Kanishk

Expectations. The dictionary describes them as a strong belief that something will happen or be the case. They may or may not be realistic and they may or may not be fulfilled. But to children of such known people, Expectations are nothing but burdens fallen onto our shoulders.

The expectation to achieve more than our body physically and mentally can, the expectation to excel in every single task that is given to us at hand, the expectation to be the reflecting image of our wealth, famous and so-called kind and generous parents.

And god forbid when those expectations aren't met, these 'kind' and 'gentle' souls are anything but what they are so renowned for.

One can argue that they might be fighting their demons, demons which don't allow them to see beyond the red covering their sight when angry. But what are parents when they can't even protect their children from their demons?

Since I was born into this family, the heir title was already, without any choice, crowned on my head. And not that I am not grateful for it, but with that title comes expectations.

One that, thankfully, I was able to fulfil.

I play the perfect role of the son my father craves for. Intelligent, Sophisticated, and downright charming if I might so say myself.

My name is the shiny sparkling badge of the Rajvanshi household.

'The son who continued his father's legacy' 'the son who achieved everything his father couldn't' 'the son who is the replica of his father'

And that is where the limit ends. I want to be everything but my father. My child won't be the ones to suffer because of my demon. I won't be one to blame my daughter for something she was never at fault for.

I love Kaynaaz, she's a notorious little nymph who will always be the best at everything she's expected of. She's the daughter Dad has always wanted. But, nothing expels the place Kyra holds in my life.

Kyra is the one who has suffered the demons that our father blames her for. The one person, the one human, who couldn't be more pure than she already is.

She was fifteen when our father inflicted the guilt of his dad's death on her. The reason was her not wanting to go in the direction he had set up for her all those years.

It was the first time someone defied Dad, and it wasn't the last. She still stands, she still fights, and she does it for herself and everyone around her. And I admire her for that, she fights our father the way I never could.

Until a few days ago when I heard what had happened. Violence is never something that has been inflicted on someone in this house. Not even Kyra. And to hear that my father, the one who's presented so sweet and loving, dared to hurt the angel that keeps everyone in this house together, fuelled the last of the fire that made me burst.

"I'll leave this behind, Dad. I won't hesitate to drop your company and leave you to fend your clients if you dare to hurt her again."

That was all I had to say before I left his office. He knows I won't hesitate to act upon what I said, and he should've seen it coming.

I fought with Dad the day after he hurt Kyra, and ever since then, the house has been nothing but quiet. Mom and Dadi don't dare to interfere, and Ipshita?

Well, let's just say she has a kink to ignore her husband.

But guess the surprise on my face when I woke up this morning to everything but peace in my room?

"Wake uppp asshole," Kyra's voice screams into my ears before smacking me with something soft, probably a cushion.

I throw the pillow to one side before jumping up into a straight position on the bed. My eyes open up to a sunlit room, filled with balloons and all kinds of banners.

Another year of turning old and grimy. Nothing to celebrate really, but of course my sisters always say so otherwise.

"Ye sab karna zarori hai kya harr baar? Last me sab saaf toh meko hi karna padta hai,"

(is it necessary to do all this? I'm the one who has to clean it all up in the end)

The two in front of me sneaker softly before shaking their heads. Kaynaaz whispers something to Kyra, who then bursts out laughing.

My lips automatically curve up in affection, seeing my sisters' smiles, and the crinkle of their eyes as they whisper amongst themselves.

"What's so funny?" I grumble pretending to be annoyed by their constant giggles.

Kyra picks up the handheld mirror kept on the dresser of my room, the same one used by my wife, "aap khud hi dekh lo," she lets out another giggle before turning the mirror to face my way.

A sigh leaves my lips as I stare back at my reflection, the same reflection covered up my sister's artistic urges. Rep lipstick smeared on my upper lip, with a contrasting black one on the lower. My brown eyes pop out against the dark blue eyeshadow covering my lids, and a dozen light-up clips are pinned to my half-curled and half-straightened hair.

"Looking pretty, birthday boy," I don't have to look up to recognise Aayan's voice.

