The grand hall was silent but for the subtle ticking of the grandfather clock. Everyone's eyes were fixed on Virendra Thakur, whose voice alone could silence a crowd. With Rajmata Durgeshwari and Bua Sa at his side, he stood in the center of the room like a monarch delivering a royal verdict.

He took a deep breath and announced,
"I have something important to discuss with the family."

Everyone grew alert.

Payal and Jinal exchanged excited glances.
Samarveer stood up straighter, sensing something big.
Rekha(Samarveer's wife) leaned in with quiet curiosity.

Then Virendra declared:
"There is a wedding in our house tomorrow."

The moment Virendra declared, "Kal is ghar mein shaadi hai," a hush fell over the room like a thunderclap had struck. Every pair of eyes immediately darted to Aditya, the quiet, composed younger son, who stood at the far end of the hall with his arms crossed. His jaw clenched visibly as he felt their stares burning into him. Slowly, he turned his head and shot everyone a cold, cutting glare—one that screamed don't you dare.

Unlike Rudraksh, who joked and flirted his way out of most things, Aditya was no pookie. He hated the very idea of marriage—too messy, too emotional, too binding. His expression was enough to make Payal gulp and even Samarveer clear his throat awkwardly. One look at him, and it was obvious: he'd rather walk barefoot into fire than say 'I do'.

Rudraksh said, "Finally! Bhabhi is coming in our gang but who is getting married?!"

But the next words dropped like thunder:

"Not Aditya. Rivan is getting married."

The entire room fell deathly silent.

The laughter died on rudraksh lips.
Jinal clutched her dupatta.
Even the servants standing at the doorway took a step back.

The name alone — Rivan Thakur — carried a weight heavier than steel, his presence so intense that even in absence, it could devour the air in the room.

Aaradhya whispered, stunned, "Bhaiya? Getting married?"

Rajmata Durgeshwari's face paled slightly, her eyes locking with Virendra's.

Samarveer looked like he'd swallowed his breath.

And Aditya , always cocky, simply muttered, "Ab toh asli toofan aayega..." (Now the real storm will come...)

Everyone knew one truth —
Rivan Thakur hated marriage.
He had vowed never to be caged by a relationship, let alone a wife.
The idea that someone could stand beside that fire without burning felt... impossible.

A heavy silence still clung to the room like fog after Virendra's declaration.

"Rivan is getting married."

The air shifted. No one dared speak — as if even saying his name in this context would invite disaster.

Rudraksh, who always had something to say, sat frozen in disbelief.
Jinal's mouth hung open. Payal blinked twice, thinking she misheard.
Samarveer whispered under his breath, "This is madness."

Suddenly, the hall doors opened again.

Yashodha (Virendra's wife), who had momentarily stepped out to attend to the priest who came to prepare for Vasundhara's death anniversary, entered — unaware of the chaos unfolding.

She looked around at the stunned faces and then her gaze snapped to Virendra.

Her voice cut through the silence.

"Kya hua?" (What happened?)

Virendra, calm as ever, turned to her and repeated,
"Tomorrow, Rivan is getting married."

Her froze mid-step, her hands going cold.
"What...?" Her tone was low, almost dangerous.
"You're announcing our son's wedding like you're hosting a feast?"

She walked forward, her voice rising now, her shock turning to disbelief.

"Do you even realize what you've just said?"
"Rivan? Marriage? Have you lost your mind, Virendra?"

Everyone remained still, not daring to interrupt a confrontation between the two most powerful voices of the Thakur dynasty.

Virendra met her gaze without blinking.

"I'm fully aware of what I said."
"It's final. The wedding is tomorrow."

Yashodha stepped closer, her expression fierce.
"Do you know what day it is tomorrow?"

Virendra's jaw tensed.

"Yes. Vasundhara's death anniversary."

Gasps echoed softly in the room.

Rajmata looked both stunned and furious.

"He loses control every year on that day. He doesn't eat, doesn't sleep — he breaks down walls if someone talks to him. And you think he'll stand in front of a wedding pyre with a girl he doesn't even know?"

Virendra didn't waver. His voice was deep, calm, yet filled with a strange confidence.

"That's exactly why tomorrow is the right day. It's time to bring a new story into his life... even if it starts with destruction."

Everyone stared at him in disbelief.

