Chapter 55: Forty Five

Misha sat on the edge of her bed, her hands tightly clasped in her lap as her gaze remained fixed on the floor. Across from her, Arthi stood frozen, her face a mixture of shock, worry, and anger.

"Di," Arthi finally managed to say, her voice trembling with disbelief, "I can't believe someone could stoop so low. I didn't even realize it was possible for someone to stalk another person like this without them even knowing. It's so..... distrubing!" Her tone carried the weight of her outrage, but it was laced with a deep concern for Misha.

Misha flinched slightly at her words, her lips pressing into a thin line as she avoided Arthi's piercing gaze.

"But, Di," Arthi pressed on, her wide eyes full of shock, "why did you keep this to yourself? Why didn't you tell anyone about this?"

Misha let out a soft, tired sigh. "I didn't want to trouble anyone," she said meekly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Arthi's eyes narrowed, her temper flaring. "Di, tum pagal ho kya?" she exclaimed, her voice rising. "What do you mean you didn't want to trouble us? This isn't some small issue! This is serious, Misha Di!"

Misha glanced up briefly, guilt flickering in her eyes. "I just..." she trailed off, her voice breaking, "I didn't want to burden anyone with this."

Arthi crossed her arms, her frown deepening. "Burden us? Are you even listening to yourself?" she said, exasperated.

She took a step closer to Misha and softened her tone. "Di, did you at least tell Abhimanyu jetha?" she asked hesitantly.

Misha stiffened at the question, her throat tightening. After a long pause, she shook her head, avoiding Arthi's searching eyes.

"Why?" Arthi asked, her disbelief evident. "Don't you think he deserves to know? He might-"

Misha cut her off, her voice trembling but firm. "He won't care, Arthi. He has his own priorities, his own life. I don't think he'd even understand how serious this is."

Misha swallowed hard, struggling to find the words. "Because..... He won't care, Arthi. He has his own priorities, his own life." she began hesitantly, her voice trembling, "I don't think he'd understand. And even if he did, I don't think he'd care enough to do anything about it." Her voice cracked on the last words as she looked down again, her shoulders slumping.

Arthi stared at her, utterly dumbfounded. "And you just decided that on your own? Without giving him a chance?" she asked, her voice dripping with frustration.

Misha's head snapped up, her eyes filled with pleading. "Arthi, you won't understand," she said, her tone desperate. "Just leave it, okay? I've already made my decision. I don't want to tell him, and that's final."

Arthi wanted to argue, but the look in Misha's eyes made her pause. With a frustrated sigh, she relented. "Fine," she said softly, "but only because you're asking me to. For now."

There was a heavy silence between them before Arthi spoke again, her brow furrowing. "Di, where do you keep going so early in the morning? I've noticed you sneaking out."

Misha's expression faltered, guilt washing over her face. "To my parents' house," she admitted, her voice barely audible. "I'm terrified he might try to harm them, so I go every morning to check on them."

Arthi's brow furrowed with concern as she leaned closer to Misha, her voice soft but urgent. "When did all this start again, Misha Di? I mean... when he came back?"

Misha let out a long, weary sigh, her shoulders slumping as though the weight of her past was pressing down on her. Her eyes held a shadow of fear as she met Arthi's gaze.

"It started that day," Misha began, her voice trembling slightly. "Dad had arranged a party to celebrate the company's success. I went to the mall to buy a dress for the event." She paused, her fingers gripping the hem of her shirt tightly. "That's when I saw him for the first time after all those years."

Misha's voice faltered, the memory clearly haunting her. "He saw me too. The moment our eyes met, I froze. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. I was so terrified... it was like every fear I had buried came rushing back all at once."

Arthi's hand reached out instinctively, resting gently on Misha's arm, silently offering support.

"In the middle of all that," Misha continued, her voice steadying just a little, "Abhimanyu and Isha happened to be there too, shopping for Isha's dress. I didn't know what else to do, so I left with them. I thought maybe if I just walked away, it would end there. But......" She trailed off, her eyes darkening with the memory.

"He smiled at me, Arthi," Misha whispered, her voice breaking. "It wasn't just any smile-it was the kind of smile that sends a chill down your spine. I knew..... I knew he wouldn't leave it at that. And I was right." Misha said with a pain in her eyes.

