The next morning, Aryan woke before sunrise, as always. His parents' mansion was quiet at that hour. Birds chirped outside, servants moved softly through corridors, and the smell of coffee filled the kitchen.
Aryan stood on the balcony, shirt sleeves rolled, watching the sun climb slowly. He had seen sunrises from many places—Seoul rooftops, Istanbul docks, Tokyo highways, and London bridges. But in India, it felt different. Warmer. Softer. Dangerous in its own way.
His phone vibrated.
A message from Korea:
"Board approves new shipping acquisition. Europe agrees. Profit margin +6%."
Business never slept. Aryan liked that.
He typed a quick response and pocketed the phone.
Mom walked out with two coffee cups.
"You're working already?" she asked.
"I never stopped," Aryan replied.
She handed him a cup and stood beside him. For a moment, they did not speak. Parents understood silence better than words.
"You saw Nithya yesterday," she finally said.
Aryan did not react. "Yes."
"She is a rare girl," Mom continued. "Quiet, clever, respectful."
Respectful. Aryan smiled inside. Nithya was respectful only to the people she chose. Yesterday he saw a different quality—confidence without arrogance. That was more dangerous than respect.
"What do you think of her?" Mom asked slowly.
Aryan hated that question. Opinions were for emotional people. He dealt in decisions.
But his parents were the only people he allowed to ask.
"She is interesting," he said. "Different from others."
Mom hid her smile behind the cup. "Hmm. Her father is looking for a good match."
Aryan paused.
"A match," he repeated calmly.
"Yes," Mom said. "But he doesn't want a normal boy. He wants someone with power. Someone who can protect her future."
Power. Protection. Those were Aryan's languages.
Mom looked at him carefully. "You know… it doesn't have to be complicated."
Aryan turned his head slightly. His voice was low.
"When I choose something… I take it."
Mom understood immediately. Sons did not have to say everything aloud.
Later that afternoon, relatives gathered for lunch. Nithya arrived with her parents. She wore a simple blue kurta this time, hair tied back, no jewelry except small earrings. But simplicity never reduced her presence.
Aryan noticed how she entered the hall—slow, observant, aware. She greeted elders, listened politely, and sat where she could see the entire room. Smart positioning. Leaders always sat like that.
Nithya's father joined Aryan's parents for conversation.
"She's finishing her Business Management degree soon," he explained proudly. "She wants to study abroad next. Maybe Korea or Singapore. We're deciding."
Aryan's mother smiled. "Korea is a good place. Safe. Clean. And full of opportunity."
Nithya looked up for a second. Her calm eyes met Aryan's across the table. She did not look away quickly. She held the gaze for one heartbeat… two… then continued eating.
Aryan rested his fingers on the table, thoughts moving fast.
He did not believe in coincidences.
If destiny pushed someone into his path twice, it meant something.
After lunch, relatives gathered in the living room for tea. Children played loudly, elders discussed marriage and business, and teenagers took selfies for Instagram.
Nithya's father suddenly asked, "So, Aryan beta… your business? It's going very well, I hear?"
Aryan nodded once. "Yes."
"What field?" he pressed.
Aryan answered smoothly. "International trade. Finance. Technology. Shipping."
All true—just not the whole truth.
"Impressive," Nithya's father said. "Maybe Nithya can learn from people like you."
Aryan's mother whispered sharply,
"She can learn with him, not from him."
Everyone paused.
Even Aryan looked at his mother.
Her words carried weight. She did not speak casually. She was making a point.
Nithya blinked, surprised but not shy. "Learn with?" she repeated softly.
Aryan's father chuckled. "Your parents and we discussed old matters yesterday. Childhood friendships, family ties… and future alliances."
Future alliances.
In businessman language, that meant marriage.
Nithya straightened her back. Her voice calm:
"Did you ask for my opinion?"
Silence. The hall froze. Elders did not expect questions like that.
Aryan, however, smiled faintly inside.
That was the Devil speaking—polite, fearless, intelligent.
"You can say no," Aryan said quietly, breaking the tension.
Nithya turned her head slightly to him. "And if I say yes?"
Aryan leaned forward just a little, voice steady and dominant.
"Then it won't remain a discussion. It will become a decision."
A shiver ran through the room. Not from fear—
from certainty.
Because when the Eagle decided something, the world adjusted.
Nithya didn't smile. She didn't blush. She only nodded once.
"Then let me think."
Aryan respected that.
Only powerful people asked for time.
What Nithya didn't know was that Aryan never waited long.
And what Aryan didn't know was that Nithya never obeyed easily.
The Eagle had chosen.
But the Devil would choose too.
And when two predators chose each other, it would not be love at first sight—
It would be war at first decision.