Chapter 1: Runaway Bride in the Sky
Shivanshi adjusted the heavy bridal saree that clung to her body like a cursed weight, the intricate embroidery digging into her skin. The golden-red silk shimmered under the harsh airport lights as she strode through the Ahmedabad International Airport, ignoring the stares burning into her back.
Whispers followed her.
“Is she a runaway bride?”
“Why is she traveling alone in a wedding outfit?”
“She looks too fierce to be abandoned. Maybe she left someone instead?”
She didn’t care. Let them talk. Let them wonder.
Right now, all she cared about was getting to Mumbai, starting fresh, and burying the nightmare of today.
Her kohl-rimmed eyes swept over the boarding pass in her hand. Business Class. Seat 2A.
Taking a deep breath, she walked down the aisle, her saree trailing behind like a battle flag. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and leather seats filled the cabin as passengers—men and women alike—stared shamelessly at her.
One of them, lounging in Seat 3B, raised a brow with interest.
Shivam Khanna.
The Bollywood heartthrob, known for his charm, smirked to himself as he watched the mysterious woman settle into her seat. She was drop-dead gorgeous but didn’t seem the type to seek attention. If anything, the fire in her eyes suggested she’d burn anyone who dared approach her.
And that intrigued him.
Before Shivanshi could buckle in, the memories of the past twelve hours came crashing back.
---
Twelve Hours Ago – Verma Mansion, Ahmedabad
“This is not a fucking marriage! This is a goddamn business deal!” Shivanshi’s voice thundered through the grand hall of her family home.
Her father’s face darkened, her mother’s eyes filled with guilt, but neither budged.
“Shivanshi, it’s done. The wedding is set. You’re marrying Raj in two hours.”
“The hell I am!” She threw the bridal jewelry onto the floor. “Did I ever say I liked him? Did I ever agree to this?”
Her mother, with tear-filled eyes, whispered, “We thought he was good for you, beta...”
“Bullshit.” Her voice was sharp. “You thought he was rich. You thought he was powerful. But did you know he’s a fucking murderer?”
That caught their attention.
Silence.
“He killed two innocent women for dowry.” Shivanshi pulled out a USB drive from her pocket. “And here’s the evidence. Witness statements, bank transactions, autopsy reports—everything. Courtesy of Nishant.”
Her father’s face paled.
“You’re lying.”
“Really?” She tilted her head, eyes flashing with fury. “I already sent this to the police. They’ll be here soon. If you think I’ll marry a murderer, you don’t know me at all.”
She turned on her heel, marching towards the door, leaving behind the screams of her enraged father and the sobs of her mother.
Her final act?
A handwritten letter on the bridal dresser:
“I am not a puppet for your deals. I deserve better. Don’t look for me.”
---
Present – Airplane, Mid-Air
“Excuse me, ma’am?”
The air hostess’s polite voice yanked her out of her thoughts. Shivanshi blinked, composing herself.
“Would you like anything to drink?”
“Black coffee. No sugar.” Her voice was firm.
As the air hostess nodded, Shivanshi pulled out her laptop, diving into her pending gynecology cases.
Shivam Khanna watched her with interest.
“Huh… Just like my cousin.”
His lips curled into a smirk. “Focused. Unbothered. And completely immune to attention.”
He was used to women throwing themselves at him. But her? She hadn’t even spared him a glance.
And that… was new.
---
Mumbai Airport – Chaos at Arrival
The moment they landed, a horde of reporters swarmed the terminal.
“Shivam! Over here!”
“Look this way!”
“Are you dating someone? Who is she?”
Flashes of cameras blinded the air. Shivam gritted his teeth, adjusting his sunglasses. “Fucking vultures.”
Then it happened.
In the frenzy, a small boy got shoved aside. He stumbled, falling hard on the floor.
A sharp cry. A bleeding knee.
Before anyone could react, Shivanshi was already there.
She knelt down, ignoring the saree dragging on the floor.
“Hey, shh… It’s okay,” she whispered, inspecting the wound. The boy whimpered, and she gently wiped his tears. “It’s a small cut. You’re brave, right?”
The boy nodded, sniffling.
She took out a sanitized bandage from her purse and swiftly covered the wound, pressing a light kiss on his forehead.
“There. Good as new.”
The crowd watched in stunned silence.
Then, without warning—
A resounding SLAP echoed through the terminal.
The reporters gasped. Shivanshi had slapped Shivam.
His head snapped to the side, sunglasses slipping down his nose. He looked at her, stunned.
“What the fuck?” he muttered.
The cameras clicked like crazy.
“Miss, why did you slap him?!” a reporter shouted.
“Are you his girlfriend? A secret affair?!” another one added.
Shivanshi’s eyes darkened.
She turned to face the sea of microphones and flashing lights.
“You people,” she said, voice dripping with venom, “are the fucking dumbest creatures I’ve ever seen.”
Gasps. Murmurs.
The reporters bristled. “Excuse me?”
Shivanshi stepped forward, eyes blazing.
“That boy got hurt because of your pathetic desperation for gossip. But do you care? No. You just want some goddamn TRP.”
Her voice turned cold, biting.
“Why don’t you show real heroes? Doctors saving lives? Soldiers protecting the country? Ordinary people doing extraordinary things? No. Because you only care about the price of an actress’s bridal lehenga or whether some celebrity is sleeping with someone!”
One reporter attempted to argue, “But the public has a right to know—”
“Right to know WHAT?!” she cut him off. “Who someone is dating? What someone is wearing? Who the fuck gave you that right?!”
The airport fell silent.
Then, she turned to Shivam, eyes still furious.
“And you. You’re the reason that kid got hurt. You let them chase you around like you’re some circus monkey.”
Shivam, instead of getting angry, grinned.
“Damn,” he muttered, rubbing his cheek. “You hit hard.”
Then, to everyone’s shock, he nodded in agreement.
“She’s right,” Shivam said, facing the reporters. “I’ve told you people a hundred fucking times—I want my private life to stay private. But you never listen.”
The reporters shifted uncomfortably.
Shivanshi’s voice dropped to a deadly whisper.
“If a single fucking word of this goes on air… I swear, I’ll make your lives worse than hell.”
Silence.
The reporters scrambled back, some muttering apologies.
As Shivanshi turned to leave, Shivam chuckled.
“You know… you’d get along with my cousin.”
She didn’t turn back.
“Not interested.”
Little did she know, fate had other plans.