Arthi's grip on Misha's arm tightened, her worry deepening as she listened. "What happened after that?" Misha looked down.

Misha took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. "After the party, I received a message. It was from an unknown number, but the words....." She closed her eyes, as though trying to block out the memory. "The message said: Once again, the game will begin. And it was signed with one word: Wind." Arthi felt the fear and pain Misha's voice.

Her voice cracked as she continued, her eyes filling with unshed tears. "I knew it was him. There was no doubt in my mind. And now..... here I am, Arthi. Living with this constant fear, day after day, waiting for something to happen." Arthi felt her thoart dry with worry.

Misha looked down, her hands trembling slightly as she folded them in her lap. Her expression was a mix of exhaustion and despair, the weight of her words hanging heavily in the room.

Arthi's heart ached for her friend. "Misha....." she began softly, her voice full of compassion, but Misha shook her head, cutting her off.

"It doesn't matter, Arthi," Misha said, her tone hollow. "No matter how much I try to move on from that fear, he always finds a way back. And every time, it feels like I'm losing more and more of myself." Arthi sighed.

The room fell silent, the gravity of Misha's fear filling the space. Arthi didn't know what to say, but she promised herself she wouldn't let Misha face this alone.

Arthi's heart twisted at the fear in her Misha's voice. She reached out and took Misha's hand, squeezing it gently. "Don't worry, Di. I'm here for you. We'll find a way out of this mess together. Just don't keep everything bottled up, okay?" she said, offering a faint but reassuring smile.

Misha's eyes filled with tears, her lips trembling. "Arthi, you're the only one I have in this whole house," she whispered, her voice cracking.

"And you're the only one I have too," Arthi replied, her smile softening as she pulled Misha into a comforting hug.

After a few moments, Misha settled back on the bed while Arthi stood to leave. She turned back briefly, giving her sister one last reassuring nod before walking out of the room.

As she walked down the hallway, her mind racing with thoughts, she nearly bumped into Arnav, who was standing in her path. He looked at her, his expression unreadable, but she didn't so much as glance at him. Without a word, she walked past him, her shoulders stiff and her gaze fixed ahead.

Arnav watched her retreating figure, a sigh escaping his lips. He ran a hand through his hair and turned toward the garden. He had business to attend to with Abhimanyu, but the tension in Arthi's demeanor weighed on his mind.

Later, he resolved, he would find a way to talk to her.

Arnav reached the garden and settled into a chair opposite Abhimanyu. The two brothers began discussing an upcoming project, one that held immense potential for their company. It was a monumental deal, something they had been working towards for years. If they secured it, their company would soar to new heights, becoming a leader not just domestically but internationally.

As the discussion wrapped up, Arnav delved into the file, meticulously reviewing every detail. For a while, their conversation was all about figures, strategies, and negotiations. But when they had finished discussing, and Arnav leaned back to study the papers further, Abhimanyu leaned back in his chair, letting out a sigh before breaking the silence.

"Arnav." Hearing his name, Arnav glanced up, his brow lifting in question.

"Is something wrong between you and Arthi?" Abhimanyu's tone was calm, but his eyes held a probing edge.

Arnav stiffened. He returned his gaze to the file, hoping to dismiss the question, but Abhimanyu wasn't letting this go.

"What happened?" Abhimanyu pressed, his concern evident. "You know I've noticed you two aren't even talking. And staying in separate rooms now? Why? Did you hurt her in some way?"

Abhimanyu's voice turned colder with that last question, his protective side showing. Arthi was family now, and he wouldn't tolerate her being mistreated.

Arnav closed the file with a sharp snap and leaned back, guilt flickering across his face. "Bhai..... I..... I shouted at her." His voice was low, tinged with regret.

Abhimanyu's expression hardened, his lips pressing into a thin line. "And why, may I ask, why did you shout at her?"he asked, his voice icy as he emphasized the word "shout." Abhimanyu's frown deepened, his gaze hardening though he had a good idea of the answer.

"I was frustrated," Arnav admitted, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "I was frustrated that day-work pressure-and I..... I took it out on her, and....." he admitted, his voice laced with guilt.

