Location: Inside Dhruv's Car (Parked on the roadside) Time: 5:15 PM
I was floating in darkness. It was peaceful. Quiet.
Then, a spray of icy cold water hit my face.
I gasped, my body jerking awake as the shock tore me from the void. My eyes flew open, wide and disoriented, searching for the road, the gravel, the pain.
But I wasn't on the road anymore.
I was sinking into plush cream leather. The air around me was humming softly, freezing cold—a stark, artificial contrast to the humid heat of the Mumbai streets I had just collapsed on.
"Wake up."
The voice was deep, sharp, and devoid of any softness. It was a command, not a request.
"Wake up, Katha."
I blinked, my vision slowly clearing.
Dhruv was leaning over me from the driver's seat. His face was inches from mine, his brows knitted together in a thunderous scowl. He held a plastic water bottle, and droplets were still dripping from his fingers onto my cheek, sliding down like cold tears.
He didn't look worried that I had fainted. He looked furious that I had inconvenienced him.
As soon as he saw recognition in my eyes, he pulled back as if burned, slamming his back against his own seat.
"Are you insane?" he snapped. "I told you one thing. One simple rule. Do not leave the house."
I shrank back into the seat, pressing my spine against the leather. My head was throbbing, a dull, rhythmic ache behind my eyes.
"Look at you," Dhruv gestured at my dirty clothes and tear-streaked face with open disgust. "In two hours, half the city's elite will be in my living room. They are coming to see Mrs. Dhruv Rathore. And you? You are wandering the streets like a vagrant!"
Bam!
He struck the steering wheel with his palm. The leather groaned under the impact.
"Fuck!"
I flinched at the noise, but I didn't speak. I didn't cry. I just stared at the dashboard, my eyes glassy and dry. The tears had finally run out.
He is angry, I thought, a numb realization settling in my chest like a stone. I almost fainted. I almost fell on the road. But he doesn't care about that.
He cares that his doll is broken before the show starts.
I looked at his profile—the sharp jaw, the clenched teeth.
Maa... you were so wrong, I thought bitterly. This is not a Prince. A Prince saves you because you are precious. He saved me because I am a liability.
"I..." My voice was a dry croak. I cleared my throat, tasting dust. "I am so sorry."
Dhruv glared at me sideways.
"I forgot something," I whispered, my voice trembling. "In my old house. It was important... I just went to get it."
"I told you that life is dead!" Dhruv cut me off, his voice rising to a shout that filled the small space. "How many times do I have to say it? Your old house, your uncle, your memories—they don't exist anymore! You are my wife in front of the world. Why don't you fucking understand this?"
I looked down at my hands—the empty, dirty hands that had failed to bring back my mother's necklace.
"I said I am sorry... Sir."
The word "Sir" hung in the air between us. It was a slap in the face of our marriage, a brutal reminder of my place. I wasn't a wife; I was an employee who had made a mistake.
Dhruv stared at me. I felt his gaze trace the way my shoulders slumped, the unnatural paleness of my skin, and my cracked, dry lips.
I knew what he saw. A ghost haunting his luxury car.
For a second, the anger in his eyes wavered. It was replaced by a flicker of annoyance mixed with... something else. Observation?
He sighed, running a hand through his perfect hair, ruining it. "This girl... God, I had to marry this girl."
He picked up the open water bottle he had used to wake me. He thrust it toward my face.
"Drink," he said.
I shook my head slightly. "I am not thirsty."
"I didn't ask if you were thirsty," Dhruv's voice dropped an octave. It wasn't a suggestion. "Look at yourself. You're going to pass out again, and I don't have time to carry you. Drink it."
I didn't move. I just stared blankly ahead.
Dhruv cursed under his breath. He leaned in, forcing the bottle into my hand. His fingers brushed mine—his were startlingly warm, mine were ice cold.
"It is my order, Katha," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Order. Yes. That was the only language this marriage spoke.
Slowly, like a robot obeying its master, I lifted the bottle to my lips. I took a small sip. The cool water flooded my mouth, soothing my parched throat. I took another. Then another. I hadn't realized how thirsty I was until the water hit my tongue.
Dhruv watched me drink, his eyes tracking the movement of my throat. He waited until I had finished half the bottle.
"Better," he muttered.
He took the bottle back and capped it. He checked his watch, the diamond dial catching the fading sunlight.
"We are going home," he said, gripping the gear stick. "The guests will arrive soon. You have to be ready. You cannot walk into that hall looking like this."
He looked at me one last time, his gaze lingering on my sad, empty eyes.
"Pull yourself together, Mrs. Rathore," he said. His voice was softer now, but still cold. "The show must go on."
The engine roared to life. Dhruv steered us back toward the golden cage, leaving the streets—and my last hope—behind in the dust.
Location: Rathore Manor, Dhruv's Bedroom Time: 5:45 PM
Dhruv didn't speak to anyone as he dragged me into the house. He marched me up to the bedroom, his grip firm on my arm, ignoring the staff scurrying around to prepare for the evening.
Inside the room, he pointed to the bathroom.
"Ten minutes," he ordered. "Wash the street off you."
He threw a heavy garment bag onto the bed. "Wear this. And don't waste time staring at the wall."
