Meanwhile in Raani's Room
Raani's ears picked up an unsettling whisper—her name being called in a low, ominous tone. She spun around, but there was no one there.
Suddenly, the TV flickered to life, casting an eerie glow across the room. Raani's eyes widened in terror as she watched herself appear on the screen.
The video showed her going about her daily routine, but something was disturbingly off. Her eyes—usually bright and full of life—were black as coal, devoid of any spark.
Raani's breath caught in her throat as she stared at the screen, frozen in fear. What was happening? Who was doing this?
The Raani on the TV began to distort and contort, her face elongating into a grotesque mask. Then, in a jarring transformation, Nishigandha's face—Nishi's face—appeared, her eyes blazing with an otherworldly intensity.
Raani's scream was stifled as Nishi's hand burst out of the TV screen, her icy fingers closing around Raani's neck like a vice. Raani's eyes bulged as she struggled to free herself, clawing helplessly at the grip.
The room seemed to darken, as though Nishi's very presence sucked away the light, leaving only a sinister glow. Raani's vision blurred, her lungs burning for air.
With a shove, the hand pushed her backward. Raani stumbled, crashing hard to the floor, her horrified eyes glued to the TV.
Onscreen, Nishi's face stretched and contorted as her body slowly emerged, crawling out of the screen like a nightmare given form. Her black eyes burned with unholy fire.
Raani scrambled to her feet, fueled by desperation, and dashed for the door. But before she could reach it, Nishi's eyes flashed with dark power.
Raani froze mid-step—her feet rooted to the ground, her body paralyzed. She tried to scream, but no sound escaped. Her body no longer obeyed her.
Nishi advanced with predatory calm, her aura suffocating the room. She reached out, her cold fingers pressing against Raani's head. Immediately, Raani felt her mind cloud, her thoughts slipping away into darkness.
Nishi's smirk widened, cruel and triumphant.
"Now, you have no choice but to do my bidding."
Her voice dripped with venomous satisfaction.
Raani's terrified eyes were the only part of her still alive, still aware. The rest of her—her body, her will, her freedom—had already been seized. She stood stiff, motionless, a puppet awaiting her master's command.
Meanwhile, Downstairs
Veena crossed her arms, her voice sharp as she said,
"Son, take your wife to your room and privately make her understand not to go against the rules of this family."
Vihaan hesitated, then reached for Gauri's hand. Gauri instantly resisted, snapping,
"Leave me."
But Vihaan tightened his hold, dragging her toward the stairs as she tried to pull free, her eyes burning with anger.
Dadi, watching this unfold, finally spoke up, her tone calm yet firm.
"Veena, why do you have such a problem with Gauri working?"
Veena turned, her expression full of disdain.
"This family lacks nothing, Ma. We are wealthy, respected, and self-sufficient. Why should its daughter-in-law lower herself by working as a cab driver?"
Her words dripped with superiority, and the hall fell silent, everyone waiting to see how Dadi would respond.
In Their Room
Gauri jerked Vihaan's hand off her wrist, glaring at him.
"What now, Momma's boy? Do you also think a woman cannot work, despite being from the 21st century?"
Vihaan opened his mouth to speak, but Gauri raised her palm sharply.
"Don't. I know exactly what you're about to say: 'My mom is right, women aren't allowed to work, so Gauri, you will not work. Instead, you will stay home like a dutiful wife and daughter-in-law.'"
Vihaan exhaled, patience thinning but voice steady.
"Are you done being my ventriloquist? If you're done, listen to me for once."
Gauri blinked. Ventriloquist?
Vihaan continued,
"I don't believe that women can't work. In fact, I think they should be independent. But yes—my mom has a problem with it because of her ideology. Don't worry, I'll talk to her and make her understand."
Gauri stepped closer, touching his forehead lightly with the back of her hand.
"Are you sick?"
Vihaan frowned.
"No… why?"
Gauri smirked.
"Then tell me, where is he?"
Vihaan cocked his head, confused.
"Who?"
Gauri's lips curved mischievously.
"ACP Vihaan Kothari—the absolutely rude, arrogant, charming, and hot ACP with long hair."
Vihaan arched a brow.
"Are you insulting me or complimenting me?"
Gauri laughed softly.
"Fifty-fifty."
She sighed in relief.
"Still… I'm glad that at least you don't have a problem with me working."
Vihaan's tone deepened, sincere.
"As long as one earns respectfully, then they deserve respect. So, please—stay here in the room. I'll go downstairs and convince Mom."
As Vihaan left, Gauri leaned against the dresser, her voice a soft murmur as she recited to herself,
"One man, two faces—
the ACP, sharp as a sword,
and the son, soft as a sigh.
Somewhere in between…
is the Vihaan I must learn to recognize."