5:47 AM.
Mumbai was still dark.
The Singhaniya mansion was still quiet.
And Vihaan Singhaniya was exactly where he intended to stay for at least another hour —
Flat on his stomach. Dead to the world. One arm hanging off the edge of his bed, black silk sheets tangled somewhere around his waist, the rest of him completely, unapologetically bare.
6'2 of pure, unfair genetics.
The kind of unfair that made people do a double take and then immediately pretend they hadn't.
The kind that existed completely unaware of itself — which somehow made it worse.
His room was large, immaculate, and dark — blackout curtains doing exactly what they were paid to do. His phone sat face down on the nightstand. His watch — the one that cost more than most people's cars — sat beside it. His jaw was relaxed for once, that perpetual sharp edge softened in sleep, dark lashes fanned against his cheekbones, black hair slightly dishevelled and somehow still annoyingly perfect.
Vihaan Singhaniya at rest looked like a problem.
Vihaan Singhaniya awake was someone else's problem entirely.
For now though —
Silence.
Peace.
Bliss.
Then —
BANG.
The door flew open with the energy of someone who had absolutely zero respect for 5:47 AM or the concept of personal space.
"VIHAAN. UTHHHH."
Ishaan Malhotra — 6'0, gym bag on one shoulder, protein shake already in hand, looking aggressively awake for a time that should be illegal — stood in the doorway like he owned the place.
He did not own the place.
He behaved like he did anyway.
Vihaan didn't move.
Didn't even flinch.
One eye opened. Slowly. Dangerously.
"Ishaan."
"Vihaan."
"Agar tu abhi is room se nahi gaya —"
"Gym time hai." Ishaan said cheerfully, completely unbothered, walking in uninvited because of course he did, "5:47. Hum 6 baje jaate hain. Uthh."
"Hum 6 baje jaate hain." Vihaan repeated, voice still rough with sleep, face still buried in his pillow, "Mere ghar mein tu itne aaram se kaise ghus aata hai roz."
"Meri pyaari meera maa mujhe kisi chiz k liye nahi rokti."
A pause.
"...Woh meri maa hai ya teri?"
"Dono ki." Ishaan said simply, dropping into the chair in the corner like he lived there, "Black Coffee bhi bheji hai unhone. Table par rakkhi hai."
Vihaan finally moved.
Slowly. Grudgingly. With the energy of someone personally wronged by the existence of morning.
Vihaan sat at the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, running a hand through his hair — which somehow settled back into place like it had been styled, because of course it did — and reached for the coffee his mother had sent up.
Hazel eyes, still heavy with sleep, landed on Ishaan with an expression that was somewhere between fond and murderous.
"Tu seriously meri zindagi ka sabse bada problem hai."
"Aur phir bhi tu mujhe rokta nahi." Ishaan grinned.
"Kyunki teri maa mujhe ghar se nikal degi."
"Fair point."
Vihaan drank his coffee in silence for a moment. The kind of silence that only existed between people who had known each other long enough to not need words to fill it.
Outside, Mumbai was slowly waking up.
The faint sounds of the city drifting up even through the blackout curtains — horns, birds, the distant rhythm of a city that never really slept.
"Aaj kya plan hai?" Vihaan asked finally, setting the empty cup down.
"Gym. Office. Aur —" Ishaan paused, very casually, the kind of casual that was deeply suspicious, "Aaj raat ek celebration hai."
Vihaan looked at him.
"Nahi."
"Tune abhi suna bhi nahi —"
"Nahi."
"Vihaan —"
"Ishaan." Flat. Final. The voice that ended meetings and made board members nervous. "Nahi."
Ishaan leaned forward, completely unintimidated because six years, "Kyra ki bestie ko job mili. Singhaniya Tech mein." A meaningful pause. "Teri company mein. Celebration club mein hai aaj raat. Hum ja rahe hain."
"Tum ja rahe ho." Vihaan corrected, standing up, stretching — and Ishaan found the ceiling very interesting suddenly, "Main nahi ja raha."
"Vihaan —"
"Mujhe reports dekhni hain —"
"Friday raat ko?"
"Haan."
"Tu 28 saal ka hai ya 58 ka?" Ishaan stood too, exasperated, "Kab se hai yeh reports wali zindagi teri? Pehle toh —"
"Pehle alag tha." Vihaan said simply. Not defensive. Just fact.
Ishaan looked at him for a moment.
Then — "Kyra ne personally bola hai ki tu aaye. Ab bhabi k saamne bezatti ho jaayegi acha lagega kya tujhe.. haa —"
"THEEK HAI."
