The crystal chandelier cast honey-gold light across the Rajput family's dining table. Usually, dinner was a peaceful affair, marked by gentle conversation and the soft clink of silverware against porcelain. Tonight, however, the air crackled with tension.

Vanya's words hung in the space between them: "Mujhe Political Science padhna hai ("I want to study Political Science")

Mahendra Singh Rajput,set down his spoon with deliberate care. The small sound it made against his plate seemed to echo in the sudden silence.

His weathered fingers-proof of a journey from humble beginnings to wealth-drummed once on the tablecloth.

"Political Science ?" ("Political Science") he finally asked, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder.

His eyes, sharp as a hawk's, studied his daughter. "Commerce ka kya hua? Pichle mahine tak toh tum business school ko lekar excited thi." ("What happened to Commerce? Just last month, you were excited about business school.")

Vanya sat up straighter, her spine like a steel rod. The ruby pendant at her throat-her birthday gift-caught the light as she swallowed.

"Commerce safe hai, Papa," ("Commerce is safe, Papa.") she said, meeting his gaze. "Lekin mujhe sirf safe career nahi chahiye. Mujhe samajhna hai ki power kaise kaam karti hai." ("But I don't just want a safe career. I want to understand how power works.")

Across the table, her mother, Devyani, set down her glass with a sharp clink. "Safe bura shabd nahi hai, beta." ("Safe isn't a bad word, dear.")

Her voice was calm, but the lines around her eyes deepened with concern. "Commerce tumhe options deta hai, stability deta hai." ("Commerce gives you options, stability.")

"Lekin business aur economy tabhi chalti hai jab sahi policies ho," ("Businesses and economies only thrive when they have the right policies.") Vanya countered, her voice growing stronger.

"Main sirf news dekhkar politics ko samajhna nahi chahti, main isse andar se dekhna chahti hoon. System ko samajhna chahti hoon." ("I don't want to see politics as just something on the news-I want to see it as it really is, something that shapes our world.")

Mahendra's expression remained carefully neutral, but something flickered in his eyes. "Aur yeh soch badli kab?" ("And when did this change of heart happen?")

Vanya's fingers found the edge of the table, holding it like an anchor. A heartbeat of hesitation, then:

"Mujhe hamesha curiosity thi, lekin Mihir se milne ke baad maine dekha ki ek insaan ki decisions kitna bada impact daal sakti hain. Tab mujhe laga ki mujhe isse seriously lena chahiye." ("I've always been curious, but after meeting Mihir and seeing how one person's decisions can create such massive change-that's when I knew I needed to take this seriously.")

From her place at the end of the table, Yamini, Vanya's grandmother, sighed. The gold in her bangles caught the light as she gestured.

"Ek insaan ki wajah se apni puri zindagi ka rukh badalna samajdari nahi hoti, bachcha." ("Changing the course of your entire life because of one person isn't wise, child.")

Vanya's jaw tightened. "Sirf Mihir Shekhawat ki wajah se nahi," ("Not just because of Mihir Shekhawat,") she said, a hint of frustration coloring her words.

"Haan, unhone meri soch ko ek direction di, par yeh decision sirf mera hai. Main kisi office ke ek cabin mein baithke apni zindagi nahi bitana chahti. Mujhe samajhna hai ki humari governance ka asli system kaise kaam karta hai."

("Yes, he gave my thoughts a direction, but this decision is mine. I don't want to spend my life sitting in a corporate office. I want to understand how our governance system truly works.")

Silence blanketed the room again, heavy as monsoon clouds.

Then Aarav, Vanya's younger brother, who had been quietly demolishing his dessert, looked up with mischief dancing in his eyes.

"Toh Didi politician banegi?" ("So, sister is going to be a politician?") he asked, chocolate smeared at the corner of his mouth. "Main tumhara campaign manager ban sakta hoon?" ("Can I be your campaign manager?")

A bubble of laughter escaped Vanya, breaking the tension. Even Mahendra's lips twitched slightly.

