Arshi FF-Truth behind the Layer

20. And some more

Shantivan was wrapped in an uneasy silence that afternoon. The air itself seemed heavy, as though the walls carried secrets too burdensome to speak aloud. The ticking of the clock in the hallway sounded louder than usual, each second dragging.

In her room, Anjali paced back and forth, her phone clutched tightly in her trembling hand. Her saree pallu was disheveled, her hair was disheveled, but she didn't notice. She had already called nearly every lawyer she could find through contacts and frantic online searches. Her eyes were red, swollen from crying and frustration, but her determination burned through the exhaustion.

"Namaste, Advocate Sharma? This is Anjali Jha. Yes... about my husband's case. Shyam Manohar Jha. I need you to take it up urgently. I can pay whatever you ask—" Her voice cracked, pleading. From bribing to pleading again, she went to the lengths.

The voice on the other end cut her off politely but firmly. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Jha. I cannot take this case. Best of luck."

Click.

Anjali stared at the phone, her lips trembling. "Why? Why is no one ready?" Her whisper was almost a prayer. She dialed another number, her fingers shaking. "Advocate Mehra? Please... I have all the documents. My husband is innocent. It's all a misunderstanding. Arnav is... he's angry, but—"

Again, refusal. Like every single time. Just why! "Mrs. Jha, this case is high-profile and complicated. I'm afraid I must decline."

Her breath came in short, shallow bursts, but it wasn't weakness anymore—it was fury tightening her chest. She hurled the phone onto the bed, the sound cracking through the silence like a slap. Fresh tears streamed down her face, but she wiped them away with the edge of her dupatta, her jaw clenched, her teeth grinding.

"Shyam-ji... I won't let them do this to you. They think they can cage you, strip you of respect, call you guilty when you are nothing but innocent—I''ll burn every lie they've built. You'll walk out, innocent, no matter what. I'll make sure of it."

Her voice was low, edged with steel, each word carrying the weight of a vow. She pressed her palms together, not in prayer but in defiance, her fingers digging into each other as though she could crush the world between them. Hatred flickered in her eyes—hatred for the refusals, for the whispers, for the family that had turned against him.

Then, with sudden resolve, she snatched up her purse. Her steps were sharp, purposeful, each one echoing her defiance. Without telling anyone, she slipped out of the house, her silence no longer born of fear but of determination.

Police Station

The cab ride was tense, every honk and jolt magnified by her racing thoughts. She clutched her purse tightly, her knuckles white, her jaw locked. She had bribed a junior constable earlier with the last of her jewelry to arrange a short meeting. The sacrifice didn't matter—Shyam mattered, and she would not let anyone stand in her way.

Inside the police station, the smell of dust and sweat mingled with the metallic tang of iron bars. Shyam sat behind them, looking disheveled, his shirt wrinkled, his hair unkempt. Yet his eyes lit up when he saw her, a spark of triumph hidden beneath the mask of affection.

"Rani Sahiba..." His voice was soft, dripping with false tenderness.

"Shyam-ji," Anjali whispered, gripping the bars as though she could bend them apart with sheer will. "No lawyer is ready to take your case. Arnav... Chotte has warned everyone. What do we do?"

Shyam's face hardened for a moment, a flash of anger, but he quickly softened it, molding his expression into one of wounded innocence. "Don't worry, Rani Sahiba. Your love is enough. That is my strength. But we need a plan. That middle-class girl and her sister have poisoned everyone against me. Especially Khushi. She's the root of all this."