"Arnav," Abhimanyu interrupted, his tone laced with irritation. "When are you going to stop this ridiculous habit of giving everything on your ego. when will you stop this stupidity of venting your frustration on the wrong person? When will you learn to control yourself?"

"I know, bhai," Arnav said, his tone defensive. "But I couldn't help it. I was just so... Leave it," he said irritably, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Leave it?" Abhimanyu's voice rose slightly. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "It's not her fault that you were stressed over work, Arnav. You had no right to shout at her," he said, his voice firm.

Arnav didn't respond, his jaw tightening.

"Did you apologize?" Abhimanyu demanded, though he already knew the answer.

"No," Arnav admitted, his tone indifferent, though his guilt was written on his face.

"You're unbelievable!" Abhimanyu snapped, his frustration spilling over. "You're waiting for her to come to you, aren't you? Let me tell you something, Arnav-this is your fault, and in a marriage, ego has no place. None. If you don't leave your pride behind, it's going to cost you everything that matters." Abhimanyu explained with calm yet frustration.

Abhimanyu's words were sharp, each one hitting home. Arnav looked away, his expression conflicted.

"You better go and apologize," Abhimanyu added, leaning back with a sigh. "And if you don't, Arnav Rathore, don't expect me to shield you from the consequences. You won't like what happens next."

Arnav stood abruptly, shoving his hands into his pockets as he started walking back toward the mansion. He paused briefly at the doorway, glancing back at his brother, who was watching him with a mix of irritation and disappointment.

"Arnav!" Abhimanyu called after him, his voice stern. "You'd better apologize. If you don't, I promise you, you won't like the consequences. Mark my words, Mr. Arnav Rathore."

When Arnav disappeared inside, Abhimanyu shook his head, picking up the file on the table.

"I don't know when he'll learn to let go of his ego," he muttered to himself, flipping through the documents. Still, he couldn't help but worry-for both his brother and Arthi.

As Misha stepped out of the bathroom, the cool air brushing against her damp skin, she tossed her towel onto the nearby chair and moved toward the mirror. She ran a hand through her damp hair, her thoughts elsewhere, when the sharp ring of her phone shattered the quiet. Without glancing at the caller ID, she picked up.

"Hello?" she said absentmindedly.

The voice on the other end froze her in place. Her heart skipped a beat, and her hand holding the phone trembled slightly as the familiar, chilling tone filled her ears.

"What happened, Wind? Lost your voice? Come on, say something," he person mocked, his words smooth yet piercing, dripping with menace.

Misha's chest tightened, her breath catching in her throat. She swallowed hard, trying to steady herself, but the fear that surged through her made her voice tremble.

"Aa..... Aadhiran," she managed to whisper, the name slipping out like a fragile confession.

A low, sinister laugh echoed through the phone, sending shivers down her spine.

"You still remember me? God, Misha, you haven't even forgotten my voice. Wow. Now this is what I call true love," Aadhiran drawled, his tone laced with mockery.

Misha's fear was quickly overshadowed by a rush of anger. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the phone tighter.

"Why did you call me?" she demanded, her tone firm but edged with simmering rage.

"Why?" Aadhiran repeated, feigning surprise. "Because I wanted to, of course. Is that a problem, darling?" His voice darkened, each word soaked in cruel amusement.

Misha clenched her jaw, the fire of her anger battling the icy dread pooling in her chest. "Listen, Mr. Aadhiran," she began sharply, trying to keep her composure. "I don't want to talk to you. So cut the-" she got cutted off between her words.

"Ah-ah," Aadhiran interrupted, his tone cold and commanding. "Don't cut me off, Wind. I'm not finished yet."

Her frustration flared. She wanted to hurl the phone across the room, but his next words stopped her cold.

"Abhimanyu Rathore," he said casually, as if testing the name. "Your husband, right?" His tone trailed off.

Misha froze, her blood turning to ice. Her breath hitched, and her hand, now trembling, hovered over the screen, unable to end the call.

