Chapter 53: ✨🪭45: This war had just begun.

Ivaan went back to his grand procession, by his minister Varun and the formidable commander of his army, Nimit. Alongside them was his stepmother, who, albeit reluctantly, had agreed to this alliance. As they were welcomed with garlands and cheers, it seemed as if the nation had collectively decided to forget the dark fate of Prince Nayan. People had moved on, or at least they pretended to.

Indu returned back to  the bride’s chamber, Sneha Indu’s best friend and maid, was fastening the last piece of jewelry onto her. Indu sat before the grand mirror, a vision of opulence. Her red bridal attire shimmered under the golden lamplight, embroidered with intricate patterns befitting a queen. Gold adorned her from head to toe, yet her heart felt heavier than the jewelry she wore. The reflection staring back at her was not a bride about to step into a new life but a prisoner marching toward her doom.

Indu’s hands trembled as she adjusted her bangles. Her mind screamed, her heart pounded. How could she marry a ruthless, conniving murderer? She could no longer hold it in.

The weight of her secrets crushed her, and in one swift motion, she stood up, ignoring Sneha’s startled gasp, and rushed out of the chamber.

She ran through the royal corridors, her breath ragged, until she reached Anya’s room. Anya, still as regal as ever, sat in front of a mirror, adjusting the pleats of her golden yellow saree. She turned, her warm eyes softening at the sight of her younger sister.

“You look beautiful,” Anya said with a small, wistful smile. “My little baby is getting married. I can’t believe it.”

Indu froze at those words. The truth clawed at her throat. Her hands clenched into fists, and before she knew it, her vision blurred with tears.

Anya frowned, standing up immediately. “Indu? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“I-I can’t—” Indu’s voice cracked, and then, in a flood, the truth spilled out. She told her everything—the horrifying revelation of Ivaan’s involvement in Vikram’s murder, her growing suspicion that he was behind Prince Nayan’s death too. With each word, Anya’s expression darkened, her gentle hands tightening into fists.

When Indu finally fell silent, hiccupping between sobs, Anya wiped her sister’s tears away with surprising calmness. “If what you’re saying is true,” she said, her voice steel, “then I will not let this wedding happen. Prince Ivaan will not exploit our family.”

Indu fell to her knees, grabbing Anya’s hands. “No, please! I’m scared! I don’t know what he might do to you. I can’t lose you too!”

Anya knelt down, cupping Indu’s face in her hands. “You won’t. Trust me, I won’t let you down. That tyrant Ivaan needs to be stopped. He thinks he can walk into our home, take what he pleases, and silence us with fear. But not anymore.”

The moment was interrupted by the royal trumpets blaring outside, signaling the groom’s arrival at the mandap. The wedding was about to begin.

Anya’s gaze hardened. “Stay behind me.”

With that, she rose and walked towards the wedding mandap.

The grand courtyard was a spectacle of wealth and power, a sea of silk, gold, and precious stones gleaming under the lantern-lit sky. The guests were gathered, whispering among themselves in excitement as Ivaan sat on the grand cushioned seat, priests chanting mantras as they began the rituals. Nimit and Varun stood nearby, watching everything with calculating eyes.

“STOP THIS WEDDING RIGHT NOW!”

A gasp rippled through the crowd. The priests faltered mid-chant. The drummers hesitated, and the dancers froze in their steps.

Ivaan’s eyes snapped up, his smirk disappearing as Anya stormed into the mandap, her golden saree flowing behind her like a storm approaching.

Indu paced behind her, breathless, panicked, her hands clasped together in silent pleading. “Didi, please—”

Anya held her sisters hand, nodding  towards her as of to let her do this Indu obeyed  “This marriage is a fraud to my family, ! It will not take place!”

The murmurs of the crowd grew louder, tension thickening like a noose tightening around the moment.

Ivaan tilted his head, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. “Oh? And what reason do you have to disrupt such a joyous occasion, dear sister-in-law?”

Anya stepped forward, her voice unwavering. “Because I will not let my sister marry a cruel murderer.”

A stunned silence.

Varun’s eyes narrowed. Nimit stiffened. The courtiers exchanged anxious glances, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

Ivaan chuckled, slow and deliberate. “Those are heavy accusations, Anya.”

“They are not accusations. They are the truth,” she shot back. “You killed Vikram an innocent person. And I strongly suspect you had a hand in Prince Nayan’s death too. How dare you think you could waltz into our home and trick us into an alliance built on bloodshed?”

Ivaan’s jaw ticked, but he remained seated, fingers tapping against his knee. “You speak so boldly. And what proof do you have?”

Anya smirked. “Oh, you’re nervous now, aren’t you? A guilty man’s first defense—‘Where’s the proof?’”

The tension in the air was suffocating now. Ivaan’s fingers clenched into a fist. Nimit took a cautious step forward, sensing the shift.

Anya lifted her chin. “ I refuse to let my sister be caged by you.”

The room erupted into chaos—guests whispering, ministers looking at each other in worry, and Ivaan’s calm demeanor finally cracking. He stood up, his towering presence looming over Anya, but she didn’t flinch.

“Careful, princess,” he murmured, his voice dangerously low. “You don’t know who you’re playing with.”

Anya took a step closer, meeting his gaze without fear. “Neither do you.”

Indu clutched her chest, breath shallow. She had never seen her sister this fierce, this unwavering.

This war had just begun.

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Ivaan 0

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