Vows Of Vengeance

Chapter 7

Two weeks had drifted by since Aisha's sudden disappearance, a week that felt like an eternity to those who loved her. The vibrant pulse of the city seemed to dim in Aradhya's eyes, each passing day a relentless reminder of Aisha's absence. Every corner of her world echoed with the silence of unanswered questions. The walls of her room bore witness to sleepless nights, where shadows played tricks on her weary mind, conjuring images of Aisha's smile, her laughter, and the unspoken bond they shared.

Aradhya's emotions were a maelstrom, a tumultuous sea where waves of despair crashed against cliffs of anger. She felt trapped, suffocated by the weight of her own helplessness. The city, once a familiar friend, had morphed into a maze of dead ends. Streets she had walked a thousand times now seemed foreign, each alley whispering secrets she couldn't decipher. Her trusted network, a web of informants and allies, came up empty-handed, their usual leads and insights dissolving into thin air. It was as if the universe had conspired to cloak Aisha's whereabouts in an impenetrable fog.

The police, with their procedural approaches and standard protocols, offered little solace. Their assurances felt hollow, their progress stagnant.

Aradhya's frustration mounted with each passing hour, her mind racing through a labyrinth of possibilities. Had Aisha left of her own accord? Was she hiding, or worse, had someone taken her against her will? The mere thought sent chills down Aradhya's spine.

Her desperation led her to the city's surveillance hubs, hoping that the omnipresent eyes of CCTV cameras might have captured something, anything. But even there, she met a dead end. Footage that should have been readily available was inexplicably missing, erased with meticulous precision. It wasn't a random act; it was deliberate, calculated. Whoever was behind this was not only resourceful but always one step ahead, anticipating every move Aradhya might make.

The only glimmer of a clue was a frantic call Aisha had made, her voice laced with fear, a plea that had been abruptly cut off. The recording played over and over in Aradhya's mind, each replay deepening the void of uncertainty. With no further evidence, speculative theories began to swirl. Some whispered that Aisha had eloped, choosing love. Others suggested she had sought refuge in a distant land, seeking solace from unseen troubles. But Aradhya knew better. The bond she shared with Aisha transcended words; it was a connection of souls. Deep down, she felt an unsettling disquiet, a nagging intuition that something was terribly amiss.

Amidst this backdrop of turmoil, preparations for a grand wedding were underway. The wedding venue was a stark contrast to the opulence the Raisinghania were renowned for. Instead of the grand ballroom adorned with chandeliers and exotic flora, it was a simple, open-air space decorated with white and gold hues. White and gold drapes fluttered gently in the evening breeze, lanterns casting a soft glow over the assembled guests. The atmosphere was subdued, a muted celebration shadowed by underlying tensions.

Pihu, the bride, was a vision in red. The colour seemed to complement her fair complexion, making her look ethereal. Her sari, heavily embroidered with gold thread, was a masterpiece of craftsmanship. It shimmered under the soft lights. As she sat, surrounded by loved ones, her eyes sparkled with anticipation, a shy smile playing on her lips. Despite the whirlwind arrangement of the wedding, her excitement was palpable. This was the day she had dreamed of, a union that promised a future of love and prosperity.