"Oh, I see you haven't hung up yet," Aadhiran continued, a smirk audible in his voice. "Good. So, where was I? Ah, yes. Abhimanyu Rathore. Your dear husband." He paused, his tone dropping lower, more sinister. "I know everything about him. And not just him, Misha. His whole family." He know he hit the point where should be.

Misha's other hand gripped the edge of her saree tightly, the fabric twisting beneath her fingers as panic surged within her.

"You'll meet me," Aadhiran said firmly, his words no longer a suggestion but a command. "I'll let you know where and when." Aadhiran said causally.

Misha's anger surged again, momentarily overpowering her fear. "Why should I?" she spat. "I'm not going to meet you, Aadhiran. Stay out of my life!" Misha tone filled with her frustration.

He sighed theatrically on the other end, as though speaking to a stubborn child. "Alright, then. If that's what you want....." He paused, his voice turning casual, almost bored. "How about this? Should your husband have a little..... accident on his way to work tomorrow? Would that change your mind, Wind?" Aadhiran trailer off with hint of danger in his tone.

Misha froze, her breath leaving her in a sharp exhale. Her body stiffened, and the phone slipped slightly in her clammy hand.

"Don't test me, Misha," Aadhiran said softly, his tone devoid of emotion. "You know I always keep my promises." Aadhiran cut the call and the line went silent.

Before she could respond, the call ended with a click.

Misha stood there, staring at her reflection in the mirror, her face pale and her lips trembling. Slowly, she sank onto the edge of the bed, her phone slipping from her hand. Her mind raced with fear and helplessness. She knew Aadhiran meant every word he said-and he always followed through.

Abhimanyu stepped into the room, his arms full of files, the weight of the day pressing on his shoulders. But as soon as he saw Misha sitting on the bed, motionless, his steps faltered. She was so still, her posture rigid, as though something had drained her of all life. Frowning, he set the files down carefully on the desk, his mind already racing with questions.

What's wrong with her? he wondered as he glanced back at her. But Misha didn't move, her eyes fixed on something far off, distant, lost in thought. He couldn't help but notice the exhaustion etched across her face.

He walked toward her, his steps quiet, careful.

"Misha," he said, his voice a mix of cold authority but softened by a trace of concern. The words hung in the air between them, and for a moment, nothing changed. Misha slowly turned her head to meet his gaze. Her eyes-so soft, yet so tired-looked up at him, and he couldn't read her expression. It was as if she was somewhere else entirely.

He stood there, eyes narrowing slightly, trying to understand what was going on. What's happening to her?

"What's wrong?" Abhimanyu asked, his eyes questioning, seeking some explanation. He saw her lips barely move as she shook her head, the faintest motion. A silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, before Abhimanyu sighed, frustration beginning to creep in.

He glanced at her hair, still damp from the shower, droplets clinging to the strands as they ran down her neck.

"Dry your hair, Misha," he said, his tone taking on a commanding edge.

"You'll catch a cold if you leave it like that." Abhimanyu looked at her who just looked at him

Misha gave a small nod, not meeting his eyes, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Abhimanyu watched, his expression shifting from concern to mild annoyance. Why does she do this? he thought. Why is she so... distant?

"Mrs. Rathore," he continued, his voice now tinged with mockery, "I said dry your hair. It won't dry itself just by you nodding."

Still no response. No argument. Misha stood up slowly, wordlessly walking toward the mirror. Abhimanyu watched her, his gaze following every movement, every step. She took the towel from the rack and began to dry her hair, her back to him.

He frowned, his thoughts clouding. She didn't argue. She didn't even say a word back. She should have said something... anything. Why is she like this? His brow furrowed further as he watched her, perplexed. This isn't normal...

His gaze unwillingly traveled lower, noticing the still-fresh droplets of water clinging to the curve of her back. His breath caught in his chest, and his eyes traced the delicate lines of her waist. The sight of her, so unaware, so innocent, stirred something within him-a discomfort he couldn't quite place. His heart rate picked up, his thoughts racing far beyond where they should. He could feel the heat rise to his cheeks.

"Get a grip, Abhimanyu. This is ridiculous". He forced his gaze away, biting back a groan of frustration. "Focus". He thought to himself.

He quickly moved toward the balcony, needing space, needing air. Gripping the cold railing tightly, he closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply as the wind brushed against his face.

