Shubham clenched his fists.
Anger burned inside him—anger toward that woman..
But more than anger, he felt worry.
For Raya.
He glanced at her hesitantly.
Her beautiful face was calm. Too calm.
How can she be this composed?
Didn't she feel bad?
Or does she not understand the language properly?
She grew up in the Netherlands. It's natural if she doesn't.
Raya broke his thoughts.
"Are we stopping here?"
Shubham snapped back.
"No… let's go inside."
She followed him.
The living area was crowded.
Everyone belonged to the Malhotra family—some close relatives, others distant. No outsiders were invited, yet both families were so large that many people had gathered.
The moment Raya and Shubham entered, silence fell.
Shubham shot a glare at the woman who had been speaking ill of Raya.
She frowned.
"What? Why are you staring at me like that?"
"Aunty," Shubham said coldly,
"one shouldn't interfere in someone else's family matters—especially after entering their home. Didn't anyone teach you that?"
The woman faltered.
She was Meena Sachdev—Shubham's aunt.
Recovering quickly, she smiled awkwardly.
"Oh, son… I was just talking casually. By the way, who is this girl with you?"
"This is My Sister, Raya," Shubham replied evenly.
"And Raya… these are our relatives."
Raya looked around and greeted them politely.
"Hello."
No one responded.
The moment they realized who she was, strange expressions appeared on their faces.
Meena stood up abruptly.
"Oh… I just remembered. Big Sis was calling me."
One by one, the others followed, making excuses and leaving.
Shubham found it unsettling.
Raya's expression didn't change at all.
"Raya," Shubham said gently, "I'll take you to your room."
She nodded faintly.
He stopped outside a room.
Raya observed everything quietly.
She had spent five years of her childhood in this house. Yet now, it felt unfamiliar—like a strange alley she had wandered into.
"This is your room," Shubham said, opening the door.
Raya stepped inside.
Shubham followed with her luggage—and froze.
The room contained only a small bed and an old dressing table.
Even the servants in the Malhotra household were given better rooms.
Shubham clenched his teeth.
What is wrong with my family?
Why are they treating Raya di like this?
How will she live here?
Raya walked toward the window.
Shubham watched her, ashamed.
She pulled aside the curtain.
The sight outside made her close her eyes.
The window was sealed from outside with thick wooden planks.
Deliberately.
"That's ridiculous," Shubham said angrily.
"These staff members can't do a single thing properly. I'm really sorry, Raya di. It must've been missed during renovation. I'll get it fixed immediately. You freshen up till then."
She nodded slightly.
Shubham left, fists clenched, utterly confused.
After he left, Raya locked the door.
She opened her luggage.
At the very top lay a high-tech gun.
How airport security had allowed it was impossible to tell.
She set it aside, picked up a towel, and went to the bathroom.
It was eleven at night.
The entire Malhotra family had gathered in Raghuvendra Malhotra's study.
Subhash Malhotra had three children—two sons and a daughter.
Raghuvendra, Raya's father, was the eldest.
Second was Sarojini—Raya's aunt.
Youngest was Digvijay Malhotra—Shubham's father.
Digvijay had two children: Shubham and Ridhima.
Shubham knocked.
"Come in," Raghuvendra's commanding voice said.
As Shubham stepped inside, Raghuvendra raised his hand.
Shubham stopped at the door.
"Did she touch you?" Raghuvendra asked sharply.
She meant Raya.
"While taking the luggage, there was slight physical contact," Shubham replied.
"Why?"
Raghuvendra's eyes narrowed.
Sugandhna, Shubham's mother, grew tense.
"I told you not to let her touch you,"
Raghuvendra said coldly.
Shubham felt uneasy.
Why was his uncle talking about his own daughter as if she were a stranger?
"She didn't touch me," Shubham clarified.
"I went close to her."
Sugandhna snapped,
"When your uncle warned you, why did you go near that—"
"That's enough," Digvijay interrupted.
"What's done is done. Shubham, go take a shower. And from now on, stay away from that girl."
"But Dad—"
"No questions. Do exactly as told."
Shubham had many questions—but seeing his father's warning gaze, he said nothing and left.
Digvijay turned to Ridhima.
"Check the CCTV footage. Get everything cleaned."
Ridhima nodded and left.
The atmosphere was tense.
"This isn't safe," Digvijay said quietly.
"Just two days," Raghuvendra replied. "Once the wedding is over, she'll leave this place forever."
"But what about these two days?"
Sugandhna asked.
"What if she moves around the house?"
"I'll speak to her," Raghuvendra said firmly.
"She will not leave her room. Focus on the wedding preparations."
They nodded and left.
Raghuvendra turned to his wife, Sumati.
"What are you thinking?" he asked gently.
"Nothing," she replied. "I'll check on the staff."
As she stood to leave, Raghuvendra caught her wrist.
"I know what's on your mind," he said seriously.
"Don't let maternal emotions drive you to a wrong decision."
"I know," she said softly.
"My motherhood is not greater than this family."
She left.
Her gaze lingered briefly on Raya's room on the second floor.
Raya sat on her bed, working on her laptop, when a knock sounded.
A staff member stood outside.
"The master is calling you."
She closed the door and followed him.
Inside the study, Raghuvendra stood beside his chair.
After eighteen years, Raya was seeing her father again.
"Sit," he said, gesturing.
She did.
No emotion flickered across her face.
"What do you think about this marriage?" he asked.
"I have no opinion," Raya replied calmly.
He sighed and sat down.
They looked nothing like father and daughter.
"Stay in your room while you're here," he ordered.
"Alright. Anything else?"
"No. You may go."
After she left, Raghuvendra poured a liquid onto the chair she had sat on.
He lit it.
The chair burst into flames.
He watched, expressionless.
A day passed.
Raya remained locked in her room, like a prison.
Shubham tried to get the window opened.
Raghuvendra stopped him.
Today was the wedding.
Everything was set in the palace courtyard.
The grandeur spoke for itself, why the Malhotras were among the most powerful families in the country.
The priest lit the sacred fire, chanting mantras.
The atmosphere was festive.
The Raghuvanshi family had arrived.
On one side sat the priest. On the other — Tashyam.