As the sun began to set, the Shetty villa glowed with a festive aura — strings of lights flickered along the balcony railings, the air alive with the scent of incense and jasmine. But in the backyard, away from the laughter and music, something far more serious was unfolding.
Varun stood beside Vikram, both of them surrounded by glowing sigils drawn in fine silver dust. A faint hum pulsed through the air as they completed the final circle. The atmosphere was charged — the stillness before a storm.
Reeva's old grimoire lay open on the grass before them, its ancient pages fluttering though there was no wind. The runes inscribed upon them shimmered faintly, responding to Vikram's chanting.
"Mantrah rekha, jyotir kavach, suraksha sphura…"
The spell ignited, forming a translucent dome of light around the mansion — invisible to mortal eyes, but bright as day to those of the other world.
Varun exhaled, stepping back as the glowing sigils faded into the earth. "It's done," he said. "No being of dark essence can cross this threshold now."
Vikram nodded grimly. "Let's hope it holds. Yuvaan won't stay idle after what happened."
Varun's jaw tightened. "If he comes near Kiara again, I'll—"
"Careful, Varun," Vikram interrupted gently. "You cannot fight darkness with anger. Remember what Reeva taught us — calm is our strongest weapon."
But neither of them noticed the pair of crimson eyes watching from the dense foliage beyond the gate.
---
Among the shadows of the mango grove, Yuvaan stood silently, half-hidden behind the thick leaves. His sharp gaze traced the faint golden shimmer of the magical dome surrounding the villa.
A low, amused chuckle escaped his lips.
"Interesting… very interesting," he murmured, brushing a fallen leaf off his shoulder. "My future father-in-law and brother-in-law working together to build a fortress around my princess."
He tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. "They really think walls of light can stop me from reaching her heart?"
For a moment, his expression darkened — the charm fading, replaced by something ancient and predatory. Then the smirk returned, curling at the corner of his mouth.
"No issue," he whispered, stepping back into the shadows. "If I can't go to her…"
He paused, his voice dropping to a velvet threat.
"…then she will come to me."
Lightning flickered across the horizon as he disappeared into the mist, leaving only the faint echo of his laughter behind — a sound that made even the night air shiver.
Inside
The mirror reflected a picture-perfect fiancée — but the eyes staring back were lifeless.
Kiara sat silently as the final touches of her makeup were done, the soft maroon lehenga draping her like a cage of silk and gold. The sound of preparations downstairs — laughter, music, clinking glasses — felt distant, unreal.
Her best friend Anya stood behind her, adjusting her dupatta with a worried frown.
"Kiara, please," she whispered. "You don't have to go through with this. You're not happy — anyone can see that. Just talk to your dad again, maybe—"
Kiara shook her head, cutting her off. "No, Anya," she said softly, her voice brittle as glass. "I can't risk losing him again. I already promised."
"But this isn't love, Kiara. This is… punishment."
Kiara forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Sometimes love means sacrifice," she said. "And this is mine."
Before Anya could respond, Kiara's phone buzzed on the vanity table. The screen flashed Angad Pratap Singh.
Frowning, she picked it up. "Hello, Angad?"
There was panic in his voice. "Kiara—it's my brother, Yuvaan. He was drunk and… and he's had an accident!"
Her blood ran cold. "What?"
"At the open field near the city center," Angad said breathlessly. "He's unconscious, Kiara. You need to come."
The room tilted. Her phone slipped from her trembling fingers, clattering against the marble floor.
Anya caught her by the shoulders. "Kiara! What happened?"
Kiara's lips parted, the words barely escaping in a whisper. "Yuvaan… accident…"
The bangles on her wrist jingled as her fingers clenched the edge of her lehenga, the crimson fabric pooling around her like spilled blood. Downstairs, music swelled — celebrating a bond that her heart had already betrayed.
From her window, Kiara watched as the black luxury cars rolled through the iron gates of Shetty Villa, their headlights slicing through the soft morning haze.
The Oberois had arrived.
Down below, her father Vikram and brother Varun stood at the entrance, poised and smiling, the perfect hosts in a perfectly orchestrated arrangement. Laughter and polite greetings floated upward, carried on the sweet scent of marigold and jasmine.
But for Kiara, every sound was muffled by the pounding in her chest.
Her gaze lingered on her father's face — proud, relieved, oblivious to the storm inside her. She pressed a hand to her heart, torn between duty and desperation.
Behind her, Anya whispered urgently, "They're all going inside. This is your chance."
Kiara turned. "Are you sure you'll cover for me?"
Anya nodded. "Just go, before someone comes to check on you. I'll say you're fixing your jewelry or got a call from the boutique — anything."
Kiara managed a faint, grateful smile. "Thank you."
She slipped off her dupatta, trading it for a simple shawl that hung on her chair, and moved toward the balcony. Her hands trembled as she gripped the railing, the wind tangling her loose hair.
For a moment, she looked back at the half-decorated room — the mirror, the jewelry, the maroon lehenga shimmering like a symbol of everything she was about to leave behind.
Then she climbed down, her sandals hitting the garden floor with a soft thud.
Anya leaned over the railing. "Be careful, Kiara! And call me when you reach!"
Kiara nodded, her voice a whisper carried away by the wind. "I will."
Without another glance back, she pulled up her dupatta, covering her face partially, and hurried toward the side gate — her heart drumming a single thought:
Hold on, Yuvaan. Please… just hold on.