By the time she neared them, the glow around her had softened. She seemed unreal, entirely from another dimension.
She came closer. Close enough now that the details stopped being distant.
Her face came into focus. The glow on her skin, the calm in her expression, the small beauty mark near her jaw that his gaze caught and held onto it like it mattered.
‘This is her.’
He reminded himself, too late for it to matter.
The woman who had blocked his deals. The reason he stood here. The problem he intended to solve.
She reached his mother first. A smile found her face. It was warm, open, and completely real.
And that, more than the light, more than the beauty, more than the fact that he had just lost control of his own focus, was the moment he realized this was going to be a problem.
“Thakurain Sa. Welcome.”
Sarita smiled, her hand coming up to cup Meera’s cheek affectionately.
Meera leaned into it without thought.
She circled the thali before Sarita. Once. Twice. Thrice. The flame warmed Sarita’s face, glinting in her eyes. When Meera placed the tilak on her forehead, her touch remained gentle, reverent.
Abhinav felt a change he did not welcome.
He pushed it aside.
She turned to Naina next.
Naina’s smile came bright, unfiltered. Meera answered it with the same warmth, pressing the tilak to her forehead.
And then, she turned to him.
The change was instant.
The warmth. The ease. The light in her face.
Gone. Extinguished.
Her spine straightened. Her mouth set. Hazel eyes sharpened into something hard and cutting.
It was almost impressive.
She stepped toward him.
The difference in height struck him at once. He towered over her. She lifted her face to meet his eyes, the line of her throat stretching with the motion. Resolve sat firm in her expression.
Abhinav was aware, suddenly and inconveniently, of everything at once.
The flame between them. Sandalwood. Ghee. The pulse at her neck. The grip of her fingers around the brass plate.
He bent without thinking.
An instinct. Nothing more.
Except it brought him closer than he intended. Close enough to catch the scent of her hair. Clean. Warm. A trace of something floral that had no business being as distracting as it was.
Her eyes didn’t waver from his. There was no fear in them. No hesitation. No politeness.