn’t trust the world but trusted each other in it.
Before heading back in, Harshvardhan paused at the door.
“Keep your back covered. Some ghosts don’t just haunt. They hunt.”
Kiyansh nodded. “And some kings don’t need a throne to rule.”
The door clicked shut behind Harshvardhan.
And for a moment, Kiyansh stood alone again with the cigarette long extinguished and the fire in his chest burning colder, sharper.
But at least he wasn’t entirely alone in the dark.
◇◇◇
Flashback:
Udaipur – 13 years ago
Location: The Rathore Estate
Courtyard, Early evening
The sun cast its last golden rays over the ancient palace courtyard. The sandstone walls glowed like molten gold, and laughter echoed beneath the arches.
Two boys barely thirteen were crouched behind an ornate pillar, whispering like little devils on a mission.
"Did you hide the ladoos properly?" Kiyansh whispered, mischief dancing in his eyes.
Abhimaan nodded, suppressing a grin. "Under the pooja thali. No one will look there till morning."
"You’re evil," Kiyansh chuckled. "Dadi will think Lord Krishna himself took it."
"Then let him take the blame," Abhimaan said, sticking out his tongue. "Anyway, your Dadi loves me more than you."
"Keep dreaming, stupido." Kiyansh elbowed him. "She only feeds you more because you pout like a goat when you don't get what you want."
"And you glare like a lion cub. We're even."
"Oh, please atleast I glare you only know how to pout"
"Because I am cute and you are not kiyu accept it."
Kiyansh scoffed then added.
"First of all YOU. ARE. NOT. CUTE.
and second don't call me that, i don't like nicknames they are cringy."
"No, I am that's why you are jealous, i can smell the burn from you" He flung his hands dramatically, as if wafting away invisible smoke.
“No way I’d ever be jealous of you, stupido Abhimaan,” Kiyansh snapped, gritting his teeth, clearly annoyed at Abhimaan’s persistent teasing.
Their banter flowed easily, like the comfort of old rivers meeting.
They didn't had any blood relation but were family friends but bonded more better than any other blood brothers.
From behind them, a voice shrieked.
“You both STOLE my sketchbook!”
Avantika came running, hair in messy braids, cheeks puffed in fury.
Kiyansh and Abhimaan exchanged a look busted. Their expressions mirrored each other: pure horror.
Abhimaan was the first to rise, arms spread dramatically. “Maharani Avantika! I told him not to touch it, but he made me do it!”
“You liar!” Kiyansh shouted, laughter breaking through.
Avantika lunged at them with all the might of a nine-year-old princess.
But before she could tackle them, another voice rang out, tinged with amusement.
Kashvi Raichand, Abhimaan’s younger sister, leaned against the doorframe, eyes gleaming. “You all are going to get punished one day. Especially you, Kiyu bhaiya.”
“Then I’ll take stupido Abhi with me,” Kiyansh retorted. “I need someone to bully.”
“Very brave,” Abhimaan smirked.
“You’ll cry without me,” Kiyansh added smugly.
“Nope,” Abhimaan shot back before anyone could respond. “I’ll be at peace without you. Don’t worry.”
An angry, half-teary voice cut through.
“Sb log chup ho jaiye! Mein keh rhi huin Mera sketchbook chori ho gya, aur aap logon ko majak lag raha hai!”
(I'm saying my sketchbook is stolen and you are making fun of it)
“Nahi, meri pyaari Avantika, mujhe nahi in dono ko majak lag raha. Ek toh chori ki upar se tumhara majak udaa rahe hain batao!” Kashvi said, mock horror painted across her face, only fueling the fire.
(No,no my lovely Avantika, I'm not these two are taking it as a joke. First they stole it now they are making fun of it)
“Mein baba sa, kaku sa se shikayat karungi, aur dadu sa se bhi! Aap log bahut bure ho!” Avantika stomped her foot, heading to file her complaint seriously.
