Aap log please target pura kijiye,yek

The haveli that had been glowing like a celebration just hours ago now felt suffocating. The lights were still there, casting the same golden glow across the walls. The fragrance of flowers and incense still lingered in the air. But something had changed—something had cracked beneath the surface. The beauty now felt hollow, as if something dark and ugly had risen from underneath all that glitter, tainting everything it touched.

“Humnein kabhi nahi socha tha… humara apna khoon hi humein dhoka dega. Aaj se mar gaya hai tumhara laadla humare liye.”

Kailash Chauhan’s voice didn’t just echo through the hall—it sliced through the silence like a blade. Each word carried weight, each one final, leaving no space for argument or denial.

“Ae ji aisa mat boliye…” Durga’s voice trembled, fragile and desperate, as if trying to hold together something that was already falling apart. “Ho sakta hai koi majboori rahi ho… koi wajah rahi ho…”

“Majboori?” Kailash snapped instantly, his anger flaring without restraint. “Itni badi majboori ki apni shaadi ki pehli raat hi gaayab ho gaya? Aur wajah?” A bitter, humorless laugh escaped him. “Wajah toh hai uske paas. Samajh mein humari naak katwaani thi usko!”

Silence followed—heavy, suffocating, and inescapable. Durga’s lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to speak, to defend, to explain… but no words came. What could she possibly say? Deep down, she already knew the truth. Her son had crossed a line that could not be justified, not explained away, not forgiven so easily. The realization settled heavily within her chest, crushing whatever fragile hope she had been clinging to. Slowly, she lowered her gaze, her silence speaking louder than any words ever could—quiet, defeated, and utterly helpless.

Shanti Chauhan’s voice cut through the tense air, sharp and laced with open disdain, her words carrying the weight of judgment that had clearly been waiting to spill out. Her expression hardened, eyes flickering with contempt as she looked ahead, unwilling to hold anything back anymore.

“Lalla tu Rishabh par kaahe ghussa kar raha hai…” she said coldly. “Maine toh pehle hi kaha tha—chote ghar mein shaadi mat kara apne bete ki.”

There was no hesitation in her tone, no attempt to soften the blow.

“Acha lag raha hai sunne mein? Sarpanch ke bete ki shaadi… ek chote jaat ke kisaan ki beti se?” she scoffed, her lips curling in disdain. “Ladki hi manhoos hai. Yeh toh hona hi tha. Bhagwaan jaane mera laadla kahaan hoga… kaisa hoga… aur tu ussi par ghussa kar raha hai!”

Her words filled the room like poison, spreading quickly, leaving behind discomfort and silent unrest. And something inside Kailash finally broke.

“Toh maa aap kya kehna chahti hain?” his voice rose, the anger he had been holding back finally surfacing. “Galti humari bahu ki hai?”

His jaw tightened, every muscle in his face rigid with restrained fury.

“Aur aapka laadla? Woh doodh ka dhula hai? Sab uski wajah se ho raha hai! Aur hum… hum uski galti apni bahu par daal kar chup ho jaayein?”

His fist clenched tightly, knuckles turning pale as the frustration poured out unchecked.

“Woh naaspeetha kal raat apne kamre tak nahi gaya! Ek baar tak nahi mila apni patni se!”

The words didn’t just land—they struck hard, echoing through the room like a slap no one could ignore. Harsh, ugly… but undeniably true.

“Hunh!” Shanti scoffed, clearly offended, her pride wounded more than anything else. “Tujhe kab meri baat sahi lagi hai? Aaj tak lagi hai kabhi? Tujhe toh apni maa chhod sab par bharosa hai!”

Her taunt was deliberate, sharp enough to cut deep. There was no subtlety in it, no restraint—only the intent to wound. And it did.Kailash reacted instantly, his restraint finally snapping under the weight of everything that had been said, his voice sharp and unfiltered as it cut through the charged silence.

“Aur aapko?” he shot back. “Aapko apne ladle pote ke siwa main dikhta hai? Kabhi thoda sa bhi pyaar apne bade pote ke liye dikhaya hai aapne?”

Shanti’s expression hardened further, her face turning cold, almost indifferent, as if his words hadn’t shaken her at all.

“Kailash… apne aur paraye mein fark hota hai.”

The room froze.

Those words didn’t just bring silence—they carved a deep, irreversible distance. Something invisible yet painfully real settled between them, heavy and suffocating.

“Maa ji… aap kya keh rahi hain…?” Durga whispered, her voice trembling with shock, unable to process what she had just heard.

Her eyes instinctively shifted—almost as if pulled by an unseen force—and landed on Vikram.

He had just entered.

No one knew how long he had been standing there… how much he had heard… or how much had reached him. But his face gave nothing away. There was no anger, no hurt, no reaction at all. It was as if emotions no longer existed for him… as if he had learned, long ago, how to shut everything off completely.

Without acknowledging anyone, without reacting to the tension that filled the room, he simply walked past them… his steps steady, his presence heavy, heading straight toward Kailash.

Durga’s heart tightened painfully in her chest. She wanted to stop him, to call out his name, to say something—anything—that could ease whatever storm might be brewing inside him. But her body refused to move, her voice failed her.

And before she could even gather herself—

Vikram and Kailash walked out.

Just like that.

Leaving behind a room thick with silence, unspoken truths… and something far more dangerous—poison that had already begun to spread.But what none of them realized… not even for a moment… was that someone else had heard everything. Every single word. Every insult thrown without hesitation. Every truth spoken without care. Tara. She had only come to the kitchen to drink water—nothing more, nothing significant. Just a simple need. But instead of quenching her thirst, she found herself swallowing something far more bitter, something that burned far deeper than anything physical ever could.

