The sun had barely risen, and the Thakur mansion was still wrapped in the pale quiet of morning.
In the master bedroom, Rewa turned in her sleep, her hand brushing the cold marble floor — empty.
She frowned, half-awake, and glanced at the other side of the bed.

Her heart froze.

Vikrant lay trembling, his face pale and flushed, beads of sweat on his forehead. His hands shook slightly, his lips dry.

“Vikrant!” she gasped, rushing to his side.

She touched his cheeks — burning hot. His skin was feverish, and his breathing uneven. She grabbed the thermometer from the bedside drawer.
The mercury line climbed sharply.
104°F.

Panic rose in her throat. “Oh God…” she whispered.

Within minutes, she was on the phone with the family doctor. “Please come immediately,” she urged. “He’s burning with fever — and he’s barely conscious.”

By the time the medical team arrived, the entire house was awake.
Gatha, Siddharth, Ekanshi, and Gita stood outside the room, worried faces lit by the hallway light.

The doctors checked Vikrant carefully. After an hour of treatment and fluids, his fever began to drop.
“He’s out of danger now,” one of them said softly. “It was a severe chill and exhaustion. But he’ll recover.”

Relief washed over Rewa, though guilt lingered in her eyes. She knew why he was sick.
He had slept on the cold floor — beside her — without a blanket, in the freezing November night.

As the doctors left, silence filled the corridor. Everyone returned to their rooms one by one, except Ekanshi, who lingered near the doorway, lost in thought.

That evening, Vikrant’s condition was stable. The household slowly returned to its calm.
But in Ekanshi’s heart, a new storm was gathering.

She stood outside Siddharth and Gatha’s room, gathering courage. “I have to tell him. It’s now or never,” she told herself.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open — and froze.

Siddharth sat on the bed, Gatha resting on his lap, her eyes half-closed as he gently brushed her hair back.
The tenderness between them made Ekanshi’s face flush crimson. She turned away immediately, muttering, “I’m sorry!” and nearly shut the door again.

A moment later, she returned, cheeks still red, trying to compose herself.

Siddharth smiled. “It’s okay, Pachi. Come in.”

Ekanshi walked in and sat on the edge of the bed, fiddling with her bracelet.

“Bhai,” she said slowly, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Gatha replied warmly.

Ekanshi looked at her. “Was your marriage arranged or love?”

“Arranged,” Gatha said, smiling. “Why?”

Ekanshi hesitated. “Just asking…” She looked down, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Then… were you pregnant before marriage?”

Gatha blinked, stunned. “What? No! It’s been five years since our marriage.”

Siddharth frowned. “Why are you asking such questions, Ekanshi ?

Tears welled in Ekanshi’s eyes. She took a deep breath, her voice trembling. “Because… Bhai, I’ve done something terrible.”

Siddharth’s heart sank. “What do you mean?”

“I’m in love,” she said softly. “And I’m pregnant.”

The words hit the room like thunder.

Siddharth stood up in disbelief. “What?!”

“He loves me, Bhai,” she said quickly. “I know what you’re thinking — but he’s not like that. He truly loves me.”

Siddharth’s voice hardened. “Who is he?”

“I only know his name… Arjun,” she said quietly. “I don’t know much about his family.”

The fury in Siddharth’s chest ignited. His hand rose before he could stop himself — a sharp slap echoed across the room.

Gatha gasped, standing between them. “Siddharth, please!”

But his voice was ice. “You don’t even know his family’s name, and you gave him everything? Ekanshi this isn’t love — this is madness!”

Tears streamed down Ekanshi’s cheeks. “He’ll come, Bhai. He promised he’ll come and talk to you. Just once — meet him.”

Siddharth’s anger trembled between rage and heartbreak. He turned away, his jaw tight. “Tell him to come tomorrow. If he truly loves you, he’ll face me.”

Ekanshi nodded slowly, wiping her tears.
And in that moment, far away, Gautam Singhania was giving his own order — an order that would change all their lives.

In Gautam Singhania's Mansion
The Singhania study smelled faintly of expensive cologne and old paper—an air of power that never tired. Outside, the city’s hum felt distant, like a world that belonged to other people. Inside, only two figures filled the room.

Gautam Singhania sat behind his desk like a monarch, palms folded, face smooth and unreadable. The lamplight carved his features into hard planes; his voice when it came was low and deliberate.

“We couldn’t bend her with bribes or threats,” he said slowly, almost to himself. “Gatha Thakur is stubborn in ways I admire — and hate. But stubbornness is not the same as invulnerability.”

Across from him, Arjun stood with his phone still warm in his hand, the echo of the last call trembling in his chest. He forced a laugh that died at the edges. “There’s one thing we tried before,” he said, voice thin. “Do you remember—the substance we acquired two years back? The one they said could make people see things that weren’t there?”

Gautam’s eyes didn’t flicker. “I remember.” He folded his fingers together, a gesture that made the room colder. “It wasn’t elegant the last time. Yet it will do what brute force cannot. We will make her doubt. We will make her believe that everything she trusted—everything she loves—is a lie.”

Arjun’s face went pale. “But she’s pregnant,” he blurted. “You can’t—”

“How does that matter to me?” Gautam cut in, smooth as a blade. “You ask like the world owes you mercy. The world owes me results.” He leaned forward, and the smile he wore for a heartbeat was all malice and steel. “Do it. Bring her. Make her see the story I want her to see. Break the ties that bind the Thakurs. Once she fractures, everything falls apart.”