"Are you out of your mind?" she said, her voice trembling between shock and fury.
"That boy hasn't set foot in this haveli in years! He barely speaks to you — to any of us! And now you're marrying him off like it's some family celebration?"

She turned to Rajmata Durgeshwari, almost expecting her to oppose this madness — but the elder woman remained composed.

"You agreed to this?" Yashodha asked, disbelieving.

Rajmata simply nodded.
"I've already tried to stop him. He's made up his mind."

Yashodhara turned back to Virendra.
"And who is the girl?"

Virendra's eyes met hers.

"Her name is Devyani. Hariram's daughter."

Yashodha stared like she misheard.
"You're marrying Rivan — the Rivan — to a girl from a debt-ridden family?"

Virendra's tone hardened now.
"She is innocent. She's exactly what he needs."

"No," Yashodha said firmly, her eyes blazing.
"What he needs is peace, not another chain. You saw what happened the last time someone tried to tie him down!"

Virendra's jaw clenched.

"He will not hurt her."

Yashodha lips quivered with disbelief.
"You don't know that. No one knows what he's capable of when his mind turns dark."

The room was silent again.

Then Rajmata stood slowly, her voice calm yet unarguable.

"The decision is made, Yashodha.The preparations begin today. The wedding is tomorrow."

Yashodha  looked between them — her husband, her mother-in-law, her frozen children — and realized... no one was going to stop this.

She lowered herself slowly into a chair, heart racing.

"God save that poor girl..." she whispered under her breath.

The room was already heavy with shock, but now Yashodha voice cut through it like glass.

"Virendra, tomorrow is Vasundhara's death anniversary!" she snapped, standing from her chair in disbelief.

Her eyes shimmered—not just with fury but with memories. Pain. Fear.

"Have you forgotten what that day means to Rivan? How he becomes someone else entirely?"

Virendra didn't flinch. His gaze stayed steady, unmoving.

"I know what day it is."

Yashodha voice cracked.
"Then how can you even think of telling him to get married tomorrow? How do you think he'll react, Virendra? Do you want to push him over the edge?"

The whole hall waited. Even Samar Singh Thakur—usually filled with humor and sarcasm—remained quiet, sensing the tension boiling between husband and wife

Virendra's jaw tightened.
He finally spoke, voice low but firm.
"No, Yashodha. Not this time. Abhi nahi toh kabhi nahi."

Yashodha breath caught.
"You think forcing him into marriage will fix him? You think a girl—a child—can survive him on that day?"

Virendra turned to her, eyes burning with the weight of conviction.
"She's not just a girl. She's going to be his wife. And I don't need him to agree. I need him to face it. This darkness, this anger... he's been feeding it for too long. Tomorrow, he either breaks it, or it breaks him."

The silence afterward was suffocating.

Rajmata Durgeshwari finally broke it, softly.
"Sometimes fate chooses the ugliest days to write the most beautiful stories."

Yashodha looked down, heart pounding.

"And what if he destroys her, Virendra?" she whispered.

Virendra simply said:
"Then I'll destroy him."

Virendra Thakur stood in the center, his voice steady... but sharp as a blade.

"And one more thing..."
He paused. His eyes scanned the faces before him — his brother samarveer, sister-in-law Rekha, his wife Yashodha, and his children.
"Rivan... will not be told about the marriage."

Gasps echoed.
Samarveer choked on the water he was sipping.
Rudraksh outh fell open.
Payal and Jinal looked at each other, horror on their faces.
Even Rajmata Durgeshwari, who had known most of the plan, stiffened slightly.

"What?" Yashodha hissed.
"Virendra, have you lost your mind? You want to marry him off without telling him?"

Virendra didn't flinch.
"Yes. And it will happen tomorrow. As decided."

The entire room was silent, their minds spinning not just with disbelief — but terror.
Because everyone knew what kind of storm Rivan Thakur was.
And worse... tomorrow was Vasundhara's death anniversary — the one day of the year he locked himself up and descended into emotional chaos and rage.

Samarveer finally spoke up.
"Bhai sa... you're waking a sleeping lion. Tomorrow, of all days? If he finds out—"

"He won't." Virendra cut him off coldly.
"Because every one of you will follow my orders. This marriage has to happen. If not now, then never."

He turned toward the younger siblings.

"And the most important thing..."
He narrowed his eyes.
"Handle Kaizan. Make sure he doesn't reach Rivan."

Everyone froze.

