♡   P - I   ♡

"What the hell is going on? Why did you bring me here?" Yuvika yelled, her voice filled with anger and confusion.

"Today, we're getting married," Abhimanyu said flatly, his eyes locked onto hers.

"W-what?! Have you completely lost it?" Yuvika's voice cracked. "There's no way in hell I'd ever marry someone like you—someone who only cares about power, money, and status! Marriage isn't a game! Let go of my hand!"

"Yuvika, please," Abhimanyu said, his voice breaking as he dropped to his knees. "They're threatening to kill my sister if we don't do this."

The man who never begged, who made others fall at his feet, was now pleading for her help. His desperation hung heavy in the air, his usual cold demeanor replaced by a rare vulnerability.

♡   P - II    ♡

Yuvika stood in front of the mirror, her reflection uncertain as she smoothed down the fabric of her dress. Turning slightly, she looked at him with a hint of hesitation in her eyes. "Is it too revealing?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Abhimanyu, seated casually on the edge of the bed, leaned forward slightly, his gaze sweeping over her with an intensity that made her cheeks flush. Rising to his feet, he closed the distance between them in a few purposeful strides. Standing before her, his hand gently tilted her chin up to meet his eyes.

"Wear whatever you want," he said firmly, his voice carrying the weight of an unshakable promise. "I'll pluck out any man's eye who dares to look at my lady."

Her lips parted, caught between a soft laugh and a retort, but before she could say anything, he moved closer, his arms wrapping around her waist. His warm embrace sent shivers down her spine as he pulled her back against him.

Leaning down, his head nestled in the crook of her neck, his breath warm against her skin. In a low, husky voice, he murmured against her ear, "But I'll still like this little dress on the floor later."

Her breath hitched, her heart racing as his words lingered in the air between them.

♡   P - III   ♡

The calm of the evening shattered the moment Yuvika stepped inside, her soft anklets jingling in haunting rhythm with the bangles on her wrists. Dressed as a bride in a deep red saree, she stood in the doorway like a figure torn from a dream—or perhaps a nightmare. The vermillion in her hairline glowed under the dim lights, and the mangalsutra ( wedding chain ) clung to her neck like a weight too heavy to bear. 

Her family sat around the small living room, their evening tea forgotten, the TV murmuring in the background, but all eyes were now locked on her.

Her mother's gasp cut through the thick silence like a blade. Her wide eyes filled with disbelief, unable to look away from the sindoor ( vermilion ). "Yeh sab... kya hai, Yuvi?" she whispered, her voice trembling as if the words themselves might break her.

("This... what is all this, Yuvi?")

Yuvika stood frozen for a heartbeat, her breath catching in her chest. The quiet hum of the ceiling fan became deafening. The walls of the modest home felt like they were closing in on her, the familiar suddenly foreign. She tried to steady her voice, her throat dry. "Maa, please... I can explain. Just listen to me."

Her father's hands trembled as he set down his cup, the tea splashing onto the table unnoticed. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. It wasn't shock alone—there was something more: confusion laced with the sting of betrayal.

Before her mother could reply, her bua stepped forward, her sharp gaze cutting through the room like steel. Her voice was colder than the November air outside. "Sharam bhi nahi aati, Yuvi?" Her words dripped with venom.

("Don't you have any shame, Yuvi?")

"Ab kahan se mooh kaala karwa kar aayi ho?" she hissed, her tone sharp as she raised her hand, fully intending to strike Yuvika.

("Where have you come from, bringing disgrace now?")

The tension in the room thickened like a suffocating fog. Bua's hand raised—fingers trembling with fury—ready to strike, but a voice boomed from the doorway.

"Ek minute," a deep, commanding tone echoed, silencing the room. All heads turned as Abhimanyu Ranawat strode in, his presence overwhelming, his gaze hard and unyielding. He stepped between Yuvika and her bua, his eyes blazing with an unspoken warning. "Meri biwi ko haath lagane se pehle soch lena." His voice was low, dangerous.

("Think twice before laying a hand on my wife.")

Yuvika's mother staggered back, clutching the edge of the sofa for support, her mind racing, desperate to make sense of the chaos. "Biwi?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "Tum... shaadi kar li?"

( "wife? You... got married?")