Morning breakfast was being served in the grand dining hall of the Pratap residence. Several servants moved around quietly, placing dishes on the table and making sure everything was perfect. Madhav Pratap sat at the head of the table, his expression growing darker with every passing minute.

A woman stepped forward and placed another breakfast plate in front of him. Madhav slowly looked up at her before asking.

“Where is your son?”

“He is coming,” Shyama replied calmly. “Please don't worry so much, Madhav.”

The moment those words left her mouth, Madhav slammed his hand against the table.

“If I won't worry, then who will?” he demanded angrily. “My son refuses to get married and is completely obsessed with that girl… That girl completely looted us and fled from here overnight, and even today, your son is still crazy about her… Do you have any idea how much criticism I have to listen to because of him?”

Shyama remained silent while Madhav continued.

“Tell him clearly that I have already chosen a girl for him. She is the daughter of one of my closest political associates, and I want his wedding with her to take place as soon as possible.”

“I am not getting married.”

The deep voice echoed through the hall. Both Madhav and Shyama turned toward the staircase.

A man stood at the top, his hands resting casually inside his pockets. His expression remained calm and unreadable as he slowly descended the stairs. The moment Shyama saw him, she immediately walked toward him.

“Moksh, at least listen to your father once,” she said gently.

Moksh looked at his mother with affection, softening his otherwise sharp features. Wrapping one arm around her shoulders, he lightly kissed her forehead.

“I am getting late, mom” he said. “It would be better if we simply avoid this topic.”

Shyama immediately caught hold of his wrist.

“You have to go to the party headquarters anyway. You will not be leaving anytime soon after reaching there. At least eat something before you go. You haven't had breakfast.”

“I'll order breakfast at the party office,” Moksh replied.

Without sparing a single glance toward his father. Madhav's expression darkened even further as he watched his son leave.

Moksh Pratap was not the kind of man people ignored. At thirty-one years old, he stood tall and broad-shouldered, carrying himself with the confidence of someone who had spent years building power with his own hands. His sharp features, commanding presence, and unwavering confidence made people notice him the moment he entered a room.

Long before entering politics, Moksh had already established himself as a successful businessman. His business empire continued to expand every year, earning him both wealth and influence. However, during the last two years, at his father's insistence, he had become deeply involved in politics.

The results had been impossible to ignore. Because of his strategy and tactics, the party's position is turning very noticeable day by day.

Since Moksh's active participation in the party, its popularity has risen significantly. His speeches attracted crowds, his decisions generated discussion, and his presence alone was enough to command attention. Whether people supported him or opposed him, nobody could deny his impact.

With the state elections only a month away, political analysts, party leaders, and even ordinary citizens had already begun referring to him as the future Chief Minister.

For Moksh, however, nothing came without effort. While others enjoyed the privileges of power, he spent countless hours attending meetings, traveling across cities, addressing public gatherings, and strengthening the party's position. Every day was dedicated to a single goal.

The election was only a month away. And Moksh Pratap had poured his heart, mind, and soul into ensuring that victory belonged to him.

Moksh stepped out of the house without looking back. The driver immediately opened the rear door for him. As soon as Moksh settled into the seat, the man already waiting inside straightened his posture.

Raheel had been working with him long enough to understand his habits. The car pulled away from the mansion, and Raheel immediately opened the file resting on his lap.

“Your first meeting is at nine-thirty with the district coordinators from the northern region,” he began. “There have been complaints regarding campaign management in three constituencies. They want your approval before implementing the new strategy.”

Moksh simply nodded.

“After that, at eleven, there is a meeting with the youth wing leaders. The party wants to increase student outreach before the elections. They have prepared a proposal and need your final decision.”

Another nod. Raheel continued without expecting a verbal response.

“At one o'clock, you have lunch with a group of industrial investors. The party wants their support for the employment initiative that was announced last month. Then, at three, there is a press conference regarding the election manifesto.”

The list continued for several more minutes. Most people would have been exhausted just listening to the schedule. Moksh remained completely unfazed.

He preferred listening over talking. Words meant very little to him unless they served a purpose. He would rather let his work speak than waste time making promises.

Raheel knew this better than anyone. After finishing the schedule, he glanced at Moksh before asking,

“Did you have breakfast?”

Moksh slowly turned his head and looked at him. Raheel completely ignored the look. Instead, he leaned forward and addressed the driver.

“Stop at the café ahead. Quickly get two coffees and a couple of sandwiches. We'll eat on the way.”

A few minutes later, the car came to a halt outside a café. Moksh's gaze drifted toward the glass windows of the restaurant. Then he heard it.

A sweet laugh.

A laugh that no longer existed anywhere except inside his memories. His eyes remained fixed on the café as the past slowly unfolded before him.

PAST

She came running toward him with both hands full of flowers. A huge smile covered her face as she stopped in front of him and extended the flowers.

“For you.”

Moksh immediately laughed.

“For me? Aren't I supposed to be the one giving you flowers?”

She gathered all the flowers closer to herself before dramatically inhaling their fragrance.

“I give them or you give them, what difference does it make?” she asked with a grin. “All I know is that life feels beautiful.”

Then she pushed the bouquet toward him.

“Now take them.”

Still smiling, Moksh accepted the flowers. With his free hand, he immediately pulled her into his arms.

“Ever since I married you, Tripti,” he said softly, “my life has become beautiful.”

