The soft morning light filtered through the grand windows of Ridhima Rajawat's room, casting a golden glow across the ornate furnishings. The faint scent of jasmine lingered in the air, mingling with the early chirps of birds beyond the silk-curtained balcony.
Ridhima stirred, her dark kohl-lined eyes blinking awake. Her movements were measured, elegant even in the simple task of rising from bed. Discipline had long been ingrained in her; no moment of her life was without purpose. She slid her feet into velvet slippers and walked toward the mirror, where her reflection greeted her — poised and composed as always.
With practiced grace, she selected a handwoven emerald-green saree from her meticulously arranged wardrobe. The fabric gleamed subtly under the morning light, understated yet luxurious. She draped it over her shoulder, fastening a delicate diamond brooch near her collarbone. Her long, wavy hair fell down her back as she pinned a few strands away from her face.
A soft knock interrupted the tranquil morning ritual.
"Didi, breakfast is ready," came the respectful voice of a servant.
"I'll be there shortly," Ridhima replied, her voice calm yet commanding.
As she descended the marble staircase, the aroma of freshly brewed chai and warm parathas filled the air. The Rajawat family dining room was a blend of tradition and grandeur — intricate carvings on the walls, crystal chandeliers glistening overhead, and a long mahogany table adorned with silverware.
Her family was already seated, waiting for her arrival, as was customary. Her father, Vijendra Rajawat, the formidable patriarch with salt-and-pepper hair and a regal bearing, sat at the head of the table. Beside him was her mother, Kusum Rajawat, the graceful matriarch who ruled the household with a gentle but firm hand.
Ridhima's three younger sisters sat on either side, each embodying a unique spirit.
Devika, the bold and fearless creative director of Rajawat Luxe Ventures, wore a sleek pantsuit, her expressive eyes brimming with ideas even this early in the morning. She had a knack for turning the ordinary into the extraordinary, a visionary in the world of luxury design.
Next to her was Meera, the compassionate cardiologist whose calm demeanor masked an unyielding passion for saving lives. Her soft smile carried a warmth that made patients and family alike feel at ease. Even now, her neatly tied hair and minimal makeup spoke of her disciplined medical lifestyle.
On the far side sat Aarini, the tech genius with a penchant for solving complex problems. Her casual attire of jeans and a graphic tee clashed delightfully with the traditional setting, but no one minded—Aarini's brilliance was her own kind of sophistication.
"Good morning, Didi," Devika greeted with a mischievous smile. "Taking your royal time, as always."
Ridhima arched a brow but smiled faintly. "Some of us prefer to start the day with elegance, not chaos."
"Elegance suits you," Meera said softly, pouring tea into a delicate porcelain cup for Ridhima.
"Efficiency suits me better," Aarini quipped, her fingers already tapping away on her smartwatch.
Their father cleared his throat, his commanding voice cutting through the playful banter. "Good. Everyone's here. Let's eat."
As they began breakfast, Ridhima glanced around the table. This was her kingdom — not just the vast empire of Rajawat Tea Industries but this family, bound by tradition and love. Each sister had carved her own path, just as she had done. Yet the weight of responsibility still rested heavily on her shoulders.
And today was just another day to carry that weight with grace.
As the breakfast plates clattered and chai cups were passed around, Devika set down her glass with a confident thud.
"So, I'll be out of Jaipur for six days," she announced casually. "There's a big project site inspection for Rajawat Luxe Ventures."
Ridhima raised a brow, sipping her tea. "Six days? I hope you're carrying my mind and not your aggressive attitude, Devika."
The room fell into a brief silence as Devika's eyes glinted with playful defiance. Two seconds passed before she shrugged.
"No, not at all. It's just business this time," she replied with an innocent smirk that no one bought.
Before Ridhima could respond, the shrill buzz of a phone broke the moment. Meera's brow furrowed as she answered the call. Her face tensed.
"A minister's had a major heart attack. I need to get to the hospital," she said urgently, already rising from her seat.
Kusum Rajawat's voice followed her like a plea. "Beta, at least finish your breakfast—"
"I can't, Ma. They need me,"Meera said briskly, gathering her bag and rushing toward the door.
The clinking of silverware resumed as Aarini, ever the efficient one, polished off her breakfast without fuss.
"I'm off to college," she announced. "Final year projects are piling up."
Her tech gadgets jingling, Aarini was out the door in moments, leaving Ridhima alone at the table with her parents.
Her father, Vijendra Rajawat, folded the newspaper and cleared his throat, his tone serious.
"Ridhima, it's time you start thinking about marriage. I believe this is the right time."
The words hung in the air, heavy and inevitable.
Ridhima felt a wave of confusion rise within her, but she kept her composure, as she always did. She set her cup down gently.
"Whatever you think is best, Papa," she said calmly. "But I won't compromise on my career."
Her father nodded, understanding but firm. "We'll find someone who respects that."
The unspoken expectations weighed on Ridhima, but she masked it well. Rising from her seat, she adjusted the pleats of her saree.
"I should get to the office," she said quietly, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her mind.
With a polite nod to her parents, she walked out, the sound of her heels echoing in the grand hall.
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