The path to success is paved with friends, but true triumph demands enemies.
Shivaay Singh Oberoi’s voice resonated with cold ambition. “I will exploit the Singhanias’ affection for their daughter, use her as a pawn, and elevate the Oberoi Empire beyond their reach. I swear revenge for the betrayals thirty years past.”
Unaware of the darkness descending upon her life, a young woman waited for her promised prince. Instead, she would find herself shattered by a man who wouldn’t even warrant her scorn. Dressed in wedding hues, she wore bangles chiming with every movement, her neck adorned with her mother’s jewels, her legs graced with the anklets her brothers had placed with protective hands. It was a traditional Indian wedding, steeped in ritual and hope.
The ceremony marked the union of rivals, their heirs bound by a love that had blossomed in college. It was a difficult decision for both families, but they believed love could overcome any obstacle. But would it? Would peace truly prevail?
“Anika, I know you love Shivaay, and I believe he loves you too,” Arnav Singhania, her brother, said softly. “But if you ever need help, your brothers will always be here for you.”
“I know, Bhaiya,” she replied, her voice filled with trust. “Shivaay will always be my strength.” They embraced, a final moment of innocent warmth. Anika didn’t know that the man she believed to be her protector would soon become her destroyer.
The Oberoi procession arrived at the Singhania mansion, Shivaay riding in the most opulent car. Vinay Singhania greeted them warmly, embracing Tej Oberoi with genuine affection.
“I never imagined our children would bring us together like this,” Vinay said with a smile.
“Nor did I,” Tej replied, Jhanvi offering a subtle smile beside him. “Time slips away before we know it.”
As per tradition, Shivaay was welcomed with playful rituals, his feet washed by the sisters-in-law who demanded money in return.
Arnav and Abhay joined the procession, adding to the festive atmosphere. Abhay turned to Shivaay’s sisters-in-law and cousins. “Demand whatever Shivaay promised you.”
“Jiju,” they replied, “we don’t want money. Promise us that you will always love and protect Anika.”
“You don’t need to ask,” Shivaay answered, his voice laced with a false sincerity. “Anika will be the most special person in my life.” He murmured under his breath, "She will face my wrath and fake love simultaneously."
On the mandap, the priest began the chants. Shivaay felt suffocated. He was marrying her to enact revenge, to seize their entire property. He felt no personal animosity towards Anika herself—she had always been the one to shower him with affection. He reciprocated, but with cold calculation.
“Don’t you feel anything for her?” his own mind taunted him.
“She is nothing to me,” he forced himself to think. He went through the rituals with detached indifference.
His brothers, Omkara and Rudra, were oblivious to his deception. They were unaware of the plan he and his father had concocted to destroy the Singhanias, mirroring the devastation caused by the Kalyani Mill Incident.
Anika descended the stairs, her face veiled, revealing only her luminous eyes. Even Shivaay, hardened by ambition, felt a tremor within him. Every time she came near, his heart skipped a beat. Today, she was breathtakingly beautiful. His gaze lingered on her, unable to look away.
“Brother, don’t stare so much,” Rudra teased, earning a chuckle from Omkara. “She’ll be yours after the wedding.”
Anika sat beside Shivaay, the love of her life. The main ritual began, and they recited the seven vows. She embraced each promise with her whole heart.
Shivaay filled her sindoor partition with vermillion, and she closed her eyes in contentment. He placed the mangalsutra around her neck, a symbol of their marital bond and a promise of unwavering loyalty.
“Vivah Sampurna hua!” The priest declared.
Anika’s life was complete. She was now Mrs. Anika Shivaay Singh Oberoi.