The vivid reds in wedding symbols of celebration , Happiness and Joy . But what will happen if the same red colour change into the colour of blood betrayal and the symphony of despair.
Meera sweet little innocent girl end up being the pawn in the d...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
FLASHBACK
The files are scattered across my desk like fragments of a broken mirror, each piece reflecting a different angle of betrayal. I've been staring at them for hours now, my eyes burning from the strain, but I can't stop. Something isn't right. Something about Aditya bhai's so-called confession doesn't add up.
I lean back in my chair, rubbing my temples where a headache has been building since morning. The memory of that confrontation plays on repeat in my mind—Aditya bhai throwing those documents at us, his voice cold and detached as he claimed responsibility for everything. The arrogant tilt of his chin, that cruel smirk that seemed so foreign on his face, the way his words cut through us like shards of glass.
But it was his eyes that haunted me.
In all the time I've known Aditya bhai, through every argument, every moment of frustration or anger, his eyes have always been honest. They've been windows to his soul—sometimes burning with passion, sometimes soft with affection, but always, always genuine. That night, though, his eyes were different. They were guarded, carefully constructed walls hiding something deeper.
I pick up one of the documents again, a bank statement with Aditya's supposed signature. My fingers trace the neat handwriting, and that nagging feeling in my gut grows stronger. He's pretending, I think suddenly. He wants us to believe he's the villain.
But why? What could possibly drive him to sacrifice his own reputation, his relationships with all of us, especially with Riya? The way she's been since that night—broken, angry, confused—it's been tearing all of us apart. If this is an act, it's the cruelest kind. I shake my head, trying to dispel the doubt. Maybe I'm just desperate to believe the best of someone I've always looked up to. Maybe I can't accept that people I trust can betray me so completely. But deep down, in that place where instinct lives, I know something is wrong with this picture.
The clock on my wall ticks past midnight, but sleep is the furthest thing from my mind. I need answers, and I need them now.
I close my eyes and force myself to remember that night in vivid detail. We had all gathered in the living room after Aditya bhai's shocking confession, poring over the evidence he had presented like investigators trying to solve a crime—which, in a way, we were. The CCTV footage was the first thing that caught my attention. The timestamp showed 11:47 PM, but the security log clearly indicated that the guard had made his rounds at 11:30 PM and noted nothing unusual. The discrepancy was only thirteen minutes, but in situations like this, thirteen minutes could mean everything. Why would Aditya bhai, who was always meticulous about details, make such an obvious error?
Then there were the documents themselves. One of them, a supposed contract with a rival company, had signatures that didn't quite match. I had seen Aditya bhai's signature countless times—on birthday cards, important papers, even grocery lists. The signature on this document was close, but the 'A' was slightly different, the loop in the 'y' too pronounced. It was as if someone had tried to forge it but wanted it to be caught by anyone who looked closely enough.
