Falling Destiny

Episode 49 – “The Bait”

(Neha’s POV)

It’s been five days since I was dragged out of that cold, rusted cage in the horse shelter.

Since then, not a single word of kindness has touched me—only commands, threats, and punishments disguised as training. The bruises on my arms and face have faded. Not because the cruelty has stopped, but because they’ve become smarter about where to hurt me.

Now, they only strike where no one else will see—my back.

Especially Ruhani.

She holds the stick like it’s an extension of her fury. Every time I hesitate, every time I flinch or breathe out of rhythm with her orders, she finds a new reason to lash out. One mistake in posture—whack. One word out of place—whack. Even if I blink too slowly, she screams that I’m not focused. That I’m weak. That I’m worthless.

And yet, I endure. Because I have no choice.

Veer… he hasn’t touched me since that day in the dungeon. Not physically. Not like that. But the scars he’s engraving now run deeper. He watches me like a hawk as I walk, speak, smile—or at least pretend to.

They’re preparing me for something.

For someone.

Kayish Sinha.

I don’t know much about him. Only the whispers between Veer and Ruhani. That he’s dangerous. Ruthless. A womanizer. A threat to Veer’s empire—and possibly the key to something darker involving a man named Aarav. A name that returns like a ghost in their arguments, in their plans.

They’ve created a new identity for me—false degrees, a fabricated resume, everything neatly stacked in a file I’m not allowed to touch. Veer himself is training me to act “flawless.” How to respond in a corporate setting. How to wear heels like I belong in a boardroom. How to lower my eyes just enough to not threaten a man like Kayish but still appear desirable enough to be noticed.

The food… they give me just enough now. Enough that my skin doesn’t look sallow. Enough that my cheeks won’t betray what I’ve suffered.

But never enough to feel full.

Never enough to feel human.

This morning, I was in the training room again—wearing a blouse too tight, a pencil skirt I had to walk perfectly in. Veer was standing across from me, arms folded, his voice cold and calculating.

“Speak the dialogue again,” he ordered. “You’re meeting the CEO of a multi-million dollar firm. Not your childhood friend.”

I parroted the lines he gave me, my voice shaky but audible. I was learning to lie for them. And yet, somewhere in my heart, a flicker of rebellion remained.

Then I heard it. Footsteps.

Not the guards. Not Ruhani. Someone else.

Veer’s gaze shifted to the door. His expression didn't change, but there was something in his eyes—a glint of strategy.

“Finally, you’re here,” he said, not to me, but to whoever had entered. “Let’s complete the training.”

I stood, confused. My back still facing the visitor. But something about the air changed—like it carried warmth I hadn’t felt in ages. I turned slowly, expecting another stranger. Another threat.

Instead, my breath caught.

My legs moved before my mind could react.

“Rohit,” I whispered.

He stood there, eyes wide, lips slightly parted as if he couldn’t believe it either.

Without thinking, I ran to him.

I collapsed into his chest, wrapping my arms tightly around him as if doing so would erase everything I had endured. His arms instinctively held me back—hesitant, but strong.

For the first time in what felt like a century, I felt something that didn’t burn.

I felt hope.

But then… I remembered where I was.

Who I was now.

I didn’t want to let go—but I had to.

Because nothing here is safe.

Not even this moment.

And Veer… was watching everything.

---

(Rohit’s POV)

The moment I stepped into that dimly lit training room, I never expected my heart to stop.

But it did.

Because the last person I thought I’d see here—of all places—was her.

Neha.

She turned around, and when our eyes met, something in her broke wide open. She dropped everything, her feet stumbling as if her legs barely remembered how to run. And then—without a word—she crashed into me, her arms wrapping around me so tightly, like she was afraid if she let go, she’d disappear. Her entire body trembled in my arms, like she was made of glass and fear.

“Neha...” My voice came out rough, shocked. “What the hell—”

But I couldn’t finish the sentence. My mind couldn’t process anything beyond the fact that she was here. In this condition. Thin. Pale. Covered in marks I knew were recent, some hidden, some not. Her eyes were red-rimmed, hollowed with exhaustion. Her hair—once always neat—was tangled and lifeless. She didn’t look like the girl I knew.

She looked like a prisoner.

She was still holding on to me like her life depended on it when everything I had repressed since her disappearance came flooding back in a violent rush—

---

Flashback

It was late afternoon. I was in the office when my phone rang—Disha.

I frowned. She never called me during work hours.

“Hello?” I picked up, wiping my hands on a towel.

But I couldn’t make out a word.

She was crying—no, sobbing so uncontrollably that I couldn’t understand anything. My gut twisted with panic. “Disha, what’s wrong? Is the baby okay? Is Neha—?”