(I will complain to baba sa, kaka sa, and also to Dada sa. You both are very bad)
Hearing this, both Abhimaan and Kiyansh froze.
She was the pampered princess of the family, especially cherished by both of their fathers.
“Nahi, nahi, bachha! Suno, tumhari sketchbook iss stupido ne li hai. Mein dilwata huin,ruk jao please.”
(No,no bachha. Listen, i didn’t this stupido took your sketchbook. I will bring it back ,wait please)
Abhimaan looked like he could explode, ready to kill Kiyansh for throwing him under the bus, even if it was part of Kiyansh’s master plan to do so by manipulating him.
“Kiyu, you did this on purpose, didn’t you?” Abhimaan hissed through gritted teeth.
“What? Me? Never,” Kiyansh said innocently, voice dripping with mock sincerity.
Avantika turned back, hands on hips, glowering. “I knew you two would betray me! Always plotting something!”
Kashvi couldn’t contain herself and burst into laughter. “This is why I love watching you guys fight. Especially Kiyu bhaiya, always the instigator.”
“I’m not the instigator!” Kiyansh yelled, pointing at Abhimaan, who rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide a smirk.
“Then why does this stupido Abhi of yours look like he’s about to explode?” Avantika asked, narrowing her eyes.
“I told him not to touch it!” Abhimaan shouted, pointing at Kiyansh.
“Liar!” Kiyansh yelled back. “I said maybe touch it didn’t say steal it!”
Avantika threw herself at them again, squealing in mock anger. “You two are impossible!”
Kashvi’s laughter echoed around the room. “This is better than any cartoon! Seriously, stop arguing before someone calls the palace guards!”
“Guards? I am the palace guard,” Kiyansh said proudly, puffing up his chest.
“Then I shall file a royal complaint against you!” Avantika declared, raising a tiny finger in the air.
“Fine, fine!” Kiyansh waved his hands in surrender, backing away dramatically. “You win, Your Highness! Now don’t hit me my life is in your hands!”
Abhimaan groaned, rubbing his forehead. “I swear, one day, I’ll get revenge for being thrown under the bus.”
“Not today, stupido abhi Today, you survive. But tomorrow…?” Kiyansh’s grin widened, eyes sparkling with mischief.
Avantika, cheeks red from the furious laughter, finally snatched her sketchbook back, holding it tightly to her chest like a trophy. “And next time, you both stay away from my things else i am not leaving you all!”
Kashvi clapped her hands, still laughing. “Bravo! Such teamwork, all three of you. Kiyansh, Abhimaan, and Avantika the royal chaos trio!”
Avantika rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath. “As if you aren't the part of this chaos ashvi di.”
Kashvi grinned saying "of course I'm. Without me how will this group of trio survive."
Kiyansh smirked, leaning back casually. “That’s the spirit, Badi Princess and choti princess.
Their arguments turned into a game of tag, feet slapping across the white marble, voices rising in uncontainable joy.
The air between them held no fear, no betrayal. Just a pure, unfiltered bond wild, sacred, and untamed.
Later that night
Under the stars on the rooftop terrace
Abhimaan and Kiyansh lay on their backs on a soft mattress, the warm night breeze brushing against their faces.
The palace lights shimmered below, but the stars above seemed brighter.
“Do you ever think… if something happened to any of us?” Abhimaan asked softly, his tone uncharacteristically serious.
Kiyansh turned to him, brows furrowing. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know.” Abhimaan shrugged. “Just… we’re not really brothers. Not by blood. But sometimes I think I’d do anything to keep us the way we are.”
Kiyansh didn’t speak for a moment.
Then he said quietly, “We’re more than blood. We’re... chosen. That’s stronger.”
Abhimaan looked at him.
Kiyansh added, “If anyone ever tries to hurt you or Kashvi… or little one… I’ll ruin them. You know that, right?”
Abhimaan nodded, emotion thick in his throat. “Same.”
They bumped fists, young warriors making a pact unaware of the trials their bond would someday face.