She looked up at him with sparkling eyes.

“I want to make it even more beautiful,” she whispered. “Every day. Every moment.”

PAST ENDED

A sudden sound pulled him back to reality. The car door opened. Moksh blinked once and returned to the present. Once again, he had lost himself in memories of his wife.

Raheel noticed it immediately. However, he said nothing. Over the years, he had witnessed this countless times. Without commenting on it, he handed a coffee and a sandwich to Moksh before settling back into his seat. The car started moving again.

“As I was saying,” Raheel continued, deliberately returning to work, “the media team has prepared three separate campaign plans for the final month before the election. They need your approval today.”

He opened another file and began explaining every detail. The more he spoke about meetings, campaigns, surveys, public rallies, and election strategies, the more Moksh's attention shifted toward work.

And that was exactly what Raheel wanted. Because whenever Moksh stopped focusing on work, his thoughts always found their way back to the woman whom he loved the most.

Everyone involved in the campaign was gathered inside the conference hall. Files, reports, survey data, and constituency analyses covered the large table. The discussion had already been going on for quite some time, and every person present seemed focused on the upcoming election that was now only a month away.

After carefully reviewing every document placed before him, Moksh finally closed the file in his hands. His expression remained calm as he looked around the room before speaking.

“Our strategy is quite strong,” he said. “I don't think the opposition party will be able to defeat us by a significant margin this time. However, all of you are far more experienced than I am in many aspects of politics. I would like to hear everyone's suggestions before we make any final decisions.”

Several senior leaders nodded in approval. The discussion immediately continued. Different opinions were presented regarding campaign routes, public rallies, voter outreach programs, media appearances, and constituency management. Some suggested focusing more heavily on urban voters, while others believed the rural areas would play a decisive role in the election. Every opinion was heard carefully, and every concern was discussed in detail.

Officially, Madhav Pratap was still the most powerful man in the party. Unofficially, every major decision during the last two years had passed through Moksh Pratap first.

Moksh listened to everyone without interrupting. Whenever he spoke, it was brief, practical, and directly related to the topic being discussed. He never wasted words unnecessarily, which was one of the reasons many people respected him despite his relatively short political career.

After nearly an hour of discussion, a tea break was announced. The atmosphere immediately relaxed as people stood up from their seats and began talking in smaller groups. Some moved toward the refreshments table while others continued discussing election strategies among themselves.

Moksh, however, remained exactly where he was. The moment the meeting paused, he picked up another file and began reviewing it with complete concentration. It was as though the rest of the room had ceased to exist. His attention remained fixed on the documents before him, determined to complete every task he had taken responsibility for.

Madhav Pratap observed his son from a distance. There was no excitement on Moksh's face. No interest in casual conversations. No desire to mingle with the crowd. While everyone else enjoyed the break, Moksh continued working as though the election depended solely upon him.

Moksh was doing everything simply because he knew this was his father's dream.

Madhav silently shook his head. His gaze then shifted toward Ramdas Shergill, who was standing nearby speaking with a few party leaders. Taking advantage of the break, Madhav walked toward him.

“What is this?” Madhav said with a smile. “You seem to have forgotten all about me.”

Ramdas turned toward him and smiled warmly.

“No, nothing like that. The elections are very close, so most of my time has been occupied with campaign work.”

Madhav nodded before casually glancing toward Moksh.

“I had asked for your daughter's hand in marriage for Moksh,” he said. “I like Agnika very much.”

Ramdas's smile remained unchanged.

“Moksh is an exceptional young man,” he replied honestly. “In fact, I believe he possesses every quality required to lead people successfully. If I speak truthfully, finding a man who is this well-mannered, responsible, intelligent, and capable is not easy.”

Madhav looked pleased by the praise.

“But?” he asked.

Ramdas let out a small sigh.

“But my daughter is still very young.”

Madhav immediately responded, “She is already twenty-one years old.”

“And your son is thirty-one,” Ramdas replied calmly. “There is almost a ten-year age gap between them. I do not want my daughter facing any kind of difficulty in her future.”

Madhav frowned slightly.

“These are very small concerns.”

“They are not small concerns for me,” Ramdas said gently but firmly. “You have to understand something. My daughter means everything to me. Naturally, I want the very best for her.”

For a moment, neither man spoke.

Ramdas continued, “Besides, I am in no hurry to get her married. Right now, I want to focus on the elections peacefully. She is still completing her studies. Her examinations will finish in fifteen days, and after that, we need to decide what she wishes to study next. Marriage is not something I want to think about at the moment.”

Madhav remained silent.

“My wife feels the same way,” Ramdas added. “We both believe the age gap between them is too significant. It would be better not to pursue this matter any further.”

The conversation ended there. Madhav slowly nodded before turning around. The moment he did, his eyes met Moksh's.

Moksh was sitting across the room with a file open before him, yet his attention was no longer on the documents. He was looking directly at his father.

For a brief second, Madhav felt strangely uncomfortable. It was almost as though Moksh could read everything from a single glance.

Without saying a word, Madhav looked away first and quietly walked toward another group of leaders. Meanwhile, Moksh's eyes continued following his father.

No matter where Madhav moved within the hall, Moksh's calm gaze remained fixed on him, silently observing every step he took. And for some reason, Madhav found that far more unsettling than he was willing to admit.