Megha Malhotra sat on the decorated bed, a soft smile playing on her lips. The room glowed in the warm light of scented candles and fairy lights. Flowers adorned every corner, and the gentle aroma of roses filled the air. She was dressed in a red satin nightgown—Vihan's favorite color—which clung perfectly to her wheat-toned skin. Her long black hair was left loose, cascading down her back just the way he liked. Her heart fluttered with anticipation.
"He's going to go crazy when he sees me like this," she blushed, her fingers nervously playing with the bedsheet.
A few minutes passed.
Then, heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor, growing louder with each second. Her heart skipped a beat.
The door flung open.
There stood Vihan Malhotra, still in his wedding sherwani—but the coat was missing, his shirt half untucked, hair disheveled, and eyes bloodshot, a storm of intoxication and fury brewing within them.
Megha's smile faded. She immediately stepped off the bed, concern replacing excitement. She approached him slowly and raised her hand to touch his face.
"Vihan… are you okay?" she asked softly.
But before her fingers could reach him, Vihan grabbed her wrist and yanked it away violently.
"Don't you dare touch me!" he growled, his voice low and full of venom.
Megha stood frozen, shocked. Still, she stepped closer, her voice trembling.
"Please, talk to me. What happened?"
He took a few steps toward her, his presence towering.
"Don't act innocent, Megha. You know what happened!"
She swallowed hard, her voice more serious now.
"Vihan, I understand. It was an accident… and our families only did what they thought was best. Maybe we should—"
"Respect their decision?" he scoffed. "Respect? My foot. Are you even listening to yourself?"
His voice broke, but his anger only intensified.
"It's not even been twenty-four hours since Riya died. My Riya. Your sister. The love of my life. And you and our families tricked me into marrying you? And now you expect me to celebrate a romantic wedding night with you?"
He looked around the room—at the petals, the lights, the bed—and suddenly, he snapped.
With a shout, he began tearing everything apart. He ripped down the garlands hanging over the bed, threw the candles off the table, scattered the petals, and finally tore the satin bedsheet in rage.
Megha watched in silent horror, her chest aching. Tears welled in her eyes, but she couldn't speak.
Finally, Vihan dropped to his knees and sobbed—loud, painful sobs that tore the room's silence apart.
Megha's heart clenched. She slowly knelt beside him and, hesitantly, placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
This time, he didn't pull away.
"I understand your pain, Vihan. Believe me, I'm just as shattered. Riya wasn't just my sister—she was my soul. I still can't believe she's gone…" Her voice cracked, and tears began falling from her eyes.
"But the elders told us the truth. They can't make Riya's death public until after the elections. Canceling this marriage would expose everything."
Vihan looked up at her with fire in his eyes.
"So your father and mine are ready to play with my feelings for their political gains? And you're helping them?" He stood up, fury still simmering beneath the surface.
"You were my best friend, Megha. And now look what you've done to me."
Megha stood too, trembling.
"No, Vihan. Both our families are grieving. You know how close I was to Riya. They told me this marriage is just for six months… After that, we can get a divorce."
"Six months? I can't bear to be around you for even six minutes!" he shouted.
"And don't pretend like you're mourning when you're dressed like this—ready for some romantic fantasy." He gestured harshly at her nightwear.
Megha paused, wiping her tears.
"This… This was a gift from Your Sister. She gave it to me"
She took a deep breath, her voice shaking but honest.
"And I won't lie. I've always had feelings for you, Vihan. But I was truly happy when I found out you loved my sister. I let go of my hopes. You've seen how excited Riya and I were…"
She looked down, ashamed.
"But now, I'm married to you. And I can't kill this tiny, guilty feeling inside me that wishes things were different. I know how that sounds. I'm sorry. But it's the truth."
Vihan stared at her, stunned. Her confession hit him harder than he expected, but he was too consumed by pain to react.
"I don't love you, Megha. And I can't. Not in this lifetime. You say six months? Fine. Let's play along with this farce. But once it's over—leave. Or I'll throw you out myself.
Megha nodded, head lowered so he couldn't see her tears.
Without another word, he stormed out.
---
Alone again.
Megha stood silently, staring at the destroyed room. Then, slowly, she sank to her knees and sobbed—loud, broken, animalistic sobs.
"Why this much pain, God?" she cried. "I loved him… and I loved her. I let her have him. I accepted it. But she left me. Even in death, she took him with her."
She clutched her chest.
"But this time… this time, I'll win. I have to. Otherwise, everything I did… will be in vain."
Her sobs ceased.
A strange calmness spread across her face.
She looked around at the ruined room and began fixing it—gently putting the garlands back, righting the table, carefully picking up the fallen photo frame of Vihan.
She placed the frame beside her pillow, stroked his face in the picture with a smile far too serene.
Then she whispered, almost to herself—
"You said you can't love me, but you will. You don't have a choice."
She slid into bed, cuddled the photo, and turned off the light.
Just before sleep took her, she murmured:
"Riya… I'm sorry. I told you not to come between us. But you never listened."
Her smile lingered in the dark.
Meanwhile, around 100 kilometers away from the Malhotra Mansion…
A dense fog lingered over the rugged hills as a military patrol jeep rumbled along a narrow trail hugging the riverbank. Laughter echoed from inside—three soldiers sharing a rare light moment on their early morning round.
Colonel Ajay Rawat, experienced and quiet, drove with steady focus. Beside him sat Lieutenant Veer Thakur, sharp-eyed and composed. In the back, Cadet Arjun Mehra, barely 22, cracked another joke that made Veer smirk and the Colonel shake his head with a grunt.
But their laughter faded as Veer suddenly raised his hand, squinting ahead.
"Stop the jeep. Something's there… by the rocks."
They disembarked quickly, boots splashing against the damp soil as they approached the river's edge. There, half-submerged on a mossy boulder, lay a young woman's body—soaked, bruised, tangled in her own long dark hair. Her clothes were torn, mud and blood clinging to her skin.
Arjun stepped back, horrified. "Is she… dead?"
Veer dropped beside her, two fingers pressing against her neck. A pause.
"She's breathing. Faint, but alive."
They exchanged looks—relief mingled with unease. Whoever she was, it was clear she hadn't simply fallen in.
The river here was calm… but upstream?
They carefully lifted her limp form and carried her toward the camp, silence stretching between them.
Unseen by them, a thin silver chain glinted at her neck, half-hidden beneath torn fabric. A delicate charm—an "V" pendant—swayed faintly in the breeze.
And far away, at the Malhotra Mansion, Megha stirred in her sleep clutching a photo of Vihan, unaware that fate had just opened a door she thought she'd locked forever.