Setting the mirror down, I glare up at my sisters. They started this stupidity eight years ago when I turned twenty. And apparently, it has turned into a tradition to ruin their brother's perfectly handsome face and make it look horrifying enough to be of a ghost.

Aayan sets into my room, ready to let loose whatever stupid remarks he has about my early morning state, but Kaynaaz interrupts his intentions.

"What are YOU doing here?" She sends a glare his way, the anger in her tone only slightly recognisable.

A smirk coats Aayan's face before he steps forward, invading some of the space between them.

"I'm here to give your brother a gift," I can clearly hear the humour laced in his voice.

"What gift? Aaj tak toh koi gift nhi diya tune," I raise my eyebrow at the man in question, keeping the mirror aside and motioning Kyra to bring me something to clean my face.

(what gift? you hasn't even given me any gifts before)

"Kuch nhi bhai, he's just being stupid as always," Kay steps forward, wrapping a hand around Aayan's forearm before sending glares his way.

"It's not nothing, come on tell him you're m-" Kay slaps a hand over his mouth, cutting off his word, before dragging his huge build to the door of my room, "Happy Birthday bhai, sorry got to go, work talk with Dr Khan"

Before I can utter an argument, the door slams shut, leaving me and Kyra in the quiet space.

"Well that's suspicious," she mumbles softly before pulling out a make-up wipe for me.

Definitely suspicious. Kaynaaz hates Aayan, for what reason, no one really knows, but I've never seen her so fluttered and bothered around him in my entire life.

I'd suspect a couple's argument, but well, no way my sister is dating that monkey. She can do better than that. But, a small suspicion still tugs at my brain as I take the wipes from Kyra's hand.

"They aren't dating, are they?" I raise my head towards her in question.

Kyra drops next to me on the bed, "I don't think so?" Her statement comes out more like a question, which sends not only me but also her into deeper consideration.

"I don't think so bhai," she says again, this time more firmly, "She hates him, and he's too busy being.." She pauses for a second before continuing, "Well, busy. You know with the hospital and everything?"

I nod at her statement.

That is true. Kaynaaz tries to be anywhere but in Aayan's vicinity and nothing can distract Aayan from his work. They would never, and I mean ever, catch the hots for each other. It's practically impossible.

A ding sounds on Kyra's phone and she goes on to check the text. Her calm demeanour shifts entirely as she wiggles lightly, her lips curly up in a smile.

I glare at her suspiciously before clearing my throat, "Kyra?" She responds with a nonchalant hum, still looking into her phone. "Who are you texting?"

She immediately shut up the phone before passing me a tight smile, "Just college people,"

Yeah right, as if anyone gets this excited to talk to college classmates. Especially an introverted extrovert like Kyra herself.

"Are you dating someone?" I grumble out in frustration, looking into her eyes for any passing emotions.

At this point, I don't trust any male species near Kyra, She's too trusting of people in general and in case of men, well everyone knows how her last relationship ended.

Okay maybe not everyone knows the actual reason, but we know the state she was in after her break-up. It was beyond recoverable for weeks. No one of us wants her falling back into that trap and getting hurt way worse than last time.

She sends a scowl my way before standing up from the mattress, "bhai how about you stop getting suspicious of your sisters and start doing something about your wedding? We want a niece or nephew, how long are you planning to take?"

I give her a sarcastic smile before throwing the dirty wipes at her, causing her to squeal before running out of the room.

But it's her words that send me down another spiral. Kids. How is that supposed to happen when my wife ignores my existence like a fucking plague?

Okay maybe I'm being a bit dramatic, but could she be anymore colder than a piece of literally ice? She's so sweet to my mother and to my sisters. Goddamn, she even smiles at my friends, yes for which I want to crave out their eyeballs. But me? Her own husband?

Nope, nada, no, never.

It's like, she's taken an oath to be an ice queen until her so-called contract comes to an end. Which it won't. I won't let it. I'll melt her cold heart before her terms even come to an end. I'll make her stay, no matter how much effort. Or force, it'll take.

. . .