Her fingers slowly tightened around the glass in her hand, the cool surface pressing against her trembling skin. Her breath had turned shallow, uneven, as if the air around her had suddenly grown too heavy to breathe. A faint ringing filled her ears, drowning out everything else… except that one word.

“Manhoos.”

It echoed relentlessly in her mind. Again. And again. And again.

The sound refused to fade, digging deeper with each repetition, wrapping around her thoughts until it was all she could hear, all she could feel.

Slowly… very slowly… she took a step back. Her movements were fragile, almost ghost-like, as if even the slightest sound of her footsteps might break whatever little strength she had left holding her together. The glass in her hand trembled, but she didn’t let go. She couldn’t. It was the only thing grounding her in that moment.

Without looking back, without making a sound, she turned. And then she walked… quietly, numbly… toward her room, carrying the weight of those words with her, each step heavier than the last.The moment she stepped inside her room, she locked the door without a second thought. The faint click echoed louder than it should have in the suffocating silence. Her back hit the wooden door, and whatever strength she had been holding onto finally gave way. Slowly, helplessly, she slid down until she was sitting on the cold floor. Her knees pulled close to her chest, arms wrapping tightly around them as if trying to hold herself together, and her face buried into them—hiding, breaking, collapsing all at once.

And then… she broke.

At first, the sobs were soft, barely audible, like she was still trying to contain them. But they didn’t stay that way for long. They grew louder, shakier, uncontrollable. Her shoulders trembled violently with each breath, her entire body shaking as tears streamed endlessly, soaking into her clothes, leaving behind nothing but heaviness.

“K-kyun…” her voice cracked, struggling to form even a single word. “Bhagwaan ji… main hi kyun?”

Her fingers curled into tight fists, nails pressing into her palms as if the pain might distract her from everything else.

“Mujhe hate karte ho kya aap? Bolo… kya main itni buri hoon?”

Her chest rose and fell unevenly, breaths breaking in between sobs that refused to stop.

“If I’m so bad… toh mamma papa ke saath mujhe bhi kyun nahi le gaye aap…? Kyun chhod diya mujhe yahan?”

Her voice shattered completely now—no longer that of a grown woman, but of a lost, hurt child searching for answers no one had ever given her.

“Bachpan se… unke pyaar ke liye tarsi hoon… aur ab…” she choked, her words dissolving into tears, “ab pati ka sukh bhi nahi hai mere jeevan mein?”

The room seemed to close in around her, the walls pressing tighter, the air turning colder, heavier, almost cruel in its stillness.

“Kya main sach mein manhoos hoon…?”

The question hung in the air, unanswered, echoing silently within the empty space, growing heavier with every passing second.

Slowly… exhaustion began to take over. Her sobs weakened, her breathing grew uneven but quieter, and her tears slowed—some drying on her cheeks even as new ones tried to fall. Her body, drained of all strength, finally gave in.

And without even realizing when it happened…

She fell asleep.

Curled into herself.

Completely broken.

Knock. Knock.

The sharp sound pulled her out of that heavy, dreamless sleep. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, lids swollen and heavy, her mind clouded with disorientation as reality crept back in. For a moment, she didn’t understand where she was… or how much time had passed.

Forcing herself to move, she pushed her aching body up and walked toward the door. Her fingers hesitated for a second before unlocking it, and as she opened it—Shyam Kaka stood outside, his posture stiff, his expression unreadable.

“Bahu, badi maalkin ne tumhe bulaya hai.”

That was all he said. No softness, no pause. And before she could respond, before she could even nod—he turned and left. He didn’t wait. He didn’t look back.

Tara blinked, still trying to gather herself. Then, almost instinctively, her gaze shifted toward the clock.

“Hey bhagwaan… do ghante…?”

Her eyes widened in shock as panic surged through her veins, replacing the lingering exhaustion in an instant.

“Dadi gussa ho gayi hongi…”

Her hands began to tremble as she hurriedly fixed her saree, adjusting the pleats, wiping away whatever faint traces of dried tears remained on her face. Her fingers moved quickly, almost desperately, as if she could erase everything that had happened just by making herself look composed again.

And then—

Without wasting another second—

She rushed out.Her steps were hurried, almost stumbling over themselves, her pace uneven as her heart continued to race wildly in her chest. She could still feel the leftover panic from waking up late, the fear of being called, the weight of everything that had already broken her just hours ago. As she turned the corner in haste, not paying attention to where she was going, the edge of her saree tangled around her feet.

“Ah—!”

The sound escaped her lips as her balance gave way. Her body tilted forward, the ground rushing closer in a split second. Instinctively, she squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the fall.

Kya main gir gayi…?

“Nahi.”

Just one word.

Low. Deep. Steady.

Enough to send a sudden shiver down her spine.

Her eyes flew open, her breath catching sharply as the familiarity of that voice hit her instantly. She didn’t need to think. She knew it. She recognized it without a doubt.

Slowly… almost hesitantly… her gaze dropped downward.

A strong arm was wrapped firmly around her waist, holding her in place before she could fall. The grip was steady, unyielding, protective in a way that didn’t allow her to collapse.

Her pulse quickened.

Her fingers, acting on instinct rather than thought, clutched onto his shoulder for support.

Vikram Singh Chauhan.

Standing right behind her.

His hand still secured around her waist, his hold unwavering, as if letting go wasn’t even an option.

And in that one suspended moment… everything else seemed to blur away. The harsh words, the humiliation, the pain, the tears—everything that had been crushing her just moments ago faded into the background.

Nothing remained… except the sudden, uncontrollable rhythm of her heartbeat echoing loudly within her.