"What are you doing?" he muttered to himself, the internal conflict evident in his voice. "She's your wife. But it's just on paper. This marriage means nothing. We both know that". He muttered.

Abhimanyu exhaled slowly, his mind a storm of thoughts and confusion.

"None of us want this marriage. Not really". He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots as if that could untangle the mess inside his head.

"I just want her to be my friend. To make things less awkward. But this woman... She's impossible to figure out". He muttered under his breath, frustration boiling beneath the surface.

He turned back toward the room, his gaze briefly catching sight of Misha as she adjusted her earrings in front of the mirror. For a brief, fleeting moment, his breath caught in his chest. The simple act of her moving so gracefully, so effortlessly, made something inside him stir. He quickly averted his eyes, his heart thudding in his chest as if he'd been caught in some unspoken moment.

"Why is this so complicated?" He shook his head, his thoughts clouded. He moved to the sofa on the balcony, sitting down with a resigned sigh. Grabbing a magazine, he tried to focus on the pages, but his mind kept drifting back to her-her silence, her stillness, and the quiet tension that filled the space between them.

"This is a mess", Abhimanyu thought, trying to shake off the thoughts that gnawed at him. "A complete mess". He muttered out with irritation as he rubbed on his temples.

Arnav sat in his room, wrestling with his thoughts. The conflict within him was unlike anything he had ever felt. Should he apologize to Arthi? The mere idea felt foreign to him. Arnav Rathore never apologizes. He didn't seek anyone's approval, let alone beg for their forgiveness. But this time, it was different-so different. It was infuriating to even consider it, yet here he was, debating his next move.

"How can I, the Arnav Rathore, apologize?" he muttered irritably. The thought itself was unbearable. But his inner voice, persistent as ever, whispered back, Can you really stay without her?

The question hit him like a punch to the gut. His chest tightened at the mere thought, and he groaned in frustration.

"I can't," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I feel like I can't even breathe in this room without her. I haven't slept properly for two days....." He trailed off, raking a hand through his hair. The sleepless nights had taken their toll on him, and the emptiness in his chest was gnawing away at his resolve.

His inner voice spoke again, firm and unyielding. Then go apologize before you lose your mind.

Arnav sighed deeply, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.

"I have to apologize," he said aloud, standing abruptly. His strides were purposeful, but his mind was still grappling with the enormity of his decision.

"I yelled at her. It was my fault," he muttered to himself, his voice laced with regret. "How could I? She was only trying to help....."

As he stepped out of his room, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of vulnerability-a feeling he wasn't accustomed to.

"This woman," he thought, clenching his jaw, "she's changing me in ways I can't even understand."

He strode down the hall, his destination clear in his mind.

"She must be in Isha's room," he thought, heading there first. But when he opened the door, the room was empty. He let out a frustrated sigh, his eyes scanning the space for any sign of her.

"Where is she?" he muttered under his breath, his irritation mounting. He tried the kitchen next, but it was deserted as well. Just as he was about to turn back, he caught sight of a figure in the study room. His heart skipped a beat. It's her.

Without a second thought, Arnav made his way to the study. He stood silently at the doorway, watching her. She was reaching for a book on the shelf, her movements graceful yet deliberate. His eyes softened as he took in the sight of her. She looked so serene, so focused, yet he knew he had disrupted that peace.

Arthi picked a book from the shelf, her fingers trembling slightly as she clutched it tightly, trying to distract herself. But as she turned to leave, she froze. Arnav stood there, his hands tucked casually in his trousers' pockets, his intense gaze fixed on her. Her heart skipped a beat, but she quickly masked her emotions and turned her head away, walking past him as though he wasn't there.

Before she could take another step, his hand shot out, gently grabbing her wrist, halting her.

"Arthi," he said firmly, his tone low and composed. "Wait."

She turned her head, irritation flickering in her eyes. She didn't meet his gaze, keeping her focus elsewhere.

"Ab kya kar rahe hai? Humein jaane dijiye," she snapped, her voice tinged with frustration.

"I need to talk to you," Arnav said, his voice calm but laced with determination.

