Shrey set off for the airport, leaving Rudransh standing there—exhausted and lost. For days he had gathered intel on the former Sarpanch, yet he still couldn't fathom the man's true intentions.
While driving, Shrey received a call.
"Yes?" he answered.
"What were you saying, Rajvansh?" Anay's voice echoed on the line.
"He's gone mad… Don't pay attention."
"Is everything okay there?"
"Yes. Everything's fine."
"Where's the Sarpanch?"
Shrey fell silent.
"So it's true—they've kidnapped the Sarpanch?" Anay asked, tension rising.
"Anay, I can handle—" Shrey began.
"Handle what? It's only been a day since we arrived, and they already took the Sarpanch... And you say everything's okay?"
Shrey gripped his head.
"Come to the airport... I'm coming back."
"Anay—!" Shrey shouted, but Anay hung up.
Rudransh rushed indoors, voice urgent:
"Advika—get out of here!"
"What?" she gasped.
"Go! This is not ours—it's his scheme…" He gestured toward Ravindra.
"What are you saying?"
"He'll frame you and have you killed! He's using Thakur's memory loss to his advantage!"
Before Advika could respond, the Sarpanch's voice echoed:
"Hurry, child... don't worry. Anay will come and destroy your Lanka." He laughed darkly.
This time, Ravindra continued:
"Too late, Sarpanch..." Advika glared, pulling out her gun.
"Before your son arrives, you'll be called 'late'!"
The Sarpanch laughed coldly and replied:
"A good effort, girl... but you won't even make it alive."
At that moment, his men appeared, guns drawn. Advika and Rudransh found themselves surrounded—with no escape.
One aide bound the Sarpanch's wounds from behind.
He mocked her:
"If this is your last wish... want to know why your brother was killed?" He glowed with cruel malice.
"He didn't die—Abhinav did. That bastard was looking for his father's killer—gathering evidence."
"And your brother helped him, so he had to die."
"I don't leave evidence lying around."
"And now you'll die too—following your brother's path."**
He ordered his men forward.
Rudransh swiftly drew his gun, firing in all directions. The roar of bullets shattered the silence.
Advika, initially taken aback, sprang into action—returning fire. Soon, all parties were ducking behind cover, bullets flying.
Rudransh had pre-positioned trusted men for emergencies—they joined the fight, and together they overwhelmed the Sarpanch's men.
Amid the dust, smoke, and fallen bodies, the Sarpanch knelt, shaking.
"Advika, child... forgive me... forgive me..." he begged desperately, feigning remorse.
Advika stepped forward, fury in her eyes:
"You bastard—chameleon colors more than chameleons! Switch your face again and again!"
"Shoot him and leave!" Rudransh ordered.
Advika smiled, aiming at his back—and pulled the trigger. But her hand was halted mid-air. She realized who stood before her.
History repeated: Anay Thakur again a shield between Advika and Ravindra.
Advika jerked to pull the trigger again, but Anay grasped her hand tightly, holding her close—his palm pressed to her chest. She froze, breathless, smelling the perfume she once loved.
"Anay..." she whispered.
"Sarpanch—she's the one who came to kill me..." the Sarpanch croaked from the ground.
"Look what she's done!"
Anay stared at him for a moment, then gently pushed Advika aside…and moved toward Ravindra.
"Thakur..." Advika stammered, trembling.
"Stop, or I'll shoot!" she warned.
"Anay—no!" Shrey rushed forward, terrified she might empty the gun like last time.
Advika squeezed the trigger—but her hand shook and the shot veered into the air.
Anay remained calm, a half-smile on his face:
"Anay Thakur's life isn't so cheap that anyone can take it..."
Advika's eyes were blank—no emotion there.
Anay lifted his father, helped him stand, and led him away. Shrey disarmed Advika, following silently.
"How long will you live off this drama, Thakur?" Advika cried out after them.
"Your father's death was written by my own hands!"
Anay turned, gaze cold and unwavering, freezing her heart.
"Anay Thakur never raised a man to raise his hand on a woman... so live..."
"If he were a real man, I'd bury you right here."
For a moment, Shrey watched and found reason to smile.
He suddenly understood: Anay's memory wasn't back.
Advika then grabbed Rudransh's gun, raising it defiantly:
"Move, Rudransh... today I'll end all this."
But Rudransh caught her wrist with strength:
"You might accidentally shoot Anay too, Advika!" he warned.
Her breath calmed; tears filled her eyes—not of sorrow, but molten rage.
She watched them leave—Anay carrying his father to the jeep.
"Why must I bear this, Rudr...?" she sobbed.
"Why always lose the one I love most?"
The gun slipped from her hand.
She sank to the ground—and sobbed in shattering heartbreak.
Rudransh remained by her, kneeling, his head against hers, hand on her shoulder. Neither spoke—just held her in silence.
Through the windows, Shrey watched Anay drive away—each heartbeat an echo of hope fading.
In the jeep, Anay drove, Shrey beside him, and the Sarpanch weakly seated behind.
"Son... you shouldn't have let that girl live..." the Sarpanch urged Anay.
Anay said nothing—his face calm, as though darkness had settled on still waters before the storm.
Shrey watched Anay, searching—finding nothing in his unreadable eyes.
Anay helped his father with his bandages, seated him, and drove straight toward the haveli.
Inside the haveli, Thakurain was in tears. She ran to the Sarpanch—only to be rebuked by him.
Shrey's fists clenched, ready to intervene—but before he could move:
"Come, Amma..." Anay whispered, without looking up. He took his mother's hand and guided her inside.
Thakurain collapsed into his arms:
"Anay... son, are you all right?"
Anay looked into her eyes for a moment, then averted his gaze:
"We're fine, Amma..."
"What's happening in our home? Have jealous eyes fallen on our happiness?" she trembled.
Anay took a deep breath:
"Nothing has happened, Amma... nothing will. As long as we're here... no one can touch us."
Tears fell down her cheeks.
"But weren't you planning to go to London?"
Anay managed a small smile:
"We're not going anywhere, Amma. Not now."
He placed his hand on her head.
Late Night Confrontation
Later that night, Anay silently walked toward his room. As he opened the door, Shrey was already there.
"Anay..." Shrey spoke bluntly:
"Why did you let that girl go?"
Anay quietly moved toward his wardrobe, as if he hadn't heard.
"You always said rules and principles apply to everyone..."
"Thakur makes rules…" Anay opened a drawer.
"He can change them…"
"For just one girl?" Shrey's voice dripped with sarcasm.
Anay pulled out a kurta and shook off dust from it:
"I'm not in the mood to talk."
"But we need to, Anay..." Shrey stepped closer.
"I see you're changing."
Anay still didn't look up.
"Do you like her?" Shrey pressed.
"There are a thousand like her, but Anay Thakur has only one decision."
Anay's voice was cold and firm.
"It's not about liking or not liking."
Shrey studied him for a moment, then quietly said:
"You remember everything—don't you?"
Anay's hand froze suddenly. He closed the drawer, turned, and met Shrey's eyes for the first time. They were still empt y—no trace of emotion.
Shrey said nothing—just watched. He sighed deeply, then left the room.