No love. No expectations. Just duty. Just power. Just fire.

📍 Rathore Royal Estate – The Negotiation Table

The mahogany doors of the Rathore palace's diplomatic chamber opened with a creak that sounded older than the Constitution itself. Two worlds entered from opposite sides:

1. Ishita Sharma, in a plain ivory saree, eyes calm but unblinking.

2. Aarav Rathore, dressed in all black, face unreadable, his signature blood-red ruby ring glowing like a silent threat.

They sat across from each other with only silence between them—except for the ticking of a vintage grandfather clock that had witnessed centuries of royal negotiations.

Finally, Aarav spoke first.

Aarav:
"Let’s be clear, Dr. Sharma. I don’t want a wife. I need a name to protect my throne. You need power to protect your cause."

Ishita:
"I have no interest in being your ornament. I will remain a doctor first, always. My work does not pause for politics or palace dinners."

He smirked.
Aarav:
"Perfect. Then we agree."

Ishita:
"No love. No expectations. Just duty."

Aarav:
"And a united front. For the world, we are King and Queen. Behind closed doors, we’re... cohabitants."

Ishita:
"No interference in my life. No questions about my past or emotions."

Aarav:
"In return, you’ll attend events with me. Share my surname. And bear my heirs—if and when we choose."

Ishita’s gaze narrowed.
Ishita:
"Even that… will be a choice. Mine."

📍 The Contract Signing – Witnessed by Gods and Ghosts

In the palace shrine room, under the gaze of ancient deities, the two legends signed a parchment of silence. No gold. No gifts. No grand gestures.

Only conditions.
Only power lines drawn in ink and fire.

Guru Vaidya Ishwaranand and Rajeshwari Rathore looked on—not as matchmakers, but as generals forming a treaty between two empires.

📍 Later That Night – Two Minds, One Battle

Aarav poured himself a glass of scotch in his private chamber.
Veer (his advisor) entered cautiously.

Veer:
"You trust her to keep her word?"

Aarav took a sip and stared out at the night.
Aarav:
"I don’t trust anyone. But she’s not like others. She doesn’t need me. That makes her dangerous… and useful."

Across the estate, Ishita lit a diya in her window, whispering a prayer under her breath.

Ishita (to herself):
"You don’t have to love him, Ishita. Just survive him."

And in that moment, both the Devil and the Miracle knew—

Their story had begun.

But fire… always changes the shape of what it touches.