Author's POV :
The next few weeks were a blur of calculated smiles and forced affection. Ashritha went through the motions of playing the grieving daughter and devoted wife, while her heart felt like it was being shredded from the inside out. Every touch from Akarsh, every knowing glance from Vikram, was a bitter reminder of the truth she had been living. But she had made her choice, and she would see it through.
The three of them moved in the same circles, attending the same functions, and playing the same roles. Akarsh was the stoic husband, supporting his wife through her grief. Vikram was the concerned friend, always there to lend a shoulder to cry on or a comforting word. And she, the unsuspecting victim, seeking solace in the arms of the very men who had orchestrated her pain.
At every event, Ashritha felt the weight of their gazes upon her, their silent commands guiding her actions. She wore the mask of innocence, her eyes glistening with unshed tears that she knew would play well with the audience. Inside, she was a raging storm, her mind a tumult of anger and betrayal. But she knew that to survive, she had to play the game.
One evening, as they sat at a high-profile charity gala, Akarsh leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "Remember, darling," he whispered, his voice a deadly caress. "You're playing a part."
Ashritha nodded, her eyes never leaving the podium where the latest round of donors were being announced. Her hand rested lightly on Akarsh's thigh, her nails digging in just enough to make him flinch. She knew the cameras were on them, knew that every gesture, every smile, was being scrutinized by the gossipmongers and business rivals in the room.
As the evening progressed, the air grew thick with tension, the weight of their secrets pressing down on her like an invisible force. She could feel the eyes of the room on her, could almost hear the whispers of speculation as they danced around the edges of her consciousness. Yet she remained poised, a picture of grace and elegance in her yellow chiffon sari, the pearls at her throat a stark reminder of the price she had paid for this façade.
The moment the lights dimmed and the final donor was announced, Ashritha excused herself to the bathroom, her heart racing. She needed a moment to breathe, to pull herself together before she faced the two men who had so expertly played her. In the cool marble silence, she leaned against the sink, her reflection in the mirror a haunting reminder of the woman she had been before their deceit had torn her apart.
As she stared at her own eyes, a plan began to form, a spark of rebellion in the ashes of her anger. She knew she couldn't trust either of them, not after what they had done. But she also knew that she couldn't just walk away. Not without her company, not without the legacy her parents had built. No, she had to find a way to turn the tables, to use their own game against them.
Her thoughts raced as she straightened her pearl necklace, her hand trembling slightly. Akarsh had underestimated her, she realized. He had thought her a simple pawn, easily swayed by love and grief. But he had given her the perfect opportunity to strike back, to show them that she was no longer the naive girl they had manipulated.
With a deep breath, she steeled herself and stepped out of the bathroom, her gaze locking onto the two men who had so casually discussed her fate. Akarsh looked up, his eyes flickering with something that might have been admiration, before his expression smoothed back into its usual calm. Vikram, on the other hand, gave her a smug smile, his hand resting possessively on her arm as if she belonged to him.
Ashritha forced a smile, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew what she had to do. She had to play along, to give them no indication that she had seen through their web of lies. And so, she took a step closer to Vikram, her hand sliding up to rest on his chest. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with what sounded like genuine emotion. "You've been so understanding."
