The scent of marigolds and sandalwood filled the air, warm and heavy, like every other wedding night in India. The Kapoor mansion glowed under the light of a thousand diyas, gold and red shimmering through the halls.

It was supposed to be the happiest night of my life.

My wedding.

My forever with Yashika.

I could still hear her laughter echoing in my head — light, quick, the kind that pulled a smile out of me no matter how bad the day had been.Even in a life surrounded by danger, power, and endless battles, she was my calm. She was the only reason my nights weren’t full of nightmares, the reason my smiles were genuine.

I didn’t notice the footsteps at first. Rudra’s, heavy and rushed.My most trusted man stumbled into the room, face pale, breaths ragged. I saw him and something cold and heavy felt around my chest, squeezing tighter with every second he stayed silent.

“Malik…” he said quietly. “Bhabhi… she’s—” He stopped, swallowed hard. “She’s gone.”

For a second, I didn’t understand the words. Gone?

My chest felt hollow, my ears started ringing.

“What?” My voice didn’t sound like mine. It was low. Cold.

“There was an accident… on the highway,” he whispered finally, almost apologetically.

No. That couldn’t be right. She was waiting for me. She had promised. I had promised. Weddings weren’t supposed to end like this. She was mine. She always would be.

I laughed then—a hollow, broken sound that didn’t belong to me. It crawled through the room, freezing everyone around me. “No,” I breathed. “No. This isn’t… it’s not possible.”

“Check again,” I said finally, voice hoarse. “It can’t be her.”

Rudra looked down. “We tried, Malik. The car was in flames.”

Flames. The word hit me like a punch.

Yashika hated fire. She’d flinch even lighting a diya. She used to say, ‘Aag sab kuch kha jaati hai, Sarthak. Even memories.’

And now, it had taken her too.

“She called me,” I whispered suddenly, remembering the last ring on my phone. Just half an hour ago. I hadn’t answered. I was busy finalizing security for the wedding.

Her last call.

My last chance.

Gone.

Somewhere deep down, I heard my mother’s laughter — faint, ghostlike. Her words from years ago echoed in my mind: “You’ll never escape your blood, Sarthak. It always demands a price.”

Maybe this was the price.

My hand tightened around the glass I was holding until it shattered, cutting into my palm.The pain was somewhere else — deep, twisting, unbearable.

When they brought me her ring, bent and stained, my legs almost gave out. That small piece of metal was all I had left of her.

And then Rudra said it. The words that lit a fire in me that I couldn’t control.

“Ronak Mehta. Your rival.”

Something inside me broke. Ronak — my rival. The man who had been trying to tear down everything I built. And now he had taken her from me.

“Where?” My voice was quiet. Too quiet, almost terrifying.

“Tonight,” Rudra said, swallowing hard. “His younger sister’s wedding.”

The irony was cruel — the night meant for vows had become a funeral. Ronak celebrated as I mourned. Not for long.

I straightened my sherwani, ignoring the tremble in my hands. “Get the cars ready,” I said, my voice steady now, cold as steel. “Tonight… we give them a wedding gift they’ll never forget.”