The One I Denied, The One I Can't Lose

The grand Randhawa estate shimmered under the golden glow of the early evening, its sprawling lawn adorned with cascading fairy lights and fresh orchids imported from Europe. Located in the upscale Greater Kailash, the estate was the perfect venue for a night of extravagance and celebration.

The occasion?

Ranveer Singh Randhawa's 28th birthday.

But this wasn't just a party-it was an event. An affair attended by the crème de la crème of Delhi's business and social elite. Luxury cars lined the driveway, valets scrambling to take keys from high-profile guests. The air carried the scent of expensive champagne, gourmet delicacies, and exotic perfumes, mingling with the soft notes of instrumental music playing in the background.

And in the middle of all the glitz and glamour stood Shayari Chatterjee-a girl with a heart full of hope and eyes searching for the one person who had unknowingly owned her heart for years.

Dressed in a delicate peach anarkali, embroidered with intricate gold threadwork, she looked ethereal. Her long, wavy black hair cascaded over her back, a few tendrils brushing against her face. The soft kohl in her big, expressive eyes only accentuated the anticipation brimming within them. Her fingers clutched the edges of her dupatta, the silk crumpling beneath her grip as she took a shaky breath.

He was here.

Somewhere in this massive crowd, amidst the laughter, clinking glasses, and lively conversations-he was here.

Ranveer.

The man she had loved since childhood. The man who had always been indifferent to her presence.

She could still remember being a little girl, running behind him, always trying to match his pace, always hoping he would spare her even the tiniest glance. But to him, she had always been nothing more than an annoyance-the little girl his parents adored but whom he couldn't be bothered with.

And now, here she was-twenty-one years old, standing in his house once again, still waiting for him to see her.

"Shayari, beta!"

Madhavi Randhawa's warm voice pulled her back to reality. Ranveer's mother, as elegant as ever in a rich silk saree, embraced her affectionately.

"You look so beautiful tonight!"

Shayari smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Thank you, Aunty."

Madhavi cupped her cheek fondly. "How's your university going?"

"It's going well. My final year is keeping me busy."

Madhavi beamed. "You've always been a hardworking girl. Gautam, you should be proud!" She turned to Shayari's father. "Your daughter is not only intelligent but also so graceful."

Gautam chuckled. "She gets it from her mother."

Shayari's polite smile remained, but her focus had already shifted-drawn to the deep, commanding voice that echoed from a little farther away.

Her breath hitched.

Him.

Ranveer Singh Randhawa.

Standing among a group of friends, whiskey glass in hand, dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit that fit his broad shoulders and tall frame to perfection. The top two buttons of his crisp white shirt were undone, adding a hint of ruggedness to his otherwise polished look. His sharp jawline, accentuated by just the right amount of stubble, only added to the sheer intensity in his deep brown eyes.