Catastrophe In Crimson

0.5

The room exuded a captivating air of dark opulence. Deep crimson velvet curtains, heavy and regal, adorned tall, arched windows. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting eerie shadows that danced across the room. The soft, warm glow of candlelight created pools of light, illuminating intricate details of the furniture that graced the room.

At the heart of the room, an imposing four-poster bed took center stage, its dark mahogany frame meticulously carved with serpents and twisting vines, a testament to the craftsmanship of a bygone era.

In the midst of the chamber stood a massive desk, its surface a polished ebony.

With the grace of years, the man's wrinkled fingers activated a concealed mechanism, unveiling a hidden compartment.

Within the hidden enclave rested a portrait-a window to the past. It captured a beautiful woman, her laughter captured in a moment, her hand poised gracefully at her lips. The man's eyes, however, weren't fixed on the portrait but on the television screen, where a near-identical face gazed back at him.

Both mother and daughter shared big, brown eyes, their mahogany hair cascading in elegant curls. But while the mother's features were sharp and her cheekbones high, the daughter possessed a gentler, more innocent countenance. Her large, iridescent brown eyes held the unspoiled sweetness of someone untouched by the world's cynicism.

"She's just as beautiful as you ever were," he whispered to the photograph with a reverent awe that resonated in the room.

The photograph bore the signs of being cherished, with colors faded and edges softened by time and tender handling. Yet, the brightness of the girl's smile and her enduring loveliness remained undiminished.

Ramya Rajput had been a sharp, quick-witted soul-a shrewd, over-cautious, untrusting girl who had once navigated the treacherous waters of the royal court with remarkable ease, all while despising the very society that forced her into this role. All her sacrifices and efforts, even the sacrifice of her own life, had been to ensure her daughter would never be ensnared in the same perilous world. Yet, here stood her daughter, destined to marry the embodiment of everything Yami had once loathed.

A voice broke the reverie. "Vikrant?"

The door creaked open, revealing his wife, Sumitra Rajvansh. "Why are you in the dark-oh."

Sumitra's voice trailed off as her eyes fell upon the familiar, well-worn picture.

"Did you need something?" Vikrant inquired.

Sumitra gathered herself and replied, "I was sent by mother to call you. She wishes to discuss the wedding."

Vikrant nodded, placing the cherished photograph back on the desk and wheeled his chair out the door.

As Sumitra cast one last wistful glance at the photograph, she sighed softly and departed, leaving the room steeped in a stifling sense of foreboding.

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short chapter, ik, but this had to be it before the new 'era' starts. the next chapter-coming out soon-will jump straight towards after-marriage of our lead couple.

I hope you liked it. Please don't forget to read, vote and comment.

Thanks for reading!

Love,
Lavanya

P. S. For everyone confused, Vikrant Rajvansh is Abhimaan's father, and his wife is his mother. (Well, duh.)

(I'm sorry if it's a little confusing rn, but up until now this has just been setting the stage, like one giant prologue. It'll get better from next chapter.)