AKSHAT SINGHANIA - A literature professor in Singania Institute of Arts and Commerce. He is soft and caring person
with a tough exterior, who doesn't believe in love or marriage because of his parent's broken relationship and his ex wife's betrayal...
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This time we have updated before the completion of Target but after this chapter we will update only if you will complete the target. I mean it's not that high bhai, so many people reading this but ek star button press karne me paise lagte hain? Kuch paise nahi maag rahe hain we are just asking you to vote and that too we deserve.
Next chapter will be updated on scrollstack first and when the target will be completed.
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As the last of the police cars disappeared down the dusty road, leaving the haveli eerily quiet, Akshat stood for a moment, surveying the scene. The once-menacing stronghold of Virendra Thakur was now stripped of its power, the oppressive atmosphere dissipating with each passing second. His gaze fell on Amrit, who was still standing in the courtyard, her eyes distant, as if trying to make sense of the whirlwind that had just upended her life.
Vidya, having returned safely after being rescued, stood beside Amrit, her hand resting gently on her shoulder. But Amrit barely registered the touch; she was lost in her thoughts, the weight of the past few days pressing heavily on her.
“First we need to go to police station as they wants to ask some questions and then tumhare ghar chalte hain. Take your belongings from there, and then we’ll head to Mumbai,” Akshat said, his voice calm yet firm, trying to bring her back to the present. Amrit nodded blankly, her body moving on autopilot as she followed Akshat and Vidya out of the haveli.
As Amrit and Akshat arrived at Amrit's house after leaving the police station.
In her room, Amrit changed out of the bridal lehenga that had felt like a cage around her and into a dark blue anarkali suit. The fabric was soft against her skin, a small comfort in the midst of her turmoil. She began removing the heavy jewelry, piece by piece, each clink as it hit the table sounding like a release. When she finished, she walked over to the garbage bin and tossed the jewelry in with a decisive flick of her wrist, as if discarding the remnants of a nightmare.
She turned to the mirror, her eyes falling on the faint red mark of vermillion still visible in her hairline. Her hand reached up, fingers trembling as they traced the path of the sindoor. The symbolism of it all—what it represented, what she had narrowly escaped—hit her with full force. Her gaze then moved to the mangalsutra hanging around her neck, its black and gold beads a mockery of what it was supposed to mean.
As she stood there, lost in thought, her eyes were drawn to the open window. Beyond it, Akshat was outside, talking on his phone, his expression serious as he discussed what had just transpired. His presence was a stark contrast to everything she had known in the past few days—where everything had been dark and suffocating, he was a beacon of light, of hope. She found herself staring at him, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts she couldn’t quite grasp.
