Kothari Mansion – Main Hall
The mansion buzzed with festive energy. Servants strung marigold garlands across the grand hall, the fragrance of fresh flowers mixing with the aroma of sweets cooking in the kitchen. A large idol of Bal Gopal was being decorated with peacock feathers, jewels, and butter pots.
At the center of it all, Dadi supervised, her wrinkled yet regal face glowing with devotion as she adjusted the little Krishna idol on its swing. Beside her, Veena and Urvashi bustled around, checking trays of offerings and instructing the staff.
Just then, Vihaan walked in after returning from the police station, his presence immediately commanding the room. Veena turned, relief softening her face.
"Vihaan, you're back," she said, then frowned. "But where's Gauri? I haven't seen her all morning."
For a moment, his jaw tightened. The words of Gauri from earlier still echoed in his mind—her insistence on leaving, her pain at his accusations. He masked the flicker of guilt before anyone could notice.
"She's gone to see her family," he said smoothly, his tone even. "It's Janmashtami, after all. She felt it was right."
Veena exchanged a sharp glance with Urvashi before turning back to him. "Family is important, yes. But she must also understand her duty toward this family, Vihaan. Make her see that. Tonight is special for all of us."
Vihaan gave a slight nod, his face unreadable. "She'll be here," he said firmly, though a storm brewed behind his eyes.
Gauri pushed through the doorway as if the air itself belonged to her. The chatter in the hall hushed the moment she crossed the threshold. Faces turned, startled—then curious. She did not pause to answer the hundred silent questions. Her eyes found Vihaan, cold and composed at the foot of the stairs, and she walked straight toward him.
"I need to speak to you. Privately," she said, her voice steady though everything inside her trembled.
Vihaan raised an eyebrow but did not argue. "Our room," he said and led the way up the corridor without a backward glance.
The door clicked shut behind them. The hush of the room wrapped around them like a held breath. Vihaan perched on the chair, one leg crossed, the picture of controlled arrogance. He watched her with a slow, unreadable smile.
"You told me you wouldn't come back," he said after a beat, as if reminding her of a private wager. "And yet here you are. Predictable."
Gauri folded her hands in front of her, not as a plea but as a shield. She swallowed, then let the truth that had driven her across the city tumble out, each word precise, sharp with need. "Ten lakhs. I need ten lakhs now."
Vihaan chuckled, a soft, disbelieving sound. The laugh cut like ice. "So everything still comes down to money for you," he said. "My first impression was right. Your world—your choices—revolve around cash. Isn't that what you always were?"
Her throat tightened, but she stood firm. "Think whatever you like. I don't care. I just need it."
He rose slowly, each step deliberate, until he was standing before her. "And I'm supposed to hand you such an amount without question?" He studied her face, as if searching for cracks in her composure. When she didn't answer, he gave a short laugh. "No explanation. No reason. Just a demand."
Without breaking eye contact, Vihaan moved to his locker. The metal clicked open, and he pulled out thick bundles of cash. He placed them on the table between them, the sound sharp in the heavy silence.
Gauri reached forward, but his hand came down firmly on hers, stopping her. His eyes hardened.
"If I give you this money, you will never again speak of leaving this house. You will not forget that our marriage was signed with a contract, in exchange for your mother's freedom. Do you understand? This is the price of your silence, Gauri."
Her breath caught. For a moment, the shame of his words burned hotter than her desperation. But pride was a luxury she could not afford. With trembling fingers, she pulled the money toward her, her chin lifting with quiet defiance.
"I accept."
Vihaan leaned closer, his voice low and sharp. "Good. Because remember—if you forget your place, I'll be here to remind you."
Gauri's knuckles whitened around the bundle of notes. She turned and walked out, her steps heavy but unyielding. Vihaan watched her leave, the faintest flicker of something unreadable crossing his eyes—victory, suspicion, or perhaps something he couldn't name himself.
As Gauri descended the staircase, her steps quickened. She had already tucked the bundle of money safely away, her mind racing with urgency.
At the foot of the stairs, Veena was waiting, her arms folded, eyes sharp as they landed on her daughter-in-law.
"Gauri," Veena said sternly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Return before evening. The Janmashtami celebration must not be delayed. You are the bahu of this house now—you have duties, and I expect you to remember them."
Gauri lowered her gaze respectfully, forcing her voice to remain steady. "Of course, Mother-in-law. I'll return before the celebration begins."
Satisfied, Veena gave a curt nod and walked away, her saree pallu sweeping across the marble floor.
The moment she turned the corner, Gauri exhaled shakily and clutched her dupatta close to her chest. Without another word, she hurried toward the door, her heart hammering with the weight of what awaited her outside these walls.