Jinal whispered, "Kaizan doesn't even breathe without bhaiyya. If he senses anything off—"

Virendra's gaze sharpened. A deadly calm fell over him.

"Enough."

One word. That's all it took.

No one dared speak. No one dared breathe too loud.
Because when Virendra Thakur gave a command, it wasn't a request.
It was fate.

He looked around once more, making sure every eye was lowered in obedience.

"Good. Now listen carefully. Here's the plan—"

Rivan's Penthouse – Early Morning
(A day before marriage)

The floor-to-ceiling glass windows allowed the morning light to stream in, casting golden patterns across the dark marble floor of the penthouse. The city outside buzzed with life—but inside, it was quiet... hauntingly so.

In the center of a king-sized bed, tangled in dark grey sheets, Rivan Thakur stirred.

With a deep, low breath, he lazily opened his eyes—eyes as dark as a monsoon sky, heavy with intensity and something far more unreadable.

He sat up, slowly, his movements fluid and lethal like a predator rising from sleep.

The blanket slid down to his waist, revealing his chiseled chest, carved with defined muscles that told stories of brutal discipline. Veins ran across his biceps, tension visible even in rest. A faint scar sliced across his right collarbone, another across his ribs—his body wasn't just powerful, it was a map of the wars he'd fought.

He ran a hand through his messy, jet-black hair.

A thick beard framed his sharp jaw, rough and rugged, giving him a wild, dangerous charm that made men fear and women stare.

Only a pair of black boxers hugged his waist.

On the nightstand, a silver gun lay beside a crystal glass—half-filled with leftover whiskey.

He stood, finally, stretching his tall frame.

Every movement of his screamed control... and chaos.
He wasn't just a man. He was a warning.

From a corner of the room, two glowing eyes emerged—watching. Waiting.

Kaizan.

But not a word was exchanged.

Rivan didn't speak. Kaizan didn't move.
Yet something passed between them. A silent understanding.

He walked toward the balcony, lighting a cigarette between his fingers, exhaling a slow breath as the smoke curled upward into the air.

The world outside didn't know it yet...

But a storm had already opened its eyes.

The penthouse was still silent, but there was a shift in the air.

Rivan walked into the sleek, open kitchen, the tiled floor cool beneath his bare feet. The kitchen was modern, minimal—black matte cabinets, steel appliances, and a huge island in the center. Everything in the space echoed his personality: clean, powerful, and cold.

With practiced movements, he reached for the eggs, a loaf of fresh bread, and cut vegetables.

No servants. No chefs.
Rivan Thakur cooked for no one but himself... and one more.

As the smell of sizzling butter and eggs filled the.

Rivan didn't turn.

"I know you're watching," he said in his deep, gravel-lined voice, without looking back.

Kaizan smile.

Rivan smirked faintly and flipped the omelette expertly. "Wait."

A minute later, he took out a plate and placed the food onto it with surprising care.

Then he turned around, walking to the edge of the kitchen, where Kaizan was now sitting quietly, like an obedient child.

"First you," Rivan said and crouched down, holding the plate up.

Kaizan looked into his eyes—those sharp black orbs held something unnatural. But there was a strange purity in the way he took the food from Rivan's hand.

Rivan take Kaizan on his lap and start feeding him.

"Good boy," he muttered softly, brushing Kaizan's head.

Silence again. The kind that only existed in his world.

No chaos. No Thakur Haveli. No family. No reminders.

Just Rivan. And Kaizan.

The silence inside the penthouse was thick again.

After feeding Kaizan and barely finishing his own meal, Rivan wandered back to his bedroom. His body was heavy—not with exhaustion, but with something more dangerous... memories.

He threw himself lazily on the enormous bed, letting the cold sheets swallow him. The sunlight peeked through the thick black curtains, casting pale golden stripes over his bare chest and stubbled jaw.

His fingers ran across the side drawer.

A small black pill bottle.
He took it out, stared at it for a long time.

The same pills.
Same week. Every year.

Rivan popped one into his mouth and swallowed dry. No water needed. He'd grown immune to the bitterness.

He laid back, staring at the ceiling fan, barely rotating.

His jaw clenched.
His eyes were half-closed, but not with peace. The storm behind them was brewing.

Tomorrow.

He didn't need a reminder of the date. It was burned into him.
Every year during this week, sleep became a distant dream.

Rivan Thakur—ruthless, feared, untouchable—always broke down silently during these cursed seven days.

