Rivaan’s POV:

I sat at the head of the dining table, casually stirring my black coffee, while the rest of the family went about their day. Dadi’s call from earlier still echoed in my head. Ganesh Puja, the village, and… all the small-town traditions I hadn’t been a part of in years. I had agreed to go, of course. I couldn’t say no to Dadi, but now came the real challenge: convincing the rest of the family.

Clearing my throat, I finally spoke up. “Alright, everyone, Dadi wants all of us to come to the village for Ganesh Puja. So, who’s in?”

The room fell quiet for a moment. Dev, who was flipping through his case files, didn’t even look up. “Rivaan, you know I have work,” he mumbled.

“Of course, you do,” I replied dryly, rolling my eyes. “Riya? What about you?”

Riya raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by my tone. “I’ve got back-to-back meetings. Someone has to run the company while you’re busy making Dadi happy,” she said with a smirk.

I sighed. Typical. “Right, so that’s two ‘no’s. Great start.” I looked over at Mom and Dad, who were, as usual, too engrossed in their own world to notice me.

Mom finally glanced up from her tablet. “Village? Rivaan, you know I can’t handle all that dust and chaos. Besides, who’ll look after the house?”

Dad just waved a dismissive hand. “Take care of it yourself. I’m busy.”

I leaned back in my chair, staring at them. “Wow. You’re all really making an effort, huh?” I muttered under my breath.

And then, as if summoned by fate, the front door opened, and Karan strolled in. My best friend, fresh from California, looking as casual as ever in his hoodie and jeans, despite being a financial genius.

“Karan!” I called out, more enthusiastically than I intended. “Perfect timing.”

He grinned, tossing his backpack onto the couch. “What did I miss? Family drama?” he asked, glancing around at the usual chaos.

“Not drama, just the usual excuses,” I replied. “I’m heading to the village for Ganesh Puja. Want to come?”

His face lit up with interest. “Ganesh Puja? In the village? Sounds fun! I’ve just spent weeks crunching numbers—I could use a break. I’m in.”

The rest of the family looked up in surprise, clearly not expecting anyone to volunteer.

“You’re serious?” I asked, a little surprised myself.

Karan shrugged. “Why not? I’ve never been to a proper village festival. Plus, you’ll need someone to keep you sane,” he added with a teasing grin.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Fair point.”

---

Later, as I packed my things, Karan hovered nearby, inspecting my suitcase like an overzealous inspector.

“Dude, you’re packing like you’re going to a corporate retreat,” he said, holding up one of my neatly folded shirts. “This is a village trip! Loosen up a little.”

I snatched the shirt from his hand. “Unlike you, I don’t do casual,” I replied. “And why are you even here? Don’t you have your own packing to do?”

“I’m done,” he said with a smug grin. “You know, being efficient and all.”

I rolled my eyes, shoving another pair of shoes into my suitcase. “Great. So now you’re just here to annoy me?”

“Pretty much,” he said, flopping onto my bed. “Also, I have a question. What’s the deal with this Puja? Is it just a family thing, or are there... other people involved?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, clearly hinting at something.

I paused, narrowing my eyes at him. “If by ‘other people,’ you mean a potential bride or some nonsense, then no. It’s just family and tradition. Don’t get any ideas.”

Karan laughed, throwing a pillow at me. “Relax, man. I’m just saying, village festivals are famous for unexpected... encounters.”

I ignored him, focusing on my packing. But deep down, his words lingered. Unexpected encounters? That was the last thing I needed.

Preeti’s POV:

The preparations for Ganesh Puja were in full swing. The entire village seemed alive with vibrant colors, the hum of people chattering, and the occasional burst of laughter echoing through the air. I had just finished arranging the last batch of flowers when Vijay Bhaiya appeared in the courtyard, wearing his trademark mischievous grin.

“Preeti,” he called, dragging out my name like he always did when he was up to something.

I looked up, already suspicious. “What now, Bhaiya?”

He leaned against the doorway, folding his arms. “So, when are you planning to find your prince charming, hmm? The entire village talks about how perfect you are. Even Ganesh Ji must be wondering why you’re still single.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore him. “Bhaiya, I’m busy. Can’t you go bother someone else?”

