Avnika stood frozen, her breath coming in shaky bursts, Ruhanika’s words still echoing in her ears. You’re Shivansh’s wife now. The weight of it pressed down on her chest until it hurt to breathe. Her fingers dug into the edge of the dresser as tears spilled unchecked, her body trembling like a leaf caught in the wind.

Ruhanika, torn between guilt and helplessness, stepped closer as if to comfort her—but before she could, the door creaked open.

Both women turned.

Shivansh stepped inside, his tall figure framed against the doorway. His sharp eyes immediately locked on Avnika, her disheveled state, her tear-streaked face, and the pastel saree that barely clung to her trembling form. For a moment, silence filled the room, heavy and suffocating.

Avnika’s heart lurched. Fury surged through her grief, and before she could stop herself, her voice rose, raw and broken.

“You!” she cried, her voice trembling as she pointed at him. “You did this to me! You ruined everything—without asking, without telling, you tied me into a marriage I never wanted!”

Her words sliced through the room like glass. Ruhanika froze, glancing between the two, sensing the storm about to break.

Shivansh’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t move closer. His eyes, however, never left Avnika—dark, unreadable, almost pained beneath their intensity. “Avnika,” he said quietly, his voice controlled but carrying weight, “you are my wife now. That’s the truth, whether you accept it or not.”

Avnika’s tears blurred her vision, but her anger gave her strength. “Wife? Don’t you dare call me that!” she shouted, her voice cracking. “You didn’t give me a choice—you only stole it.”

The air grew thick with her words, the tension so strong even Ruhanika stepped back, unsure if she should intervene.

For the first time since entering, Shivansh’s expression faltered, a flicker of something softer—regret, perhaps—crossing his face. But it vanished quickly, replaced by his usual iron control.

“Cry, scream, hate me if you want,” he said, his tone steady. “But nothing will change what happened last night. You are mine, Avnika.”

Avnika’s sobs broke through, her shoulders shaking as she turned away, clutching the edge of the saree like it could shield her from the man who had turned her world upside down.

And Ruhanika stood between them, silent, knowing that this was only the beginning of a battle that neither of them could escape.

The long dining hall of the Raizada mansion gleamed with morning light. The entire family was gathered around the grand table, the air buzzing with murmurs and clinking cutlery. Plates were being laid, servants moving swiftly, while the elders occupied their usual places at the head.

Avnika entered with Ruhanika by her side, her pastel saree neatly draped, though her eyes still carried the shadow of sleepless tears. Ruhanika walked close, almost protectively, but even that shield wasn’t enough.

The moment they stepped into view, several pairs of eyes turned toward them. Amravati, the family matriarch, adjusted her glasses and narrowed her gaze, her expression unreadable but cold. Beside her, Ambala bua’s lips curled into a smirk before twisting into open disdain.

“Look at this,” Ambala’s sharp voice cut through the air like a blade. “Two outsiders walking in here like they own the place.”

Avnika stiffened, her fingers clenching the edge of her saree. Ruhanika held her wrist gently, a silent gesture to stay calm. But Ambala wasn’t done.

“And this girl—” she pointed straight at Avnika, her tone dripping with scorn—“first she snatches a place in this house, and now she dares to sit at our table. Has no one taught her where she belongs?”

The hall fell silent. A few of the younger cousins exchanged uneasy glances, while some of the elders looked down at their plates, unwilling to interfere. Avnika lowered her gaze, shame burning in her chest, but Ruhanika’s eyes flashed with defiance.

“Enough, Bua,” Ruhanika said firmly, her voice calm but edged with steel. “Avnika has every right to sit here. She’s part of this family now, whether you like it or not.”

Ambala scoffed loudly, leaning back in her chair. “Family? Don’t make me laugh. She will never be a Raizada.”

Avnika swallowed hard, her throat tight with unshed words. She wanted to scream, to defend herself, but all she could do was stand still, her heart heavy with humiliation.

Amravati finally raised her hand, silencing the table. “That’s enough talk. Let us begin breakfast.” Her tone was final, though her cold glance at Avnika made it clear she wasn’t offering support—only order.

The family began adjusting their plates, ready to start the meal, when suddenly the sound of heels clicked against the marble floor.

Everyone turned.

Standing at the entrance of the dining hall, dressed elegantly and carrying an air of authority, was Aysha.

Her eyes swept across the table, and a slow, deliberate smile curved her lips as she announced her presence.

“Good morning, Raizada family.”

The room stilled. Even Shivansh, who had been silent all this while, looked up sharply—his eyes narrowing at the woman whose arrival promised nothing less than a storm.

The dining hall grew heavier with silence after Aysha’s entrance. Maina, sitting quietly until now, instinctively glanced at her mother-in-law, searching for her reaction. Amravati adjusted her shawl, her sharp eyes observing the unease spreading across the table.

Finally, she rose slowly, her voice calm but carrying authority.

“From today,” she declared, her gaze lingering on Aysha, “she will stay with us in the Raizada mansion. And that is enough.”

No one dared to question her. The matriarch’s words were final. Without another glance, Amravati turned and walked out of the hall, leaving the family murmuring behind her.

Aysha, with her poised grace, made her way directly toward Avnika. The clinking of her bangles echoed in the tense silence. Stopping just close enough, she leaned in, her lips curling into a subtle smile no one else could read.

“Congratulations,” she whispered into Avnika’s ear, her voice smooth as silk but laced with venom. “But best of luck—you’re going to need it.”

Avnika’s eyes widened, her breath caught. She turned her head slightly, confusion etched across her face. Before she could ask, Aysha’s words sank deeper.

“From today,” Aysha continued softly, her smile never faltering, “you’ll regret marrying Shivansh. And your so-called best friend, Ruhanika…” Her eyes flicked toward Ruhanika for a brief second before returning to Avnika. “…she too will regret ever being a daughter-in-law in this house.”

Avnika’s throat tightened, her mind spinning. She looked at Aysha, baffled, searching for meaning behind those cryptic, poisonous words.

But Aysha only straightened, fixing her saree pleats, her smile now directed at the rest of the family—as if she had said nothing at all.

Avnika, however, felt the sting of the threat in every syllable. And when her gaze shifted to Ruhanika, she noticed the unease clouding her friend’s eyes too.

Something had changed with Aysha’s arrival. The Raizada mansion no longer felt like a home—it felt like a battlefield waiting for the first blow.

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