Then her father leaned forward, the light catching the silver streaks in his hair. "Politics mazaak nahi hai, Vanya," ("Politics isn't a silly game, Vanya.") he said, his voice gentler now but no less serious.

"Har kadam soch samajh kar chalna padega. Sab nazar rakhenge, judge karenge. Kya tayar ho tum?" ("Every step you take will be watched, judged. Are you ready for that?")

The question hung between them.

Vanya took a deep breath. In that moment, she felt something shift inside her-as if pieces of a puzzle were finally clicking into place.

"Haan, Papa." ("Yes, Papa.") Her voice was steady and clear. "Main tayar hoon." ("I'm ready.")

Mahendra held her gaze for one long moment. Behind his stern expression, something else flickered-was it pride? Worry? Perhaps both. He gave a single, almost imperceptible nod.

And then, he said the words that Vanya would carry with her for a lifetime:

"Rajneeti sirf kursi tak pahunchne ka rasta nahi, insaan ke asli chehre dekhne ka darpan hai. Yahan ya to tum chaal chalo, ya tumhare khilaf chaal chali jayegi. Par yaad rakhna, jo mohre ban jate hain, unka naam kabhi itihaas mein nahi likha jata."

("Politics isn't just a path to power; it's a mirror that reveals people's true faces. Here, either you make the move, or a move is made against you. But remember, those who become mere pawns are never written in history.")

In that quiet gesture, Vanya found her answer. She had won this battle.

But as the conversation moved on and the tension dissipated, a new question formed in her mind:

What would the war look like?

---

The Rajput residence was buzzing with a mix of excitement and nerves as Vanya Rajput prepared for her first day at Pacific College of Arts, Udaipur.

Her outfit exuded grace-a long white flowy shrug over a simple white shirt, paired with high-waisted blue denim jeans. The contrast of traditional elegance and modern casual made her stand out effortlessly. Her long, thick hair cascaded freely, untouched by pins or bands, and a sheer layer of lip gloss added a subtle sheen to her soft lips. With a small blue sling bag resting against her hip and white sneakers completing her look, she was ready.

Downstairs, her father, Mahendra Singh Rajput, stood beside the car, waiting.

Vanya's mother, Devyani Rajput, did a quick Nazar Utarna (removing devil's eye) with a pinch of salt, whispering a prayer under her breath.

"तू राजपूतों की बेटी है, सिर ऊँचा और निगाहें सीधी रखना," her mother reminded, straightening Vanya's collar. ("You are a Rajput's daughter-keep your head high and your gaze steady.")

Vanya simply smiled, stepping into the car as her father started the engine.

---

The car cruised through the streets of Udaipur, passing by ancient havelis and glistening lakes that had witnessed centuries of history. Inside, the silence between father and daughter was heavy-not with discomfort, but with unspoken emotions.

Today marked the beginning of a new journey for Vanya, and Mahendra Singh Rajput knew that once she stepped out of this car, she would enter a world that wouldn't always be kind.

His eyes remained fixed on the road, but his voice carried the weight of years of wisdom.

His calloused hands, marked with the lines of time and struggle, gripped the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary.

"जानती हो, एक पिता के लिए सबसे मुश्किल चीज़ क्या होती है?" ("Do you know what the hardest thing is for a father?")

He exhaled deeply. "अपने बच्चे को उड़ने देना, ये जानते हुए कि बाहर की दुनिया में तेज़ हवाएँ उसे गिराने की पूरी कोशिश करेंगी... लेकिन मैं अपने बच्चे को पिंजरे में भी नहीं रखना चाहता।" ("Letting my child fly, knowing very well that the world outside will do everything to bring them down... but I don't want to cage them either.")

She felt a lump form in her throat. She had always known her father as a man of discipline, a man of power. Today, she glimpsed the vulnerability beneath his stern exterior, like seeing the soft earth beneath a mountain for the first time. In his voice, she heard something more-an unshaken faith in her.

"तू ये किसके लिए कर रही है, वान्या?" He glanced at her, his gaze sharp yet gentle. ("Who are you doing this for, Vanya?")

She hesitated. "अपने लिए, पापा।" ("For myself, Papa.")

