8. Punishment? or Just Frustration?

Happy Sunday

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The Next Day

The morning sun cast its warm rays over the Raghuwanshi household, filling every corner with a sense of celebration and anticipation.

Rukmini, the ever-organized matriarch, was on the phone, calling and coordinating with the families of the Agarwals, Bakshis, Gods, and Reddys.

The marriage dates were carefully chosen according to the couples' ages-a custom she believed brought good luck.

Each marriage had its special date: Rudraksh and Ishika's wedding would take place first, a grand beginning to the ceremonies.

Next would come Daksh and Divya's marriage, followed by the shared celebration of Aaryansh and Amrita's, and Aditya and Ananya's weddings, both scheduled for the same auspicious day.

The household bustled with excitement, with plans, laughter, and the occasional happy tears as Rukmini shared the details of each wedding with loved ones.

Later, the Raghuwanshis gathered in the spacious hall, sitting together as they discussed wedding preparations. Conversations filled the room with talk of venues, guest lists, and the dreams each family member held for the approaching celebrations.

In the background, the TV droned on with its usual mix of news and updates. Suddenly, a vibrant news clip interrupted the discussions.

The channel aired footage of the recent Ganesh Nimarjan celebration in Mumbai, a vivid display of colors, music, and joy, capturing the attention of everyone in the room.

The scene that unfolded on the screen was mesmerizing. The Raghuwanshis noticed familiar faces among the crowd-Divya, Amrita, and Ananya-celebrating with full spirit in front of Ganapati Bappa.

Amrita and Ananya were dancing energetically, their faces glowing with happiness as they moved with the rhythm, utterly uninhibited.

Beside them, Divya's shyness was evident, yet even she joined in the joy with a smile that reached her eyes. All three women were covered in wet Holi colors, their foreheads adorned with orange bands, symbolizing their devotion and festivity.

"So, this is what Ishika meant when she said they went to give a 'dhum dham send off to Ganapati Bappa'! " Geeta chuckled, her eyes crinkling with amusement.

Rukmini, Shravan, Neelima, and Ishwar joined in, laughter filling the room, each of them clearly proud of their future daughters-in-law.

"My daughters are dancing so well!" Rukmini gushed, her eyes glistening with pride and joy.

But amidst the family's joyful laughter, Daksh and Aaryansh sat in silent awe, captivated by the beauty and energy of the two women on screen.

Aditya, however, struggled to maintain his composure, trying not to let his gaze linger on Ananya. Despite his efforts, his heart raced as he caught glimpses of her radiant smile and graceful moves.

For Aaryansh, this was a moment he'd never forget. It was his first time seeing Amrita laugh, truly laugh, a side of her he'd only heard about.

Her usual stoic demeanor was replaced with pure, unguarded happiness, and it struck a chord deep within him. Seeing her like this, he felt an overwhelming urge to protect that joy, to be the reason behind her laughter, always.

Just as the clip ended, a collective disappointment crossed the faces of Daksh, Aaryansh, and Aditya, though only Aaryansh's reaction was obvious.

He stared at the now-blank screen, a trace of longing in his eyes. Beside him, Rudraksh noticed his brother's reaction and couldn't help but chuckle inwardly.

Meanwhile, across the city, the atmosphere was far different at the Agarwal household.

The news of Ishika's upcoming marriage had reached her family, but instead of joy, it sparked a storm of fury. Her Chachu and Chachi barged into her room, their faces dark with anger and greed.

"You better not mess this up, Ishika!" her Chachu warned, his voice laced with threat. Ishika, despite her fear, gathered her courage and dared to speak her mind.

"I will not." she replied, her voice steady but cautious. "But you have to make sure you give us Dreamlight."

Her Chachu's face twisted with rage. "How dare you give me orders!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the house.

Before Ishika could react, he raised his hand and struck her hard across the face, the force of the blow sending her reeling to the floor.

"You think you're someone important now, huh?" her Chachi sneered, venom in her words. "You're still nothing, Ishika-a dirty human, even if you're marrying someone like Rudraksh!"

Tears filled Ishika's eyes as she looked up at her Chachu, who sneered down at her, unrelenting. "You seem to have forgotten your place," he spat. "Let me remind you."

With a glance, he signaled to his wife, who disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with a hot iron rod.

Ishika's heart raced, her face paling as she realized their intent. She backed away, her hands trembling, her voice breaking as she pleaded, "No... please... no..."

But her pleas fell on deaf ears. Her Chachi advanced, holding the iron rod with a cruel smile, ignoring Ishika's cries. Without a moment's hesitation, she pressed the searing metal against Ishika's shoulder.

The smell of burning flesh filled the room as Ishika's screams pierced the air. Her body convulsed in agony, the pain unbearable. Moments later, she collapsed, her strength gone, her consciousness fading.

As Ishika lay crumpled on the floor, her body weak and battered, she heard her Chachu and Chachi's footsteps receding, their indifference palpable in the silence that settled afterward.

Her body ached from head to toe, her shoulder still searing with pain where the burning rod had branded her skin. Tears still wet on her cheeks, she slowly regained consciousness, her mind clouded with hurt and exhaustion.

She winced, barely able to move, and forced herself to look at her injured shoulder, the sight of the blistered, raw flesh sending a wave of nausea through her.

Ishika sat alone, immobilized by the pain, and let her tears flow freely, each drop a silent release of the torment she had endured. After a while, she gathered the strength to stand, her legs trembling as she made her way to her small, cramped room.

There, she changed into clothes that would hide the burn marks, pulling the fabric over her shoulders as gently as possible, flinching with each touch.

Meanwhile, across town at the Bakshi residence, another young woman faced her own daily struggles.

Divya's grandmother, a stern woman with little patience, seemed determined to make Divya's life difficult.

Despite her granddaughter's upcoming marriage, she continued to treat her like a servant, barking orders and finding every reason to scold her.

"Divya!" her grandmother called sharply from the living room. "Come here and get this house in order!"

Divya hurried to obey, moving from one task to the next, her hands raw and her spirit heavy. She was in the middle of cleaning when the doorbell rang.

She glanced up, seeing a group of young men from her college entering, their eyes roaming the room with familiarity. Her grandmother greeted them warmly, doting on them as though they were her own grandchildren.

"Divya, make us some tea!" her grandmother ordered, her tone unforgiving.

"Yes, Malkin," Divya replied softly, moving quickly to the kitchen. She busied herself at the stove, focusing on making the tea, hoping for a few moments of peace.

But the hair on the back of her neck prickled as she sensed someone enter the kitchen. Turning around, her blood ran cold as she saw him-Aman.

Her heart began to pound, and she took an involuntary step back, instinctively recognizing the threat in his leering grin.

"Hey, baby,"

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