KavyaRaj Raichand

That evening, the black luxury car of KavyaRaj Raichand suddenly broke down in the middle of a silent mountain road, deep inside a snowfall-covered valley. He stepped out slowly — 25 years old, 6’2 tall, broad-shouldered, intensely masculine, the kind of man who looked like he was carved out of silence and power. The sole heir of Raichand Industries… and the only one left after the tragic death of his twin brothers. His face held control, but his eyes carried something darker — loss, and a storm that never truly rested. The cold wind cut through the air as snow drifted down, and in the distance, a small tea stall glowed warmly under dim yellow lights. KavyaRaj lifted his gaze… and that’s when he saw her. A girl sitting beside the stall, wrapped in a red dupatta, sketching quietly in her notebook as if the world didn’t exist. Her accessories spoke before she ever could — big jhumkas, bangles, anklets, a delicate oxidised silver nosepin, and those smokey kajal-lined eyes that looked like they had stories of their own. Anjali Shukla. KavyaRaj’s steps froze. And then… she looked up. In that first glance, everything stopped. The snowfall, the silence, even time itself. Two strangers, struck speechless — not by words, but by something sharper… fate. No introduction. No reason. Just the sudden, undeniable feeling that this meeting wasn’t an accident. It was the beginning.