Chapter Eight
1218 Words
The Shekhawat mansion did not sleep that night.
Inside his room, Rudransh stood near the window, his hands clenched behind his back. The memory of Aadhya touching Kunal’s hand replayed again and again in his mind. It wasn’t just jealousy — it was humiliation. In front of rivals. In front of businessmen. In front of cameras.
He turned toward her sharply.
“You will not go near him again.”
Aadhya met his gaze, calmer than before. “I didn’t go near him. I went near someone who was hurt.”
His anger flared. “You think Rathore breaks glass accidentally? He wanted you to go.”
The realization hit her, but she refused to show doubt. “Then fight him in business. Don’t cage me.”
That word.
Cage.
It struck him harder than any insult. His anger wasn’t cooling — it was transforming into something darker. A need to protect. A need to control. A need to never let Kunal even look at her again.
—
Across the corridor, Shreya was pacing.
Sahil tried to calm her. “Bhai won’t do anything to her. He’s angry, not cruel.”
Shreya spun toward him. “You don’t know your brother the way I do! He doesn’t lose. He destroys.”
Sahil’s jaw tightened. “And you think running away will solve it?”
Before she could reply, her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Her heart skipped.
She stepped into the balcony and answered.
Kunal’s voice came smooth and deliberate. “You looked nervous tonight.”
“What do you want?” she snapped.
“To help you,” he replied. “You and your sister never wanted this marriage. I can get you out of that palace.”
Her breathing slowed.
“How?”
“I have men. Cars. Influence. You won’t even be traced. Tomorrow night. There’s a charity event at the east wing. Security will be focused there. Use the old service gate behind the garden. I’ll handle the rest.”
Shreya’s fingers trembled. “Why would you help us?”
A soft laugh. “Let’s just say… I enjoy breaking Shekhawat pride.”
The call ended.
—
Later that night, Shreya entered Aadhya’s room quietly. Rudransh had stepped out to take a late call.
“We can leave,” Shreya whispered urgently. “Tomorrow.”
Aadhya froze. “What?”
Shreya explained everything — the service gate, the distraction, the car waiting outside.
Aadhya’s heart pounded. Freedom. A chance to breathe without rules, without threats, without constant power games.
“But it’s Kunal,” Aadhya said slowly.
“Yes,” Shreya admitted. “But he hates them. That works in our favor.”
Aadhya walked toward the mirror, staring at her reflection — sindoor still bright in her hairline. “If we leave like this… there’s no going back.”
Shreya’s voice softened. “Was there ever a choice?”
Silence filled the room.
Then Aadhya nodded.
“Tomorrow night.”
—
The plan was simple.
During the charity gala inside the mansion: • Wear something easy to move in under their sarees.
• Keep passports and essentials hidden in Shreya’s clutch.
• Slip out separately to avoid suspicion.
• Meet near the old peepal tree behind the garden.
• Exit through the unused service gate.
Kunal’s car would be waiting beyond the outer wall.
For the first time since the forced wedding, hope flickered between the sisters.
But neither of them knew—
In another room, Rudransh stood staring at his phone.
A security alert notification.
Unknown number contact attempt detected on Shreya’s device.
And the number traced back to one name.
Kunal Rathore.
Rudransh’s expression darkened slowly.
“If you think you can take what is mine,” he murmured to himself, “you don’t know me at all.”
The game had officially begun.
Sahil didn’t find out by accident.
He saw it in her eyes first.
Shreya had always been expressive — her anger loud, her sarcasm sharp, her emotions impossible to hide. But tonight she was quiet. Too quiet. Avoiding his gaze. Holding her clutch a little too tightly.
And Sahil was not a fool.
When he stepped into their room and saw the half-packed essentials hidden beneath her saree in the wardrobe, something inside him snapped.
“Going somewhere?”
His voice wasn’t playful. It wasn’t soft.
It was hurt.
Shreya froze.
For a moment, she considered lying. But Sahil walked closer, pulling the passport from her clutch. The silence stretched like a wire about to break.
“You were going to leave,” he said, not asking.
Her chin lifted defensively. “We never wanted this marriage.”
“And I forced you?” he shot back.
She hesitated.
“No,” she admitted quietly. “But your family did.”
That stung.
Sahil ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I stood between you and my brother more times than you know. I gave you space. I didn’t touch you without your permission. I told you I’d wait.”
“And I never asked you to!” she replied, her voice shaking now. “I don’t want to be protected. I want to choose!”
“And you chose Kunal Rathore?” His voice rose for the first time. “Do you even know what he wants?”
“He wants to help us escape!”
“He wants to use you!” Sahil shouted.
The words echoed.
Shreya stepped back, startled. She had never seen him this angry. Not possessive like Rudransh. Not dominant. But deeply wounded.
“You think this is about freedom?” Sahil continued, his voice raw now. “This is revenge for him. You and your sister are just weapons.”
Her confidence wavered.
“He hates my family. If you disappear with him, do you know what that does? It destroys us publicly. It proves we couldn’t even protect our own wives.”
“So this is about reputation?” she whispered bitterly.
“No!” he said immediately. “It’s about you walking into a trap.”
He stepped closer, not aggressively — desperately.
“I’m angry,” he admitted. “Yes. Because you didn’t trust me enough to tell me. Because after everything… you still see me as the enemy.”
Shreya’s eyes filled, but she refused to let the tears fall.
“You are his brother,” she said softly.
“And I am your husband,” he replied, equally soft — but firm. “Not by contract anymore. Not for me.”
The room fell silent.
His anger wasn’t explosive like Rudranssh’s. It was painful. Controlled. Honest.
“If you still want to leave,” Sahil said after a long pause, placing the passport back on the table, “I won’t lock the door. I won’t stop you by force.”
Her breath caught.
“But if you walk out tonight,” he continued, “don’t walk toward Rathore. Walk toward your own strength. Don’t let a man who feeds on revenge decide your freedom.”
That hit her harder than shouting ever could.
For the first time, doubt about Kunal crept into her mind.
And for the first time, Sahil turned away from her — not in dominance.
But in disappointment.
Which hurt far more.
- Writer
