The sprawling ancestral mansion of the Singhanias shimmered under the evening lights, servants moving briskly around as if they were preparing for a festival. But Khushi sat alone in her old room, the soft golden curtains swaying against her face. Her hand instinctively rested on her stomach — just two months, and she already felt the delicate presence of life inside her.
Her heart fluttered at the thought of becoming a mother. But every time her mind replayed Arjun's cold words, a shiver ran down her spine.
"You can stay pregnant if you want, Khushi. But not in my house. I won't divorce you either. You'll always be mine — just not enough to be my wife in truth."
She had never expected this side of him. The world saw Arjun Arora as a ruthless businessman, a mafia don cloaked in sophistication, a man feared and respected in equal measure. She had seen glimpses of tenderness in him during their first month of marriage, though fleeting and rough-edged. But when she'd told him about the baby, his eyes had turned into cold steel.
Her mother, draped in silk, entered the room with a worried face.
"Khushi beta, you need to eat. For the child."
Khushi smiled faintly but her eyes betrayed her pain.
"Ma, he doesn't want this child… he doesn't want me…"
Her mother sat beside her, pulling her into a warm embrace.
"Your father is powerful, our family is powerful — no man, not even Arjun Arora, can dictate your fate forever. He may think he controls everything, but he has underestimated you, Khushi."
Khushi's eyes, swollen from nights of tears, hardened with resolve. She was her father's daughter, born into a world where politics and power ruled. She was not weak, and neither was the life inside her.
At that moment, the gates of the mansion thundered open. The deep growl of black SUVs echoed across the courtyard. Arjun had arrived.
Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in his signature black, he entered like a storm. His presence consumed the room — dangerous, magnetic. His eyes locked on Khushi, a mix of possession and fury.
"You think you can hide from me in your father's house?" His voice was low, menacing, every word dripping with authority.
Khushi stood up slowly, her hand still protectively resting over her belly. For the first time since their marriage, she looked him directly in the eye without flinching.
"I'm not hiding, Arjun. I'm protecting my child — our child. You can control my name, my body, even where I stay… but you will not control my heart. And you will never make me destroy this baby."
For the first time, his hard gaze flickered. A crack in the armor of the mafia king. His fists clenched, jaw tight. He wanted to roar, to intimidate — but her defiance struck something deeper.
The silence between them was thick, suffocating, charged with unspoken emotions.
And in that silence, a battle began — between his need to control and her newfound strength.