You Are My Unique Gift

Unexpected Encounters

KOMAL's POV:

"UGH, I swear I'm about to clock him in less than thirty seconds!" I hissed into my brother's ear—or at least, I thought I did.

Turns out, my so-called 'whisper' wasn't stealthy enough for my iconic Indian mother. With all the quintessential Indian mother genes, she whipped around and shot me—her only daughter—a death glare that would freeze Elza's powers to freeze.

AAWWW! Thanks for loving me so much! As a seasoned delinquent kid, I had been the whole of my life, I could practically see the threat hanging in the air...loud and clear.

"If you squeak another word out, you won't even have a tombstone to mark your grave. You'll simply vanish...to Pluto!"

You would've gulped and shivered if your pointlessly flat ass were in my shoes. She was scary. Icing? She was a high-class high school principal of a f*****g DPS who would've your corpse BEHAVED! (Stew-dent, lie properly! What is all this, huh?)

But I did not have a pointlessly flat ass! Mine is perfectly round and bouncy like a peach and as shameless as I am, I did what any shameless rebel would do: I flashed her a cheeky smile and did exactly what I was told not to.

I hissed out my agonies accidentally a bit louder this time (just to watch her huff out an annoyed breath and puff her cheeks).

"I am not kidding," I said with an evil grin. "I am gonna swat him like a mosquito and send him flying over—"

"Dear Lord! This girl will be the death of me!"

She lost it! My mother, Mrs. Madhusudan Singh Sikarwar with three decades of experience as a teacher, just did. She crumbled before me like a fragile porcelain figurine, shattered by the weight of her own sorrow. It wasn't the first time. She had lost to me when I chose journalism. When I got my first job as a reporter and when I was promoted to get an exclusive show each Saturday at 10:30. I triumphantly watched her stomping her way to my father, Mr. Mahesh Singh Sikarwar, and whine like a little baby.

Grow some balls woman!

"Did I hear mosquitoes? By the grace of the Almighty, I shall have someone attend to this matter right away! These people never learn. Harish..."

The infuriatingly worthless perfect piece of carb-eater's s**t AKA the mosquito I was about to swat buzzed in my ear. And I freaking swear if my brother wasn't holding my balled fist to the side, I would have dealt with him right away!

The s**t is infamously recognized as Prince Divirath Rao Scindia, my oh-so-charming fiancé and son of the people who couldn't keep their freaking hands to themselves and had to create him! Geez! Horny people those days!

"Umm...no, Harish. Don't bother. Your Royal Highness! It was actually a bee. I think it's the flower decor." Abhay, my brother, hurriedly jumped in halting whatever the royal personnel was about to do to get rid of the mosquitoes. "It is simply irresistible, so enchanting that even these noble creatures couldn't resist its allure."

"Oh! Stop calling me that. We're about to be a family, Abhay. These flowers are exclusively sourced from the illustrious gardens of Versailles, meticulously chosen to embellish this grand occasion with their unmatched beauty and fragrance, who wouldn't like them?" Divirath beamed with a self-satisfied air, his words laced with the regal sophistication of GUPTA PERIOD.

Honestly, I don't know how the Indus Valley Civilization peps talked back then or I might've stumbled on an exact comparison.

Don't believe me yet? Here, listen!

"However, their allure pales in comparison to the charm and elegance that you exude, my love. You look absolutely resplendent. I find myself wishing it were not just our engagement, but our wedding day, so I wouldn't have to bid you farewell at the end of this remarkable day."

GAAAHHHHHHH!

Can you believe this pint-sized elf had the audacity to play smoochy-kissy with my balled-up fists? Oh, just wait till those pearly whites meet their match! I'll turn them into a dazzling set of jigsaw puzzles in no time!

Still wondering, you dunderheaded dolt!? Listen up!

Today's the day, my grand engagement extravaganza! But Mr. Overcompensating here won't give me a breather. Every other minute, he'd pop with some extremely important figure who'd eye-r**e me but keep it low to not trigger my obviously important Nobel fiance and introduce monotonously about their

wealth, stand, and estate.

"Speaking of wedding. Sugar, where do you think we should go for our honeymoon?" he asks, flashing a smile that's supposed to be charming.

Handsome? You bet he is! I was blessed in that department. It's like God had made every man in my life undertake an audition for a spot as a mesmerizing Greek god before granting permission to approach me.

Seething in jealousy? Burn, you hoes! At least I've lucked out in the looks department, among other things while you waste your precious time peering creepily at w*****d.