A small smile played on his lips as he navigated a narrow turn, the same smile he had given her when she had first learned to ride a bicycle without training wheels.

"झूठ मत बोल। मैं जानता हूँ,-पर एक बात याद रख। कोई भी फैसला ऐसा मत लेना जिससे खुद को ही खो बैठे।" ("Don't lie. I know you...But remember this-never make a decision that costs you yourself.")

She lowered her eyes, watching her hands fold and unfold in her lap, but he wasn't done. He reached over briefly, his rough fingertips brushing against her wrist where the thin gold bracelet he had given her on her sixteenth birthday rested.

और हाँ, तू वो लड़की है जो अपने नाम की पहचान खुद बनाना चाहती थी, जो एक empire खड़ा करना चाहती थी... वो सपना किसी के लिए मत छोड़ना, ना परिवार के लिए, ना किसी और के लिए।" ("And yes, you are the girl who wanted to make a name for herself, who wanted to build an empire... never abandon that dream. Not for family, not for anyone else.")

She inhaled sharply, his words cutting through the haze of her thoughts like the first rays of dawn through morning mist. The same words she had whispered to herself in moments of doubt, now coming from the man whose approval matters to her.

राजनीति हो या ज़िंदगी... हमेशा याद रखना, दिल अपनी जगह है और दिमाग अपनी जगह। और जब भी चुनाव करना पड़े, जो सही लगे वही करना।" ("Whether it's politics or life... always remember, the heart has its place, and the mind has its own. And whenever you have to choose, always do what feels right.")

His grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly before he continued. She noticed a tremor in his hand that he quickly steadied-the same hands that had once seemed invincible to her as a child.

"मैं नहीं चाहता कि तू भीड़ का हिस्सा बन जाए, बस एक और नाम जो वक्त के साथ खो जाए।" ("I don't want you to become just another face in the crowd, just another name that time forgets.")

She met his gaze, her fingers curling slightly around the small silver amulet hanging from her necklace.

"खुद को किसी से कम मत समझना, और किसी को भी अपने उसूलों के साथ खेलने मत देना... राजपूत हो तुम। और उससे भी पहले, तुम एक औरत हो। कभी किसी और को ये मत तय करने देना कि तुम कौन हो। लोग जो सोचते हैं, वो सिर्फ उनकी सोच है, तुम्हारी हकीकत नहीं।" ("Never consider yourself less than anyone else, and never let anyone play with your principles... You are a Rajput. And even before that, you are a woman. Never let anyone else define you. Their opinions are just reflections of their own mindset, not the truth of who you are.")

A sense of quiet pride filled her chest. Not pride from arrogance, but from knowing who she was and where she came from-like a tree that knows its roots run deep.

The college gates came into view, bustling with students and their families. The car slowed down. Mahendra's voice softened, but his words carried the same strength that had guided their family through generations of both triumph and hardship.

"और अगर कभी लगे कि सब हाथ से फिसल रहा है, कि तुझसे कोई गलती हो गई है... तो घबराना मत।" ("And if you ever feel like everything is slipping away, you've made a mistake... don't be afraid.")

He paused, his eyes lingering on her face, as if memorizing at this moment.

"तेरा बाप हमेशा तेरा साथ देगा, हर गलती में, हर सफलता में... बस एक बार याद करना।" ("Your father will always stand by you, in every mistake, in every success... just remember that once.")

Vanya turned to him, her throat tightening. There were a thousand things she could have said, but at this moment, words felt unnecessary. Instead, she reached for his hand, gripping it tightly for just a second-just long enough for him to know that she understood. That she would remember.

Her father looked into her eyes, his gaze deep with emotions he rarely voiced. He raised their tangled hands, pressing her hand gently against his forehead-a silent blessing, a promise unspoken.

"Meri bacchi," he whispered with a soft smile. "Go on, explore the world... but in the end, always come back to your father."

Vanya groaned, feeling the lump in her throat grow heavier. She blinked rapidly, trying to fight the wave of emotions threatening to spill over.

