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The grand marble staircase loomed before me as I descended towards the hall, my anklets chiming softly with each step. My breath hitched when I caught sight of him—Vayran Singh Chandravansh—ascending with the same unyielding aura that always made my heart lurch in trepidation. His sharp gaze caught mine, and instinctively, I averted my eyes, swallowing the sudden lump of unease.

Without sparing him another glance, I resumed my steps, pretending his presence didn’t ignite a thousand warnings in my mind. But before I could move further, his iron grip encircled my wrist, halting me mid-step. A gasp escaped my lips as he turned me around, his fiery eyes boring into mine with a smirk that sent shivers down my spine.

“You’re unbelievable,” he said, his voice low and cutting. “First, you pull off your ridiculous stunts. Then, you have the audacity to wonder what consequences might follow. Do you even think before acting, Aaravika? Or is stupidity your specialty?”

His words stung like barbs, but I refused to cower. “Excuse me?” I shot back, my tone as sharp as the edge of a sword. “Do you have any idea why I did what I did? Or are you too blind with arrogance to see the obvious? You made me sleep on the floor—a cold, goddamned floor—and yet, you expect me to keep quiet?”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening as though relishing the fire in my retort. Just as he opened his mouth to reply, a familiar voice cut through the tension.

“Aaravika!” Tanvik Bhai’s cheerful tone reached me like a lifeline, and I didn’t think twice before breaking free from Vayran’s hold and rushing to him. His warm smile was a stark contrast to the frost radiating from Vayran. Tanvik Bhai had quickly become like a brother to me, someone who offered solace amidst this chaotic battlefield.

“Where were you yesterday?” I asked, my voice softer now, grateful for his presence.

“Work,” he said simply, shrugging. “But now’s not the time for chit-chat. We’re supposed to be downstairs for the ring battle. And let me tell you, I’m rooting for you. I’m pretty sure you’ll win. After all, someone has to rule over that brute, right?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at his teasing, though my gaze flickered to Vayran, who chuckled faintly in response. That smirk of his held a warning, a promise that he wasn’t done with me yet.

We made our way to the hall, where everything was set for the ritual. My heavy poshak, worn since morning, weighed me down, the intricate embroidery biting into my skin. A veil hung loosely over my head, uncovering my face but still a reminder of the roles we were forced to play.

As I sat opposite Vayran, the atmosphere thickened. His aunt stood behind him, confidently declaring her nephew’s inevitable victory. “There’s no doubt Vayran will win,” she said with pride, her words grating on my nerves.

Vayran, however, looked indifferent. His jaw tightened, his posture rigid. If anything, his expression screamed his desire to leave this place. But when my eyes met his, I saw a flicker of something more—disdain, exhaustion, perhaps even resignation.

Before I could dwell on it, his grandfather’s voice boomed from behind me. “I support Aaravika.” The declaration left me stunned, but it didn’t stop there. Shrivanya and Tanvik Bhai joined him, aligning themselves on my side.

Vayran’s disbelief was palpable as he glanced at his grandfather and Tanvik, only for them to shrug their shoulders. His expression darkened, and for a moment, I thought he might explode.

For a moment, his piercing eyes met mine, and I saw it—a flicker of something far darker than disdain. A warning, perhaps, or a challenge he wouldn’t voice aloud.

The shallow basin was filled with milk, petals floating on the surface like whispers of fragile hope in a room brimming with tension. At its center, a golden ring gleamed, a symbol of victory in this ritualistic battle of wits and dominance.

Vayran’s aunt leaned forward, her gaze locked on us as though her life depended on the outcome. “Vayran will win this easily,” she said, her voice dripping with smugness.

His grandfather countered with a hearty laugh. “Don’t underestimate Aaravika. I’m sure she’ll surprise us all.”

The room erupted into murmurs, bets exchanged in hushed tones. Shrivanya and Tanvik Bhai stood behind me, their quiet encouragement a balm to my frayed nerves. Yet, as I looked at Vayran, the memory of his smirk from earlier burned in my mind. This wasn’t just a game; it was a battlefield, and we both knew it.

The elder conducting the ritual gestured for us to begin. “Find the ring. Whoever retrieves it first will rule in this union.”

Rule. The word echoed in my mind, and my jaw tightened. I wasn’t here to be ruled. Not by him. Not by anyone.

We plunged our hands into the cool milk simultaneously, the petals brushing against my skin as I searched for the ring. The room fell silent, save for the faint swish of water and milk. My fingers grazed his once, then again, and each time, his grip was firm, unyielding.

I stole a glance at him, only to find his lips curling into that infuriating smirk. His fingers brushed the ring, and my heart sank, but instead of grabbing it, he moved his hand slightly away. Confusion twisted inside me. Why would he—

Before I could finish the thought, my fingertips brushed the cold metal. Seizing the moment, I wrapped my fingers around the ring and pulled it free, lifting it high for all to see. Gasps and cheers erupted around us as Shrivanya clapped enthusiastically.

“You did it, Aaravika!” Tanvik Bhai exclaimed, beaming.

I turned to look at Vayran, expecting fury or at least irritation. Instead, his expression was calm, almost amused. His aunt looked as though someone had poured cold water over her fiery confidence, while his grandfather roared with laughter.

“Well done,” the elder announced. “Aaravika will rule this union.”

The weight of the ring in my hand was nothing compared to the weight of Vayran’s gaze. He leaned in slightly, his voice low enough for only me to hear. “Don’t let it get to your head, Patrani. You didn’t win. I let you.”

My grip on the ring tightened, my jaw clenching as anger and confusion warred within me. His smirk deepened, a silent declaration of his control over this charade.

The family celebrated around us, oblivious to the undercurrents of tension that crackled like lightning between us. No one suspected the truth—that beneath the polite smiles and traditional rituals, we were enemies locked in a battle far more dangerous than this playful game.

Yet, as I looked at him, something in his gaze shifted. Just for a second, the hardness gave way to something softer, something unspoken. Then it was gone, replaced by the familiar storm that threatened to consume us both.

And as he slipped the ring onto my finger, I realized this wasn’t a victory. It was a warning. A war had begun, and neither of us would walk away unscathed.

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Hi! I hope ki yeh ring battle aapko pasandh aayi hogi💍 But yeh toh sirf ek shuruwaat hai 🤐
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