Page 21 of Substitute Bride

GUILT AND REDEMPTION

Sharda is well aware that Jhankar is extremely hungry, which is why she is eating her food so quickly. Sitting nearby, Vikrant also observes Jhankar's ravenous and hurried consumption of her meal. Observing her in that state, Sharda gently comments.

“When I ask you to eat lunch, you always say that you don’t have enough time. And now look at yourself; see how hungry you actually are.”

Jhankar smiles faintly while continuing to eat but doesn’t pause or respond. Ravindra, who has been observing everything attentively, finally voices his disapproval.

“The women in our family have never worked outside the home… This is not appropriate at all...”

Hearing this, Jhankar’s hands abruptly freeze mid-air, her appetite halting.

Sharda’s eyes shift to Ravindra, registering his words with visible discomfort.

Her gaze then moves to Vikrant, who, though silent, listens to the conversation with intense attention.

Then, breaking the momentary silence, Jhankar speaks.

Her tone is calm but slightly raised—measured, yet assertive.

“I have worked very hard to secure a decent job, and I am doing everything in my capacity to succeed. Today, I gave interviews at almost ten different places, and tomorrow, I plan to appear for as many more. I am certain that I’ll get a job somewhere.

You said the women of your house don’t work outside.

But aren’t you a well-known politician? …

Don’t you often speak about women’s empowerment in your speeches?

… Then please reflect deeply before speaking or taking any action that contradicts those ideals.

Times are changing, and mindsets must evolve too… That is the need of the hour.”

Ravindra’s jaw clenches, the muscles in his face tightening visibly.

He glares at Vikrant, as if expecting him to intervene or rebuke her.

But Vikrant remains silent, his eyes still fixed on Jhankar.

Ravindra then shifts his gaze back to her, as if reevaluating this woman who dares to question him so directly.

Suddenly, Ravindra changes the topic, perhaps in an attempt to diffuse the tension.

“As you all know, Sharda’s sudden health deterioration forced us to postpone the reception. Now that her condition has improved and she will certainly be able to attend, I am seeking your suggestions for a new date to hold the reception ceremony.”

While still eating, Jhankar glances first at Ravindra and then at Vikrant, trying to decipher the deeper implication behind the word "reception.

" A sense of unease rises within her. She feels deeply uncomfortable at the thought of publicly introducing herself as someone else's daughter.

If this reception takes place, it would give Viren Chandel the opportunity to present himself as her father, a role he has never earned and which she firmly rejects.

But currently, outright refusal would be interpreted as defiance. So, instead of responding, she silently continues her meal, choosing her silence over confrontation. Vikrant, who has been closely monitoring her expression, immediately speaks up. His voice is calm, but his intention is clear.

“I don’t see the need for a formal reception right now. Jhankar is currently very busy with job interviews and preparations. Holding a reception would be unnecessary at this time, don’t you think so?”

Jhankar glances at Vikrant again, studying him carefully, as if trying to understand his motive. But she remains silent and returns to her work, letting his words deflect the pressure off her.

After dinner, both Vikrant and Jhankar spend some time with Sharda, sitting beside her quietly. Once a little time has passed, Jhankar excuses herself and walks back to the room.

The moment she enters, she switches on her laptop and starts organizing her books on the bed.

It has become routine now; every evening she reviews vacancies and makes preparations.

Vikrant knows this routine well, and as usual, when he notices there’s no space left for him on the bed, he silently makes his way to the couch to sleep.

However, today, Vikrant, who had followed her out of Sharda’s room, stood still for a few minutes, watching her with narrowed eyes from a distance.

He has observed her meticulous preparation, leaving no detail unexplored in her job search.

She checks even the smallest opportunities, collects every detail about the companies, and takes her future very seriously.

Eventually, Vikrant enters the room and closes the door behind him.

Jhankar doesn't even lift her eyes from the laptop screen.

He casually changes into more comfortable clothes and begins walking towards the couch but then abruptly pauses.

Without saying a word, he strides over to the bed and starts gathering her books.

Startled, Jhankar immediately shouts, her voice sharp and distressed,

“What are you doing? I need those… I’m working on something very important … Why are you moving my books?”

Vikrant replies, his tone cool and dismissive,

“I understand exactly how much importance you’re trying to extract from your old books. But I need to sleep on my bed. Keep that in mind.”

“I don’t want to sleep on the bed with you,” she replies bluntly.

“That’s not my problem,” Vikrant responds coldly. “It’s entirely your choice what you want to do or not do. But this bed is mine, and I will decide where I sleep.”

“Yes, the bed is yours. The room is yours; I understand that very clearly. But don’t forget that you brought me here by force.”

“Enough,” Vikrant growls, his voice suddenly rising. “Don’t repeat that same line again…”

He shouts furiously, storms over, and grabs her wrist tightly, yanking her toward himself.

“You think you can keep reminding me of that same thing over and over and do whatever you want? And how dare you raise your voice to my father?”

Jhankar looks directly into his eyes. And then, unexpectedly, she smiles, a soft, ironic smile.

That smile gradually turns into a loud, mocking laugh that echoes through the room.

