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CHAPTER 9

HIS THREATS

She is terrified by this all-consuming darkness, yet she is powerless to escape it because now, it has become an inseparable part of her fate. Her entire life seems to have been enveloped in shadows, despite her persistent fear of them. She sits quietly in a corner, her arms wrapped around herself. She is shivering because it seems like this darkness is consuming her. After deeply contemplating everything that has happened, she has discovered a powerful courage within herself that she never knew existed.

She sees nothing but darkness all around. There is not a single ray of light in the room. Yet, within this suffocating gloom, she closes her eyes tightly, clinging to the memory of her family, which is now her only source of strength. She tries to smile, to trick her mind into believing she still has control over her world, to give herself the strength to fight to not collapse, but that fragile courage is slowly beginning to abandon her. She knows in her heart that if she dares to open her eyes, she will only be met with the same despairing emptiness.

As she attempts to hold on to whatever shreds of happiness remain in her memory, she tries hard to erase the disturbing images that continue to flash in her mind. But the wounded faces of her parents refuse to fade. Their pain, their helplessness, their silent cries for help—they all haunt her mercilessly. Her father was coughing up blood, and her mother had tearful, trembling eyes; no one showed either of them even an ounce ofmercy. Their torment has scarred her. She no longer wishes to recall those memories. It seems easier to stare into this darkness than to relive that agony.

She cannot even remember the date anymore. How much time has passed since her arrival here? Hours? Days? It feels like years. Time has lost all meaning. She tries to suppress the urge to cry, but the tears betray her, falling silently and steadily. She is afraid to open her eyes but even more terrified of closing them and seeing her family's suffering again behind her lids.

She has faced many ups and downs in life, countless struggles, but nothing compares to the pain she's enduring now. This is unbearable. And buried beneath that pain is a burning hatred—for everyone who dared to hurt her parents. Hatred for those who watched silently. Hatred for the man responsible. But right now, she has no one to lean on. She lacks a shoulder to cry on. She lacks a voice to provide her with comfort. There is no one to wipe her tears. She has to hold herself; she has to be her strength. Every breath, every heartbeat whispers the names of her parents. And through her tears, she speaks aloud, her voice barely above a whisper but brimming with fire.

“YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS.”

Suddenly, the screech of tires breaks the stillness as a car halts outside. Several bodyguards immediately gather around and open the car door. Vikrant steps out. His gaze sweeps the area, his expression unreadable, before he questions one of his men in a worn-out, gravelly voice.

“Where is the girl we brought here?”

“Sir, you locked her in the old servant quarters at the back yesterday.”

Vikrant instantly turns to look at the bodyguard, confusion and concern flickering in his eyes. He truly doesn’t remember. Last night, in a violent fit of rage, he shoved the girl into that isolated room, one without electricity, without water. His pace quickens, his voice sharper now.

“After I left… not a single one of you checked on her?”

The bodyguard lowers his head guiltily.

“When Maa’s condition suddenly worsened, we were so preoccupied that we completely forgot about her. She didn’t scream or make any noise, so… no one really noticed. Honestly, sir… we almost forgot she was even there.”

“What if something happened to her? What if she couldn’t call for help? Do any of you even think?”

Vikrant doesn’t wait for an answer. He rushes toward the servant quarters, his expression increasingly tense. He flings the door open. A sharp burst of light floods into the room, and Jhankar instinctively raises her hands to shield her eyes. The sudden brightness blinds her momentarily after so long in total darkness.

Vikrant stands at the threshold, exhaling deeply. She’s still there, sitting silently in the same position, her back slightly hunched. As her hands slowly drop from her face, their eyes meet. Her vision remains blurry from the light, but he can clearly see the loathing in her gaze. It stings more than he expected. Still, he walks toward her with deliberate, steady steps and speaks in a low, firm voice.

“This… this is written in your destiny. I didn’t want things to reach this point, but sometimes life takes turns that even we can’t predict. Your brother chased away my bride at the wedding, humiliating me in front of everyone. I lost control.I came looking for them... and then you… your attitude, your arrogance, you misbehaved with me. That only fueled my anger even more...”

Vikrant adjusts his pants and crouches in front of her. She removes her hands from her face. For the first time, she shows her face clearly in the light. She’s bruised and exhausted and visibly fragile, yet the fire in her eyes is undimmed. It startles him for a moment. Then he speaks again.

“What is your name?”

Jhankar stares at him with unrelenting hatred. She doesn’t want to answer. She would rather not speak to this man at all. But deep inside, her desperation to see her parents overpowers her pride. For their sake, she forces herself to speak.

“I… I want to go to my parents.”

Vikrant doesn’t reply immediately. He stands up and takes a step back.

“Let’s leave first. We’ll talk calmly, properly. There’s a lot we need to discuss.”

Jhankar realizes she has no choice. If she wants to see her parents, she must cooperate, at least for now. She nods silently and tries to stand. But her legs wobble. She has been sitting in the same position for too long. She is starving, dehydrated, and has a painful head injury. Her strength gives out.

As she stumbles, Vikrant instinctively reaches out and grabs her arm to steady her. The moment his hand touches her, she recoils, yanking her arm away with disgust. But before she can step back, a wave of dizziness hits her strongly. She clutches her head and then collapses. Vikrant lunges forward just in time, catching her before she hits the ground.

“Damn it… Someone call the doctor!”

Without wasting another second, he lifts her into his arms and hurries inside the mansion. He places her gently on the guest room bed. His loud commands create a flurry of activity, and the doctor arrives quickly. The examination begins immediately.

Vikrant glances down at himself and grimaces; his clothes are dusty from the encounter. Unwilling to tolerate even minor discomfort, he exists to change. When he returns, the doctor is already applying an IV drip to her arm and carefully examining her head.