The world around me was spinning, a distant hum filling my ears as I regained consciousness. My head throbbed, and I could feel the lingering shock from the collision, but something warm and steady held me upright, preventing me from collapsing completely. Daring to open my eyes, I found myself staring into intense black eyes, so dark they were nearly charcoal—eyes that promised destruction without a hint of mercy.
I felt a shiver down my spine, but his gaze didn't waver. Instead, it held me in place, as if daring me to resist, to push back against whatever storm lay beneath that steely gaze. In the thick silence, a voice I knew well, tremulous with an edge of fear, cut through.
"Tum..." Raghav's mother stood frozen, her voice edged with anxiety and dread.
The man straightened me up slowly, keeping his eyes locked on her. He moved with a calculated grace, every inch of him exuding dominance and power. His lips curled into a sharp smirk as he regarded her.
"Kya tumhe laga," he began, his voice cold and mocking, "apne bete ki shaadi dhoom dham se karoge aur mujhe khabar bhi nahi hogi? Toh kaisa laga surprise?" He let the words settle, each one calculated to needle and unsettle.
There was an unmistakable bite in his tone, a command that left little room for argument. I sensed the discomfort radiating from Raghav's mother, her normally controlled presence now uncertain.
"Kya chahiye tumhe?" she managed to ask, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to remain calm.
He took a step back, settling into a nearby chair with an air of nonchalance, crossing one leg over the other as though he was here to enjoy a performance. His gaze slid back to her, the faintest glint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth.
"Badla," he said, voice low, almost a whisper, "revenge." He leaned forward slightly, his tone chilling as he added, "Revenge is my art. I don't just hurt, I dismantle. I take the peace you hold so dear and leave you with nothing but ashes. Every day, you'll remember this moment and know it was I who took from you, piece by piece."
A sinister stillness followed his words, his smirk deepening as he watched the impact of his words settle in.
The air grew thick and tense as Raghav's father's voice, laced with anguish and terror, cut through the silence.
"Raghav nahi raha iss duniya mein," he choked, his voice breaking. "He... he attempted suicide. Tumhe ab kya chahiye?"
The words hit me like a blow. A cold wave of dread washed over me, and I couldn't breathe. Raghav—gone? My heart lurched as I looked at the man standing before us, his posture unyielding, his eyes a void of mercy.
But then he laughed—a low, wicked laugh that sent chills skittering down my spine. It wasn't the laugh of a man amused; it was the laugh of a hunter who had caught his prey.
"Arjun Singh Rajvansh," he drawled, the name lingering like a threat, "never lets his prey die so easily. Where's the fun in an easy death when you can make them beg for it instead?"
There was a cruel glint in his eyes as he looked at us, that sadistic smirk twisting his lips. Every word he spoke felt like a tightening noose around our necks, the danger in his gaze unmistakable. My heart pounded, and a wave of nausea clawed its way up my throat. Who was this man—a man who found enjoyment in suffering?
Raghav's mother's voice was barely a whisper, yet it trembled with horror. "Tumhara kya matlab hai?" she asked, clutching her hands together, her face pale with fear.
Arjun tilted his head, his gaze darkening as he flashed a sadistic smile. Without a single word, he lifted his hand and gave a small, silent signal to the men standing by his side. In an instant, they moved, sweeping through the house like a storm.
Furniture shattered, glass splintered, and the sound of destruction filled the room. I felt the chaos closing in, felt my breaths come quicker as the life I had known was torn apart, piece by piece, under his ruthless command.
Helpless, I could only watch as Arjun Singh Rajvansh stood back, a twisted satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he looked upon the havoc he had unleashed.
The room seemed to shrink as Arjun's men swarmed through it, their footsteps precise, ruthless, echoing with every crash and clatter. The family portraits on the walls were torn down, the furniture once carefully placed now splintered on the floor. It was as if he had commanded a storm to unleash its wrath within these walls, sparing nothing, as if stripping away every layer of Raghav's family's past. I was caught in the eye of that storm, my breath shallow, watching the pieces of a life dismantled without mercy.
"Kya kar rahe ho tum?" Raghav's mother's voice was raw, her face etched with panic as she tried, hopelessly, to hold back one of the men. Her grip on his arm was weak, trembling as he ripped himself free and sent another heirloom crashing to the ground. "Yeh ghar hai hamara!"
Arjun stood unmoved, an unbreakable wall of calm amid the chaos. The depth in his eyes was relentless, as though each crash and scream only fueled his simmering rage. He looked at her with cold detachment, as though she were merely another obstacle in his path. "You all did the sins," he declared, his tone chilling in its lack of emotion. "Now, you will face the consequences."
