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Chapter 81 - Manipulation

Myra's nails dug into her palms, her breaths shallow. The echo of Aditya's words clung to her ears, wrapping around her heart like poison.

Aditya tilted his head, his smirk calm, voice almost soothing — like a devil whispering scriptures.

"Your mother's death… was not fate, Myra. It was fire. And who lit that fire?" His eyes gleamed, leaning closer so his words sliced through her trembling silence.

"Ranvijay."

Her eyes widened, head shaking violently. "N-no… you're lying."

But Aditya didn't falter, his tone dripping with conviction.

"The orphanage was set ablaze by mistake. He was there. Your mother… your brave mother, she ran inside, trying to save children. But she never came back. He left her there, Myra. He couldn't save her… and he never told you."

The air around her collapsed. A loud ringing filled her head. She clutched her locket, her knees weak.

"No… Ranvijay— he… he wouldn't…"

Aditya's smile softened, strangely tender, as though he understood her pain. He crouched slightly to meet her gaze, his tone heavy with false sincerity.

"Why do you think he forced you into his life? Why do you think he keeps you caged, watching every step you take? Guilt, Myra. He hides his sin by keeping you close… convincing himself that as long as he has you, your mother's ghost won't haunt him."

Tears blurred her sight. Her chest burned as if the fire had found her too. The image of Ranvijay's eyes—so intense, so possessive—flashed in her mind, but now shadows twisted around it.

Was it love… or was it guilt?

Aditya stepped back into the dark, his clap echoing through the hollow hall again.

"You wanted the truth. Now live with it, princess."

Myra staggered, the weight of the revelation crushing her. For the first time, her heart whispered a dangerous doubt—

What if everything she believed about Ranvijay… was a lie?

Aditya's voice grew softer, like he was pulling Myra back into a time she never saw clearly.

"You know, Myra… there was a time when you were the only light even in our ruined childhood. I—I was always the one who stood for you, who made you laugh, who tried to shield you from every cruelty. And maybe that's why I fell in love with you first… before anyone else."

As he spoke, Myra's vision blurred, the world around her dissolving into the flicker of childhood.

---

👁️ Flashback

The courtyard of the old orphanage echoed with children's voices. Aditya, a boy with stubborn eyes and bruised knees, stood in front of a little Myra who clutched her doll tightly.

"Don't cry, Myra," young Aditya said with fierce determination, puffing his chest. "As long as I am here, no one will touch you."

She looked up at him with trembling eyes, and something about her fragile trust etched itself into his young heart.

From the corner, young Ranvijay stood watching, his fists curling tight. His jaw clenched when he saw Myra smile at Aditya, when her little hand reached for Aditya's sleeve like he was her protector.

Every time Aditya fought a bully for Myra, every time Myra's mother placed her hand gently on Aditya's head and said, "You're such a brave boy", Ranvijay burned inside. He wanted that smile, that affection—for himself.

---

One night, when the shadows stretched long and cold, Ranvijay stood holding a burning stick behind the orphanage. His small body trembled, his eyes wild—not with courage, but with fear and longing.

"If this place burns… maybe she will only have me," he whispered, convincing himself, though his voice shook.

But when the flames kissed the dry haystack, panic seized him. His hand faltered, his throat tightened. He wanted to pull back.

"No… no… I can't…" he muttered, dropping the firestick in terror.

The next moment, the dry hay blazed up. The orphanage caught fire in a roar of orange and black. Children screamed. Chaos erupted.

And there—through the madness—Aditya's small figure appeared, dragging children out, holding Myra's tiny hand in his, shielding her from the smoke. His voice broke with urgency, "Run, Myra! Don't look back!"

Meanwhile, Ranvijay stood frozen at the edge of the flames, staring at the inferno he had unleashed… and at Aditya carrying her away like a hero.

---

👁️ Back to Present (Aditya narrating)

Aditya's lips twisted into a bitter smile as he looked into Myra's stunned eyes.

"That night… he couldn't even hold the fire in his hand. But it still destroyed everything. And who did your mother call her savior? Not Ranvijay. She called me."

Myra's eyes filled with disbelief as Aditya's words sank in. "You're lying," she whispered, shaking her head. "You're making this story up. Ranvijay would never—"

Aditya's laugh cut her off, sharp and mocking. "Really, Myra? Then why do you always ask him what he's hiding? Why do you feel something is missing? Why does he never let you go anywhere without him? Why is he so desperate to keep you close, to chain you to him?"