I lace my arm through my mother's as we walk around the crowded people, occasionally nodding heads at the familiar souls.

It's not a surprise that my father organised a party in my name. He does every year. The only thing this time is that I don't give two flying shits about his efforts. He can get on his knees and beg but I wouldn't forgive him for hurting my sister.

The only reason I even agreed to show up is to keep my mother and sibling's dignity. It'll hurt Mum if I didn't show up, considering that she played her part in planning this for me.

I let Mum mingle with her friends as my eyes set on Shivansh walking through the door with Mariam on his side. His being fashionably late as always isn't what makes me raise my eyebrows.

"Good evening Mariam," I slide in front of them, taking her hand for a shake before standing in front of Shiv, his height beating mine only by a few inches. His body goes ridge as he gazes my movements towards his date for the night and a knowing smirk spreads silently on my lips.

Mariam passes me a soft smile before wishing me well and goes ahead of us both to go find Kyra and her cousin.

"Stop smirking or I'll give you a bruised eye for a birthday gift," Shiv grumbles softly as a chuckle leaves my lips.

I keep a hand on his shoulder before following his line of vision, which is without a doubt set on Mariam.

When I first sensed this aura of his around her, I had mistaken it as friendly affection. Something he was doing a favour for Andi's cousin and as a good boss. But of course, that isn't the case at all. Shiv doesn't pass anyone empty threats without any line of reasoning.

Which leads to only one conclusion. Mr. Shivyansh Khurana is undoubtedly and officially wrapped around Mariam's finger.

I give the said man a side eye before poking his stomach with my elbow, "how long?"

He ignores my questions, pretending I don't exist until I poke him again, this time making him let out a hiss, "What motherfucker?"

"First of all, with both know I am not a motherfucker, and second, how long has it been?"

"How long what has been?" he doesn't glance at me, his face still trying to conceal the emotions plaguing him.

"This little foreplay you're playing with Aayan's cousin. Does he know, Khurana?" I'm sure he can sense the unseriousness laced in my question. He knows well how Aayan reacts to his sister getting into relationships. I even doubt he knows anything about Ishaan making up with Anvi right behind his back every day.

"How about you stop butting into my business and go butt into your sister's instead?" He points over to Kyra standing along with two men, one taller than the other as Kyra smiles at them tight-lipped before letting out a fake chuckle.

"I will come back for you Khurana, this ain't over," he shakes his head as I head in my sister's direction, only to encounter a familiar elder man standing alongside her. A smile laces my lips as I approach Mr. Sharma, a known client, one who's very well connected to not only me but also Kyra.

My client's face morphs into a joyous smile as soon as he spots me alongside my younger sister, and he pulls me into a hug before giving me wishes for the day. As we part, I eye the younger gentleman standing next to him, almost as tall as Shiv, if not then even more.

Mr. Sharma lets out a chuckle, "Ah, Kanishk, this is my grandson, he's the one I wanted you to meet at your wedding, unfortunately, this bastard has no time for other timely events except his work."

The said man forwards his hand as he shakes mine firmly, "Ansh Sharma, it's a pleasure to finally meet you Mr Rajvanshi,"

Kyra shifts to my side as I let go of Ansh's hand, her arm wrapping around my forearm, as if for support. I send her a confused look, to which she responds with nothing but a soft smile. my brotherly instinct sends alarms blaring in my head but I ignore them as Ansh's Grandfather continues to make conversation.

I catch Ansh's sparing glance at Kyra, to which she responds with nothing but a blank stare. She's annoyed, I wonder why.

"Ansh?" I give him a tight smile before pointing to Kyra, "I'm sure you've met my sister,"

He nods his head, giving me a smile before facing her, "Well, surely, I met her today," he lets out a soft chuckle, cuz me to shake my head with laughter. Well, not sirens with him at least.

Kyra opens her mouth to utter something but her eyes divert to the large case of our house. I follow her gaze, and my mouth falls open as I stare at the woman ascending the stairs, the long trail of her red saree following behind her.