Ishaan's grin was slow and deeply satisfied.
"Club. Aaj raat. 9 baje."
"8." Vihaan said, pulling out his gym vest from the wardrobe — black, fitted, the kind of simple that looked effortless because it was, "Aur main 11 baje wapas aa jaunga."
"Bilkul." Ishaan agreed immediately.
Too immediately.
Vihaan narrowed his eyes.
"Ishaan."
"Haan?"
"11 baje."
"Haan haan. 11 baje." Ishaan picked up his gym bag, heading for the door, smile firmly in place, "Ab chal. Late ho rahe hain."
Vihaan looked at him for one long suspicious moment.
Then pulled his vest on, grabbed his phone, and followed.
He did not know — could not have known — that 11 baje aana was the least of his problems tonight.
The mansion was already alive when they came downstairs.
This was the thing about Singhaniya household — it did not ease into mornings. It launched into them. Fully. Enthusiastically. Without warning.
The smell of chai and parathas hit them at the top of the stairs.
Then the sounds —
"ANAYA TUNE MERA CHARGER LIYA —"
"MAINE NAHI LIYA —"
"TERA PHONE 100% PAR THA KAL RAAT —"
"COINCIDENCE HAI —"
"COINCIDENCE?! ANAYA —"
Vihaan and Ishaan exchanged a look at the bottom of the stairs.
"Tom aur Jerry." Ishaan said solemnly.
"Roz." Vihaan agreed, equally solemn.
They walked into the kitchen.
Aryan Singhaniya — 24, lean, Vihaan's face but with more mischief and significantly less intimidation — was standing at the kitchen island pointing at his younger sister with the energy of a man deeply wronged.
Anaya Singhaniya — 21, sharp eyes, the kind of pretty that came with the complete awareness of being the most dangerous person in any room — was eating her breakfast with magnificent unbothered energy, phone in hand, not even looking up.
"Bhaiyaaa." Aryan immediately turned to Vihaan, "Dekho iska —"
"Maine nahi liya." Anaya said, still not looking up.
"Tune liya —"
"Prove karo."
"ANAYA —"
"ARYAN." Vihaan's voice. Calm. Final. The referee had entered the building. "Apna charger dhoondho khud. Anaya agar tune liya hai toh wapas karo. Dono chup."
Silence.
Immediate, absolute silence.
Aryan opened his mouth.
"Chup." Vihaan said without looking at him.
Aryan closed his mouth.
Anaya finally looked up from her phone — caught Ishaan's eye — and smiled the smile of someone who had absolutely taken the charger and had zero regrets about it.
Ishaan pressed his lips together very hard.
"Ishaan bhaiya aap bhi aa gaye!" Anaya immediately brightened, because Ishaan was safe, Ishaan could be charmed, "COFFEE loge?"
"Zaroor." Ishaan sat down like he lived there.
"Mera charger —" Aryan started again.
"Aryan beta." Meera Singhaniya's voice floated from the stove where she was making parathas with the energy of a woman who had raised these three and was completely at peace with the chaos, "Kal raat tune khud living room mein charge pe lagaya tha. Woh abhi bhi wahan hoga."
Dead silence.
Aryan slowly turned toward the living room.
Came back thirty seconds later.
Charger in hand.
Said absolutely nothing.
Anaya's smile widened by approximately three centimetres.
"Anaya." Vihaan said quietly, not even looking up from his phone.
The smile disappeared.
Meera turned from the stove and her face did what it always did when she saw her eldest — softened completely, that particular brand of mother-love that had no off switch.
“Vihaan. Breakfast karke jaoge na?”
“Maa, gym ke baad—”
“Ek paratha. Bas ek. Protein chahiye.”
Vihaan sighed, sat down, and stole Aryan’s plate. “Protein chahiye gym ke liye.” He said it in Meera’s exact tone.
The table erupted. Even Rajveer’s newspaper shook slightly.
Rajveer sat at the head of the table, newspaper open, reading glasses on, the picture of a man completely uninvolved in morning proceedings.
He was completely involved in morning proceedings.
"Papa." Vihaan said, sitting down beside him.
"Hm." Rajveer turned a page.
"Aaj mumma kuch jyaada hi glow nahi kr rhi? Inki umar toh badne ki jagah ghate hi jaarhi h na.. "
"Oh, you missed your chance son... She is already taken" Rajveer said, still reading, "Try somewhere else."