"Papa, yaar... bas karo. Main ro dungi." ("Papa, please... stop. I'll start crying.")

He chuckled, the warmth of his laughter easing the heaviness of the moment.

But before she stepped out, he gave her the final words she needed-the kind that would stay with her, long after this moment had passed. His voice, always carrying the weight of wisdom, was calm yet firm.

"याद रखना, राजनीति हो या ज़िंदगी-लोगों को पढ़ना सीखो, ताकि तुम्हें कोई किताब की तरह पढ़ न सके।"

("Remember, whether in politics or life-learn to read people, so that no one can read you like a book.")

Vanya nodded, letting his words settle in her heart like an unshakable foundation. With one last glance, she stepped out, ready to embrace the world-knowing she would always have a home to return to.

As she stepped out, the world outside awaited her-unknown, unpredictable. But behind her, in the car, sat a man who had given her everything she needed to face it.

Not just a lesson.

A legacy.

As she walked through the gates, she could already feel eyes on her-some admiring, some curious, and some already forming silent opinions about who she was.

With a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and took her first step into a world that was about to change her life forever.

The gates of Pacific College of Arts loomed ahead, a grand structure with an air of prestige and tradition. Students bustled around, forming small groups, laughter and chatter filling the air. Some were capturing first-day moments on their phones, others simply trying to navigate their way through the massive campus.

As Vanya stepped inside the campus, a wave of unfamiliarity hit her. The towering buildings, the buzzing crowd, the excitement in the air-it was all new, yet it carried a certain thrill.

Her eyes darted around, observing everything. Groups of students laughed together, some already forming friendships, while others, like her, stood alone, absorbing the newness of it all.

"It's just the first day. Breathe, Vanya." She reminded herself, taking a deep breath.

Just then, a voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

"New admission?" A girl with a warm smile stood beside her.

Vanya hesitated for a second before nodding. "Yeah, first day."

The girl extended her hand, "Same here! I'm Rhea."

Vanya shook her hand, feeling a little nervousness fade away. "Vanya."

"Nice to meet you! Any idea where the orientation hall is?" Rhea asked, looking around.

Before Vanya could respond, a loud voice interrupted them.

"All freshers, head to the auditorium! Orientation is about to begin!" A senior announced from a distance.

Rhea chuckled, "Well, that solves it. Come on, let's go together."

As they walked toward the auditorium, Vanya felt something shift within her. The nervousness still lingered, but there was also a sense of possibility-of new friendships, of learning, of a journey she was finally ready to embrace.

______________________

As Vanya stepped into college life, she didn't just limit herself to textbooks. She spent hours in deep discussions with her dadi and papa, absorbing knowledge like a sponge. Politics became her battlefield, and with her sharp mind, economics felt like second nature. She honed her communication and public speaking skills, knowing that words could be the most dangerous weapon in the right hands.

Politics intrigued her, no doubt-Mihir's influence had sparked that fire-but Vanya wasn't someone to abandon her own dreams. She had always been drawn to business, strategy, and independence. So, instead of choosing between them, she choose both.

It wasn't easy-handling two degrees at once was insane-but she was determined. To balance it, she convinced her father to allow her BA in Political Science in India while secretly enrolling in an Online BBA (Entrepreneurship) from the University of London via Coursera.

Her 98% in 12th Commerce made admission effortless, but the real challenge was managing it. Mornings were for politics, nights for business, and in between, her family became her strongest support system. They understood, they helped, and most importantly, they kept her secret.

No one outside her family knew. Because Vanya wasn't just preparing for the future-she was creating two.

____

Meanwhile, Mihir's political journey had just begun. The results of the Vidhan Sabha elections were announced, and he emerged victorious as the MLA of Udaipur City. Though he wasn't in the ruling party, he secured his place as a rising voice in the opposition, determined to make an impact.

________

To celebrate his win, Mihir's family hosted an intimate gathering for close friends and allies-and among the guests, invited with due respect, was Vanya's family.

Vanya stepped into the elegantly decorated party venue, her white anarkali suit flowing gracefully as she walked beside her parents. Her open hair cascaded down her back, the deep kohl in her eyes accentuating her delicate features, and the subtle jingle of her jhumkas added a rhythm to her movements.

