Sometimes, destiny doesn’t knock. It watches.
Author’s POV :
Agra looked different that night.
Golden lights wrapped the heritage hotel like a promise — expensive, polished, unreal.
The Rathore’s car stopped outside the heritage hotel, its golden lights glowing against the Agra night sky.
Inside, conversations flowed in polished English, expensive laughter mixing with the soft clink of glasses.
The Rathore family’s world was this ballroom: high ceilings, the dull clink of expensive ice, and conversations so polished they were slippery.
The Rathore family name echoed softly through the grand ballroom in Agra. Crystal chandeliers, silk gowns, quiet power in the air. She walked beside her father—Ashwin Rathore—calm, composed, dressed in elegance that didn’t scream for attention.
Business parties weren’t new to her. But tonight felt... different.
“Don’t wander off, Akshita, ”her father murmured, his tone soft but firm. “These smiles are for business, not friendship.”
She nodded calmly before speaking .
“I know, Papa”.
Malhotra& Sons had organized one of their most exclusive business soirées, and inside the ballroom, power spoke softly — in suits, smiles, and measured handshakes.
“Mr. Rathore,” (the host smiled warmly, stepping forward.
“I’m ” She paused just a second.“—Akshita.”
The host smiled wider. “Pleasure, Akshita”
She drifted slightly toward the buffet table, a small rebellion against the suffocating elegance. Her eyes scanned the elaborate spread—a feast that looked more like an art installation than actual food. She was looking for one thing: something real to eat, not just a cucumber canapé.
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Across the ballroom, a sudden stillness spread — subtle, almost unnoticeable. Heads turned. Voices dipped.
A subtle shift.
A silence that wasn’t silence.
“He’s here,” someone whispered.
“The CEO... ..Zafar Technologies.”
He entered without urgency. Black suit, sharp shoulders, composed face — the kind of man who didn’t need attention because attention followed him anyway.
She turned—not out of curiosity, but instinct.
Akshita: Jane do, baad me dekh lungi phele pet puja jaruri hai.
And then she again turned to the table for searching something to eat.
BUSINESSMAN 1:(Whispering) He’s here. The one everyone waits for.
BUSINESSMAN 2:Hamza Khan? Thought he wasn’t coming...
The silence wasn’t real, but the atmosphere pulled tight. Hamza Khan entered. CEO of Zafar Technologies.
BUSINESSMAN 3:(To Hamza) Welcome, Mr. Khan! It’s an honor.
HAMZA:(Smooth, controlled) Thank you. Just call me Hamza.
BUSINESSMAN 3:Of course. The merger talks went well, then? You always seem ten steps ahead.
HAMZA:(A small smirk ) In my world, you have to be. Losing focus means losing everything.
Mid-sentence, Hamza’s controlled gaze snagged. Not on a rival. Not on a deal.
It landed on her(Akshita).
She was standing by the table, a tiny, amused furrow in her brow as she rejected a mini-quiche and finally selected a single, humble cracker. Unfiltered. Unaware.
He just stare at her, how she keep thinking what to eat . A small smile tugged his face while murmuring.
“Kiddo”. he thought, a rare wave of indulgence washing over him. She has no idea.
ASHWIN RATHORE:(To a nearby acquaintance) My daughter, Akshita. Studying fashion design. Too creative for my own good, I tell her.
BUSINESSMAN 4:Beautiful, Ashwin. She’ll attract all the attention.
ASHWIN RATHORE: Akshita Come beta.
Akshita :Yes, Papa.
Ashwin: Mr. Khan , She is my daughter..
She finally looked up, sensing the weight of his stare. Their eyes met across the glittering room.
Dark. Intense. Unreadable.
She felt it like a hand on her throat—a sudden, shocking awareness. He was holding her focus hostage, and she didn’t know why.
She didn’t panic. She didn’t blush. She only tilted her chin.
Akshita:(Cutting her father off gently, never breaking eye contact with Hamza) Papa, I can speak for myself.
Then, to Hamza, she said, clearly:
Akshita: I’m Akshita Rathore. Fashion design student. And before you say a word... no, I’m not impressed by titles.
A beat of pure silence. Hamza’s dark eyes narrowed, but a genuine spark of interest—unwanted, unguarded lit up his face.
HAMZA:(His voice softening to a velvet murmur) You shouldn’t be. Titles are temporary.
That was the last thing she expected. The answer was too deep. Too true. A traitorous warmth touched her cheeks, but she composed herself and turned but before dismissing she said ──
Akshita:(Formally) I hope you enjoy your evening.
Hamza:(While looking in her eyes) I, am Ms. Rathore.
She walked away, melting back into the crowd beside her father. But as she moved, she risked one last glance.
Hamza stood perfectly still, his eyes fixed on the empty space she had just left. He hadn’t moved an inch.
God help me, he thought, a slow, predatory smile finally touching his lips. He ran the sound of her defiance through his mind. The way her eyes held fire.
“Ember” he murmured while smirking , his voice a promise.
He’d come here tonight to think like a strategist. Now, he was thinking like a man who had just found the one thing he never knew he needed.
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The night continued.
Deals discussed. Glasses refilled. Laughter exchanged.
Yet every few minutes, his eyes found her again.
And every time —
she was doing something unintentionally captivating.
When the party finally began to thin, Ashwin placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Let’s go.”
She nodded, taking one last glance around — and unknowingly, straight at him.
Their eyes met. This time, she didn’t look away immediately.
Just a beat too long.
His smile softened — barely there, restrained.
She turned, walking out beside her father, heels echoing into distance.
Hamza stayed where he was.
Watching.
When the doors closed behind them, he exhaled slowly, something settling deep in his chest.
A smile — quiet, knowing — touched his lips. He hadn’t come tonight to look for distraction.
Yet somehow, he’d found her.
And Hamza Khan never walked away from what he wanted.
Hey readers, this is my first novel so please give a try.
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