"Happy Married Life, Shivya Pathak" I weakly smiled seeing my condition, mangalsutra dangling in my neck, vermilion in hair and both hands filled with gold bangles.
"Come out quickly or do you want me to break the gate," my husband knocked again...
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Vedant stepped into the haveli, expecting the usual hum of activity-the distant chatter of his family members, the clinking of utensils from the kitchen, perhaps even his Shaurya's voice mingling with Aakshi's laughter.
Instead, an unusual silence enveloped the grand house. The only sounds came from the household workers hurriedly finishing their chores. His brows furrowed as he scanned the hall, searching for anyone from the family.
Something felt off.
Shaking off the unease creeping into his chest, he strode towards his bedroom. Pushing the door open, he was met with an empty room.
He was surprised that she wasn't asleep-his wife was never the type to lounge around at this hour. Still, he checked the washroom. The door was unlocked, and as expected, she wasn't inside.
His thoughts immediately went to Ruh's room. If not in their bedroom, she would surely be there, lost in endless gossip with his sister. But when he reached the threshold of Ruh's room, he found it empty as well.
A strange restlessness settled over him.
As he turned back towards his room, faint laughter echoed from outside. His steps slowed as he followed the sound to the balcony.
Down in the lawn, the younger members of the family were gathered, their carefree laughter filling the night air. His gaze immediately landed on her-his wife, sitting among them, animatedly talking, her eyes shining with mirth.
It took him a moment to recall that Antara, Vivaan, and Sarthak were supposed to arrive today. That explained the liveliness outside.
With a quiet sigh, he turned away and stepped back into his room. But the moment he did, something peculiar caught his attention.
The room was... immaculate.
Everything was arranged with an almost obsessive precision. The dressing table, which usually bore the scattered remnants of his wife's daily routine-bangles, hairpins, perfume bottles-was eerily neat.
A strange sensation twisted in his chest.
With slow steps, he moved toward the closet, expecting the usual chaos inside, her clothes spilling from shelves, her sarees tangled together, her sandals were kicked off in different directions.But when he opened the doors, a fresh wave of shock crashed over him.
Not a single clothes lay out of place.
The shelves were neatly stacked, footwears aligned, sarees folded perfectly. It was as if someone had deliberately erased every trace of her presence.
Something was definitely wrong.
Shaking his head, he stepped into the bathroom to freshen up. He turned on the shower, letting the cold water ground his thoughts, but then his gaze flickered towards the cabinet. He pulled it open and felt his stomach clench.
