Chandni’s breath hitched, her fingers clenching at her sides. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” His voice was unwavering. “You want my help? Then stay. Be my wife.”

She stared at him, disbelief and anger swirling in her chest. “You’re using my sister’s life to trap me in this marriage?” Her voice rose with rage.

He tilted his head slightly. “I’m giving you a choice.”

Chandni’s mind raced. She had fought so hard to escape this marriage, to break free from the shackles of Virendra and his world. And now, he was forcing her to make an impossible decision.

Tara’s safety… or her freedom?

She gritted her teeth, her heart pounding. “I won’t be forced into this.”

“Then walk away,” Virendra said simply, folding his arms. “But know that without my help, you won’t reach Tara in time. Even Surya Rathore can’t find him.”

Her breath hitched. She hated him for this. Hated that he was right.

Tears of frustration burned in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “If I agree,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “you’ll release Tara immediately?”

A slow, victorious smirk spread across his lips. “Agreed.”

She clenched her fists, her eyes dark with contempt. “After your confession about our marriage and your brother’s oppression, I genuinely thought you were different. But this… this proves me wrong. You’re no different from him. Both of you are the same.”

His smirk faded, replaced by something unreadable. Taking a step closer, he bent down to her level. “You know nothing.”

She swallowed hard and stepped back, her entire body tense. She had no choice.

Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she let memories of her sister flood her mind. Tara—her baby sister. She loved her more than anything. And yet, the cruel irony was that it was her own actions that had put Tara in danger.

A lone tear slipped down her cheek.

A slow, victorious smirk curled on Virendra’s lips, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Good choice, wife,” he remarked, his tone laced with finality.

Before she could process the gravity of her decision, he spoke again, his voice firm and commanding. “Four hours.”

Chandni’s brows knitted together in confusion. “Four hours for what?”

“You have four hours to pack your things,” he declared, his unwavering gaze locking onto hers. “We’re leaving today.”

…..

The journey back to her home was quiet—too quiet. On the surface, her face remained composed, an impassive mask of calm, but beneath it, a storm raged. The turmoil within her refused to settle, boiling just beneath her skin. Her nails dug deep into the flesh of her palms, leaving half-moon imprints as she clenched her fists. She was furious, seething with anger, yet struggling to keep it contained.

The car rolled to a smooth stop, and the driver’s voice broke the silence. “Ma’am, we’ve arrived.”

But had she really? This was the house she had once called home, yet it no longer felt like her true destination. That has changed now. She was bound—once again—to the man she despised the most.

Taking a slow, steadying breath, she pushed open the car door and stepped out. Her eyes, bloodshot and filled with barely restrained fury, burned with an intensity that could set the night ablaze. With a sharp, deliberate motion, she slammed the door shut with a loud thud.

Her feet moved quickly toward the main entrance. She pressed the doorbell and waited. No one answered. Her patience thinned. She pressed it again, harder this time.

Still, nothing.

Frustration boiled over. She began ringing the bell again and again, her hand pressing it aggressively, until finally, the door swung open.

Her mother, Payal Shekhawat, stood at the door, momentarily startled by Chandni’s urgency. But as she took in her daughter’s aggressive stance, her expression darkened. Disgust flickered in her eyes, sharp and unforgiving.

Chandni noticed but chose to ignore it. She had neither the patience nor the desire to engage in another pointless argument. Without a word, she stepped past her mother and into the house, her footsteps heavy with frustration.

A bitter scoff left Payal’s lips as she shut the door behind them. “So, your divorce is finalized now,” she said, her voice laced with anger and resentment. “I went through so many hardships to bring you back, and this is what you give me in return?”

The words hit Chandni like a slap, freezing her in place. Slowly, she turned around, her eyes burning with the same intensity as her mother’s.

“You brought me back?” she repeated, her voice dripping with mockery. A cold, hateful smile curved her lips, her brows arching in disbelief.

A bitter laugh escaped her. “I was a child when you threw me away—when you disowned me without a second thought. You left me to fend for myself in a world I wasn’t prepared for. And now,” her voice rose, thick with rage, “you dare to say you brought me back? That you did it with difficulties?”

Her final words came out as a furious shout, her entire body trembling with the weight of years of buried anger and heartbreak. Her fists clenched at her sides, her breathing ragged as she stared her mother down, daring her to say more.

A tense silence followed Chandni’s outburst, but it did nothing to extinguish the fire raging inside her. The years of pain, abandonment, and resentment she had buried deep within her had finally reached their breaking point. Her chest heaved as she took a step closer to her mother, her eyes burning with unfiltered rage.

