The wind howled through the Kothari mansion's open windows, carrying the scent of incense and thunder. In the center of the hall, Gauri stood firm—her palms raised, water spiraling around her arms like liquid fire. The Tidal Chakram, forged from divine energy, shimmered in her grasp, its edges glowing with blue radiance.
Across from her stood Manmohini, her golden eyes glinting with cruel delight. "So," she purred, "the little Jalpanchi thinks she can wound me?"
Before Gauri could hurl the chakram, Vihaan stepped forward—right into its path.
"Vihaan!" Gauri gasped, pulling back just in time as the blade dissolved into mist.
Mohini's laugh echoed like a hiss of silk. "How poetic," she sneered. "To hurt me, you'll have to hurt your husband." Her tone dripped venom. "Can you do that, Gauri?"
Gauri's eyes hardened. "You can possess his body, Mohini," she said, her voice trembling with fury, "but his soul is mine."
Mohini's smile faltered for a moment, then curved back sharper. "Stay away," she warned, her power crackling through the air. "On his twenty-fifth birthday, Vihaan will vanish forever. He will become Sarvansh Raj—the heir of my darkness. Until then, you'll watch him fade, piece by piece."
"I'll never let that happen," Gauri shot back. "You don't belong here, Mohini. You never will. You'll end like Kamini did—burned by your own greed."
Mohini's expression turned predatory. "Bold words for a woman who has already lost her husband." She took a step closer, her voice dropping into a whisper. "Serve me, and I might spare you."
"I'd rather die," Gauri spat.
The air grew tense. Mohini's smirk widened. "Then die as you wish—but before the next sunrise, you'll be kneeling at my feet. Every flame of defiance will turn to ash."
Vihaan's eyes, clouded and distant, turned toward Gauri. His tone was emotionless. "Enough."
She looked at him, pleading silently, but he didn't meet her gaze. "You'll stay in the storeroom," he ordered coldly. "This house is mine—and you mean nothing to me."
"Vihaan…" her voice cracked, "listen to me. You're not Sarvansh—you're my—"
He raised his hand, silencing her. "Leave, or I'll make you." Then, without another glance, he turned and walked out beside Mohini, her golden veil brushing his shoulder like a chain.
The sound of his footsteps echoed until only silence remained.
Gauri's knees weakened, her heart shattering under the weight of his rejection. She lowered herself to the ground and whispered a poem to the emptiness—her voice trembling yet resolute.
"Even if you turn away,
I'll stand in your shadow.
Even if you forget my name,
my prayers will not."
A soft hand touched her shoulder. When she turned, the family stood behind her—Sharda, Veena, Dadi, Charvi, and Yug—their faces drawn with worry.
"Beta," Dadi said softly, "come away from this. Mohini is dangerous. If you stay, she'll destroy you too."
Gauri shook her head, wiping her tears. "No, Dadi. Vihaan is still there. I can feel him." Her voice wavered but her eyes burned with conviction. "He's in pain, fighting inside. I'll bring him back, no matter what it takes."
A heavy silence fell. Then Yug, hesitant but thoughtful, spoke up. "Bhabhi… I noticed something."
Everyone turned to him.
"When Vihaan—no, Sarvansh—spoke to you," Yug said slowly, "his eyes followed you. Just for a second. Like something inside him still listens."
Charvi nodded. "He still feels you, Gauri. That means there's hope."
Embarrassed yet determined, Gauri lowered her gaze. "If there's even a spark of him left, I'll reach it."
Yug grinned faintly. "Then we have a plan."
The family huddled together, voices hushed but urgent. Their goal was simple—to reignite Vihaan's heart. To make him remember love, warmth, and the man he used to be.
And while Gauri steeled herself for the task ahead, far in another room, Mohini's laughter rang out—silken, mocking, and certain.
"Let her try," she murmured, tracing her nails along Vihaan's arm. "By the time the sun sets again, her tears will be my victory."