A shiver ran down my spine. His voice was like the winter wind, cutting and unforgiving, and there was no reasoning with it. His presence filled every corner of the room, overshadowing the cries, the destruction, even the pleading desperation on Raghav's mother's face. I tried to piece together the fragments of information I had, but I couldn't understand the depths of his hatred. What could they have done to warrant this punishment, this fury that seemed unstoppable?
"Please," Raghav's mother pleaded, her voice cracking under the weight of her grief. Her words were choked with desperation as she turned to him, hands clasped together as if in prayer. "Stop this madness. We didn't know anything about this. Jo bhi tumhari dushmani hai, usay khatam karo. Raghav is... Raghav is no more."
The mention of Raghav's death seemed to hang in the air, a weight that silenced even the men around us. For a split second, I thought I saw something flicker in Arjun's gaze—a flash of acknowledgment, perhaps, or a brief restraint. But then his jaw tightened, and any sign of mercy was erased as quickly as it had appeared.
"It ends when I say it ends." His voice was cold, final, his words like a blade slicing through her pleas.
The rawness of her sobs intensified, filling the room as she crumbled under the weight of her emotions. Her shoulders shook, her body shrinking in on itself as her last hope faded. But Arjun's gaze swept over her, unfeeling, fixated on the task at hand. I felt the coldness in him as if it were seeping into the very air, chilling everything it touched. The men continued their work, their movements efficient, unhesitating, as they dismantled the house piece by piece. Each shattered artifact seemed to punctuate the darkness radiating from Arjun, as though he were punishing not just Raghav's family but the very walls that had sheltered them.
And yet, I couldn't look away from him. Beneath my fear, a strange awe kept me captive. Who was this man who could unleash such fury without breaking a sweat? His presence was magnetic, dangerous, an enigma that somehow drew me in despite the anguish flooding the room. His quiet power overshadowed everything, like an eclipse blocking out even the faintest light. How could someone possess such control and wield it so effortlessly?
In a trembling voice, Mrs. Mehta, Raghav's mother, spoke once more. Desperation laced her tone as she reached for the last weapon she had left—bargaining.
"Let's make a deal." The words came out barely louder than a whisper, yet in the room thick with chaos, they landed with a weight that turned everyone's attention to her. Her eyes were wide, desperate, filled with a resolve born of necessity.
Arjun paused, and for the first time, he seemed intrigued. A dangerous glint sparked in his dark eyes as he regarded her, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Interesting," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent another shiver down my spine.
That one word carried a sinister promise, an unspoken acceptance of her desperation—a game he was more than willing to play. His expression shifted into a cold, predatory smile, his gaze steady on her as he folded his arms and leaned back, as if settling in for a show. In that moment, he was no longer just a man but a force that demanded fear and submission, his presence almost too powerful to bear.
And yet, even amid the ruin around me, I felt myself drawn to him, pulled into the orbit of his darkness.
"Marry Meera."
' What did she just say to marry me, the women who was throwing me out few minutes ago ' a scoff left out of me
Raghav's mother's words slice through the silence, sharper than any blade. The shock of her suggestion pierces straight through me, ripping away whatever strength I had left. Did she... did she just offer me as part of some twisted deal? My thoughts reel, the ground beneath me shifting, the room spinning as the full weight of her words lands. She wants to use me as leverage—a pawn to be traded, a lifeless object handed over to settle a score. My wishes, my autonomy, my entire self discarded like a worthless token in their game.
My chest tightens, the suffocating grip of betrayal taking hold, and the heat of bitter tears threatens to spill. I fight them back, struggling to maintain any semblance of control, but my body feels paralyzed, as if it too has surrendered to this nightmare.
I can feel Arjun's eyes on me. His gaze is unflinching, his expression a mask of calm indifference, but there's a flicker in those dark eyes—a hint of calculation, as though he's weighing his options. And perhaps something else, too, something I can't read. For the first time, I feel utterly exposed under his scrutiny, vulnerable in a way I've never felt before. Every ounce of control I thought I had has been stripped away, leaving me raw, naked under the cold assessment of a stranger.
His lips curl slightly, a mockery of a smile. "I expected something... better." His words are dismissive, his tone dripping with disdain. Yet, in this twisted, horrifying moment, the worst part is that he's not even addressing me directly. I'm not a person to them—not even worthy of a direct refusal. I'm just... here, like a puppet to be passed from one hand to another.
"Am I a puppet?" I manage to choke out, my voice thick with fury and heartbreak. "Kya main bas ek cheez hoon? Jab marzi khelo, jab marzi pheko. Ilzaam lagao aur ab saude mein bech do." The words pour out before I can stop them, raw, jagged edges of my broken spirit.
