Jhanvi stood frozen, the image of Dev holding a blade to his uncle's throat seared into her mind. The indifference of the crowd was even more terrifying than the violence itself.

"Welcome to the Singhanias," Kritika whispered beside her, letting out a dry, haunting chuckle.Jhanvi looked at her, puzzled and horrified. 

"Tum has rahi ho? How can you laugh? He is your father! Dev nearly killed him!"

Kritika's smile vanished instantly, her eyes turning as cold as the marble floor. 

"Woh insaan mera baap zaroor hai, Jhanvi... lekin main unhe 'Papa' nahi manti. Is ghar mein rishte khoon se nahi, khauf se bante hain."

Seeing Jhanvi's confusion, Kritika sighed and leaned in. 

"Singhanias ek bahut bada parivar hai. Char hisson mein bata hua. Pehle Balraaj Singhania—Dev Bhai ke papa. Dusre Miheer Singhania—mera baap. Teesre Nakul Singhania, aur in sab ki sabse choti aur pyari behen, Chandrika."

"Toh... toh yeh sab log is party mein kyu nahi dikh rahe?" Jhanvi asked, glancing around the room.

Kritika's gaze flickered toward Dev, who was now calmly sipping champagne as if he hadn't just drawn blood. 

She grabbed Jhanvi's wrist and led her to the farthest table in the corner, away from prying ears.

"Kyunki yeh parivar nahi, ek kabaristan hai," Kritika said as they sat down. 

She took a deep breath. "Balraaj Tauji... Dev Bhai ke papa... is dead."

Jhanvi gasped. "Dev ke papa nahi hain?"

"Nahi," Kritika replied, her voice dropping to a low, chilling tone.

"Woh kehte hain na, jab apne ghar mein hi saanp pala ho, toh bahar walon se umeed nahi ki ja sakti. Singhania Empire jo aaj sirf khauf ka dusra naam hai, pehle ek izzatdar naam hua karta tha. Sab sahi tha, sab khush the... jab tak gaddari ne darrastak nahi di."

Kritika's eyes darkened as she began the bloody tale of the Singhania downfall.

"Tauji apni patni—Dev ki maa—se be-intehaan mohabbat karte the. Par unhe nahi pata tha ki unki 'Mohabbat' unki maut ka saaman taiyar kar rahi hai. Dev ki maa ka affair bua ke pati ke saath chal raha tha. Woh aadmi tauji se nafrat karta tha... woh Singhania Empire ko tabah karna chahta tha..lekin bhen ke pyaar mai aake tauji ne unki unse shadi kara di."

Jhanvi listened, her heart thudding against her ribs.

"Pyaar mein andhi hokar, Dev ki maa ne company ke sabse precious documents us aadmi ko de diye. Par unka pet utne se nahi bhara. Unhone ek plan banaya—ek fake kidnapping ka. Unhone Dev ki maa ko kidnap karne ka natak kiya aur Tauji wahan akele gaye... apni patni ko bachane. Par wahan unhe sirf maut mili. Unhone Tauji ko tadpa-tadpa kar mara... aur unki biwi wahan khadi dekhti rahi."

Kritika leaned forward, her voice trembling with the weight of the memory.

"Dev us waqt sirf ek baccha tha, par usne sab dekha. He grew up swearing he would burn down every single enemy of his father. Jab usne pehli baar company ki baagdor sambhali, sabse pehle usne pata hai kya kiya? Usne apni maa ko mara. Bilkul waise hi, jaise unhone tauji ko mara tha."

Jhanvi felt the air leave her lungs. "Usne... apni maa ko mara?"

"Haan," Kritika whispered.

"Uss raat Singhania Mansion mein khoon ki nadiyan bahi thin. He hunted down his aunt's husband, his mother, and everyone who stood in his way. Us din ke baad se, Dev Singhania badal gaya. 