But Vijay wasn’t so easily deterred. “Busy? With what? Making garlands? You know, at this rate, the only prince charming you’ll find is the one who gets lost on his way to another village,” he teased, his laughter echoing as I glared at him.

“Stop it, Bhaiya,” I snapped, throwing a handful of petals in his direction.

Sheela, who had been helping me, joined in, giggling. “He’s not wrong, Preeti. Every eligible boy in the village is too scared to approach you. Maybe you should look outside the village. Who knows? A city boy might come for the Puja and sweep you off your feet.”

I felt my cheeks heat up. “You two are impossible!” I muttered, turning my attention back to the flowers.

But Bhaiya wasn’t done yet. “Fine, fine. But mark my words, Preeti. This Puja might bring some big changes for you.”

His words stuck in my mind, even as I tried to brush them off. Changes? What could possibly change in my quiet, predictable life?

---

Third-Person POV:

Night fell, and the village glowed with the soft light of oil lamps and strings of colorful bulbs. The air was thick with the aroma of incense and marigolds, and the sound of dhols echoed in the distance as everyone gathered near the temple for the Ganesh Puja.

At that moment, a sleek black SUV pulled into the village, kicking up a small cloud of dust. Heads turned, curiosity lighting up the faces of the villagers. The car door opened, and out stepped Rivaan Kapoor, followed closely by his best friend, Karan.

Rivaan adjusted the cuff of his shirt, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd. His expression was unreadable, but Karan, as usual, was all smiles, waving at the curious onlookers.

“Nice place,” Karan remarked, leaning in to whisper. “Very... rustic.”

Rivaan gave him a look but said nothing, his mind already occupied. He hadn’t been here in years, and yet the familiarity of it all struck him. The cobblestone streets, the scent of fresh earth, and the distant hum of the villagers—it all felt like a lifetime ago.

And then, through the crowd, he spotted her: Dadi, standing at the temple steps, her face lighting up the moment she saw him.

“Rivaan!” she called out, her voice filled with joy.

Rivaan’s stern expression softened as he walked toward her, folding his hands in respect. “Dadi,” he greeted, his voice low but warm.

Dadi held his face in her hands, her eyes glistening with pride. “You’ve come. You really came.”

“Of course,” Rivaan said. “How could I miss this?”

Karan stepped forward, flashing Dadi his charming smile. “And I’m here too, Dadi Ji. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Dadi laughed, patting his cheek. “Ah, Rivaan’s friend. Welcome, beta. Come, both of you. Let me show you around.”

As they followed Dadi toward the temple, Rivaan couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to change. He had no idea how true that would turn out to be.

Preeti’s POV:

The aroma of incense filled the air as I carefully arranged the flowers for the Puja. Sheela came rushing toward me, her excitement palpable.

“Preeti, guess what? I heard the city boy is here—the one I was talking about!” she said, almost jumping with enthusiasm.

I rolled my eyes, brushing her off. “Sheela, I’m busy. Can’t you focus on the flowers instead of gossiping?”

She pouted, but before she could respond, one of the women organizing the Puja approached me. “Preeti, these flowers are almost over. Can you get some fresh roses from your garden?”

“Of course,” I said, brushing my hands on my skirt. I grabbed a basket and headed to the garden. Sheela tried to follow, clearly wanting to share her endless excitement, but I was in a hurry. “Sheela, you stay here and start separating the petals we already have,” I instructed, cutting her off.

I walked quickly to the garden, my hands moving swiftly as I plucked the freshest roses. The garden was quiet, the scent of flowers calming me. My basket was almost full when I turned to leave, focusing on the delicate petals. But as I rounded a corner, I suddenly collided with something—or rather, someone.

---

Rivaan’s POV:

I was leaning against a tree near Dadi’s courtyard, absentmindedly tossing a stone into the dirt as Karan and Dadi chatted nearby. My phone rang, and I sighed when I saw my father’s name flashing on the screen.

“Rivaan,” his sharp voice came through the line, “I need you to look over the reports for the board meeting. Can you take a moment to—”

“Father, I’m at the village. Can it wait until—” I was cut off mid-sentence when something—or someone—bumped into me.

The impact wasn’t hard, but it was enough to make me lose my balance slightly. I looked down, ready to scold whoever it was, but the words froze in my throat.