Raghav's mother doesn't even glance at me. Her eyes remain fixed on Arjun, her desperation painted clearly across her face. "Dekho," she pleads, her voice shaky yet filled with a greedy resolve, "main jaanti hoon tum ye kyun kar rahe ho... tum Raghav ko chahte ho saza dena. Raghav ne tumse cheena. Ab tum use uski hone wali patni se shaadi karke usse uski sabse keemti cheez ko apna bana lo." Her words drip with manipulation, her tone calculated, tainted by a twisted eagerness.
I feel my pulse pounding in my ears, drowning out her voice, yet every word lands, searing into my heart. The desperation, the greed, the unyielding wickedness—it's all laid bare in her gaze as she offers me up like a sacrificial lamb. There's nothing human in the way they speak about me, in the ruthless negotiation unfolding around me. My fate, my life, tossed back and forth like an object, stripped of every shred of dignity.
I want to scream, to beg, to demand they see me as more than this. I am not a piece on their chessboard, not some prize to be won or discarded. But the words remain lodged in my throat, suffocated by my own helplessness, by the mounting despair that paralyzes me. I want to run, to escape from this twisted scene, to remind them that I am flesh and blood, a person with dreams and fears.
But I can't move. I'm trapped in the gaze of two people who have no regard for me, their own greed and anger blinding them to the damage they're inflicting. And in that terrifying silence, I see Arjun lean back, considering his next move, his eyes drifting over me with that same cold calculation.
And I know that whatever happens next, my life as I knew it is over.
Mrs. Mehta's fingers dig into my arm, her grip unyielding as she pulls me closer to him. Her desperation is a tangible force, an ugly blend of fear and urgency that only seems to grow more intense. "Dekho, yeh sab tumhare haath mein hai," she says, her voice trembling.
I can't help but scoff inwardly. First, she wanted to throw me out, and now she's saying everything depends on me? Is she serious? My heart races, but my mind is spiraling, caught between disbelief and horror.
The man's expression remains hard, his jaw clenched as he watches Mrs. Mehta. I can feel his gaze lingering on me, measuring me like I'm just another part of the twisted bargain unfolding. Trapped in this nightmare, my muscles tense, every part of me primed to flee, yet frozen to the spot by fear. I glance over at my parents, hoping for some spark of protection or support, some assurance that they'd fight for me. But they stand apart, their faces ashen, distant masks of resignation. The shame in their eyes is unmistakable, yet it does nothing to soften their stance.
A tremor runs through me, and I whisper, barely holding back tears, "Please... yeh galat hai... main koi cheez nahi hoon." The words slip out, raw and pleading, but they disappear into the cold, cruel air around me, unheard by anyone who might care.
Somehow, I find strength in the depths of my despair. Taking a shaky breath, I steady myself and say, "Main yeh shaadi nahi karungi." The declaration comes out with more strength than I thought I had left, my voice trembling but firm. The moment the words leave my lips, a hush falls, the air thick with tension. Mrs. Mehta's face contorts in fury, her rage so palpable that it's almost suffocating. But what crushes me even more is the look on my father's face.
My father steps forward, his eyes hard and unyielding, his voice carrying the finality of a judge delivering a sentence. "Ab tumhare paas aur koi raasta nahi hai. Tumhe yeh shaadi karni hi hogi." His words strike me like a physical blow, the weight of betrayal heavy in every syllable.
How did we get here? I think, my mind racing as I feel the walls close in, my heart struggling against the stranglehold of their expectations.
My voice breaks as I plead, "Main koi cheez nahi hoon... Main... kaise?" But my father's face remains unmoved, his resolve chilling.
"Yeh tumhara farz hai," he states firmly, as if he's merely stating a fact, something beyond question. "Hamare paas aur koi rasta nahi hai."
With those words, it's as if all hope crumbles to dust. My world, the one I once knew, is slipping away under the suffocating weight of their demands. I feel the claustrophobic pressure of their expectations, the walls of this life they've built around me closing in, tightening until I can barely breathe. The room blurs around me as my vision fills with tears.
"Aap log yeh sab kaise kar sakte hain?" I whisper, my voice breaking with the weight of all I've lost, all they've stripped away from me. But their faces remain cold, their hearts hardened against my pain.
"Yeh tumhari kismat hai, Meera," my father says, as if declaring some undeniable truth, something immovable. His voice is laced with a cruel resignation, as though my fate has already been carved into stone, beyond my power to change. I see it in their eyes, the conviction that this is my duty, my inevitable end.