Vikrant's expression hardens, his rage surging.

In an instant, he swiftly encircles her neck with his hand, forcefully pinning her to the bed.

His face hovers inches from hers as he shouts with venom in his voice.

“Don’t try to test my patience. You have no idea how terrible things can get for you if I lose control.”

Jhankar stops laughing and stares at him for a moment. In the very next instant, she grabs the collar of his T-shirt, yanks him down, and pulls his face close to hers, their eyes locked in searing intensity.

“You were so disturbed when I just raised my voice to your father,” she says, her voice sharp, unwavering.

“Can you even begin to imagine what I felt when my own parents were threatened right in front of me? They were standing there, helpless and humiliated, and you were smiling at their pain. That image… it burns inside me every single second.”

Her voice drops, heavy with emotion but firm.

“I haven’t done anything yet to retaliate, but even without that, you’re already suffering.

And trust me, it’s nothing compared to what I went through.

And as for the repetition?” She glares into his eyes.

“I will repeat it. Not once. Not twice or a hundred times. I’ll remind you every day, every hour, every moment you're in front of me. Because clearly, you have no remorse... But I … ” (She jabs a finger into his chest.) “I neither want to forget it myself, nor do I want you to forget it. So if it takes saying it a hundred times a day, I will…. And you better get used to hearing it, whether you like it or not.”

Her words strike him like a storm. Vikrant studies her face carefully, stunned into silence.

The iron grip he held on her wrist and neck begins to loosen as if the rage is draining out of him, replaced by a haunting realization.

In one swift motion, Jhankar shoves him off.

He stumbles back onto the bed, his body hitting the mattress with force.

She rises with purpose, her posture rigid, and, without a word, she starts packing her belongings in a calm, systematic manner.

Vikrant watches her in utter silence. Her voice, her pain, echoes in his ears, loud and raw.

And then, almost involuntarily, his mind drifts back to that moment, Raghunath and Chitrali’s helpless, pleading faces.

He sees them again and again. Somewhere deep inside, he had known even then that they were innocent, that they had nothing to do with Vyom’s plan.

But he had chosen cruelty anyway. And now, that guilt sharpens with every movement Jhankar makes.

She finishes organizing the bed, folds the blanket, and stands before him, tall and resolute.

“My parents never taught me to disrespect anyone,” she says firmly, her voice controlled but cutting.

“But whatever you gave me, I’m returning—with interest. My parents taught me that when someone gives you something—whether good or bad—you return it with even more.

So here it is, this room, this bed, all yours.

I know how to adjust. I can sleep on the couch or even on the floor.

Because if I leave this room, that woman, your mother, who is helpless in this situation, will feel hurt.

And to tell you the truth,” (she steps back and exhales) “now I truly feel sorry for her. For a woman who has a child like you, who cheats her without even realizing it.”

She walks to the couch, lies down, and turns her back towards him, as if erasing his presence from her world.

Vikrant doesn’t move. He just keeps staring at her, motionless.

A few moments ago, he was filled with fury; now he’s numb, lost in thought.

Her words haunt him. Her defiance stings.

And that look in her eyes, somewhere between grief and strength, won’t leave him alone.

He lowers himself onto the bed, lying flat on his back and staring at the ceiling, as if seeking answers from the darkness above.

But sleep refuses to come. No matter how much he turns or shifts, relief eludes him.

Eventually, he turns on his side and looks at Jhankar.

She appears to be asleep on the couch, her back to him.

But he knows that she isn’t actually sleeping.

She’s still worried, still afraid for her parents.

And he knows she’s aware that he’s watching her.

But he also knows she won't try to meet them, not while she believes he's controlling her every move.

With a deep sigh, he sits up. The heaviness in his chest feels unfamiliar, uncomfortable. He doesn’t even know when he started feeling bad about things like this. He mutters under his breath, as if trying to justify his guilt.

“When did all this start affecting me? I’ve hurt so many people in my life. And every time, there was a reason. Even this time, her brother was the reason. If he hadn’t crossed the line, I wouldn’t have done what I did…”

But even his reasoning doesn’t sit right anymore.

It doesn't bring him peace. Agitated, Vikrant gets up, walks to the balcony, takes out a cigarette, and lights it. He inhales deeply, trying to calm the unrest building inside. He lifts his gaze toward the sky, but the stars provide no comfort tonight. After a moment of hesitation, he pulls out his phone and calls one of the guards stationed outside Raghunath’s house.

“Is everything alright at Mr. Dixit’s house?”

“Yes sir, everything is absolutely fine… though it seems both husband and wife are unwell.”

“What?” Vikrant’s voice hardens. “Why wasn’t I informed? Why didn’t anyone call the doctor?”

“Sir, I did inform the security chief. He called the doctor and got both of them checked. Perhaps it wasn’t considered serious, that’s why you weren’t informed.”

Vikrant turns slowly and glances back inside the room. His eyes fell on Jhankar, still lying on the couch, motionless, back still turned toward him. He speaks into the phone again, his voice quieter now.

“Okay. I’ll go see them myself tomorrow… and find out exactly what’s going on.”

He ends the call and continues to look at Jhankar from the balcony.