My beautiful wife descended the grand staircase, her perfect porcelain features illuminated by a soft glow. As I made my way through the throngs of people, her ruby-red lips formed a subtle yet sophisticated smile as she warmly welcomed the guests around her.

I come to a halt directly in front of her, my hands reaching out and grasping her delicate fingers. Her eyes, usually icy and distant when she looks at me, now shine with genuine curiosity. The flecks of gold in her irises dance with joy as I bring her hand up to my lips, gently pressing them against her smooth skin. A shiver runs through her body at the simple touch, making it difficult for me to resist pulling her into our room and kissing her until she can't breathe.

With a gentle but possessive arm, I wrap her tightly against my body. Her form moulds into mine effortlessly, like two puzzle pieces clicking together in perfect harmony. She leans into me, allowing our bodies to merge and meld as one. The warmth of her embrace sends tingles through my skin, igniting a fire within me.

As the party finally winds down and the last guests exit, I feel my patience crumbling. It had taken all of my self-control not to gauge out every person's eyes who dared to look at my wife tonight.

Ipshita had slipped into the kitchen to make something for Kyra since she has stopped eating with the family. Another thing you can blame my lovely father for.

I stare at Ipshita's slender figure as she glides around the kitchen as gracefully as a ballet dancer. Her every step is gentle, making almost no noise as her pretty hands put together a light dinner for my sister.

For a woman who only takes this marriage as a contract, she's too good to my family. She treats Kyra and Kaynaaz like her own overgrown children, giving into their every plea and request. My mum is in love with her, the way Ipshita cares for her needs and insists on helping even in the first conditions has won not only my mother's but also my grandmother's heart. Even my father softens around her, which is a very odd sight if you ask me.

God, how could such a perfect woman exist? She's like a fucking angel, a piece in the museum everyone wishes they could keep for themselves. But they can't of course.

Ipshita Singhanai Rajvanshi was destined to be mine since the day I set my eyes on her.

With careful precision, she sets the last slice of the sandwich onto a delicate plate, lovingly arranged with fresh greens and ripe tomatoes. But as she turns to grab something from the fridge, her body freezes and our eyes meet in a heated stare. The usual ice-cold glint in her gaze has replaced into a fiery gold, burning with intensity.

"Did you need anything?" Her voice is lowered to almost a whisper, but I hear it clearly considering the quiet house.

With a determined stride, I push myself off the wall and stalk towards her. Her body automatically retreats as I close in until she is backed against a wall with no room to escape.

"Can you tell me what day it is?" I ask, my voice low and commanding.

She nods quickly in response, her eyes flickering to the ground before meeting mine again.

"My birthday," she mumbles quietly.

Despite her calm exterior, I can feel the tremble in her body as she stands before me, unable to hide her emotions. The air seems to thicken with something indescribable as we both hold our ground, the silence broken only by the faint sound of our breathing.

My fingers gently graze her cheek, tracing the curve of her jaw before tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. A slight tremor runs through her body as she leans back against the cool countertop, pulling away from my touch. My hand lingers for a moment longer, savouring the softness of her skin before I reluctantly let it fall back to my side.

"Where's my gift Mrs. Rajvanshi?"

"What do you want as your gift Mr. Rajvanshi?" I smile at the way she replicates my way of talking before leaning over her, closer to her face, "a kiss will suffice for now,"

A flush of embarrassment rises to her cheeks as she glares back at me, her eyes widening in surprise. "It's not a lot, Ipshita," I say, trying to reassure her. "Just a quick kiss on the cheek."

Her gaze remains fixed on mine, her body tense with uncertainty. Slowly, she relaxes and slumps against the counter, nodding her head shyly in agreement. The soft light from the kitchen casts a warm glow on her features, highlighting the delicate curve of her jaw and the slight flutter of her eyelashes. A moment passes between us, charged with nervous energy and unspoken feelings.

A warm, genuine smile spreads across my face as I look at her with tenderness and love. As she stands on her toes to kiss my cheek, I can feel the anticipation coursing through my veins.

But before her lips reach their destination, my head turns slightly towards hers, my lips capture hers in a fiery, passionate kiss.