Arjun stared at him, the room tilting. He could feel the memory of a different life—Ekanshi’s laugh, the way she trusted him when he had nothing to give—clawing at his throat. “You want me to lie to her. To betray the man she loves,” he said, voice choked. “To hurt a woman who’s… who’s carrying a child.”

Gautam shrugged, as if the point were merely academic. “The Thakurs made their choices. They chose to stand in my way. Choices have prices. Do not test me, Arjun. You know what happens to sons who disappoint me.”

The threat hung in the air like a verdict. Arjun’s jaw clenched; his hands balled into fists. For a moment his son’s loyalty and his conscience warred openly across his face.

“I can’t—” he began, then stopped. He could already see the backward spirals: Ekanshi’s face if his defiance failed, his father’s empire closing around everyone he loved. The chances of walking out clean felt impossibly small.

Gautam watched him for a long, quiet beat. “You’ll do it,” he said finally. “Not because you love me—but because realities are made by those willing to take them. Bring her here. Make her question everything. Make Siddharth look like the villain in his own story.”

Arjun swallowed. The weight of the order settled into his bones, cold and immovable. He thought of Ekanshi asleep in some far-off room, of the child that belonged to both of them and to no one’s cruelty. He thought of Gatha’s face—calm, trusting, unaware.

“I’ll call you when it’s done,” he said at last, voice hollow.

Gautam’s smile returned, small and satisfied. “Do not disappoint me,” he said.

Arjun left the study with the order burning behind his eyes. Each step away from the room sounded like a choice being made—one he would have to live with, whatever the cost.

Next Day
It was Monday evening. The Thakur mansion stood quiet under the pale orange sky. Everyone had gone out for work — only Gatha, eight months pregnant, remained at home. The house help had left early; the corridors echoed faintly with the ticking of the clock.

A sharp noise broke the silence — the creak of the back door.

Before Gatha could react, a gloved hand covered her mouth. She tried to scream, but the sound died in her throat.
The man’s voice trembled. “I’m sorry… I’m doing this helplessly.”

It was Arjun.

He lifted her carefully, making sure she didn’t get hurt. “Please, don’t struggle. I swear I won’t harm you.”
He placed her in the car and drove through the city, straight toward the deserted outskirts.

A dim light flickered in the corner of the old bungalow. Arjun helped Gatha sit on a chair, his eyes full of regret.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I had no choice.”

Gatha’s eyes burned with fury. She slapped him hard across the face.
“How dare you touch me!” she shouted, trembling but fierce.

“I know,” Arjun said, rubbing his cheek. “I deserve that. But I’m tired, Gatha. Tired of living under my father’s shadow. This—” he gestured helplessly “—was never my choice.”

She glared at him. “Then why are you doing it? How do I believe that this isn’t another one of your father’s games?”

He hesitated, then said quietly, “Because I would never hurt you. You remind me of her.”

Her brows furrowed. “Who?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he took a deep breath. “You can check my phone, my location, anything you want. My father’s plan was cruel — he wanted me to give you a drug that causes hallucinations. He wanted you to believe your husband doesn’t love you… that Siddharth was using you for his ambitions.”

Gatha’s face went pale. “You monster,” she whispered.

“I didn’t give you anything,” Arjun said quickly. “I couldn’t. I just needed to get you out before he sent his men.”

He looked at her, desperate. “Tell me, who should I call? Who do you trust most?”

“My husband,” Gatha said without hesitation. “Siddharth Thakur.”

She dictated his number. Arjun dialed, but the first call didn’t connect. He tried again — this time, Siddharth’s voice came through the speaker, hurried and distracted.

“Baby, I’m busy. I’ll call you back,” he said, not realizing who was calling. The line went dead.

Arjun exhaled shakily, then tried again. When the call connected, he quickly said, “Come fast — Gatha is with me. She’s safe, but we need you.”

He placed the phone on the desk. As it rang again, Gatha’s gaze fell on the screen.

Her eyes widened.
The caller ID showed a photo — Ekanshi’s — with the name “Wifey ❤️.”

Gatha’s breath hitched. She looked at Arjun sharply. “How do you know her?”

Arjun blinked. “What? You know her too? She’s my girlfriend.”

The room fell silent.

Gatha’s hands tightened on the armrest. “You mean… you’re the one who got her pregnant?”

Arjun froze. “How do you even know that?”

Gatha’s voice trembled, her anger barely contained. “Because Ekanshi is the cousin sister of my husband — Siddharth Thakur.”

Arjun’s face drained of color. The pieces snapped together in his mind — Ekanshi’s words from last night, her fear, the way she said Bhai will understand.

It hit him all at once.

“Ekanshi… Siddharth… Gatha…” he whispered. “It’s all the same family.”

He looked at Gatha, horror and realization battling in his eyes.
“I… I didn’t know,” he said weakly. “I swear, I didn’t know until now.”

Gatha’s voice was cold but steady. “Now you do. And you’ll fix this — because if anything happens to my child, your love story will die with it.”

Arjun nodded, guilt and fear thick in his chest. “I’ll make it right,” he said quietly. “I’ll bring peace — even if it means standing against my own father.”