“I was eight,” she spat, her voice trembling with fury. “Eight years old when you threw me away like I was nothing! Like I was some curse you needed to get rid of.” Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “You looked me in the eye and said I was the reason for his death.” Her voice cracked, but she pushed through the lump in her throat. “You blamed me for losing the only person who truly loved me. You hated me for something I had no control over!”

Payal flinched at her words but quickly masked it with indifference. “You were the reason,” she said coldly. “Your father would still be alive if it weren’t for you.”

A bitter laugh erupted from Chandni’s lips, but this time, it was filled with nothing but agony. “Do you even hear yourself?” she asked, shaking her head in disbelief. “I was a child, Maa. A helpless, terrified child who lost her father. And instead of holding me, instead of telling me it wasn’t my fault, you threw me away!” Her voice broke, but her anger remained. “You made sure I suffered, you made sure I knew I wasn’t wanted.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Not in front of the woman who had never once shed a tear for her. “I spent nights crying myself to sleep, wondering what I did wrong. Why my own mother didn’t love me. I begged, begged for you to take me back, but you never even looked back at me.”

She took a shaky breath, her entire body trembling. “And now, after all these years, you have the audacity to stand here and say you brought me back?” She scoffed. “No, Maa. I survived despite you. I lived through hell because you left me to burn in it.”

Her gaze never wavered as she took a step back, her voice quieter but just as sharp. “You were never my mother. You were my first betrayal.”

A heavy silence followed Chandni’s words, thick with the weight of years of pain and abandonment. Payal’s expression remained impassive, but for the first time, her gaze faltered. The sharpness in her eyes dulled, if only for a fleeting moment.

Chandni didn’t wait for a response. She turned on her heel, her breath shaky, but her resolve unbroken. The past had already stolen too much from her—she wouldn’t let it take any more.

Just as she took a step toward the staircase, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the hallway. A voice, warm yet laced with worry, cut through the tension.

“Chandni?”

Chandni froze. That voice. That familiar, comforting voice that had once been the only anchor in her shattered world.

She turned sharply, and there she was—Chestha, her aunt, her choti maa.

Her aunt stood at the end of the hallway, her face lined with concern, her sharp eyes scanning Chandni as if ensuring she was truly there.

For a moment, Chandni couldn’t breathe. Memories crashed over her like a tidal wave—nights when Chestha had held her while she cried, mornings when she had woken up to her soft humming, the way she had shielded her from the world’s cruelty when no one else did.

And then, before she could stop herself, she moved.

Her feet carried her forward in a rush, and in the next second, she was engulfed in a familiar embrace. Chestha’s arms wrapped tightly around her, as if she was afraid Chandni might disappear.

“My girl,” Chestha whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re home.”

That word—home—made something shatter inside Chandni.

A strangled sob escaped her lips, and she clutched onto Chestha like she was the only solid thing in a world that constantly shifted beneath her feet.

The moment stretched between them, raw and unfiltered, until Chestha slowly pulled back, cupping Chandni’s face between her hands. Her gaze softened, but it didn’t miss the exhaustion, the pain buried deep in Chandni’s eyes.

“Did everything hold up properly?” she murmured, brushing a thumb across Chandni’s cheek. “You don’t have to go there now”

Chandni’s expression changed, she wanted to tell everything but not here, like this. “I will explain everything to you”. 

Chestha nodded in response, she sensed something off but didn’t push her more to reveal. 

Her eyes darkened as they flickered to Payal, who still stood in the same spot, her expression unreadable.

“This house is no home for her,” Chestha said sharply, her voice carrying years of suppressed anger. “It never was.”

Payal scoffed, crossing her arms. “And yet, she’s standing here, isn’t she?”

Chandni’s jaw clenched, but before she could respond, Chestha stepped forward, shielding her like she always had.

“Not by choice,” Chestha snapped. “You threw her away once, Payal. Don’t act like you suddenly care now. You, yourself dumped her into that marriage, knowing her denial”

Payal’s lips curled in disdain. “I did what I had to. She was—”

“Enough.”

Chestha’s voice was sharp, cutting through whatever excuse Payal was about to utter. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. “You don’t get to rewrite the past. You don’t get to pretend you’re a mother now.”

Payal’s expression hardened. “She’s my daughter—”

“She was your daughter,” Chestha corrected coldly. “You lost the right to call her that the day you abandoned her.”

Silence.

For the first time that day, Payal had no response.

Chandni swallowed, her emotions still raw, but with Chestha beside her, the weight on her chest didn’t feel as suffocating.

“I’m leaving,” Chandni said finally, her voice steady. “I don’t need anything from you, Maa. Not your home, not your pity, not even your explanations.”

Payal said nothing.