Her lips trembled, but no words came out.

Aditya stepped closer, his gaze unblinking, his voice dropping to a taunting whisper. "If he's so pure, then why doesn't he ever tell you about your lost memories? Why does he silence you every time you ask? Why does he guard them like a madman… as if he owns even your past?"

Myra flinched at the weight of his words, her mind spinning, her heart torn between disbelief and the dangerous seed of doubt he was planting.

-------------------

Ranvijay had been restless since the last hour. A strange heaviness tugged at his chest, an instinct that clawed at him, whispering that something was wrong—terribly wrong. He tried to shake it off, but the silence in Myra's chamber when he pushed the door open made his blood freeze.

The room was empty.

Her dupatta lay crumpled on the floor near the bed, as though she had left in a hurry—or worse, been taken.

"Myra!" His voice thundered through the corridors, startling the servants. He stormed down the halls, his eyes wild, jaw clenched. "Where is she?!"

None of them had an answer.

The next blow came when he sent a guard to fetch Anika. The guard returned pale, stammering, "Rajkumari Anika is… missing too, Your Highness."

Ranvijay's fist slammed into the nearest pillar, the crack echoing like the roar of a beast caged too long. His breathing grew harsher, his veins pulsing with fury.

"She wouldn't leave. Not without telling me." His voice dropped low, dangerously low. "Someone took her."

He barked orders, his men scattering in every direction. Cars were prepared, trackers activated, contacts called. His control—so famed and feared—slipped away as panic gripped his chest. Myra was fragile, innocent, too trusting. And now she was out there, without him.

Every passing second felt like torture. He prowled the palace entrance like a lion ready to tear apart the world, eyes scanning the gates as if sheer willpower could bring her back.

And then—

Headlights slashed through the darkness. A black car rolled to a stop before the palace gates. Ranvijay's breath hitched.

The rear door opened.

Anika stepped out first, looking pale but steady. Then, a second figure emerged—delicate, trembling, but real.

Myra.

She stood there in the glow of the headlights, her wide eyes flickering up toward the palace, as though unsure if she was stepping into safety or into another storm.

The screech of tires faded into silence. Ranvijay's chest heaved as he threw open the car door, rushing to her side.

"Myra!" His voice cracked as his hands cupped her face, frantic. "Are you hurt? Tell me what happened. Did something—did someone—?" His palms ran over her shoulders, her arms, her trembling frame, searching desperately for wounds.

But she didn't move.

Didn't blink.

Didn't even look at him.

Her eyes were fixed on the emptiness beyond, hollow… as if her soul had been stolen away. The glow of life that always lingered in them was gone.

"Myra…?" His voice dropped, softer, fragile with fear. "Say something. Please." He shook her lightly, his own heart stumbling as panic surged through him. "Why aren't you looking at me?"

Her lips parted, but no sound came. Only her ragged breaths filled the air.

Ranvijay's throat tightened. "You're scaring me. Talk to me. What's wrong?"

Ranvijay's pulse thundered in his veins as he reached Myra. He cupped her face, his hands trembling, his words spilling in a desperate rush.

"Myra… look at me. What happened? Are you hurt? Tell me—where are you hurt?"

But she didn't answer. She didn't even blink. Her eyes stared into some void beyond him, her face pale, her body rigid—like she wasn't even in her own skin.

Ranvijay's panic only grew. "Myra!" he shook her lightly, trying to drag her back to him. But before he could get more words out, he noticed movement behind her.

Anika.

Blood trickled from a wound on her forehead, her clothes torn, her steps shaky as she tried to stand steady.

"Anika!" Ranvijay rushed to her side, supporting her arm. "What happened to you? Who did this?"

Her eyes welled with tears as she whispered, "Aditya… he kidnapped me. Locked me away. And… Myra came to save me. He asked for her… he wanted her here. I don't know what he said to her, but—" her voice broke. "She came only because of me."

Ranvijay's gaze snapped back to Myra. His chest constricted, guilt tearing him apart. She still hadn't moved, still hadn't spoken—her silence screaming louder than anything.

"Myra…" His voice cracked as he reached for her again, desperate, begging. "Say something. Please."

And then, finally, her lips parted, trembling, her voice raw with pain.

"Tell the truth, Ranvijay… what happened? Just tell the truth—or I'll die right in front of you."

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