"Me bas thoda late hogya n aane me nahi toh mumma mujhe hi choose karti aapke badle hai na maa." he said smoothly, leaning back.
Meera swatted him playfully. “Bas kar, nautanki.”
"Arey, sach keh raha hu."
Rajveer lowered his paper, deadpan. “ab gym nahi jaana aapko ceo sahab jo meri biwi se flirt kr rhe ho. Jaao nikalo jaldi.”
Vihaan smirked. “Ha ha jaa rha hu Insecure q horhe ho.”
Rajveer shook his head, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
"Maa —" Aryan leaned forward with the energy of someone with important information, "Aapko pata hai Vihaan bhaiya aaj raat club ja rahe hain?"
Everyone looked at Vihaan.
Vihaan looked at Aryan with an expression that promised consequences.
Aryan looked back with the innocence of a man with nothing to lose.
"Club?" Meera raised an eyebrow at her eldest.
"Ishaan ka plan hai —" Vihaan started.
"Mera nahi, tera bhi hai —" Ishaan said immediately.
"Jao jao." Meera waved her hand, smiling, "Ghar mein band rehta hai hamesha. Thoda bahar enjoy karlo but haa Seedha ghar aana. Late mat karna."
"Maa main 28 saal ka hoon —"
"Aur main teri maa hoon. Late mat karna."
"Ha Mumma." Aryan said enthusiastically,
"Bilkul sahi kaha —"
"Aryan." Vihaan said quietly.
"Bhaiya."
"Teri bike lagta hai leni padegi mujhe"
"Main chup hoon." Aryan said immediately.
Anaya lost it laughing.
Meera shook her head smiling, refilling everyone's chai, the morning noise wrapping around the table like it always did — warm and chaotic and completely, perfectly them.
Vihaan sat in the middle of it all.
The referee. The eldest. The one they all looked to.
And for a moment — just a moment — something quiet settled in his chest.
This. This was the part of his life nobody saw. No board meetings, no cold emails, no CEO title attached to his name.
Just this table. This noise. These people.
---------------------------------------
Singhaniya Tech.
9th floor. Corner office.
Floor to ceiling glass. Mumbai skyline stretched out below like it had been placed there specifically for his view. The office was immaculate — clean lines, dark wood, nothing out of place. A nameplate on the desk that read simply —
VIHAAN SINGHANIYA
CEO
The man himself sat behind it.
And this Vihaan —
This was a different creature entirely.
Gone was the boy who stole his brother's paratha and made his mother laugh.
Gone was the man who let Ishaan drag him out of bed at 5:47 AM.
This was the man who had built an empire at 28.
Who walked into boardrooms and made people sit up straighter without saying a word.
Who had taken Singhaniya Tech from a mid-level firm to Mumbai's most reputed tech conglomerate in four years — through sheer, relentless, brutal intelligence.
Sharp jaw set. Hazel eyes cold and focused. Every movement deliberate. Every word chosen.
His assistant had learned in the first week — you did not waste Vihaan Singhaniya's time. You came prepared. You spoke clearly. You left when dismissed.
The ones who forgot this lesson learned it only once.
He was halfway through the Singapore expansion brief when his phone buzzed.
Ishaan: aaj raat. 9 baje. Mat bhoolna.
Ishaan: aur please koi emergency meeting mat banana khud se
Ishaan: main jaanta hoon tujhe
Vihaan stared at the messages.
Then at the brief.
Then at the Mumbai skyline outside his window.
He thought about Ishaan's face if he cancelled.
He thought about the quarterly reports still sitting in his drawer.
He thought about the last three Friday nights he had spent in this exact chair staring at exactly these reports.
He typed back —
Vihaan: 11 baje wapas aa jaunga
Ishaan's reply was immediate —
Ishaan: BILKUL 😊
That smile emoji was doing a lot of suspicious work.
Vihaan set his phone face down.
Looked at the brief.
Picked up his pen.
Fine. He thought. Ek ghanta. Do ghante maximum. Phir wapas.
Simple. Controlled. Exactly as planned.
Outside his window, Mumbai glittered in the late afternoon sun, completely indifferent t
o the plans of one Vihaan Singhaniya.
The city, after all, had seen enough to know —
Plans had a way of falling apart.
Especially on nights you least expected it.
---------------------------------------
Helloooo my cute little butterflies! 🦋❤️
Vihaan Singhaniya has entered the chat.
I hope you liked the chapter
See you in Chapter 3
Tab tak ke liye VOTE KARO ⭐
Write a comment ...