She was going to see him after almost a month. The thought made her heart quicken-nervousness, excitement... or something she couldn't quite name.

As they walked in, engaged in conversation, Devyani nudged her gently.

Devyani: "Tera bhi birthday आने वाला है, Vanya... उन्नीस की हो जाएगी तू। बड़ी पार्टी चाहिए या वही छोटी सी, as usual?"

("Your birthday is coming up, Vanya... you'll be turning nineteen. Do you want a grand party or the usual small one?")

Vanya: "अभी पता नहीं, माँ... देखते हैं।"

("I don't know yet, Maa... we'll see.")

Just then, as they entered the main area, Mihir turned. He had been deep in conversation with his father and a few political allies, but something-or someone-pulled his attention. His eyes landed on Vanya.

For a fleeting second, his expression remained neutral, but then-a small smile tugged at his lips.

His family welcomed the Rajputs warmly. As expected, Devyani was pulled away by Mihir's mother, and Mahendra drifted into conversation with Mihir's father.

And just like that-they were alone.

The air shifted. Around them, the party continued, conversations buzzed, glasses clinked, laughter echoed... but in their little corner of the world, silence stretched.

Vanya's breath slowed. Her mind, usually sharp, now moved like a sluggish snail.

Mihir, still smiling, slipped his hands into his pockets, tilting his head slightly.

Mihir: "So... hi. How are you, Miss Rajput?"

Vanya swallowed. That voice. Calm, confident, laced with something unreadable.

Mihir: "I heard you joined Pacific College of Arts?"

Vanya met his gaze, her fingers subconsciously curling around the fabric of her dupatta. The way Mihir addressed her-Miss Rajput-sent an odd thrill down her spine. It was formal, teasing, and yet, held a weight she couldn't ignore.

Vanya: "Haan... kiya. (Yes... I did.)"

She cleared her throat, trying to compose herself. Her voice came out softer than she intended, and she cursed herself internally.

Mihir's smirk deepened as if he caught her nervousness.

Mihir: "Impressive. Pacific College has a strong reputation. Politics, economics, public speaking... seems like you're preparing for something big?"

There was something in his tone-a challenge? Curiosity? Maybe both.

Vanya lifted her chin slightly, her Rajput pride flickering to life.

Vanya: "Knowledge kabhi zyada nahi hoti, Mihir. (Knowledge is never too much, Mihir.)"

His eyes twinkled with amusement at her response.

Mihir: "Do you always have such sharp comebacks? Quite impressive for your age."

His words were casual, but Vanya didn't miss the subtle teasing laced within.

Her brows arched slightly, her lips curving into a slow, knowing smile.

Vanya: "Talking about age, what's yours, Mr. Shekhawat? And since when did numbers become the measuring scale for intelligence?"

Her words landed like a well-aimed arrow, and Mihir's smirk widened, intrigue flickering across his face.

Mihir: "Touché, Miss Rajput. So, age isn't a measure of intelligence... and yet, you're curious about mine? Sounds a bit contradictory, don't you think?"

His voice was laced with amusement, but there was a knowing glint in his eyes-one that told her he enjoyed this game just as much as she did.

Vanya's mind: Moye Moye hogaya...

But on the surface, she maintained her composure, allowing only the faintest smile to slip through-not enough to betray the storm inside her.

She met his gaze head-on, refusing to let him have the upper hand in this verbal sparring.

Vanya: "Curiosity and contradiction are two different things, Mihir. You, of all people, should know that."

Mihir let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly.

Mihir: "Fair enough,25... But now that you've brought it up, should I be worried that you're already trying to outsmart me?"

Vanya shrugged, tilting her head playfully.

Vanya: "Worried? No. Prepared? Maybe."

The air between them crackled with an unspoken challenge. Mihir took a step closer, just enough to make her aware of the space-or lack thereof-between them.

Mihir: "Noted, Miss Rajput. I'll keep that in mind."

Before she could respond, a voice interrupted them.

