Nishkarsh

Nishkarsh ,

The Eldest Son, The Unwilling Groom

The Bedi Mansion wasn’t just a home — it was a kingdom.

A three-floor haveli-like structure with high ceilings, marble floors, old chandeliers, and the faint scent of agarbatti lingering from the morning pooja. The voices of 6 boys echoed through the open courtyard: laughter, cricket commentary, and “chachi mujhe 2 aur parathe!”

But the person everyone listened to even without him speaking much was Nishkarsh Bedi.

28 years old. Sharp jawline. Calm eyes. Always in formal shirts, even at home. Eldest of 6 brothers, and the one who had silently taken over the family real estate business after his father’s heart attack five years ago.

His phone pinged again.

Rishta Photo No. 14 – “MBA Girl from Lucknow”

He sighed and tossed the phone aside.

"Chalo bhaiya! Aaj final decision lena hi padega!" shouted his cousin Armaan, dragging a bedsheet over the TV and turning on the mini projector.

The living room was turned into a “bride presentation ceremony.”

Two chachis giggled in the corner, whispering about "ladki ke kundli mein grah hai ya grahasti?"

Dadu entered with authority, "Nishkarsh, tu ghar ka sabse bada hai. Tere bina dusre bachon ki shaadi nahi ho sakti."

Twelve photos flashed one by one on the wall:

One in heavy makeup

One in a red lehenga with filters

One in western dress at a resort

One with "social media influencer" written in bio

Next," he said flatly after each one.

"Bhaiya sab mana hi karoge kya? Shaadi karni bhi hai ya hum bachelor party hi plan karte rahein?" teased Armaan.

"Main shaadi ke against nahi hoon... bas jaldi mein nahi hoon," Nishkarsh replied, arms folded.

Then came Slide 13.

A girl with almond eyes, light wheatish skin, minimal makeup, and a plain baby pink kurta. Hair tied in a loose braid, standing beside a bookshelf. No filters. No dramatic pose.

Just a quiet photo. Simple. Honest.

Yeh kaun hai?" he asked.

"Shanaya Gupta. MBA Finance. Abhi PhD ke liye Delhi ja rahi hai," Chachu replied, checking the file.

"Height?"

"Five feet. Slim build. Fair skin. Joint family. Papa property dealer, mummy homemaker."

He stared at the photo a moment longer.

There was something about her face maybe the simplicity, maybe the lack of pretence.

"Bas ek baar mil lo," his mother saNishkarsh didn’t answer immediately.

Then he said, "Set up a meeting."

And walked out.

Later that night, he stood alone on the terrace, sleeves rolled up, the wind brushing against his face.

He lit a cigarette — something no one in the house knew he did.

"Ek aur ladki ki tasveer. Shayad is baar zyada fake nahi thi." he thought.

He wasn’t excited but he wasn’t irritated either.

And that… for Nishkarsh Bedi, was progress.

Hey reader … yes, you reading this. 🤍

If you’ve made it this far, I hope you’re already beginning to feel the quiet storm that is Nishkarsh Bedi. And trust me — this is just the beginning.

His silence hides stories.

Her resistance hides fear.

Their journey? It won't be perfect. But it will be real.

If you liked this chapter, do leave a little comment, a heart, or even just a 👍 — it means the world to me as a writer trying to pour her emotions into words.

Your support is the only thing that keeps this story growing.

So stay with me.