The Malhothra estate shimmered in soft golden hues as preparations for the annual charity gala reached their final hour. Twinkling lights hung like stars across the ceiling of the vast ballroom, and the scent of fresh lilies floated in the air. Outside, the media had already begun to gather, and inside, tension buzzed beneath the surface of elegance.

At the center of it all stood Vikrant Malhothra, sharp-eyed and composed as ever, surveying the arrangements like a commander preparing for war. But tonight, he wasn't alone.

"Trying to outdo yourself again?" a voice broke the silence behind him.

Vikrant turned, lips lifting slightly. Darsh Malhothra, his son, stood tall and relaxed in a perfectly fitted suit, his expression unreadable but confident.

"You're early," Vikrant noted.

Darsh shrugged. "I figured you'd be here giving everyone mild panic attacks. Thought I'd come to supervise the supervisor."

Vikrant smirked. "Someone has to make sure you don't turn this into a fashion show."

Darsh laughed under his breath. "Come on, give me some credit. I ironed this suit myself."

"You? Ironed?"

"Well, I told someone to iron it. Same thing."

Vikrant rolled his eyes, but there was a warmth in his gaze. "The speech. Keep it clean. No jabs at the media."

"I'm not the reckless teenager anymore, Dad."

"True," Vikrant said, pausing. "But you're still my son. Which means reckless lives in your blood."

Darsh's smile softened. "Then it's a good thing I'm learning to control it."

---

Upstairs, the Malhothra women were immersed in their own preparations.

Indira Malhothra carefully pinned her hair into an elegant bun, while Diya tried to balance herself in a pair of unfamiliar heels.

"These heels are plotting my downfall," Diya grumbled.

Indira laughed gently. "You're the one who wanted to wear those. I suggested kitten heels."

"And look like someone's auntie at a temple fair? No thanks."

Indira shook her head with fond amusement. "Vanity runs strong in our family."

"From your side," Diya pointed out, tossing her mother a smile.

Indira examined her reflection, adjusted her necklace, and turned to look at her daughter. "You look beautiful, Diya. Darsh is going to be proud to walk in with us."

"I wish mom's approval came before the heels," Diya muttered under her breath, wobbling again as they both laughed.

---

Meanwhile, in the more modest but no less warm Singhania household, Dhwani lay curled up on the sofa, a medical journal pressed open on her lap and her hair tied up in a loose, messy bun. She looked so immersed that she didn't notice her mother enter.

"Still reading?" Anuradha Singhania asked, placing a cup of warm milk nearby.

"Trying to," Dhwani said, not looking up. "But I keep reading the same line over and over again."

"That's because your mind knows tonight's not about studies."

Dhwani groaned. "Please don't start."

Anuradha smiled and sat beside her. "I'm not starting anything. Just reminding you. The Malhothra charity event-remember?"

"I thought that was next week."

"No, sweetheart. It's tonight. And you're going. I already left the saree on your bed."

"A saree? Ma! I don't even know how to-what is wrong with salwar kameez?"

"This isn't a casual family wedding. It's a Malhothra event. You're a Singhania."

"I'd rather be invisible."

Her mother leaned in, brushing a lock of hair from her daughter's forehead. "Too late for that, Dhwani. You're growing into a woman who stands out whether she wants to or not."

"That sounds suspiciously like a warning."

"It's a compliment wrapped in experience."

Dhwani sighed but smiled. "You're good at this 'wise-mother' thing."

"I've had years of practice," Anuradha winked.

---

Later that day at the hospital, Dhwani slipped out from her shift just as the sun began to dip. She adjusted her white coat and started heading out when a familiar voice called from behind.

"Well, if it isn't the future Nobel Prize winner."

Maya, in her colorful scrubs and messy braid, grinned wide as she walked up.

Dhwani laughed. "Maya. I swear, I was just about to call you."

"Oh please. Don't lie to me in a hospital, it feels cursed."

They both burst into giggles as they fell into step together.

"You look tired," Maya noted.

"Today was long. Rounds, paperwork, and a baby who kept grabbing my name tag like I owed him money."

Maya snorted. "Babies are suspicious creatures."

"Agreed."

"So... you're heading out early?"

"Yeah," Dhwani nodded. "Family thing. Big charity event. You know, the type where you have to smile until your cheeks hurt."

"Malhothras?"

"Yep."

"Hot people. Fancy clothes. Pressure to not fall in heels. All the best."

"I'm wearing a saree."

Maya froze mid-step. "You? In a saree? How's the world not collapsing already?"

"I know, right? I have no clue how to wear it. I might go as a tightly wrapped burrito."

"I need pictures."

"You'll get a whole photoshoot."

"God, if Darsh Malhothra talks to you tonight, text me in real-time."

"Please," Dhwani rolled her eyes. "As if he'd notice me."

"He would if he has eyes."

Dhwani smiled but didn't reply.

---

At home again, Dhwani entered her room and saw the pastel blue saree with silver border spread neatly on her bed. It looked intimidating. Regal. Foreign.

"Ma!" she called, panic already in her voice.

Anuradha walked in like she'd been expecting this exact moment.

"I can't wear this," Dhwani said, holding up the pleats like they were cursed.

"You can. I'll help."

"I'll mess it up."

"I'll fix it."

"I'll trip."

"I'll catch you."

Dhwani blinked at her mom, lips pressed together. "Why are you being so sweet today?"

"Because tonight, you'll walk into a room full of people who think they know who you are. And I want you to remind them they don't."

Dhwani was quiet for a moment. "That sounds... scary."

"Good. The best moments always are."

They spent the next half-hour folding, pinning, laughing, and adjusting. Finally, Dhwani stood in front of the mirror.

She didn't recognize herself at first.

She looked... graceful. Almost royal. And somehow, still very much herself.

---

Downstairs, Rajveer Singhania was checking his watch beside the family car. The driver stood at attention. When he saw his wife and daughter emerge from the doorway, his eyes softened.

"You both look beautiful," he said.

Dhwani blushed. "Dad, don't make me nervous."

Rajveer kissed her forehead. "Why? You're going to make heads turn anyway."

Anuradha chuckled. "She might make some hearts skip too."

"Oh my god," Dhwani muttered, getting into the car before they both embarrassed her further.

The engine purred to life, and the car rolled into the city evening - toward lights, cameras, and a night neither of them would forget.

Because fate was already weaving its threads.

And under the chandeliers of the Malhothra ballroom, two paths were finally about to cross.

---