◇◇◇
Law College | Seminar Room | Afternoon
The room hums with the low buzz of conversation, fans clicking softly overhead.
A debate session is underway, students in formals seated around a U-shaped table.
The faculty supervisor, Professor A.K. Mishra, leans back with an amused look as he lets the final rebuttals play out.
Topic: “Is morality more essential than legality in shaping justice?”
Kaushiki sat upright in her chair, hands calmly clasped on the table, eyes sharp.
Her brows were furrowed, not out of confusion, but restraint.
The boy across her was blabbering in that irritating way people do when they mistake loudness for logic.
“You can’t uphold justice just on emotional morality,” he declared smugly, arms flailing, “If everyone just followed their feelings, courts would collapse into chaos. That’s why laws exist. Morality is subjective. Law is objective.”
Before Kaushiki could open her mouth, Taraksha’s voice cut through the room like a blade.
“Then maybe you should read the Constitution again,” she said coolly, twirling her pen. “It’s built on moral principles first liberty, dignity, equality before any legal procedure. Law without morality is nothing but sanctioned violence.”
The boy scoffed. “You’re twisting theory. That’s not how it works in practice—”
“She’s not twisting anything,” Kaushiki said sharply, her voice colder than usual. “She’s quoting Ambedkar. You should try reading him sometime.”
A murmur went through the room.
Kaushiki didn’t even look at Taraksha when she said it ,she just kept her eyes on the boy, her tone clinical. Like a scalpel.
Taraksha blinked. For the first time, she didn’t smirk or fire back.
Instead, her gaze shifted briefly to Kaushiki not surprised, not smug just observant.
And when the boy turned to Kaushiki with a mocking smile “Of course you'd side with her. Two angry women yelling their way through law school” Taraksha leaned forward, voice low and lethal.
“Say ‘angry women’ again, and I’ll show you what exactly a angry women can actually do when provoked unnecessarily.”
There it was. The room went still.
Kaushiki didn’t react much on the surface, but her fingers, resting gently on her notebook, had gone completely still.
Professor Mishra cleared his throat, eyeing the two of them.
“Interesting turn of events,” he muttered, scratching his beard. “Alright, enough heat. We’ll wrap up here. Taraksha and Kaushiki solid rebuttals, both of you.”
As students began rising, collecting their things, the tension that had hovered between the two once almost feral had shifted. It wasn’t warm, not even friendly. But it wasn’t war anymore.
It was… silent acknowledgment.
◇◇◇
In the College Courtyard ; Later That Day
Kaushiki sat under the tree at her usual spot she preferred over fake people, alone with her coffee and notes.
Her black top with the ruffles at the end paired with a light blue denims and silver hoops and a very basic and thin eyeliner making her eyes more look even more gorgeous than they already were with a brownish colour lip balm.
Taraksha appeared like she always did abruptly and without any invitation.
She had a habit of walking like she owned every inch of space she stepped into.
“You didn’t have to do that back there,” Taraksha said, arms crossed, voice casual but not mocking for once.
Kaushiki didn’t look up. “Do what?”
“That whole ‘quoting Ambedkar’ thing. Siding with me.”
Kaushiki shrugged. “You weren’t wrong.”
“Yeah, but that’s new. Coming from you.”
Now Kaushiki looked up, eyes calm, but not with her usual sarcastic gleam . “I don’t have to like you to agree with you.”
Taraksha tilted her head. “You don’t like me?”
Kaushiki raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”
There was a beat of silence.
Then to Kaushiki’s surprise Taraksha let out a small laugh. Not loud. Not cocky. Just real.
“No,” she said honestly. “But I don’t hate you either. That’s new.”
Kaushiki smiled slightly, the corner of her lips lifting not soft, not warm. Just… human.
“Same.”
They didn’t say anything after that. Just sat there for a while not talking, not fighting. Just… existing side by side, for the first time without needing to win.
◇◇◇
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THANKS FOR READING 📚
YOUR AUTHOR ♡KAUSHI♡
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