Woh ek insaan se ek 'Psychopath' ban gaya. Aaj jo tum dekh rahi ho—yeh wealth, yeh power—yeh sab tauji ke khoon ki raakh par khada hai. 

Dev kisi par bharosa nahi karta, Jhanvi. Isliye jab usne kaha ki voh shadi kar raha hai i was shocked... par ek baat samajh lo ki woh tumhe kabhi nahi chodega. 

ya toh woh apni maa ki tarah gaddar ban sakta hai, ya apne baap ki tarah qurban ho sakta hai.Aur dev apni maa ki tarah kabhi nhi banega "

Jhanvi looked across the room at Dev. He was staring directly at her from across the hall, his glass raised in a silent, terrifying toast.

 She realized then that the man she was supposed to marry didn't have a heart—he had a graveyard where his soul used to be.

Kritika's phone rang, and with a lingering, sympathetic look, she excused herself. 

Jhanvi remained seated, the air around her heavy with the stench of the blood-soaked history she had just heard. She felt like she was breathing in the ashes of Dev's father.

She was so lost in the horror of the Singhania legacy that she didn't notice the chair opposite her slide out.

 She only snapped back to reality when a cold, calloused hand covered hers—the one that wasn't bandaged.

Jhanvi flinched, trying to jerk her hand away, but Dev's grip was like a steel shackle. He didn't look angry yet; he looked mesmerized. 

He brought her palm closer to his face, his eyes tracing the dark patterns of the bridal mehndi.

"Kitni pyaari lag rahi ho tum is dress mein, Gulaab," he whispered, his voice smooth and dripping with a sickening sweetness.

"Phele se kitna accha colour aaya hai na...akhir meri ibadat rang le hi aayi"

Jhanvi looked at him with pure, unadulterated loathing. 

"Ye koi tumhari ibadat ka rang nhi hai singhania ye meri nafrat ka rang hai"

Dev chuckled, a low, vibrating sound in his chest. He began to caress her palm with his thumb, his touch light as a feather yet heavy with threat. 

"Nafrat ka ho ya pyaar ka.. rang toh rang hota hai. par pata hai tumhari Nafrat mein bhi ek alag sa ehsaas aata hai."

But as he traced the intricate swirls near the base of her thumb, his thumb stopped. His eyes narrowed. The playful, romantic facade shattered instantly. 

He leaned in closer, his breathing becoming ragged as he spotted four hidden letters woven into the design.

A-R-Y-A-N.

The air in the room seemed to freeze. Dev's grip tightened until Jhanvi's bones groaned under the pressure. 

He stood up abruptly, dragging her up with him by the wrist. Jhanvi hissed in pain, clawing at his hand.

"Dev! Chhodo mujhe! Kya kar rahe ho?"

Dev didn't answer her. He turned to the crowded ballroom, his face contorting into a mask of demonic rage.

"PARTY IS OVER! GET OUT!" he roared, his voice booming like a cannon.

The guests froze, glasses halfway to their lips. Confusion turned to pure terror as they saw the look in Dev's eyes.

"I SAID... MOVE!"

Within seconds, the elite of the city were scrambling for the exits, tripping over their gowns and suits, fearing for their lives. 

The grand doors slammed shut, leaving only Dev and Jhanvi in the haunting silence of the massive ballroom.

Dev spun her around, pinning her against a heavy mahogany table. He grabbed her hand again, shoving it toward her face.

"Yeh kya hai, Jhanvi?" he hissed, his voice trembling with a psychotic vibration.

 "Yeh... kya hai...USKA NAAM TUMHARI HATHELI PE KYA KAR RAHA HAI..BOLO?"

"Woh... woh bas ga-galti s-se m-mu-mujhe n-nhi pata," Jhanvi sobbed, trying to pull away.

"KUCH ZYADA GALTIYAN NHI HO RAHI HAI TUMSE" Dev screamed, his face inches from hers.

