✨6. In pain

As Shivaay turned to leave, Niharika's soft voice broke the silence, trembling yet determined.

"Kahan jaa rahe hain aap?" she asked, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and confusion.

(Where are you going?)

Shivaay paused at the door, his hand resting on the handle. He turned his head slightly, just enough for her to see his profile, but his gaze didn’t meet hers. His voice was cold and devoid of any emotion as he replied, "Main aapko batana zaruri nahi samajhta."

( I do not consider it important to tell you)

With those cutting words, he pushed the door open and walked out, leaving her standing there, stunned. His dismissive tone stung her more than she expected, reinforcing the reality of the man she was now married to.

As the door clicked shut behind him, the weight of his words settled heavily in her chest. Alone in the room, surrounded by the extravagant decorations meant to celebrate their union, Niharika felt more isolated than ever.

Her hands clutched the edge of her dupatta tightly as she whispered to herself, “Kya yeh meri zindagi banegi? Ek rishtey mein jisme sirf naam hoga, par koi ahsaas nahi?”

(Is this going to be my life? A relationship that has only a name but no feels)

She walked back to the balcony, her gaze fixed on the vast, moonlit grounds of the mansion. Somewhere in the stillness of the night, she sought strength, knowing she would need it to face the challenges that lay ahead.

As Shivaay walked out, the sound of the door closing behind him echoed in the vast room, leaving Niharika in an unsettling silence. She stared at the door for a moment, hoping he might come back, but deep down, she knew he wouldn’t.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, breaking her thoughts. She quickly wiped her tears, straightened her dupatta, and opened the door. A maid stood there, her hands folded respectfully.

"Bahurani sa, your luggage has arrived," the maid said politely.

Niharika nodded and stepped aside, allowing the maid to bring her suitcases in. She watched silently as the maid arranged them neatly and then left with a slight bow.

Closing the door behind her, Niharika leaned against it for a moment, her eyes darting to the lavishly decorated room. The grandeur of it all felt suffocating rather than comforting. She picked up one of her suitcases and dragged it to the bed, but her hands froze before opening it.

Instead, she turned toward the bathroom. She needed a moment alone. As she entered, her eyes caught her reflection in the mirror. Slowly, she removed her veil, revealing her tear-streaked face. Her gaze fell on the vermillion that rested delicately on her nose, a mark of her new identity as Shivaay Singh Ranawat's wife.

Her fingers trembled as she reached up to touch her hairline, where the sindoor glowed vividly against her pale skin. She stared at the red streak on her finger and let out a bitter laugh.

The laughter grew louder, echoing off the marble walls of the bathroom. It was a laugh filled with anguish, disbelief, and a hint of madness as she grappled with the cruel twist her life had taken.

"What a joke," she whispered to herself amidst the laughter. But soon, the laughter broke into uncontrollable sobs. She slid down to the cold floor, hugging her knees as tears streamed down her face.

Her heart ached as the reality of her situation sank in deeper. This wasn’t the life she had imagined, and the man she was married to seemed to detest her very existence.

As the night stretched on, Niharika remained there, caught between her despair and the faint hope that maybe, just maybe, things might change one day.

After what felt like an eternity, Niharika finally gathered herself. She wiped her tears and stood up, her legs trembling slightly. Looking into the mirror one last time, she took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside her.

She walked out of the bathroom and opened one of her suitcases, pulling out a simple cotton suit. Carefully removing the heavy bridal lehenga and jewelry, she changed into the plain outfit, letting out a sigh of relief as the weight of the day's events—literal and emotional—began to ease slightly.

As she turned toward the bed, she paused. The sight of the intricately decorated bed, adorned with rose petals and silk sheets, made her heart race with anxiety again. Her mind wandered to Shivaay's cold demeanor and the papers he had made her sign. The very thought of sharing a space with him, even in name, felt unbearable.

After a moment of hesitation, she looked at the couch by the window. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was far less intimidating than the bed.

"This will do," she whispered to herself.

She grabbed a spare pillow and a light blanket from her suitcase, walked over to the couch, and settled herself in. The couch was small and stiff, but it gave her a sense of safety.

Lying there, she stared out of the window at the vast night sky, her mind swirling with thoughts of her future. Silent tears slid down her cheeks as she prayed silently to her mother.

"Help me through this, Ma," she whispered. "I don’t know how, but I’ll find a way to survive."

With that, she closed her eyes, exhaustion finally taking over. The grand palace around her seemed colder and emptier than ever, as Niharika drifted into a restless sleep on the couch, far from the life she had once dreamed of.

Niharika adjusted herself on the couch, the fabric of her simple suit brushing against the cold upholstery. She held the pillow close to her chest as if it could shield her from the overwhelming reality of her life.

The room was quiet except for the faint rustling of the curtains as a gentle breeze swept in through the slightly open balcony door. The fragrance of roses from the bed lingered in the air, a stark contrast to the turmoil in her heart.

Her eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment as exhaustion from the day’s emotional upheaval took its toll. Despite the discomfort of the couch, she let her head rest against the armrest, her tears drying on her cheeks.

For the first time in what felt like forever, her mind stopped racing. Slowly but surely, Niharika drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep, the silence of the grand palace wrapping around her like a fragile cocoon.

Meanwhile, in the dimly lit study room, Shivaay sat on a large leather armchair, a heavy motivational novel resting in his hands. The warm glow of the desk lamp illuminated his sharp features, casting long shadows on the intricate wooden shelves lined with books.

He flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning the words, but his mind was elsewhere. The events of the day replayed in his head—Niharika's nervous face, her hesitant movements, and her unwavering compliance when she signed the papers. He clenched his jaw, dismissing the fleeting pang of guilt that tried to creep in.

Shivaay had always sought solace in his books, particularly those that spoke of power, resilience, and control. They reminded him of the principles he had built his life upon. Yet tonight, even the words of his favorite author seemed to fail in distracting him from the unusual sense of unease settling in his chest.

Closing the book with a soft thud, he leaned back and exhaled deeply, his gaze shifting to the framed portrait of his late grandfather hanging on the opposite wall. It was as if the old man’s piercing eyes were questioning him, challenging his choices.

Shivaay shook his head, forcing himself to refocus. He poured himself a glass of water, determined to bury his thoughts and emotions in the logic and ambition that had always guided him.

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