It was her.

The girl from the news, the one had showed over on TV, stood before me, clutching a basket overflowing with roses. She didn’t even glance up, her focus entirely on the flowers.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice soft but firm, “can you hold this basket for a moment? I need to adjust it.”

I blinked, completely thrown off. She had no idea who I was. None of the usual fawning or overly formal tone I was used to. She just handed me the basket without even looking at me properly.

“Uh…” I fumbled, forgetting that my father was still on the phone.

“Rivaan!” my father’s voice barked, snapping me back. I ended the call abruptly, cutting him off mid-sentence, and grabbed the basket as she adjusted her dupatta.

When her eyes finally lifted to meet mine, I was struck silent again. Large, brown, and bright as a sunrise. For a moment, everything around us seemed to blur.

“Why are you staring at me?” she asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Your ey-,” I started, then caught myself. “I mean...your basket looks heavy,” I corrected quickly, hoping she wouldn’t notice the slip.

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, instead gesturing toward the path. “Come with me. I need help carrying these flowers back.”

I followed her, still in shock. She was treating me like any other person. No admiration, no intimidation, no assumptions. Just...normal.

As I walked behind her, carrying the basket, I couldn’t help but wonder. Who was this girl? And why did she make me feel like I was meeting a part of myself I didn’t know existed?

---

Preeti’s POV:

The man stood there, holding the basket of freshly picked roses, looking at me as if waiting for instructions. Without thinking much of it, I handed him a small knife and gestured to the table.

“Sit there and start separating the petals. We don’t have much time,” I said, busy arranging the flowers I had already collected.

He raised an eyebrow at me, clearly not used to being ordered around. “You’re really just going to make me do this?”

I turned to him, hands on my hips. “If you’re standing there doing nothing, you might as well help. Now, hurry.”

He muttered something under his breath, but he sat down anyway, albeit reluctantly, and began separating the petals. His movements were a little clumsy, but he was surprisingly cooperative.

As I worked beside him, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had seen him somewhere before. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. His face was...familiar. Where had I seen those sharp features, that intense gaze?

“Have we met before?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

He looked up, startled. “What?”

“You look familiar,” I said, studying his face. “Have we crossed paths somewhere?”

Before he could answer, a loud voice shattered the moment.

“Preeti! Do you know who he is?”

I turned to see Sheela rushing toward us, her eyes wide with disbelief. She grabbed my arm and practically dragged me away from the man, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“That’s Rivaan Kapoor!” she exclaimed, her voice high-pitched with excitement.

I blinked, my mind struggling to connect the dots. Rivaan Kapoor? The billionaire bachelor Sheela was always swooning over?

“No, he’s not,” I said, shaking my head. “Why would Rivaan Kapoor be here, in our village, separating rose petals?”

Sheela shot me an incredulous look. “I’d know that face anywhere! It’s him! Look at him properly!”

I turned back to him slowly, my eyes narrowing. He sat there with an unreadable expression, as if debating whether to confirm or deny Sheela’s claim.

“Wait...you’re not really...” I trailed off, my stomach twisting with embarrassment.

He finally sighed and set the knife down. “Yes, I’m Rivaan Kapoor.”

---

Rivaan’s POV:

I knew the moment the girl—Sheela, apparently—started shouting that my cover was blown. So much for blending in and enjoying a moment of normalcy.

Preeti’s reaction, however, was unexpected. Instead of fawning over me like most people did, she just stared at me, her expression a mix of confusion and disbelief.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked, her voice quieter now but still firm.

I shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”

Sheela, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with excitement. “Oh my God, Preeti! You’ve been ordering Rivaan Kapoor around! Do you even realize who he is?!”

Preeti ignored her, her gaze locked on me. “Why are you here?”

I leaned back slightly, crossing my arms. “Because I was invited. And because My grandmother Parvati Kapoor would have my head if I didn’t show up.”

Her lips parted slightly in surprise. “You know Dadi?”

“Very well,” I said, smirking. “She’s been keeping me on my toes since I got here.”

Preeti still seemed skeptical, but she shook her head and turned back to Sheela. “Alright, enough of this. He’s here for the Puja, just like everyone else. Now, can we get back to the flowers?”

Sheela looked like she wanted to argue but eventually relented.