ISHQ-E-MOHABBAT

2. A life unwanted

I made my way to the living room, feeling a knot tighten in my chest with every step. As I entered, I saw him sitting there—his name was Abhimaan Deep Shekhawat, the stranger from the car. His eyes met mine, piercing and expectant, as if the world owed him everything it had to offer. There was no warmth in his gaze, only a sense of ownership.

My heart skipped a beat as I realized the magnitude of the situation. He was here for me, but not because of anything I had done. No, this was my father's doing. A deal, a business arrangement—my life was just a pawn in their game.

We moved to the garden, and he gestured for me to sit. I complied, my body moving mechanically, while my mind struggled to make sense of what was happening. The garden was beautiful, full of life and color, a stark contrast to the cold, hard reality of my life.

"So, Mayura, do you want to marry me?" His voice cut through the silence, firm and unyielding.

I couldn't bring myself to speak. What was there to say? Did it even matter what I wanted?yes , I  heard about the deal .

My silence seemed to annoy him. His expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as he misinterpreted my quietness.

Without another word, he thrust a ring into my hand, a cold, heavy symbol of the life that awaited me. "Pretend we're engaged. Tell everyone we're getting married soon," he commanded.

I stared at the ring in disbelief. What was happening? My father had never spoken about this. He had always pretended to care, to love me, but I knew better. Those moments of affection were mere performances, hiding the truth of what happened in the basement when no one was around. I could still feel the sting of his hand across my face, the cold, damp floor beneath me as I cowered in fear.

This marriage with a stranger, this powerful man—shouldn't it terrify me? But oddly, it didn’t. It felt like a way out. A way to escape the life of fear and pain that had been my constant companion. Abhimaan might be cold, ruthless even, but he was not my father.

After Abhimaan left, I retreated to my small, cramped room. The ring felt like a shackle, but it was also a key. A key to a different future, one where I wouldn’t have to endure the daily torment I had grown used to.

As I stared at the ring, a name echoed in my mind—Abhimaan Deep Shekhawat. It was familiar, but the full weight of it didn’t hit me until memories began to surface. I had heard his name whispered countless times, always with a mix of awe and fear. My parents had often spoken of the Shekhawat family, of their immense power and wealth, of the ruthless son who had built an empire on the ruins of others.

I remembered the stories, the rumors of how he crushed anyone who dared stand in his way, how he ruled his world with an iron fist. And now, this man wanted to marry me? A girl from a family whose business was hardly noteworthy. We weren’t poor, but we were nowhere near the league of the Shekhawats.

Why me? Why would a man like Abhimaan suddenly want to marry the daughter of a nobody? It didn’t make sense. I wasn’t from a family of wealth and influence, and I certainly wasn’t someone who could bring him any advantage. The thought gnawed at me, adding to the growing unease in my stomach.

My mind drifted back to my childhood, to the times when my father’s fake kindness would give way to the brutal truth. I used to wonder what I had done wrong, why the man who was supposed to protect me was the one I feared the most. There were nights when I would lay awake in the dark, listening for the sound of footsteps on the stairs, dreading the moment the basement door would open.

The basement was my prison, the place where my father would take me when he was displeased. He always made sure to keep up appearances in front of others, to maintain the façade of a loving, caring parent. But I knew the truth. I had felt the pain, the terror, as he unleashed his fury on me, telling me it was for my own good, that I needed to learn.

So why wasn’t I terrified now? Maybe because this marriage, this union with a man like Abhimaan, was a way out. It didn’t matter that he was cold and unfeeling; what mattered was that he wasn’t my father. He wouldn’t drag me to the basement or beat me into submission. At least, that’s what I hoped.

I sat on the bed, the ring still clutched in my hand, my thoughts spiraling. I had to find a way to survive this. Abhimaan was dangerous, but he was also a means to an end. If I played my cards right, if I could just navigate this new world without losing myself, maybe—just maybe—I could finally be free of the past that haunted me.

The thought of freedom, of leaving behind the life I had known, was both exhilarating and terrifying. I knew nothing about being a queen or a wife to a man like Abhimaan, but I was willing to learn. I had to. This was my chance, my opportunity to escape the chains of my past and build something new.

As the night wore on, I found myself staring at the ring, wondering what the future held. The stories I had heard about Abhimaan, the fearsome King of Rajasthan, made me wary, but there was also a flicker of curiosity. Who was he really? What did he want from me? And most importantly, could I use this marriage to finally find the freedom I so desperately craved?

I knew I had to be careful, to tread lightly in this new world. Abhimaan was not a man to be trifled with, but I was not the same frightened girl I had once been. I had survived my father, and now I would survive this. I would find a way to turn this marriage to my advantage, to carve out a life that was truly my own.

As I slipped the ring onto my finger, a sense of resolve settled over me. This was the beginning of a new chapter, one that I would write on my own terms. I didn’t know what the future held, but I was determined to face it head-on, to finally take control of my destiny.

Whatever happened next, I would be ready.