Voice: "Arrey Mihir, idhar aa na, Papa bula rahe hain! (Hey Mihir, come here, Dad is calling you!)"

Mihir exhaled lightly, giving her one last glance before stepping away.

Mihir: "Enjoy the party, Miss Rajput. We'll continue this another time."

And just like that, he walked away, leaving Vanya standing there, her heartbeat annoyingly louder than it should be.

__________________________

Just like this, their bond deepened over time. Every family gathering, every brief encounter-each moment added another layer to the silent understanding between them.

Eventually, they exchanged numbers, a simple act that changed everything. What started as occasional messages turned into late-night discussions, playful banter, and conversations that neither of them realized they craved.

And soon, meeting each other wasn't just a coincidence at family events-it became a choice.

____________________________

One evening, as the crisp Udaipur breeze carried the scent of damp earth, Mihir's phone buzzed.

Vanya: "Coffee?"

He arched a brow, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. Vanya Rajput, the girl who never made the first move, was inviting him? Intriguing.

Mihir: "Didn't take you for someone who asks so directly"

Vanya: "Are you coming, or should I ask someone else?"

Now that? That was a challenge.

Fifteen minutes later, he was at The Imperial Brew, a rooftop café overlooking Fateh Sagar Lake. The place was quiet, the golden city lights shimmering against the dark waters. And there she was-seated by the railing, lost in thought, strands of her long hair dancing with the wind.

Mihir slid into the chair across from her. "You, asking for my company? Should I be honored or worried?"

Vanya looked up, her dark eyes glinting. "Don't get used to it, Mr.. Just needed a change of company."

Mihir chuckled, signaling the waiter. "A change, huh? I'll pretend that it didn't bruise my ego."

As their coffees arrived, she traced the rim of her cup, her mind elsewhere.

Mihir leaned in slightly. "Alright, what's going on? And don't say nothing-I can see the gears in your head turning."

Vanya sighed, her gaze drifting toward the lake. "Mihir... do you ever feel like no matter how much you learn, how much you prepare, it's never enough? Like you're constantly reaching for something you can't even define?"

Mihir studied her for a moment before leaning back. "That's the whole game, Vanya. The second you think you have it all figured out, the thrill dies."

She turned to him, caught off guard by the depth in his voice. "And you? Have you figured out your game?"

Mihir's lips curved into a knowing smirk. "Not yet. But I enjoy the chase."

___________________________

One night __Midnight Conversations:

It was well past midnight when Vanya's phone buzzed. She had been lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought when Mihir's name flashed across the screen.

Mihir: "Awake?"

Vanya smirked, shaking her head. This man never sleeps.

Vanya: "Maybe. What do you want?"

The reply came instantly.

Mihir: "Step outside."

Her heart skipped. Outside?

Curious, she tiptoed to her balcony, the cool night breeze brushing against her skin. And there he was-Mihir Shekhawat, leaning against his car, looking up at her like this was the most normal thing in the world.

Her eyes widened. "What the-are you insane? Do you know what time it is?"

Mihir smirked. "Time? Rajput queens don't follow the rules of time, do they?"

She rolled her eyes but couldn't fight the small smile tugging at her lips. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "Thought you'd like a drive."

Vanya glanced back inside, where her house was asleep. Then, with a shake of her head and a racing heart, she grabbed a dupatta and slipped out the backdoor.

As soon as she sat in the car, Mihir turned to her with a knowing look. "I didn't think you'd actually come."

She met his gaze, challenging. "Then you don't know me well enough, Mihir."

His smirk deepened as he started the car. "I guess I'm about to learn."

And with that, the night was theirs.

______________________

Author note:

Chapter 3 is here! Things are getting intense, and this is just the beginning. What do you think about the latest twist? Drop your thoughts in the comments-I'd love to hear your theories! Don't forget to like, share, and stay tuned for the next chapter.

Don't forget to share your views 😉

Also, if you want exclusive story spoilers, updates,scenes insights, join me on Instagram @radya_wrts (same name). Let's connect there-see you!

Happy reading!

~ Radya