Only Kaizan saw him like this.

And even Kaizan dared not disturb him.

So today, like the last five, he let the pills drag him back into the dark.
Another escape. A borrowed breath.

But what he didn't know was...
Tomorrow wouldn't be like every other year.

Tomorrow... the very ground beneath him was going to shift.
The man who hated attachments would wake up with a wife.
A eighteen -year-old stranger who'd be tied to him forever.

And he'd have no idea how... or why.

But for now, the lion remained asleep.
Unaware of the cage being built around him.

Next morning

The first rays of dawn bathed Thakur Haveli in golden hues, but inside, the air was far from calm.

A sudden hush fell over the halls as the servants moved briskly, their eyes low, hands trembling with every garland they pinned and every curtain they straightened. The towering pillars were wrapped in marigolds and jasmine, their scent mixing with the heavy tension that clung to the air like smoke.

From the grand arches to the carved jharokhas, the haveli looked nothing short of royal—a palace ready to host a wedding. But instead of joy, there was only unease. Everyone knew this was no ordinary marriage.

Inside the main hall, Rajmata Durgeshwari, her back straight and chin lifted, supervised every detail. Her eyes, sharp and unreadable, scanned the work being done. Even the slightest flaw was corrected with a single glare.

Yashodha Thakurain, Virendra's wife, stood beside her, her face pale and fingers anxiously playing with the edge of her saree. "I still don't understand how we're even doing this," she whispered, her voice shaky.

Durgeshwari didn't look at her. "Because your husband made a decision. And once Virendra thakur decides something... even the gods step aside."

Just then, Samarveer, Virendra's younger brother, entered the hall, followed by his wife Rekha and their children—rudraksh , Jinal, and Payal—all dressed in traditional attire but clearly disturbed.

Samar muttered under his breath, "This Haveli looks like a battlefield about to be decorated with flowers... and blood."

Rekha whispered, "If Rivan finds out, forget the decorations. We'll be attending a funeral."

Before anyone could reply, Virendra walked into the room.

His presence alone silenced everything.

He was dressed in a sharp beige sherwani, his face unreadable, but his eyes focused with unshakable determination.

"All preparations must be done within an hour," he said, his voice echoing through the hall. "The bride will arrive soon."

Everyone nodded.

But behind their obedience... was fear.
Because today wasn't just Vasundhara's death anniversary.

Today, Rivan Thakur was going to be married.
Without his knowledge. Without his will.

And the entire Haveli held its breath.

Waiting for the lion to wake up.

The grand gates of Rathore Haveli opened once again, and this time, a luxury black SUV rolled in. The guards straightened up, already recognizing the vehicle. The staff whispered in hushed voices as a tall, sharply dressed man stepped out, his eyes scanning the elaborately decorated haveli.

He was none other than Reyansh Sehgal, Rivan Thakur's childhood friend, confidant—and perhaps the only man who had survived Rivan's rage more than once. Calm, composed, and intimidating in his own quiet way, Aaryan was the complete contrast to Rivan's wild temperament.

He was greeted with reverence, and a servant guided him straight inside where Virendra Thakur was supervising the final wedding preparations.

"Uncle," Reyansh called out, stepping in with narrowed eyes and a deep frown. "I came as soon as I got your message. Rivan's getting married? And... today?"

Virendra turned, his face lit up with calm satisfaction. "I knew you'd come,Reyansh."

Reyansh looked around the haveli, taking in the tension, the nervous air, the way even the walls seemed to be holding their breath.

"This place feels like a war zone before a storm. Does he... even know?" he asked, referring to his best friend.

Virendra smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "No. And he won't, until it's too late."

Reyansh jaw clenched. "You're walking into fire, Uncle. If anyone else tried this, Rivan would burn the whole haveli down."

"He won't. Not this time," Virendra said firmly. "This is the only way to anchor him. And I need you,Reyansh. You know him better than anyone else. When the time comes... you'll have to calm the storm."

Reyansh exhaled deeply, rubbing his temples. "I'll try. But Uncle... this better be worth it."

Virendra's eyes softened for a moment. "She is."

Reyansh tilted his head slightly. "The bride? Who is she?"

Virendra simply smiled. "You'll see."

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How's the chapter

Ik updates are slow but I have already mentioned before it's a slow burn

Bye bye

Thank you for reading!!🥀