My heart aches, torn between the crushing disappointment in them and the overwhelming helplessness that has swallowed my world whole. This is my fate, they've decided, and in that moment, I realize that I am truly, completely alone.
Arjun stands there, a calm pillar amid the chaos and destruction surrounding us. His eyes, cold and calculating, assess the room, and then they settle on me. With a steady, deliberate voice, he says, "Main kisi zabardasti mein vishwas nahi karta." The words carry a weight, almost a promise, that momentarily lifts a small burden off my chest. For the first time since this nightmare began, I feel a flicker of hope. Relief starts to seep through my defenses, but it's fleeting.
Before I can fully exhale, my stepmother approaches, her expression twisted with resentment. Her nails dig into my arm, sharp and merciless, anchoring me to her like a thorned tether. "Aur kitne ghar barbaad karogi tum?" she sneers, her voice dripping with venom. Her nails press deeper into my skin until I feel a sharp sting and the warmth of blood trickling from the fresh wound. "Tumhare paas koi aur chara nahi hai. Jao, jaake bhik maango, naak ragdo jab tak vo tumse shaadi ke liye maan nahi jata."
The words hit me like stones. My own stepmother, a woman who should know the wounds of this world better than anyone, telling me to beg, to scrape away every shred of my dignity. How could she reduce me to this, knowing the pain?
I can barely breathe, her words squeezing my chest as though it's trapped in a vice. She lets go, and for a moment, I see my bruised skin, the small beads of blood where her nails dug in. The metallic scent jolts me, reminding me just how cruel she has been to me, my whole life. And yet, I'm still expected to be a dutiful daughter, to bear every weight she heaps upon me without complaint. She continues, her voice hardening with every word, "Tumhare paas in sabki jaan bacchane ka yahi raasta hai"
It's unbearable—the hurt, the helplessness, the humiliation.
Arjun remains silent, his expression unreadable as he watches the tension unfold, and I can feel my options narrowing to one impossible choice. A battle rages inside me. How can I beg him? How can I degrade myself to this extent? But then, a wave of despair floods over me as I think of the consequences if I don't. Lives depend on me.
So, with every ounce of pride stripped from me, I kneel, my hands trembling as they reach forward, brushing against the polished leather of his shoes. I feel my breath hitch as I lower myself even further, my forehead pressed against his shoes, my nose grazing the cold surface. The shame is overwhelming, and I can't help but feel that a part of me is dying in this moment. A bitter thought crosses my mind—perhaps death would be kinder than losing my dignity like this.
"Please...," I whisper, my voice barely audible, crushed beneath the weight of my humiliation. "Marry me."
The silence is deafening, and I feel the burn of hot tears rolling down my face, landing on his shoes. I know he can feel my desperation, the agony of every tear I shed, and I wonder if he'll be moved. I wonder if he'll take pity on the broken person kneeling before him. But there's no kindness here, not in this room, not in these people, not even in fate. And I am completely at its mercy.
His charcoal black eyes lock onto mine for a fleeting, excruciating moment, a silent but powerful current passing between us. His gaze, cold and impenetrable, doesn't betray anything beyond an unyielding decision. Then, in that low, ruthless voice, he declares, "I'll marry her."
The words slice through me, and though my body remains frozen, inside, I am splintering into a thousand shards. Around us, a triumphant murmur ripples through the room. I can sense the twisted satisfaction emanating from Mrs. Mehta, my so-called family, the men standing guard as if some great victory has been achieved. But there is no victory here—not for me.
Why, God? Why did you write this in my destiny? The silent scream reverberates within me, each echo deepening the abyss I am falling into. My knees buckle, and I sink to the floor, unable to hold myself up under the crushing weight of my life unraveling. I hug my arms to my chest, desperate to hold on to some fragment of myself, but I feel myself slipping away, piece by piece.
As tears spill down my cheeks, I barely feel their warmth. The only thing I feel is the coldness of this fate that has trapped me, binding me to a man who represents everything that was once my groom's worst fear—his most feared enemy. And now, as if some cosmic joke, this man will be my husband. A stranger with the power to destroy everything I ever held dear is now bound to me in the cruelest twist of fate.
I press my hands to my face, muffling the sobs, but the grief is like a storm breaking through, tearing away at the remnants of my dignity. This was supposed to be different. My life now like fragile flowers crushed beneath the heavy steps of fate.
And all I can do is sit here, my body trembling, and my heart broken beyond recognition. I am marrying a man who holds the bloodstains of my past in his hands, a man whose victory is my defeat, a man who will never look at me as anything more than a pawn in his endless game.
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