That’s all I managed to say before I grabbed my keys and ran out the back door.

When I reached their place, she opened the door with the baby clutched in one arm, her other hand holding a crumpled piece of paper. Her eyes were swollen, her face pale, and she just handed me the note without saying anything.

The letter was short. Cruel. A version of Neha I had never known.

> Disha,

I’m sorry. I feel suffocated. This life, you, the baby—everything is too much. I need space. I need to be free. Please don’t try to contact me. I’ve found something better, and I don’t plan on coming back.

Take care of yourself. Don’t wait for me.

My heart dropped. My hand clenched around the paper as I read it again—and again—trying to make sense of it.

“No,” Disha said, her voice a shattered whisper. “Someone made her write this... This isn’t her. My Neha would never leave like this. Not me. Not her nephew. Not without a reason.”

And in that moment, I believed her.

I had to.

Because Neha wasn’t the kind of girl who would just walk out of the life she had built with so much care and love. Not unless she was forced. Not unless something—or someone—had threatened her into it.

I promised Disha then and there: I would find her.

And now...

Now she’s in my arms again. Broken. Fragile. But alive.

---

Back to Present

“Rohit...” she finally whispered, her voice no louder than a dying candle flame. “Please... take me away.”

I looked up at Veer, standing a few feet away, watching us with unreadable eyes. Calm. Cold. Dangerous.

And suddenly I knew.

This wasn’t over.

Something darker was going on—and Neha was at the center of it.

And I was too late.

But I wasn’t going to be silent anymore.

Not now.

Not after what I saw in her eyes.

Terror.

Hope.

And a silent plea to save her before it was too late.

My heart was still racing as I held Neha just moments ago, but the shock of seeing her like that—thin, trembling, bruised in places no one should ever be—was quickly overtaken by a storm of fury.

My eyes snapped to him.

Veer.

He stood in his tailored black shirt, arms folded, expression calm as if nothing in this world could touch him. Cold. Distant. As if this was all just another business deal to him.

My fists clenched before I could even think. I stormed up to him, closing the space between us in seconds. The fire in my chest exploded. My hand reached out and fisted his collar, yanking him forward so we were face to face.

"What the hell have you done to her?!" I growled, my voice cracked from the roar of rage inside me. "Why is she here? Like this?! What did you do to her, Veer?!"

His body tensed but his eyes didn't flicker. Not even a blink.

Instead, he raised one brow slowly, that infuriating calm still plastered across his face. His hand rose—steady—and he gripped my wrist. With one sharp twist and a push to my chest, he knocked me back a step, breaking my hold on him.

"Rohit," he said in that same icy tone, "don’t touch me again."

I stumbled, but I didn’t back down. My fists curled again. "You think you can hide behind that calm face? You’ve broken her! I saw her—she’s not even the same person anymore. Her eyes… she looked scared of you!"

He remained silent, jaw tightening.

My breath heaved. My voice cracked this time—not with rage, but desperation. "She left a note. You know what it said? That she wanted to be free. That she found something better. That she wouldn’t come back. But that—that wasn’t her. I knew it the moment I read it. Disha knew it too."

His face flickered—just slightly—but he masked it again.

"I’ve been searching for her for weeks," I went on, voice thick with emotion. "And now I find her here, looking like she’s been living in a nightmare… and you stand there like a f*****g statue?!"

Before I could say more, the sharp click of heels echoed through the hallway.

Ruhani.

She stepped in, her lips painted in a smirk that didn’t reach her eyes. She took one look at Veer, then at me. "What’s happening here?"

Veer didn’t look away from me. He spoke flatly, like I was just a nuisance. "Take Neha. Now."

Ruhani’s smirk grew a fraction. She didn’t wait. She turned on her heel, and I could hear her barking quiet orders to someone outside the room as she led Neha away.

"Wait—!" I moved to follow, but Veer caught my arm—tightly.

"You’re not going after her," he said, voice colder than ever.

I turned on him again. "You don’t own her, Veer."

"She’s involved in things you don’t understand," he said darkly, eyes narrowing. "Things that threaten everything I’ve built. People I love."

"You mean people you control," I snapped.

"Believe what you want," he said, releasing my arm. He took a breath, jaw tight. "But she’s not innocent in this, Rohit."

I stared at him, chest rising and falling like I’d just run a marathon. “You’re wrong. About her. She’s innocent. She’s always been innocent.”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t blink. Just turned away as if the conversation was over.

But it wasn’t. Not for me.

Because now that I knew Neha was here, I wasn’t leaving without a fight. Not this time.