"Kahan ho, baby? Chhupne ka khel khatam ho gaya," Dev's voice came closer, now right outside her door. She could almost feel his presence through the wood, dark and suffocating.

 "Ab bahar aa jao"

He leaned against the door, his breathing heavy and satisfied.

Anjali pressed her hands over her ears, her eyes shut tight, praying for the floor to swallow her.

"JHANVI! JHANVI, KAHAN HO TUM?"

A loud, frantic voice pierced through the hallway. Anjali's heart stopped. Reeva?

"Reeva... ye Yahan kya kar rahi hai?" Anjali whispered in horror.

 She heard Reeva's footsteps running down the corridor, oblivious to the predator standing right outside Anjali's door.

Outside, Dev's head tilted like a curious animal. 

The psychotic smile on his face widened. He slowly turned away from Anjali's door, his eyes fixing on the end of the hallway where Reeva had just appeared, breathless and panicked.

"Ah... dost," Dev murmured, his voice dripping with venom.

Anjali heard the scuffle—the sound of Reeva's gasp being cut short and the heavy thud of a body being shoved against the wall.

"Anjali!" Dev's voice boomed again, but this time it was different. 

It was the voice of a man who had just found a new lever to pull.

"Dekho bahar kaun aaya hai. Tumhari pyaari dost... Reeva."

"Chhodo mujhe!" Reeva's muffled voice screamed.

"Gulaab..." Dev called out, his tone turning dangerously soft again.

"Agar tumne agle teen seconds mein ye darwaaza nahi khola... toh main Reeva ka vahi haal karunga jo maine neeche tumhare 'maa-baap' ka kiya hai. Ek... do..."

Anjali's breath hitched. She looked at the door, her hand reaching for the lock. 

She couldn't let Reeva die. She couldn't let another life be sacrificed at the altar of her misery.

"TEEN..."

Anjali turned the key. The click sounded like a death knell in the silent room.

The door creaked open, and Anjali stood there, her spirit crushed under the weight of the morning's horrors. 

Dev looked up, his face breaking into a slow, jagged smirk that sent shivers down her spine. 

He gestured casually to his guards, who immediately pinned a struggling Reeva against the wall, their rough hands bruising her arms.

Dev walked toward Anjali with slow, predatory steps. 

When he reached her, he didn't grab her—not yet. He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers cold against her flushed, tear-stained skin.

"Chahta tha ki hum acche se shaadi karein, Gulaab," he whispered, his voice dripping with a sickeningly sweet irony. 

"Maine socha tha tum sundar sa lehnga pehnogi, main sherwani... ek perfect royal wedding. Lekin dekho kya ho gaya. Par koi baat nahi... shaadi aise ho ya waise, shaadi toh shaadi hoti hai, haina?"

Anjali couldn't even speak; her jaw was locked in terror. 

Dev's grip tightened on her wrist as he turned toward the hallway, his voice booming with authority.

"Pandit ko laane bola tha, laye?"

Two guards dragged a man forward. His hands were bound, and a cloth was tied roughly around his mouth.

The poor man's eyes were wide with pure, unadulterated fear as he looked at the bloodstains on Dev's shirt. 

Anjali's eyes met Reeva's. Reeva was shaking her head frantically, her eyes screaming,

'Don't do this! Don't let him win!' But Anjali looked away. 

She couldn't let Reeva become the third body in this house.

Dev dragged Anjali down the stairs. As they reached the living room, the first thing she saw was the lifeless forms of Mr. and Mrs. Bisht near the sofa. 

Mr. Bisht's eyes were still half-open, staring at a ceiling he would never see again.

A sob escaped Anjali's throat, and she whispered a silent apology to the people who had been her only world for four years, however false it was.

Dev shoved her down onto the decorated wooden seat of the Mandap. 

The irony of the beautiful flowers surrounded by the smell of iron and blood was nauseating. He looked at the trembling priest, who had been untied just enough to perform the rites.

"Abe Pandit! Mantra start karega ya yahin goli maar doon?" Dev growled, resting his hand on the gun tucked into his waistband.

The priest's hands shook so violently he almost dropped the holy beads. 

He began to chant the mantras, his voice quivering and fast. Reeva was forced to sit nearby, held down by guards, her muffled screams of protest ignored by everyone.

 Anjali sat there like a lifeless doll, her mind retreating to a single image: Aryan's face and Advika's laughter. I'm sorry, Aryan. I'm so sorry.

The ceremony progressed with a terrifying speed. 

The fire in the Havan flickered, casting long, demonic shadows on the walls.

"Gathbandhan kijiye," the priest whispered, terrified.

Dev tied the knot himself, his eyes fixed on Anjali's pale face. He led her around the fire, her feet bleeding through the bandages, marking the floor with every step.

 Four pheras, five, six... the seventh was completed.

Dev reached for the small container of sindoor. He took a pinch of the red powder, his eyes gleaming with the triumph of a madman.

 He leaned in, his shadow looming over her.

"Ab tum hamesha ke liye meri ho,Jhanvi Singhania," he murmured, his hand moving toward her forehead.

"ABE BHOSDIKE! TUJHE KYA LAGA MERI BIWI SE SHAADI KAREGA AUR MAIN HONE DUNGA?"

A thunderous roar shattered the silence of the mansion. 

The grand mahogany doors didn't just open—they were blown off their hinges.

Through the dust and the smoke, Aryan stood there. He wasn't the broken man from the cafe or the mourning husband from Delhi.

 He looked like death himself. He was holding a heavy-duty handgun, his clothes disheveled, and his eyes glowing with a lethal, murderous rage.

 Behind him, the driveway was littered with the bodies of Dev's "elite" guards.

Dev froze, the sindoor still in his fingers. He looked at Aryan, his smirkstill there.

"Aryan..." Anjali breathed, the name finally sounding like a prayer answered.

Aryan stepped over the threshold, his gaze sweeping over the blood on the floor, the bound priest, and finally, the red mark on Anjali's feet.

His jaw tightened so hard a vein began to throb in his temple.

"Haath piche kar, Singhania," Aryan hissed, his voice a low, vibrating growl of a predator.

 "Warna jis haath se meri biwi ko chone ki koshish ki hai, woh haath tere jism se alag kar dunga. You chose the wrong man's life to ruin, and today, I'm going to make sure you never walk out of this grave you've built for yourself."

--------------------------------------XXXXXXXXXXXXXX---------------------------------

Author's Note 🦋

"The Beast vs. The King"

If you were holding your breath, now is the time to scream! Dev Singhania thought he had won. He thought he had successfully erased Anjali's past and buried her future under a pile of bodies. But he forgot one thing: 

Aryan Taneja doesn't just love Anjali; he belongs to her.

Aryan standing there with a gun, stepping over the threshold of a house that tried to steal his soul, is the moment we've all been waiting for. 

The sindoor is still in Dev's hand, the gathbandhan is still tied, and the air is thick with the scent of gunpowder and revenge.

Get ready, because the "Sweet Aryan" is gone. This is a battle for a queen, and only one man is walking out of this Mandap.

~EIRA