Mafia's Revenge Or Love? ~ A Saga Of Love And Revenge

Chapter 21

Ruhanika spoke next, her voice barely a whisper. “What about Natasha?” The mention of her name cast a heavier silence over the room. All eyes turned to Yuvaan, the atmosphere thick with tension, as they waited for his response.

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Four Months Later...

Time had slipped by swiftly, yet every moment felt like an eternity to Natasha. Four months—four long, draining months—since she had last stepped out of her room. It had also been four months since Yuvaan had left for Paris, leaving behind a silence that gnawed at her.

The room had become her prison, though ornate and filled with luxuries. Natasha had become so disconnected from the world that it was hard to even recall what it looked like outside. She wasn’t sure who was running PV Groups in her absence; she had relinquished control, lost in her own battle with time. Her only reprieve was dance. Some days she would lose herself in the graceful movements, letting the rhythm soothe her tortured soul. Other days, she would simply stand by the balcony, staring out at the flowers and the fountain, her mind lost in endless thoughts.

The isolation was slowly suffocating her, but the numbness had taken over so completely that even her cries for help were silent. Yuvaan’s absence haunted her, but not as much as her own. It was as though a part of her had vanished, leaving only an empty shell. She often wondered if she would ever leave this room again, or if this was where her story would end.

Wearing traditional attire had become second nature. Natasha had grown accustomed to draping herself in elegant sarees, adorning herself with gold bangles, anklets, and jhumkas, though no one ever saw her except for the maids who brought her food. She might have been hidden away from the world, but she hadn’t lost the desire to look like the woman she once was.

Today, like every other day, Natasha found herself sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyes fixated on the clock as if waiting for it to tell her something different than the usual tick-tock of her monotonous life. She was draped in a simple yet beautiful red saree, her dark hair cascading freely over her shoulders, the gold bangles softly clinking with her movements, and her anklets jingling faintly as she adjusted her position.

Dressing up had become a ritual, a quiet rebellion against her captivity. Despite the lavishness of her surroundings, she despised the room, resenting every corner of it for reminding her of her imprisonment. Yet, there was nothing she could do. The keys to her freedom were not hers to hold, and the decision to leave was not hers to make.

Lost in her thoughts, Natasha didn’t notice the shift outside until something unusual caught her eye. Her body stiffened as she saw a shadow darting across the garden, disappearing into the distance before she could get a good look.

"Who could that be? How did someone get into the palace grounds with such tight security?" she wondered aloud, her brows knitting together in confusion. The Singhania Palace was impenetrable—at least, it was supposed to be. The question lingered in her mind as she stood on the balcony, scanning the garden for any further movement. But there was nothing. Whoever it was had vanished as quickly as they appeared.

Still unsettled, Natasha turned to go back inside. As she was about to settle back onto the bed, a sudden noise broke the silence. A phone—ringing.

Her breath caught in her throat. Four months. Four months since she had heard the sound of a phone. She scanned the room and her gaze fell upon a mobile phone lying near a flower pot, almost hidden from view. It wasn’t her phone; she knew that much. A small spark of hope ignited in her heart as she reached for it. Finally, a chance to reach someone—to break the silence.