"What is there to talk about?" she asked, her tone sharp. "Didn't you say enough already when you yelled at me? Or is there more?" Her eyes burned with quiet defiance, though her heart was still bruised.

Arnav sighed heavily, raking a hand through his hair. For once, he didn't know how to begin. "Arthi, listen to me. I... I shouldn't have shouted at you like that. You came to help me, and I..." He hesitated, his words faltering. "I really apologize."

Arthi's lips twitched in a bitter smile as she crossed her arms. "Alright," she said curtly, her voice devoid of emotion.

Arnav frowned, clearly not expecting her indifferent response. "That's it? Alright? Nothing more?" he asked, his tone hardening slightly. He expected her to yell at him, to scold him-anything but this detached acceptance.

"What else can I do?" she replied, meeting his gaze now, her voice steady yet cold. "I can't do anything more than this." Her tone softened, but her words cut deep. "And you don't even need to apologize. After all, I'm no one to you. I'm just... just a replacement bride, right?"

Her words struck like a knife, and Arnav froze. His brows furrowed as he stared at her, struggling to process her statement. "What do you mean by that?" he asked, his voice lowering, tinged with confusion.

Arthi let out a dry laugh, the sound bitter and filled with pain. "You said it yourself, didn't you? That there's nothing between us. Nothing. So why bother apologizing when we mean nothing to each other? I'm just a stand-in for my sister, and that's it."

Her voice cracked as her emotions threatened to spill over. She turned away, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "What else should I expect from my sister's fiancé? I know I'm just a replacement. But that doesn't mean you can treat me this way." Her voice broke slightly, and she quickly blinked back the tears that stung her eyes.

Arnav's frown deepened as he tried to understand her words.

"What are you talking about, Arthi? And why are you saying all of this?" His tone was calm, though frustration flickered beneath it, he don't when did her mind start to work this much, that she talking all ridiculous things now.

"You understand exactly what I'm saying," she shot back, her voice rising slightly. "You just don't want to admit it. One moment, you're calm and kind, the next, you're angry and distant. Tell me, Arnav Ji, how am I supposed to understand you? I'm trying so hard, but you make it impossible." Arthi looked at him with her hurtful eyes.

Her frustration boiled over, and the tears she had been holding back finally spilled. She quickly wiped them away, her resolve hardening.

"It's fine. We don't need to be in this situation anymore. I've made a decision." Her voice steadied, but there was a finality to it that made Arnav's chest tighten.

"Let's not talk to each other anymore," she said firmly.

"That's what you want, right? A wife who's perfect on paper, who fits your reputation, who looks good standing beside you. But I'm not that person, Arnav Ji. I'll never be that person. My sister, Trisha, was perfect for you in every way. So, I think it's better if you find her and bring her back. And I..... I'll leave." Arthi said gulping down her pain.

Her words hung heavy in the air as she stared at him, waiting for a response, for any sign that he cared. But Arnav said nothing, his silence deafening.

When he didn't speak, her heart shattered. Her lips trembled as she swallowed back the sob threatening to escape.

"Let's not talk anymore," she repeated, her voice a whisper now, as if convincing herself more than him. She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, wiping her tears with trembling hands.

Arnav stood there, rooted in place, his fists clenched as her words replayed in his mind. For the first time, he didn't have a response. For the first time, he felt powerless.

Arthi entered Isha’s room with heavy steps, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She sank onto the edge of the bed, clutching the soft fabric of her saree as tears continued to stream down her cheeks. Her sniffles broke the silence of the room.

"He didn’t even say a word…..not a single word….." she muttered to herself, her voice trembling with anguish. "Did he…..agree to not talk to me? Is that what it means?"

Her breath hitched as she struggled to voice her thoughts. "It means he doesn’t…..he doesn’t…..consider me his wife," Arthi whispered, her voice breaking.

Her aunt’s venomous words echoed in her mind, amplifying her pain. "Chachi was right. He doesn’t love me. He wanted to marry my sister, but she ran away. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?" A fresh wave of tears cascaded down her face as she buried it in her hands.

"Well, he liked Trisha," she continued, her voice growing weaker, "that’s why he agreed to marry her. And I…..I’m just a replacement. Nothing more. Nothing at all." Her words came out as quiet sobs, the truth stabbing her heart with every syllable.

She pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging herself tightly as more doubts clawed at her mind. "I’m in someone else’s place. I’m not perfect for him. I can’t uphold his reputation. I don’t know how to dress like Trisha, and I’d probably embarrass him if I ever attended a business party. I’m not good enough…I never was."

Her aunt’s cruel words from the day before replayed mercilessly in her thoughts, words that had planted seeds of doubt and insecurity within her fragile heart.

The shrill sound of her phone ringing broke her thoughts, startling her. She glanced at the screen. Chachi Reema.

Arthi sighed, hesitating for a moment. Her finger hovered over the screen, torn between answering and letting it ring out. As the ringing neared its end, she reluctantly picked up.

"Arthi beta! How are you? Did I disturb you?" Reema’s overly cheerful voice rang out, her tone sweet yet fake.

Arthi frowned. The excitement in her aunt’s voice only heightened her unease. "Chachi…..it’s alright"she replied softly, her voice barely audible.

"Good, good! Actually, we’re having a puja at home, and your uncle insisted I call you. He really wanted you to come, beta." Reema chuckled on the other end.

Arthi felt her chest tighten. She could already sense the real reason behind her aunt’s sudden sweetness.

"Oh, Rajvijay, see? I called your dear daughter for the puja," Reema said in a louder tone, clearly addressing her husband in the background. "Now you can relax!" Reema said with sarcastic tone.

"Finally, I can rest easy," her uncle’s voice replied faintly.

Arthi sighed, her grip tightening around the phone, so her uncle also there realizing why her aunt was suddenly so sweet.

"Arthi, listen, beta," Reema’s voice grew softer, but there was a sharp edge to her words. "You and your husband must come. Otherwise, your uncle will start blaming me."

Arthi bit her lip, knowing exactly where this conversation was heading. "Alright, Chachi. I’ll come," she said quietly, her tone devoid of energy.

A moment of silence followed before Reema spoke again, her sugary tone laced with mockery.

"Arthi, dear, I suppose you’ll come alone, won’t you? Aranv…..I mean, your husband, won’t be joining you, right?"

The words stung like a slap. Arthi remained silent, her breath catching in her throat.

"After all, why would he come? He’s a man of reputation, and you….." Reema laughed, her voice filled with derision. "You can’t even match his status. Let’s be honest, Arthi, you’re just not….. suitable for him. My Trisha, though, she was perfect for him. It’s such a shame she ran away."

The mocking laughter on the other end of the line felt like knives stabbing Arthi’s already fragile heart. She clenched her saree tightly, her knuckles turning white.

"Anyway, beta, come alone. Don’t worry about Aranv. I’ll send a car to pick you up. Your uncle might insist on talking to him, There’s no need to bother Aranv. I and you both know he won’t come, so don’t trouble yourself. Alright? Take care."  Reema said, her voice sickly sweet again before she hung up the call.

Arthi lowered the phone slowly and placed it on the bed. Her gaze shifted to the window as her vision blurred with tears. Her aunt’s words replayed in her mind like a relentless echo.

"You’re not right for Aranv. You’re just a stand-in for my daughter. He agreed to marry Trisha, not you. You’re lucky she ran away. But mark my words, Arthi-when she returns, you’ll go back to where you belong. You’re not fit for that place, for that life. Don’t get too attached" this all are was her aunt words when she called the pervious day.

Those words had haunted her since their last conversation, and now they felt like an undeniable truth.

"I’m just a replacement," Arthi whispered to herself, her voice breaking. "That’s all I’ll ever be." Her tears fell freely now, and she didn’t bother wiping them away. The room fell silent except for the sound of her quiet sobs, her heart breaking under the weight of her unspoken pain.

Her heart ached, each beat echoing her aunt’s words. The thought of being merely a replacement-someone unworthy, unwanted-consumed her entirely.

All of you

I hope you like this idea of mine.

From now on I will give each couple equal attention

So In next chapter I will give about Ekansh Rathore and Roohi

And

Aavyan Rathore and Tara

Its quite lengthy Chapter, well from now chapters will be lengthy as we have to cover four couple.

Have a great day