Chapter 2 2.

Arsh Malhotra's Pov~

I left Mishka's home and hopped in my car, the warmth of her goodbye still lingering on my skin. Her smile, the way she'd leaned into my chest before I kissed her forehead, it was those small, intimate moments I cherished.

Tomorrow is her birthday, and I have planned something special. I smiled at the thought, already imagining the surprise on her face when I'd show up at her door with flowers and a day full of plans just for us.

But as I drove back home, a nagging feeling settled in my chest. My mother had been oddly quiet all day. There were no calls, no meetings she dragged me into, which was unlike her. A day without her interference felt rare, almost suspicious.

The Malhotra estate loomed ahead, a sprawling mansion passed down through generations.

From the outside, it was a symbol of prestige and power, an architectural masterpiece of sleek modern lines mixed with traditional Rajasthani accents. Inside, however, it was a battlefield, a place where politics and personal agendas reigned supreme.

I parked the car in the driveway, the glow from the estate's massive chandeliers spilling through the windows. As I walked up the stone steps, I mentally prepared myself for whatever awaited inside.

My family was exhausting, to say the least. Everyone had an agenda, and navigating those waters was like walking a tightrope.

I pushed open the front door, the scent of incense and roses hitting me instantly. My mother's favorite. She believed it gave the house an air of grace and tradition, though I always thought it was just another way for her to assert control.

"Arsh, Beta, you're finally home." Came the smooth, measured voice of my mother, Sumitra Malhotra, as she appeared from the hallway.

There she stood, regal as ever, dressed in a soft cream-colored saree with intricate gold embroidery. Her posture was impeccable, her dark hair pulled back in a tight bun, not a strand out of place. Her face, still strikingly beautiful at fifty, was a mask of calm calculation. My mother was the epitome of grace, elegance and manipulation.

"Ma." I nodded approaching her and touched her feet, trying to gauge her mood. She put her hand on my head as a blessing, her eyes scanning my face as if she could read my thoughts.

"You must be exhausted after your... outing." she said, the slightest edge to her tone. She always had a way of making my time with Mishka sound trivial, like it was an inconvenience to her plans.

"It was fine." I replied, non-committal.

"I'm actually heading to bed. Tomorrow's-"

"Tomorrow is quite busy for you." she cut me off smoothly, as if she already knew what I was about to say.

"I've cancelled tonight's meeting. You'll be attending one tomorrow instead."

I stopped in my tracks, my brows knitting together.

"What? Why tomorrow?"

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"We have some important decisions to make regarding the business. I need you there. You're the face of this family, Arsh, and it's crucial that you understand every aspect of it."

I clenched my jaw. Tomorrow is Mishka's birthday, and I'd already made plans. How could she just cancel tonight's meeting and move it to tomorrow? It felt deliberate, like she was trying to control not just my time but my relationship with Mishka too.

"Mom, tomorrow's Mishka's birthday." I said, keeping my voice steady, but I could feel the frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

"I've already promised her I'd spend the day with her." I spoke again.

Her smile faltered for a split second before she regained her composure.

"Oh, Arsh. Mishka will understand. Birthdays come every year. This meeting is about your future. It's about this family's future."

And there it was. The guilt trip. My mother was a master at it, always framing her manipulations as something done for the greater good of the family. She took a step closer, her hand reaching out to rest on my arm.

"You know how important this is." She said softly, but the steel in her voice was unmistakable. "You'll make it up to Mishka, I'm sure."

I felt a surge of anger, but I swallowed it down. Arguing with my mother was like fighting a losing battle. She always won in the end, and the more I resisted, the harder she would push. I'd seen her do it with my father, my uncles, even with Raghav.

Raghav. My stepbrother. He wasn't here, of course. He never was when it came to "important family matters." My mother had made sure of that. She tolerated him, barely, because he was a Malhotra by name, but in her eyes, he was an outsider.

She kept him at arm's length, reminding everyone that he was a product of my father's first marriage, someone who didn't quite fit into her perfect vision of the Malhotra dynasty.

"Where's Raghav?" I asked, trying to change the subject, though I already knew the answer.

Her eyes darkened slightly. "Not invited. You know how your father feels about him being involved in these decisions."

I felt a knot form in my stomach. My father, Ratan Malhotra, is a powerful man, but when it came to Raghav, he was indifferent at best. My mother had poisoned his mind against his own son, painting him as unreliable, unworthy of the family name. It wasn't true, of course. Raghav was smart, capable even, but he was never given the chance to prove it.

"That's not fair, Mom." I said, my voice firmer than before.

"He's still family."

She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a faint smile. "Is he?"

I wanted to say more, but I knew it was pointless. My mother had made up her mind about Raghav long ago, and nothing I said would change that. I could already feel the tension rising in the air, a familiar weight pressing down on my chest.

I gave her a tight nod, brushing past her, heading for the stairs. I needed to get out of this conversation before it spiraled further.

As I reached the second floor, I spotted my father, Ratan, standing by the window in his study, his back turned to me. He was a tall man, with a broad frame that still carried the strength of his youth, though his hair was now more gray than black. He was staring out at the garden, lost in thought. I debated whether to talk to him about tomorrow, but I knew it would be futile. When it came to family matters, he deferred to my mother.

"Dad."I called, standing at the doorway.

"Arsh. Is everything settled for tomorrow?" He turned, his eyes distant but acknowledging my presence.

My heart sank. So he was in on it too. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I could feel the weight of the family's expectations closing in around me, suffocating any chance I had of spending the day with Mishka.

As I retreated to my room, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw Mishka's name light up the screen. My chest tightened. I didn't want to break the news to her, but I had no choice.

"Hey, Mishka." I answered, trying to keep my voice light.

"Hey." she said softly, her voice warm but with an underlying excitement.

"Just wanted to check if everything's still on for tomorrow." I closed my eyes at her words.

Opening it I started to say something but paused, guilt gnawing at me. I hated disappointing her, especially on her birthday.

"About tomorrow. Something came up. My mom's rescheduled a meeting I can't miss." I fisted my cell phone.

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, and when she spoke again, her voice was quiet, filled with a disappointment that cut through me.

"I see."

"Mishka, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, I swear. Maybe we can celebrate the day after?"

Another pause, longer this time.

"It's fine, Arsh. I understand. Family comes first, right?"

The words stung, more than I expected them to. I wanted to tell her that she was family to me, that she was just as important, more important even, but I couldn't. Not when I knew what tomorrow would bring.

"I'll call you later." She said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah. Later." I nodded, even though she couldn't see me.

As I hung up, I collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The pressure of being a Malhotra, of constantly balancing between family and Mishka, was suffocating. And tomorrow, of all days, I had to choose.

I already knew which side would win.