"Kitni baar kahu ki tum meri hi tumhara jism,tumhari saans,tumhari rooh pe sirf ek naam hai voh hai MERA...toh uska naam main tumhari hatheli pe kaise rahne doon"

He suddenly reached into his blazer and pulled out a small, silver pocket knife. The blade glinted under the chandeliers.

"Dev, nahi! Please!" Jhanvi begged, her eyes wide with horror.

"Don't worry, Gulaab," Dev whispered, his voice suddenly turning chillingly calm, his eyes wide and unblinking.

"Main tumhe dard nahi dena chahta. Main toh bas is 'galti' ko saaf kar raha hoon. Tumhare haath par sirf mera haq hona chahiye. Agar yeh naam yahan rahega, toh meri ibadat adhoori reh jayegi."

He grabbed her palm firmly. 

"Duniya kehti hai ki galti ko maaf kar dena chaiye... par Dev Singhania kehta hai ki galti ko hamesha jad se mita dena chahiye."

Without a second thought, he pressed the tip of the blade into her skin, right where the letters began. Jhanvi's scream echoed through the empty hall as he began to cut.

"Chilla lo, Gulaab! Jitna dard tumhe ho raha hai, usse zyada jalan mere seene mein hai," he growled, his eyes fixed on the blood pooling in her palm. 

"Ab na rahega naam, na rahegi yaad. Aaj ke baad jab bhi tum apna haath dekhogi, tumhe woh naam yaad nahi aayega... tumhe sirf mera diya hua 'zakham' yaad aayega. Aur wahi zakham tumhari pehchan banega."

He finished the horrific act and let her hand drop. Jhanvi collapsed to the floor, clutching her bleeding palm, her sobs racking her body. 

Dev stood over her, breathing heavily, looking at the blood on his knife with a look of twisted satisfaction.

As Jhanvi's eyes rolled back and she collapsed into a heap of red silk and pale skin, he didn't panic. 

He simply watched the life drain from her face until she was perfectly still—exactly how he liked her.

He squatted down, the fabric of his trousers stretching as he loomed over her fainted form. 

With a terrifyingly steady hand, he brushed a stray lock of hair away from her forehead, his fingers lingering on her cold skin.

He then took her injured hand, his thumb pressing into the fresh cut he had made.

 He brought his thumb to his lips, tasting the metallic tang of her blood with a slow, deliberate relish. His eyes closed for a moment, a shiver of pure, sick ecstasy running through him.

When he opened them, they were darker than ever, devoid of anything human. He leaned down, his lips ghosting against her ear as he whispered to her unconscious soul:

"Tumhare khoon ka swaad bhi bilkul tumhari nafrat jaisa hai, Gulaab... kkadwa, par nasha dene wala."

"Sleep well, my Gulaab," he whispered, his eyes gleaming with a terrifying, unholy light.

"Today, I didn't just cut your skin; I carved my signature into your soul. You might die a thousand deaths in this house, but I will never let you leave—for even if you breathe your last, I will keep your beautiful corpse in a glass coffin, just so I can be the only one who gets to watch you rot."

He stood up, looking down at his blood-stained hands as if he had finally been baptized. One word escaped his lips, a chilling, final decree of his obsession:

"MINE."

Author's POV:

Jhanvi's eyes fluttered open as the harsh morning light cut through the curtains. For a fleeting second, the softness of her own bed deceived her into thinking the previous night was just a fever dream. 

But as she tried to sit up, a sharp, searing throb in her right palm brought the world crashing back.

She looked down. Her hand was encased in a thick, professional bandage. 

The crimson memory of Dev's blade carving into her skin flashed before her eyes, and her stomach churned.

The door creaked open, and Mrs. Bisht walked in, carrying a glass of turmeric milk. Her face was a mask of practiced concern.

"Uth gayi tu?" Mrs. Bisht said, her voice soft but cautious. 

"Ab dard kaisa hai? Dev ne bataya ki party mein glass toot gaya tha aur tujhe chot lag gayi. Bechara kitna pareshaan tha, khud tujhe ghar chhod kar gaya."

