Falling Destiny

Episode 39 – "The Chains I Chose"

(Neha POV)

The air inside the dungeon was cold. Not just from the stone walls and floor, but from the weight pressing on my chest—something that no warmth could chase away. There was no light, no sound, no sense of time. Just the echo of my own breathing, sharp and shaky. The chains clinked faintly when I moved even a little, and the stone beneath me seemed to sap the heat from my skin.

I hugged my knees close, staring at the thick iron door as if it might swing open with an ounce of mercy. But mercy and Veer didn’t belong in the same sentence.

After what felt like hours—maybe longer—the sound of heavy footsteps approached. My heart stuttered. Then, the lock clicked and the door groaned open. He stepped in.

Veer.

Impeccably dressed, calm on the outside, but those stormy eyes told me everything I needed to know. He wasn’t here for negotiation.

“Get up,” he said coolly, like it was the most normal request in the world.

I didn’t move.

He stepped closer. “Tomorrow, we’re getting married. And you’ll act like every day before. You’ll walk beside me, talk to me, eat, breathe… like my wife.”

The words bounced inside my head like screams. Wife. To him?

“No…” I whispered, barely a sound, my throat dry and sore.

His eyes narrowed. He didn’t shout. That made it worse. “You don’t get to say no.”

I ran. Not far. I couldn’t. But I tried, and the echo of my footsteps felt like thunder in that dark corridor. But he caught me easily. His grip around my arm was iron. I cried out—more from the fear than pain. He dragged me through the hall and locked me in another room—this one dry, with a mattress, and a flickering bulb that buzzed overhead.

“You’ll rest here. You’ll get up tomorrow, and wear what’s kept for you. And if you don’t… I’ll make sure Disha and that baby of hers don’t wake up to see the sun.”

Then he was gone.

I collapsed. Everything inside me was screaming, but no sound came out. I stared at the ceiling, counting cracks until I passed out from exhaustion.

---

The next morning, I was escorted out like nothing had happened. Veer didn’t even look at me. The maids avoided my eyes, as if they knew.

As I sat in the car, I felt numb. I didn’t fight. Because I couldn’t risk anyone else. Not Disha. Not the baby. Not the children at my academy.

When I got home, everything felt surreal. Disha was feeding the baby. Rohit had just left. I forced a smile. A smile that cracked at the edges.

I said nothing.

I couldn’t.

That night, I stayed close to the crib. I watched the baby breathe. I memorized the curls in her hair. I watched Disha sleep. I wanted to remember her face, her peace, just in case.

In the early morning, before sunrise, I quietly sat at the table and wrote a letter. Every word I wrote was a lie.

> “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.”

I left it on the table.

I had already transferred every last rupee in my account to her name. I even left a bundle of cash in the drawer. If I couldn’t be there, at least she wouldn’t struggle.

---

At 10:30 sharp, the black Mercedes waited outside.

I stepped inside it like I was walking into my grave.

When I reached Veer’s mansion, I was greeted by silence. The grand hall had been transformed. The mandap sat in the center, surrounded by marigold garlands, flickering diyas, and a fire pit already burning. There was no music, no guests—just the ominous beauty of an empty wedding stage.

I looked for Ruhani. She was nowhere to be seen.

I felt his presence before I saw him.

Veer.

He walked toward me in a deep red sherwani, gold embroidery gleaming under the light. Every step he took, I moved back. My feet hit the wall.

He didn’t stop.

His hand gripped mine, forceful, possessive. “You’re mine now,” he said, voice low and cold. “Mine to touch. Mine to love. Or mine to hurt.”

I flinched.

He let go and motioned to the maids. “Get her ready.”

They led me to a room. On the bed was a red lehenga, shimmering with tiny mirrors and gold work. I stared at it for a long time before picking it up with trembling hands.

In the mirror, I didn’t recognize myself.

I looked like a bride. But inside, I was a prisoner.

The maids finished the look—red bangles, heavy earrings, flowers in my hair.

I whispered to myself, “Do it. For Disha. For the baby. For their life.”

I walked to the mandap. My legs felt like stone.

Veer was already seated.

I sat beside him. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

The priest began chanting. Everything felt like a blur.

Then he asked us to stand for the pheras.

I didn’t move.

The priest called again.

Still nothing.

Veer leaned in and hissed into my ear, “Stop testing me. Or the fire won’t be the only thing burning tonight.”

He gripped my arm again—tight enough to bruise—and pulled me forward.

I walked. Around the fire. One step after the other.

At the end, he took the mangalsutra and tied it around my neck. His fingers brushed my skin—cold and terrifying.

Then, he took the vermilion and smeared it in my parting. The red dusted down my forehead, heavy like blood.

The priest smiled. “You are now husband and wife.”

The hall was silent.

But in my heart, there was a scream that would never end.