Kanika Sharma had grown up believing in fairy tales. Her mother had always told her that love should feel like a warm breeze on a winter morning—comforting, rare, and worth holding onto. And when Shivansh Mehra walked into her life, Kanika thought she had found that warmth.
He was everything Delhi's elite whispered about—sharp-suited, sharper-witted, and a billionaire by birth who had doubled his family's fortune before hitting thirty. Their engagement was celebrated like a royal union. Two powerful families, two perfect heirs—an alliance made in heaven.
The day of the wedding was drenched in gold and joy. The Mehra mansion glittered with marigolds and fairy lights. Music floated through the air; laughter echoed off the marble halls.
Until it stopped.
Just hours before the ceremony, Shivansh's cousin came running in, face ashen. "Uncle's in the hospital!"
In the chaos that followed, the truth surfaced like a poisonous tide.
The Mehra family business—Mehra Corporates—had been gutted. Their shares plummeted overnight. The cause? A ₹400 crore scam orchestrated by none other than Ratan Mehra's younger brother. Every rupee, every property, every ounce of power—they had all been snatched away in a single day.
And Ratan Mehra, the proud patriarch, collapsed from the shock.
Kanika found Shivansh in the cold, fluorescent-lit waiting room of the hospital. He sat slumped, his eyes hollow, his phone buzzing endlessly with calls from creditors, lawyers, and the press.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, kneeling beside him. "I… I can't live like this. I can't be dragged into this storm."
He looked at her, and for a moment, his pain was unreadable. Then he gave a faint nod. No accusations, no desperate pleas. Just quiet acceptance.
She slipped the engagement ring into his hand and walked away.
That was the last time she saw him.