MUWAHHAHA. Learn from the pros. Go ruin some lads! Just like I ruined him. Vi—Nope! Naah! Nada! Not thinking about him today.

I mean, seriously, we're on the express train to becoming somebody else's better half in less than a year. And we CANNOT waste precious brain cells on an ex we dumped ages ago.

Instead, let's let this destined raccoon ruffle our feathers in our sickness and his good health.

What on earth did Mr. Badshah-e-Scindia Sultanate do to deserve us?

He is sponsoring Abhay's election, promised our investment in our father's expanding business, and brought us exquisite gifts from all over the world along with collaboration that's advantageous to our profession. Plenty of reasons, right! Not to forget he is a super important figure.

Yeah! So we shouldn't think about how for the past four hours, we've been here, trying to flash our award-winning awkward smile for a gazillion cameras, all while lugging around this lehenga that's heavier than our ex's ego.

Speaking of ego—I pray against all my good Karma. Please, God. Don't let him show up!

Ugh! NOT AGAIN! STOP THINKING ABOUT HIM!

But I'd honestly rather be doing just about anything else than twirling in this baboon's embrace in his presence!

Nope! Not as strong yet! Like, I'd rather be getting a root canal, or watching paint dry, or listening to my mother and mother-in-law's lectures combined. I can endure putting on a fake smile and pretending to be happy when all I really want to do is scream and run away. But I cannot endure his presence even after years.

"This raccoon is totally smitten," Abhay whispered in my ear, and unlike mine, his whisper was a real whisper that jolted me awake. He blinked at me a couple of times before his eyes melted in concern.

"Are you alright? You know you don't have to go through with this. Dad and I have connections. You can walk away from this wedding, just say the word."

"And let him bring ruin upon all of us. I admit, I wasn't thinking straight when I got involved with him. But now, it's too deep, too late, Bhai. I really don't want to stir up more trouble." I sighed, my gaze sweeping across the room, taking in the kaleidoscope of colors and smiles. It was a celebration of the union between a powerful family and an up-and-coming one.

"Besides," I added. "He ain't that bad."

No seriously, he wasn't all that bad with all six inches of him. Divirath was a catch with his fair complexion, lean build, and casual demeanor. He literally was a prince charming with wealth, opulence, and traditions of the Sindhiya.

The Palace I was surrounded with, a world that felt both familiar and foreign, was enough testimony.

Then, why did it feel so wrong? The air buzzed with anticipation, mingling with the sweet scent of roses that filled the ballroom. Ours was going to be the wedding of the season—then, why wasn't I happy?

"It's already a mess, Komal," Abhay's concern was genuine, just as a big brother's should be. His big brown eyes spoke volumes that I, for once, was afraid to interpret.

Growing up, there was hardly anything I could keep from him. He knew me inside out. From my first relationship with him to Divirath's proposal—he's been a constant. Yet, even he was unaware of a certain emptiness that couldn't be filled.

It was a part of me that was irreversibly broken, a hidden secret I'd managed to bury—that I wish I could tell him. I couldn't. Because it's simply too late now. I wish I'd embraced my reality sooner, and accepted the truth instead of running away. But now, only regret and remorse will be my lifelong companions along with Prince Mosquito.

With disdain, I watched as another diplomat whisked Divirath away in the center. I let out a quiet sigh. This was becoming unbearable. I never wanted any of this.

"You know his success is inevitable. I tried to dissuade Divirath from sending the invitation. But Vihaan Malhotra is on the guest list."

I gasped. That name should never have been uttered. Vihaan Malhotra

. The mere mention was enough to resonate within the chambers of my heart, a tune of bittersweet memories and unanswered questions. His presence was always intoxicating, pulling me in and urging me to bridge the gap that separated. The sensation has only intensified with time and distance.

I still burn for him. He still lives in my heart rent-free when he shouldn't.

"Please tell me we didn't get a RSVP,"

Abhay didn't have to answer.

Amidst the ballroom glittering as if a thousand stars had conspired to illuminate the night, its grandeur, though impressive, was overshadowed. Just as I was on the verge of suffocating beneath the weight of it all, he walked in.

Vihaan Malhotra.

The man who had seen my soul naked.

The air around him still carried a whiff of pomp and superficiality. I could feel it and couldn't help but shiver. I watched wide-eyed as Prince Divirath Rao Scindia, my betrothed, opened his arm to welcome my Ex—the man I broke beyond recovery. Chiseled jaw, impeccable posture, and a demeanor rehearsed to the tee, every gesture was calculated, every word spoken with precision.

