Raghav sat in his glass-walled cabin, the city’s skyline stretching behind him. Files were stacked neatly on his mahogany desk, but his focus was on the slim folder his assistant had just placed before him.

“Sir, the basic background check you asked for,” the assistant said carefully, sensing the unusual seriousness in his boss’s tone.

Raghav gave a curt nod, dismissing him with a wave. Once the door clicked shut, he opened the folder. The name on top—Aanya Mehta.

He read line by line, his architect’s eye scanning as though reviewing a blueprint.

“Masters in Accounts … financial analyst at a reputed small firm in delhi … father runs a family-owned business… mother homemaker…brother softwere enginier lives in uk .”

His gaze lingered on one line longer than the rest.

Marital Status: Divorced.

Raghav leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen against the folder. Divorced. The word felt heavier than the paper it was printed on. His brows drew together. But no reason mentioned.

He flipped through again, searching for more, but the file was silent on that detail. His jaw tightened—he hated incomplete information. He wasn’t a man who believed in half-truths.

“Interesting…” he murmured under his breath.

Closing the file, he rested his elbows on the desk, fingers steepled. Divorce wasn’t a dealbreaker, he told himself rationally. But it was a question mark. A question mark he needed answered but for that he can wait.

Calling his mom, he said, “i am ready we can meet them remember mom i only said yes for meeting not for marriage thaugh.”

“ok beta i will inform them ,” his mother said .

As he cut the line, Raghav’s eyes drifted once more to Aanya’s photograph clipped inside the folder. A quiet woman, her eyes holding a trace of something unspoken—strength or sorrow, he couldn’t decide.

That evening, Aanya’s mother walked into her room carrying a neatly printed sheet in her hand.

“Aanya beta, this is the boy’s bio-data,” she said softly, placing it on the table. “His name is Raghav Malhotra. He lives in Mumbai, handles a reputed business firm. His mother spoke to me today… they’re interested.”

Aanya looked at the sheet silently. She noticed the basic details—age, height, education, profession. It was all very precise, clinical, with no frills. Her lips curved into a half-smile. “It feels like I’m reading a resume, not about a person I might marry,” she thought but didn’t voice it out.

Her mother added gently, “Just go through it once. If you feel okay, I will tell his mother. Then they will take the next step.”

Aanya nodded, but her mind drifted. Marriage… again. A second chance. Her mother’s hopeful eyes forced her to whisper, “Alright, Maa. I’ll see.”

Raghav mom called and informed his aunt to inform the family that they are ready to take this ahead raghav is ready to meet the girl and her family if everything is ok from there end they might came to delhi this weekend . raghav aunt said she will talk to her sister in low and let the family know

The living room was filled with a quiet warmth as Raghav, his mother, and his aunt settled on the sofa. Little Aakira sat perched on Raghav’s lap, wide-eyed at the new surroundings, clutching a small soft toy.

Initially, Raghav’s mother had suggested leaving the child back at the hotel with her nanny, but Raghav had refused gently yet firmly. “She’s a part of me,” he had said, and no one argued further.

Now, as tea and snacks were served, Aanya’s father engaged Raghav in a composed conversation.

“So, Raghav ji, I’ve read about your ventures. You handle quite a wide range of businesses?”

“Yes, uncle,” Raghav replied politely. “Our base has always been infrastructure, but lately I’ve been diversifying into IT services and renewable energy. There’s a lot of scope, especially in international markets.”

“Hmm, impressive,” Aanya’s father nodded with interest. “And what’s your view on the recent policy changes? Especially regarding foreign investments?”

Raghav leaned slightly forward, his voice measured. “Policies are changing fast. Some in our favor, some that need long-term adjustment. But I believe, if you move with strategy, there’s always growth even in challenges.”

The men continued briefly on politics and economy, while Raghav’s mother and aunt exchanged warm, polite words with Aanya’s parents, asking about their family and background in more detail. The atmosphere was cordial, yet layered with the natural curiosity and cautiousness of a first formal meeting.

After some time, Aanya’s father turned toward his wife. “Why don’t you bring Aanya?”

She smiled softly, hiding her nervousness, and went upstairs.

Up in her room, Aanya sat before her dressing table, already prepared in a soft-colored saree that highlighted her grace. She adjusted her earrings absentmindedly, lost in thought, when the door creaked open. Her mother stepped in. For a moment, her eyes grew moist seeing her daughter—so composed, so ready, yet carrying so much unspoken strength.

Walking closer, she placed a gentle hand on Aanya’s shoulder. “You look beautiful, beta,” she whispered, her voice tinged with emotion.

Aanya smiled faintly at her reflection and then turned toward her mother. Without exchanging many words, they both understood the weight of the moment.

Together, they descended the staircase. The quiet sound of their footsteps drew everyone’s eyes toward them, and the atmosphere in the hall shifted, expectant yet respectful.