Sarla Arora watched in disbelief, her trembling hands gripping the phone recording everything. Hidden in the shadows, she saw them, performing every single wedding ritual with complete devotion. Her heart raced when she heard the pandit's final words, sealing their union. "Husband and wife." The words echoed in her ears like a death sentence. She watched Sherlyn, glowing with an unsettling happiness, her lips curling into a victorious smile. "Baby, we finally belong to one another," Sherlyn whispered joyously, throwing her arms around her groom.
Sarla's mind whirled, her stomach churning at the sight. Sherlyn was engaged to Rishabh Luthra, yet here she was, shamelessly marrying a stranger. The audacity. Sarla's anger flared, and for a split second, she wanted to storm in and tear down the deceit, to teach Sherlyn a lesson she'd never forget. But she hesitated. The weight of the situation bore down on her. Without proof, no one—especially the Luthras—would believe her. Kareena Luthra would seize the chance to slander Preeta, destroy her daughter's reputation, and drag their family through the mud.
As Sarla swallowed the bitter lump of helplessness rising in her throat, she turned to leave but froze in her tracks. The groom was slowly removing his sehra. Her breath caught in her chest as the veil lifted, revealing his face. In that instant, the world shifted beneath her feet. No longer could she move. The air felt thick, suffocating.
This... This was betrayal in its cruelest form.
She couldn't take it any longer—the suffocating air was too thick to breathe. Her vision blurred as she watched them embrace and leave the mandir, her body betraying her as her legs gave out beneath her. Her chest tightened, her consciousness slipping away like sand through her fingers. The last thing she heard was a distant voice, faint yet frantic, "A woman's passed out! Someone calls for an ambulance!" And then, nothing—just an empty, silent darkness.
At the Luthra House:
Karan bolted like a madman, rushing towards the kitchen, the door hanging wide open. His heart pounded in his chest, but his mind barely had time to process the ominous sounds coming from inside. He could hear it—the struggle, the unmistakable sound of fear. His Preeta. Alone.
He skidded to a stop in the doorway, his breath catching in his throat. His blood ran cold at the sight before him. Mehul—his friend, someone he trusted—stood there, trapping Preeta against the wall like a predator cornering his prey. The kitchen was a mess, with shattered glass and overturned utensils scattered everywhere.
Karan's eyes darted to Preeta, and his heart shattered. Her hands, trembling, clutched a shard of broken glass, blood dripping from her fingertips. Her lips, swollen and bloodied, quivered as she pointed the sharp fragment toward Mehul, her voice hoarse and desperate, "Stay back... Don't come near me." The raw fear in her voice sent a cold chill down Karan's spine.
Her face—her beautiful, delicate face—was marred with angry, red fingerprints, a vile mark of the violence she'd endured. Her warm, brown eyes, usually so full of light, had darkened with terror, the rich brown fading to a pale, hollow shade. Yet even as she trembled, even with fear twisting her features, she fought. She stood her ground, a warrior battling the fear that gripped her, refusing to surrender to the terror before her.
Karan's heart was pounding in his chest, anger surging through him like wildfire. The betrayal, the horror of what he was seeing... It took everything in him not to lose control. His Preeta was in pain, and Mehul, someone he thought was his friend, was the cause. Karan's fists clenched, his knuckles turning white as his rage bubbled to the surface, threatening to explode.
"How dare you, you son of a—" Karan's voice was thick with fury as he lunged forward, grabbing Mehul by the collar before he could even comprehend what was happening. In one swift, brutal motion, Karan yanked him back and flung him across the room, away from Preeta. His heart hammered in his chest, his entire being consumed by the need to protect her. He cast a quick glance at Preeta, still frozen in shock, clutching the shard of glass in her trembling hand. Her eyes were vacant, her body unmoving, as though she hadn't even registered his presence. Karan knew this would take time. She was shattered, and he would comfort her—once the threat was gone.
