The vivid reds in wedding symbols of celebration , Happiness and Joy . But what will happen if the same red colour change into the colour of blood betrayal and the symphony of despair.
Meera sweet little innocent girl end up being the pawn in the d...
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The world around me was spinning, a distant hum filling my ears as I regained consciousness. My head throbbed, and I could feel the lingering shock from the collision, but something warm and steady held me upright, preventing me from collapsing completely. Daring to open my eyes, I found myself staring into intense black eyes, so dark they were nearly charcoal—eyes that promised destruction without a hint of mercy.
I felt a shiver down my spine, but his gaze didn't waver. Instead, it held me in place, as if daring me to resist, to push back against whatever storm lay beneath that steely gaze. In the thick silence, a voice I knew well, tremulous with an edge of fear, cut through.
"Tum..." Raghav's mother stood frozen, her voice edged with anxiety and dread.
The man straightened me up slowly, keeping his eyes locked on her. He moved with a calculated grace, every inch of him exuding dominance and power. His lips curled into a sharp smirk as he regarded her.
"Kya tumhe laga," he began, his voice cold and mocking, "apne bete ki shaadi dhoom dham se karoge aur mujhe khabar bhi nahi hogi? Toh kaisa laga surprise?" He let the words settle, each one calculated to needle and unsettle.
There was an unmistakable bite in his tone, a command that left little room for argument. I sensed the discomfort radiating from Raghav's mother, her normally controlled presence now uncertain.
"Kya chahiye tumhe?" she managed to ask, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to remain calm.
He took a step back, settling into a nearby chair with an air of nonchalance, crossing one leg over the other as though he was here to enjoy a performance. His gaze slid back to her, the faintest glint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth.
"Badla," he said, voice low, almost a whisper, "revenge." He leaned forward slightly, his tone chilling as he added, "Revenge is my art. I don't just hurt, I dismantle. I take the peace you hold so dear and leave you with nothing but ashes. Every day, you'll remember this moment and know it was I who took from you, piece by piece."
A sinister stillness followed his words, his smirk deepening as he watched the impact of his words settle in.
The air grew thick and tense as Raghav's father's voice, laced with anguish and terror, cut through the silence.
"Raghav nahi raha iss duniya mein," he choked, his voice breaking. "He... he attempted suicide. Tumhe ab kya chahiye?"
The words hit me like a blow. A cold wave of dread washed over me, and I couldn't breathe. Raghav—gone? My heart lurched as I looked at the man standing before us, his posture unyielding, his eyes a void of mercy.
But then he laughed—a low, wicked laugh that sent chills skittering down my spine. It wasn't the laugh of a man amused; it was the laugh of a hunter who had caught his prey.
