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But as she enters, all the irritation on her face turns into sheer horror. The scene inside is blood-curdling. Raghunath lies on the floor, blood oozing from his lips and the side of his head.His body is trembling, trying to get up but failing. She lets out a piercing scream.

“Papa…”

Jhankar sprints to him in terror. As her father tries to lift his body upon hearing her voice, a man lands a brutal punch on his face, knocking him down again. She shrieks louder, her steps rushing toward her fallen father.

“PAPA…”

Panic, shock, and pain wash over her all at once. She grabs hold of Raghunath and cradles him, her arms trembling under the weight of fear. Blood seeps through her fingers as she tries to support his wounded body. She looks up frantically—and sees her mother, Chitrali, lying nearby. Her head is bleeding, and tears glisten in her eyes as she watches helplessly.

“Mom…?”

Before Jhankar can reach her, a hand suddenly grabs her by the hair and yanks her back. She screams in pain, only to be turned around and slapped with such force that she crashes onto the floor. Stunned, her gaze drops to the man’s polished shoes, one foot resting on the other knee, sitting with a detached calmness. Her eyes slowly rise and then lock with a pair of furious, bloodshot eyes, watching her like a storm on the verge of explosion.

“Why… Why is all this happening?”

She gasps, her voice trembling. But before she can get an answer, the man who had slapped her yanks her hair again, pulling her up to face him.

“No matter how much you people try to hide, I will find your brother, the one who ran off with my daughter!”

He snarls. The ground slips from beneath Jhankar’s feet. Her mind reels at his words. She doesn’t dare meet his eyes but instead looks around. The entire house is in a state of chaos, with broken furniture, shattered glass, and their world in complete disarray. She then looks directly at the groom-like man seated in silence. Her eyes narrow. Before she can fully process what’s happening, the man holding her hair slaps her again and screams.

“Tell me, where has your brother taken my daughter Sonakshi?”

Her eyes finally focus on the man's face, and recognition hits her like lightning.

Viren Chandel—her brother’s boss.

In the corner, Chitrali keeps looking at Raghunath, who is coughing up blood. Jhankar’s heart pounds in her chest as she sees her mother trying to crawl towards him, her movements weak and broken. Seeing the man raise his hand again, Jhankar grabs it mid-air, twists it back with all her strength, and screams.

“You bastard… Who the hell do you think you are to treat my parents like this?”

The groom sitting silently on the chair turns sharply at the sound of her voice. His eyes narrow as he watches her. There’s a flicker of interest in his otherwise cold, unreadable face. As Jhankar throws punch after punch at the man who dared to touch her, he clenches his jaw and stands up with deliberate intensity. In just a few strides, he reaches her, grabs both her hands, and forcibly turns her to face him. His voice is deep and laced with menace.

“Where the hell is your bastard brother?”

CHAPTER 5

BRIDE RUN AWAY

PAST EVENT

Sharda stood with a glowing smile as she performed Vikrant’s aarti. She gently applied a vermilion forehead mark, kissed him lovingly, and whispered with joy,

“Today I feel like I’ve received all the happiness in the world. I just want to see you smiling forever, my son.”

Vikrant gave her a faint smile, filled with restrained emotion. His eyes lingered on her, his Sharda Maa. With her, he felt peace. While his birth mother, Sonia, existed only in title, Sharda was the only mother he ever recognized, the only one who ever loved him without asking for anything in return.

He had long forgotten Sonia’s face, but Sharda’s presence had filled every corner of his life with affection and warmth. Her love was not loud; it was protective, quiet, and all-encompassing. For Vikrant Sharda, she is both his mother and home, a peaceful home.

As the wedding procession began moving, Vikrant watched Sharda dance joyfully with the others, occasionally glancing back at him with a radiant smile. Every time she did, his lips curled into a subtle smile, a rare expression from a man so feared. When they reached the grand marriage hall, Vikranttook his seat under the decorated canopy. His expressions were unreadable, and though he sat calmly, he could feel something was off. The bride was late, too late. He scanned the crowd. His sharp eyes noticed that no one from the bride’s side was visible, and whispers started to fill the air.

“Why is the bride taking so long to come?”

“I don’t think she’s going to show up. Maybe she never agreed to this marriage.”

“It was a political match. They must’ve forced her. The wedding’s just a formality.”

“The groom’s a mafia don. Maybe the girl got scared.”