Jhanvi looked at her mother—the woman who had traded her daughter's safety for a monster's protection. A cold, bitter scoff escaped her lips.

"Aapko kya fark padta hai? Mujhe dard ho ya na ho... aapko toh bas apni 'zidd' aur Dev ki 'daulat' se matlab hai, na?"

Mrs. Bisht flinched, sitting on the edge of the bed.

 "Beta, mujhse abhi bhi gussa ho? Main teri maa hoon—"

"Mujhe fresh hona hai," Jhanvi cut her off, her voice devoid of any emotion. 

She stood up, ignoring the dizziness. "Please, jaiye yahan se."

Mrs. Bisht tried to speak, but seeing the icy wall in Jhanvi's eyes, she sighed and walked out.

 Jhanvi glanced at the calendar. A pang of agony struck her chest.

Today. He's leaving .

The image of Aryan's face filled her mind, but it was quickly eclipsed by Dev's psychotic warning.

 She shook her head violently, trying to drown out the noise of her own heart, and disappeared into the washroom.

An hour later, Jhanvi walked into the cafe. She had forced herself into a routine, wearing a long-sleeved shirt to hide the tension in her body and a forced smile to hide the death of her spirit.

The moment she stepped inside, Reeva was there. 

Before Jhanvi could even set her bag down, Reeva wrapped her in a hug so tight it almost hurt.

"Are, kya hua?" Jhanvi asked, startled.

Reeva pulled back, her eyes red-rimmed as if she hadn't slept at all.

 "Aise gayab mat ho jaya kar yaar. Kal jab tu nahi mili, mera dil baith gaya tha. Mujhe laga kuch-chord..." She trailed off.

Jhanvi felt a lump in her throat. She wanted to scream, to tell Reeva that she was being hunted by a demon. But instead, she let out a hollow laugh.

 "Meri dost ko meri itni fikar hai? Mujhe toh pata hi nahi tha."

Reeva playfully slapped her arm. "Kyun nahi hogi? Tu hi toh meri family hai."

Jhanvi leaned in and kissed Reeva's cheek, a rare moment of affection that made Reeva cringe and pull back.

 "Chi! Lesbo! Dooor reh mujhse!" Reeva joked, making a face.

Jhanvi burst into a genuine laugh—the first one in twenty-four hours. Across the room, Jay stood holding baby Falak.

 His heart warmed seeing the smile return to Reeva's face. He had spent the night watching Reeva pace the floor in a panic, and seeing her relaxed now felt like a personal victory.

Jay loved Reeva. He knew she was a single mother, and he knew she pushed him away because she thought she would ruin his life, but he couldn't help himself.

 He walked toward them, adjusting Falak in his arms.

"Mere toh bhagya hi phoot gaye!" Jay said dramatically. 

"Meri hone waali bandi Lesbian hai? Dekh Falaku, teri maa 'lesboo' hai!"

Falak giggled at his tone, while Reeva's face turned pink. 

"Bakwas ho gayi ho toh jao, chai bana ke lao!" she snapped, taking the baby from him.

"Jo aap kahein, Janeman!" Jay winked, clutching his heart before retreating to the kitchen.

Reeva rolled her eyes, but a slight blush lingered on her cheeks. 

Her expression quickly turned serious as she pulled Jhanvi to a corner table.

"Jhanvi... Aryan aaj wapas ja raha hai," Reeva said softly, her eyes searching Jhanvi's.

 "Tu use milegi na? Airport pe?"

Jhanvi's heart wrenched. The image of the airport, of him walking away forever, felt like a physical weight on her soul. She looked away, her voice tightening.

"Mere paas usse milne ke siwaye bahut kaam hain, Reeva. Woh ja raha hai... achha hai. aur mai milke kya karungi kaun sa huamra koi rishta hai"

Reeva sighed.

"Teri marzi..mai toh sirf kah rahi thi"