Demon's Physco obsession

The Silent Warning

Ankita was trapped between two mind-blowing lehengas, masterpieces from the nation's foremost designer—garments so exclusive that only Adhiraaj's immense wealth could acquire them. For two excruciating hours, she'd been standing there, hands on her hips, chewing her lower lip, utterly paralysed by indecision.

The garments were for Riya's sister's wedding reception that weekend. The invitation had arrived at their estate, a typical formality. Riya, however, had also followed up at college, offering Ankita a gift hamper—a gesture of personal warmth that conveniently omitted a wedding card. As always, Ankita had instantly pushed the hamper toward Pallavi the moment Riya left. She had no desire to go, but as the wife of the city's most powerful man, attending was a cold social obligation. Adhiraaj had brought her here to select the perfect dress for this duty.

Suddenly, Adhiraaj had been called away for an emergency meeting, leaving her with a sharp directive: "Choose the lehenga and have it ready by the time I return."

Now, the staff—including her lady guards and the stern Malti—waited with forced patience. The slight, anxious frowns on their faces were a clear warning: any delay or disruption could cost them their jobs, maybe more.

Ankita had tried on both lehengas four times apiece. The problem wasn't that she disliked one; it was that she loved them equally, and choosing one felt like an act of betrayal to the other. She only needed one for the reception, but for some reason, she couldn't let go of the idea of either of them.

The two choices represented different sides of her potential public persona: The Emerald Green lehenga was woven with silk that shifted like water. It was regal, demanding respect without being loud. It was the colour of old money and quiet confidence—the perfect image of Adhiraaj's wife.

The Crimson and Gold lehenga was a riot of colour and craftsmanship, featuring vibrant, complex patterns. It was bold, passionate, and commanded immediate attention—a statement that belonged entirely to Ankita.

She stepped out of the fitting room a fifth time, draped in the Crimson and Gold. Her reflection was breathtaking. This one makes me feel alive, she thought. But the moment she thought it, she felt a pang of guilt toward the Emerald Green, hanging dejectedly on the velvet hanger.

A frustrated sigh, heavy with exhaustion, escaped Ankita's lips as she collapsed onto the plush velvet sofa. The opulent boutique, with its crystal chandeliers and cloying scent of imported lilies, was beginning to feel like a gilded cage. For what felt like the hundredth time, she had posed and turned in a lehenga, the sheer weight of the fabric and intricate embroidery a burden on her tired shoulders. Her gaze, however, remained captivated, flitting between the two masterpieces that hung before her like rival queens.

A young staff member, her movements timid and precise, approached with a silver tray. "Ma'am, some juice," she offered, her voice a near whisper. Ankita's eyes flickered to the tall glass of vibrant orange juice, then to the untouched platter of gourmet pastries and delicate sandwiches on the nearby glass table. Her stomach rumbled in protest, but it wasn't juice or fancy snacks she craved. A fierce, pounding headache was blooming behind her temples, and all she yearned for was a cup of strong, milky tea to soothe it. Adhiraaj had whisked her away directly from her afternoon lecture, leaving no time for her usual stop for snacks at the mansion.

With a begrudging nod, she took the cold glass, its condensation chilling her fingertips. She didn't take a sip. The dilemma consumed her entire being before her. The emerald green lehenga was regal, its silk skirt embroidered with intricate gold zardozi work that shimmered like liquid starlight. It spoke of elegance and quiet power. Beside it, the crimson lehenga was a declaration of passion, its velvet fabric adorned with a riot of glistening sequins and deep gold threadwork, bold and utterly breathtaking. Her heart was torn in two.