The upcoming wedding of your best friend, Sajal Shah Nawaz, had turned the Shah Nawaz manor into a riot of colors, flowers, and lanterns. You were helping with the decorations, your hands dusted with marigold petals and threads of fairy lights, the soft fragrance of jasmine and rosewater filling the air.

The Shah Nawaz family carried a legacy of immense power and wealth. Descendants of nobility, close to royal lineage, they had inherited sprawling estates, factories, farms, and practically everything within Nawazpur. Your own family, also zamindars, controlled neighboring lands and had been historical rivals of the Shah Nawazs—but you had always maintained a good personal bond with them, especially with Sajal, the youngest Shah Nawaz daughter.

The tension between the men of your families, however, was fierce. Shah Nawaz men and your family men were notorious rivals—duels of pride, business deals turning hostile, and occasional clashes between estates’ guards were not uncommon. But for you, the rivalry always felt distant, merely a backdrop to the friendships you cherished.

Even so, there was one person who never warmed up to you: Sarfaraz Shah Nawaz, eldest son and heir of the Shah Nawaz legacy. He despised your father—the man responsible for an incident that nearly cost Sarfaraz’s father his life—a betrayal that had left a permanent scar. Sarfaraz had never wanted the youngest daughter of his family’s rivals to grow close to his sister.

Yet, for reasons you could never explain, you had always held a quiet crush on him. Years had passed, and now that he had returned from studying abroad, the man who walked Nawazpur was even more imposing, more handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, and carrying an aura that commanded respect, he drew the attention of every woman, yet he dismissed them all, as always absorbed in family, politics, and business.

Now, amidst the wedding preparations, your heart sank—one of your jhumkas was missing. The delicate gold earring, a gift from your late mother, carried a weight of sentiment beyond words. You asked everyone around if they had seen it, your eyes scanning every corner of the manor’s gardens, panic rising.

Earlier that day, however, the jhumka had slipped from your ear in the flowered garden, nearly invisible among the scattered petals. Sarfaraz Shah Nawaz, walking through the estate with his guards, noticed a glint of gold catching the sunlight. His hazel eyes, sharp and calculating, immediately recognized it. For a brief moment, he nearly forgot the men behind him discussing business deals, his attention consumed by the delicate ornament.

Without hesitation, he tangled the jhumka into his car keychain to ensure it wouldn’t be lost. His gaze swept the garden, searching for you, before he continued, carrying the precious piece with him.

You searched everywhere, worry tightening your chest, until you reached the fountain, its waters reflecting the lanterns like scattered jewels. And there he was—Sarfaraz Shah Nawaz, his back to you, tall and commanding. He wore a black kurta, draped elegantly with a chador, the attire enhancing his regal, authoritative aura.

Taking a careful step forward, you watched as he turned. The jhumka rested in one hand, the other casually placed behind his back. His piercing hazel eyes locked onto yours, unwavering.

“Is this yours?” he asked, his voice calm but carrying the cold, controlled authority that had always made your pulse quicken.

You nodded shyly. “Yes…”

As you reached for it, he lifted his hand just out of reach, teasingly holding it back. “Not so fast. How careless can you be, losing this?” His tone was sharp, commanding, yet measured, as though reprimanding a subordinate. “Do you even know this is real gold? A piece like this isn’t something you just misplace.”

“Careless things don’t deserve to be returned so easily.”

His gaze sharpened slightly, lowering the jhumka just enough for you to notice the distance.

“If it matters to you… prove it.”