He accepted my fiance's enthusiasm with a casual warm smile and I felt a tug in my gut.

My heart threatened to burst out of my chest, betraying my meticulously crafted veneer of composure. What was he doing here? Amidst this opulent spectacle? I watched him navigate through the crowd, his presence demanding attention effortlessly. He was magnetic, drawing everyone into his sphere.

And then our eyes met, it was as if the universe conspired to remind me of a time long past, a love I'd buried deep within my heart's recesses. The intensity in his gaze spoke volumes, a silent question suspended between us.

For a moment, I was transported back to a time when it was just us against the world, our hearts entwined in a dance of their own. Yet, reality came crashing back, a painful reminder of the choices I'd made for the both of us.

"Komal, my love," Did I really compare this pesky mosquito to the awe-inspiring king before me? Oops! Scratch that and rub it in my face with cow dung! Divirath was light years ahead of this unannounced sovereign in all his majestic splendor. And right behind him stood an entourage of his very own little army. His partner-in-crime and twin brother, Viraj Malhotra stood tall with the woman who had once been my dearest bestie, Kratika. And to add to the spectacle, each of them cradled a toddler. Twins, I heard, were born about a year or so ago. As my eyes swept further, I couldn't help but notice the familiar visages of Kartik and Gaytri Malhotra, their expressions twisted in apparent disdain. The room practically crackled with tension and unspoken words. If looks could speak, they'd be a roaring tempest of judgment and disapproval.

"I know you might already know him. Who wouldn't? Mr. Vihaan Malhotra. I can't believe you made it. I am so honored, Sir." Divirath beamed and snaked an arm around my naked waist. He was expecting me to do something. But what? What do I do to a man and his family who were probably already planning my murder? And even though we stood maintaining all decency at a decent distance apart, I felt it. Vihaan's burning gaze where Divirath's palm felt my flash.

I averted my gaze, mustering a smile back onto my lips. This was my life now. Duty and tradition. There was no room for the past.

Only looking into his expressive eyes was the gravest sin I had committed. He still held an air of authority. His dark, slightly wavy hair framed his face, adding to his enigmatic allure. Standing tall with an imposing presence, Vihaan's physique was both powerful and graceful, a testament to his disciplined nature.

"Congratulations." He mumbled smoothly with absolutely no emotion in his voice.

It somehow made my jaw clench and it remained clenched throughout the ring ceremony and the exclusively appalling dance as the night wore on.

"Get away from me!" I wanted to scream at him. Vihaan's presence was lingering at the edge of my consciousness, a ghost of what might have been. After all, in this world of whispered secrets and concealed motives, love was nothing more than a fleeting illusion.

"Vihaan," my heart repeatedly whispered, the sound barely more than a breath, yet carrying the weight of years gone by.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention, please? It's time for a sweet interlude in our evening of grandeur. We invite you all to join us for the ceremonial cake-cutting, a moment that marks the union of two families and the beginning of a beautiful journey. Please make your way to the central stage,

and let the festivities continue!" Somebody announced.

I was utterly mortified by the mischievous glint in his eyes as he tilted his head at me. The cake stood before us, a towering masterpiece of confectionary artistry, its layers reaching for the heavens.

Adorned with delicate sugar flowers and intricate lace-like patterns, it was a sweet symphony for the eyes. The aroma of vanilla and almond teased the air around us, promising a delectable treat for the taste buds. The sheer size of it was awe-inspiring, nearly the size of a grown adult.

And then, in a twist of fate that would rival even the most riveting of royal dramas, Divirath—the epitome of composure, groomed by years of meticulous training in regal etiquette—suffered a momentary lapse. His princely poise crumbled, and he face-planted right into the towering cake, a spectacle that left the entire room gasping in disbelief.

The ornate knife, meant for the ceremonial cut, went soaring through the air as if making a desperate escape from the chaos. It was a scene that would be etched in the annals of royal history—a moment of embarrassment that no one, especially the hapless prince himself, would ever forget.

"Damn Lord!" Vihaan shirked like a little girl.

"Dear Lord!" Viraj mimicked his twin's action.

"Oh, Lord!"

"Oh, Lord!"

The Malhotra brothers moved at lightning speed to help the prince out of the sugary catastrophe.

"Dear Lord, How could this happen? Are you hurt, Your Royal Highness?" Vihaan finished with a mocking glint.

He could fool the entire world with that genuinely concerned face, but I could read the underlying mischief from another planet.

And just like that—I might as well know! Vihaan Malhotra, you're so done for!