Ajay Choudhary clenched his fists as he watched Anaya run towards Ayaan with that bright, genuine smile. The warmth in her eyes—the excitement—was something he had never seen directed toward anyone before. Especially not him.
It was as if, in that single moment, the entire hall had turned against him, making him the fool. He had always been the one in control, the one admired, but today, in front of so many people, he had been humiliated.
Ajay prided himself on his charisma. With his tall, athletic build and sharp features, he had always been the center of attention. His college days were filled with admirers, people fawning over him, and even offers from the film industry. Directors had approached him, praising his looks and screen presence, trying to lure him into their world. But acting had never been his primary goal—his ambitions lay elsewhere, in something far grander.
Coming from a family with a strong political background, Ajay had been raised with power in mind. His father, Bhanupratap Choudhary, had been one of the strongest opposition leaders in the last presidential elections. Though they had lost, their influence remained significant. Behind the scenes, they still controlled many key figures, waiting for the next opportunity to rise. Politics was a game of patience, and Ajay had been taught to play it well.
In college, he was more than just another rich heir—he was a force to be reckoned with. The campus adored him, and women sought him out, drawn to his confidence and status. He had experienced countless relationships, each fleeting, each superficial. He had never needed to chase after someone—until Anaya.
The moment he laid eyes on her, he knew she was different. She wasn't like the others who eagerly fell into his grasp. She didn't seek his attention, didn't try to impress him. Instead, she was focused—too focused—on her own ambitions. That intrigued him. It was her indifference that made her stand out, and for the first time, he found himself in unfamiliar territory.
He watched her participate in singing competitions, dedicating herself fully to her passion. At first, he only observed her out of curiosity, but slowly, admiration crept in. He wanted her—not just as another conquest, but as someone who would willingly choose him. He had given subtle hints, provided opportunities, but she never seemed to respond the way he expected. Instead, she remained distant, immersed in her world of music.
Ajay had always believed that everyone had a price, that with the right approach, anyone could be won over. Yet Anaya remained unattainable. That alone made her more desirable in his eyes. And now, seeing her run toward Ayaan, seeing her light up at his presence—it made something inside him snap.
"Anaya, these flowers are for you," he said smoothly, stepping forward with confidence. A beautiful bouquet, carefully chosen, extended toward her as if it were an unspoken invitation.
Anaya turned to look at him, her face unreadable for a brief moment. Then, without warning, she took the bouquet—and hurled it back at his face.
The crowd gasped, and Ajay froze, the sharp sting of humiliation cutting through him. Anaya's glare was filled with an intensity he had never seen before. "Don't ever try this again," she snapped before spinning on her heel and dashing toward a stranger who he never met.
Ajay barely registered the whispers around him, his mind clouded with one overwhelming question—why?
Why did she reject him, the man who had chased after her?
He had status, wealth, and influence. He was the kind of man most women dreamed of being with. He had given her attention that many others craved. Then why did she throw him aside so easily, without a second thought?
Why did she run to that man?
By judging that unknown stranger was no one—he lacked financial power, political, or even striking looks compared to him. Yet Anaya had dashed toward him with a look of pure happiness. What did he have that Ajay didn't? Why was she drawn to him?
Ajay clenched his fists. Up until now, he had only faced two defeats in his life.
The first was his family's loss in the previous presidential elections. His father had put up a strong fight, yet they had still failed to seize power. But Ajay had never dwelled on that loss—politics was a long game, and setbacks were expected. It wasn't personal.
But this?
This was different. He didn't mind if Anaya rejected him. Rejection was nothing new; he had always been the one choosing, never the one being chosen. But this wasn't just about rejection.
This was a defeat.
A wound far deeper than pride. Because Anaya hadn't just turned him down—she had chased after someone else. Someone unfamiliar. Someone Ajay had never even considered a rival.
His chest burned with something unrecognizable. Frustration? Anger? No—it was something far worse.
His eyes remained locked on the sight of Anaya and the man she had run to. His expression darkened as his grip tightened at his sides. He had no idea who that guy was. But it didn't matter.
Ajay exhaled slowly, his voice low and controlled as he murmured, "I don't know who you are… but my only goal is I am declaring a war on you."