The tires screeched as the car came to a sudden halt.

Akhil stepped out slowly, his boots clicking on the road as the guards scattered to investigate.

“Boss,” Dev called, pointing ahead, “someone’s on the ground… it’s a woman.”

Akhil’s gaze fixed on the still figure under the harsh beam of the headlights. Her body lay in silence, clothes torn, blood trailing down her forehead.

The guards exchanged nervous glances.

Akhil didn’t move.

His voice, low and calm, broke the silence.

“She’ll be nothing but trouble.”

The guards looked at one another, unsure if he meant to help or walk away.

Then, suddenly, he said, “Look at her.”

Dev knelt near her, checked her pulse. “Boss… she’s alive.”

That was all it took.

Akhil stepped forward—slowly, silently. He crouched beside her, his eyes studying her face, brushing aside a bloodied strand of hair.

He paused. His breath hitched.

Something flickered in his eyes—recognition? Shock? Even he wasn’t sure.

Then he saw it.

Half-hidden beneath the torn scarf on her neck, tangled in blood and dust—a mangalsutra.

His eyes locked onto it. That thread of marriage. That sign of a woman’s vows. Covered in blood, but still there.

He didn’t know her. But something… something gripped him.

Without another word, Akhil gently lifted her into his arms. Her body was cold, limp, yet peaceful. The guards froze. None of them had ever seen him this close to anyone—especially not a stranger.

His voice was quiet, but sharp as a blade:

“Arrange the team doctor in the mansion. Now.”

Dev didn’t question him.

As Akhil carried her toward the car, the night didn’t feel silent anymore. It felt like the beginning of something…

Something that even he couldn’t control.

...----------------...

The morning sun rises quietly outside the large windows. Inside, silence ruled.

She sat up slowly, her head pounding, body still sore. The room was unfamiliar—grand, but empty of comfort.

The door opened. A man in a formal black suit entered. It was Akhil Rajvanshi’s assistant, Dev.

He greeted her politely. “Good morning, ma’am. How are you feeling now?”

She blinked, unsure how to respond. Dev tried again, “Can you tell me your name?”

She stayed silent.

Just then, a deeper voice filled the room. “What is your name, lady?”

She looked up—and froze.

Akhil Rajvanshi stood near the doorway, arms crossed, eyes locked on her. He looked just as she remembered—but colder.

She stared at his face. Her lips trembled, but no sound came out.

Akhil asked again, “Do you want to connect with someone? Your family? Friends?”

She softly nodded. “Yes… if possible, I’d like to call my family. Just to tell them I’m okay.”

Before Akhil could speak, Dev handed her a phone.

Akhil turned away and muttered, “If she wants to leave, let her. Give her what she needs and return to your office.”

Time passed.

Later, Dev returned to Akhil’s office.

“She left,” he said quietly. “With the driver.”

Akhil didn’t respond.

Dev hesitated, then asked, “Should I collect her full information?”

Akhil looked at him, tired. “Do whatever you want.”

But Dev didn’t move. “Sir… you’re married. Don’t you feel something when she looks at you?”

Akhil’s voice was cold. “I don’t consider her my wife.”

Dev’s voice lowered. “Her name… her name is Aarohi Akhil Rajvanshi. She’s the woman you left four years ago. And you didn’t even recognize her face.”

Akhil froze.

......................

Aarohi sat in the jet, regal and composed.

“Lakshya,” she said to her assistant. “Did you deliver the message?”

“Yes, ma’am. They believe you're just… busy.”

Aarohi looked out the window. Her voice was a whisper,

“Let it stay that way… for now.”

...----------------...

The jet had landed in India. Aarohi stepped out of the airport, composed and graceful, dressed in soft pastels with strength in her silence. Her assistant walked behind, and Aarohi turned slightly, “Let’s go. I’m going home. You go to yours. See you tomorrow at the office.”

Later that evening, the Rajvanshi mansion was bathed in soft lights. The family gathered in the dining hall—Surya Rajvanshi, his son Rudra, Rudra’s wife Sonali, and their younger children, Rihan and Kritika. Laughter echoed faintly, but none of it was for her.

Aarohi entered with a smile, but no one looked up. Except one.

Surya Rajvanshi stood and opened his arms. “I missed you, my child.”

She embraced him, holding back tears. Disappearing into the kitchen, she returned with dishes carefully made to each member’s preference. Still, there was silence. She quietly placed a bowl in front of Rudra. “I know your blood pressure was high this week, so I made this without extra salt.” He didn’t respond, but his eyes briefly met hers.

Dinner ended. Everyone left for their rooms. Aarohi walked to her old room—the one that had always belonged to Akhil. She opened the door, and the same scent of cedarwood wrapped around her. Everything was untouched. His clothes still hung neatly on the left side. His books, untouched. His cologne, still on the dresser. The room hadn’t changed—only she had.

She went to the washroom, freshened up, and returned wearing a simple kurta. Her damp hair left soft marks on the couch as she sat, curling into herself, exhausted. Her eyes drifted to the bed—untouched for four years.

She closed her eyes, and the memories returned like waves crashing in the dark.

That day at the registrar office, she had worn red. A bridal red. But Akhil had stood beside her with eyes that never once met hers. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even acceptance. It was obedience to Surya Rajvanshi’s command.

Back at the mansion, hours after the wedding, he finally spoke.

“You are not my wife. You were forced into this. So was I. Don’t expect anything.”

Then he had left. Just like that.

No goodbye. No explanation. Not even a second glance.

And he never returned.

For four years, she tried to meet him. Appointments were made. But only his assistant would show up. She never once saw his face after that wedding day. He didn’t visit his family. Not once. Aarohi had become a ghost in the mansion built for her.

A tear slipped down her cheek as she whispered, “What was my mistake?”

And just like that, the night swallowed her pain.

...................

What happens next?

Will Akhil Rajvanshi return to give his wife her rightful place—or will this story become a tale of final goodbyes...