The next morning, the Thakur Haveli was unusually quiet.

Dushyant Thakur, Abhiraj's father, sat in his study. In the village, everyone respectfully called him Bade Sahab.

Across from him sat Anvika's father, who had served the Thakur family faithfully for years.

Dushyant placed his cup of tea on the table.

"Hum tumse ek zaroori baat karna chahte hain."

Anvika's father straightened

"Ji, Bade Sahab."

Dushyant looked at him calmly.

"Abhiraj ke vivaah ki umar ho chuki hai."

He paused.

"Hum chahte hain ki Anvika ko apni bahu banakar is ghar mein laayein."

Anvika's father stared at him in surprise.

"Bade Sahab..."

Dushyant raised his hand.

"Hum jaante hain ki Anvika shehar mein padhkar aayi hai. Uski apni soch hai. Aur hum yeh bhi jaante hain ki tumhare liye uski marzi sabse zaroori hai."

He leaned back.

"Isliye pehle tumse baat kar rahe hain."

Anvika's father lowered his eyes thoughtfully.

"Abhiraj ko pata hai?"

Dushyant smiled faintly.

"Abhi nahi."

"Phir?"

"Usse batana hamara kaam hai."

---

Meanwhile, Anvika's feelings toward Abhiraj had begun changing.

She had initially thought of him as nothing more than an arrogant, intimidating man.

But over the next few days, she began seeing a different side of him.

One afternoon, Anvika happened to pass through the village market.

A poor farmer was standing in front of a grain merchant, pleading with him.

"Sahab, fasal kharab ho gayi thi. Do hafte ka waqt de dijiye."

The merchant refused.

"Paise nahi hain toh anaj bhi nahi milega."

Before the argument could grow, a familiar voice came from behind.

"Bas."

Everyone fell silent.

Abhiraj had arrived.

He looked at the merchant.

"Is aadmi ki fasal baarish mein barbaad hui hai. Tumhe pata hai."

The merchant nervously nodded.

"Ji, Thakur Sahab."

"Phir iska ghar anaj ke bina kaise chalega?"

The merchant remained silent.

Abhiraj turned toward one of his men.

"Iske ghar mahine bhar ka ration bhejo."

The farmer immediately folded his hands.

"Thakur Sahab, main—"

"Haath jodne ki zaroorat nahi."

Abhiraj looked at him.

"Mehnat karke karz chuka dena. Bas."

Anvika had been watching from a distance.

For the first time, she saw something beyond the stern man she had met at the pond.

He wasn't helping the man for praise.

He simply believed it was the right thing to do.

Something about that stayed with her.

From that day onward, Anvika began noticing Abhiraj more.

And, much to her own surprise, she began getting closer to him.

She would find excuses to visit the haveli.

Sometimes she would sit in the courtyard while Abhiraj worked.

Sometimes she would ask him unnecessary questions.

Sometimes she simply followed him around.

And Abhiraj noticed.

"Anvika."

"Hmm?"

"Kaam hai?"

"No."

"Phir yahan kyun baithi ho?"

"Bas."

Abhiraj sighed.

"Tumhare paas aur koi kaam nahi hai?"

Anvika smiled innocently.

"Nahi."

His eyes narrowed.

She was spoiled.

Bratty.

Stubborn.

And absolutely incapable of staying quiet.

Yet somehow, her presence no longer irritated him as much as it should have.

One afternoon, she picked up the papers from his desk.

"Yeh kya hai?"

"Kaam."

"Boring."

"Toh rakh do."

She deliberately placed them upside down.

Abhiraj stared at the papers.

Then at her.

"Anvika."

She smiled.

"Ji, Thakur Sahab?"

"Ek din tumhari yeh harkatein mujhe pagal kar dengi."

She laughed.

"Par aapko meri harkatein pasand hain."

Abhiraj looked at her for a long moment.

Then he returned his attention to his papers.

"Galatfehmi hai tumhari."

But the faint smile on his face betrayed him.

And somewhere inside the Thakur Haveli, Dushyant Thakur had already begun planning the future of these two very different people.

A future neither Abhiraj nor Anvika knew anything about yet.