I grabbed the bag and retreated into the bathroom. I turned on the shower, letting the hot water scald my skin. I scrubbed furiously, trying to wash away the dirt of the road, the germs of the jewelry shop, and the invisible, grimy touch of my uncle's betrayal.
I am clean, I thought, watching the muddy water swirl down the drain. But I feel dirtier than ever.
I stepped out, wrapping a towel around myself. I opened the garment bag. Inside lay the Kanjeevaram saree Suhana had mentioned. It was a deep, regal purple with heavy gold embroidery.
It screamed wealth. It screamed "Rathore."
I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the silk.
This is a costume, I told myself, a lump forming in my throat. If I wear this, Katha dies. The girl who ran barefoot on the road dies. Only the doll remains.
"Katha!" Dhruv's voice boomed from the bedroom. "Two minutes!"
I flinched. I quickly draped the saree, my hands shaking as I tucked the pleats. I didn't know how to drape it perfectly, but fear made me efficient.
I stepped out of the bathroom.
Dhruv was standing near the dressing table, fastening his cufflinks. He stopped when he saw me. His eyes swept over me, critical and sharp, but he didn't criticize.
"Sit," he gestured to the stool in front of the mirror.
I sat. I looked at my reflection. The purple silk made my skin glow. My hair, still slightly damp, fell in waves around my face.
I looked beautiful. Undeniably so.
A slow, bitter smile curved my lips. It wasn't a happy smile. It was a smile at the irony of my life.
Look at you, Katha, I mocked myself in the mirror. You look like a queen. But inside? You are hollow.
My gaze dropped to my neck. It was bare.
The emptiness stared back at me. The heavy designer choker Suhana had given me was lying on the table, but I couldn't bring myself to touch it. My neck felt naked without my mother's chain.
Maa... your wish will never come true, I thought, blinking back fresh tears. You wanted a Prince to put your necklace on me. To claim me with love. But the necklace is gone. Sold to a stranger.
And the Prince...
I looked at Dhruv's reflection in the mirror. He was busy checking his phone, cold and distant.
...the Prince is a jailor.
"Why is your neck empty?"
Dhruv's voice broke my trance. He walked up behind me, looking at my reflection with annoyance. "Where is the jewelry Suhana gave you?"
"I..." My voice failed.
"You are so slow," Dhruv muttered. "Forget that gaudy thing. It doesn't suit the saree."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet box. He didn't hand it to me. He snapped it open.
"Let me put this on you. We are running late."
I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn't bear to look. I felt him move closer. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, contrasting with the air-conditioned chill of the room.
I hate him, I thought, my breath hitching. I hate his money. I hate his power. I hate that he owns me.
I felt the cold metal of a chain touch my collarbone.
Then, I felt his fingers.
His fingertips brushed against the sensitive skin of my nape as he fumbled with the clasp. The touch sent a violent shiver down my spine. It wasn't fear—it was something electric, something primal.
Why are his hands so warm? I panicked internally. Why does his touch burn? He is a monster. Monsters should be cold.
"Done," Dhruv whispered near my ear. "Open your eyes."
I slowly lifted my heavy lashes. My vision was blurry with unshed tears. I looked in the mirror.
My eyes went wide.
Resting against my throat was a gold chain. A simple, delicate gold chain with a small, familiar pendant.
I stopped breathing. My hand flew up to my neck, my fingers trembling as I touched the metal. I knew this texture. I knew this design. I had worn it for eleven years.
This... this necklace...
"Maa..." I gasped.
It was my mother's necklace. The one my uncle had sold. The one the jeweler had said was gone.
A smile broke through my tears—a genuine, disbelief-filled smile. I spun around on the stool, facing Dhruv, ignoring the saree tangling around my legs.
"Where..." I choked out, looking at him as if he were a ghost. "Where did you find this? How?"
Dhruv looked confused by my reaction. He adjusted his cuff, avoiding my gaze.
"I told you, I was at the jeweler's this morning," he said nonchalantly, his voice bored. "I saw it on the counter. The jeweler was tagging it."
He glanced at me, then shrugged. "I don't usually buy cheap things. It's hardly worth a few lakhs. But... I don't know. It looked beautiful. Simple. I thought it would look better on you than those heavy rocks Suhana buys. So I bought it."
He looked at my streaming tears and frowned deeply. "And stop crying. Why the hell do you start crying every time I give you something? It's just gold, Katha."
I touched the pendant again, clutching it as if it were life itself.
"Mother..." I whispered.
He doesn't know, I realized, my heart hammering against my ribs. He doesn't know it's mine. He just... bought it. Because he liked it.
I looked at Dhruv. He was standing there, arrogant, ruthless, the man who had forced me into this marriage. The man who had humiliated me.
But he was also the man who had just returned the most precious piece of my soul.
My mother's voice echoed in my mind: "I want him to put this necklace on you... my wish is that your Prince claims you with this gold."
He wasn't the Prince I had dreamt of. He was a beast. But standing there, in that moment, he was my husband. And he had unknowingly fulfilled my mother's dying wish.
I couldn't stop myself.
The emotion was too big, too raw to contain. The relief washed over my hatred, drowning it for one split second.
I launched myself at him.
Dhruv froze as I wrapped my arms around his torso, burying my face in his chest. I hugged him tightly, holding on to him as if he were the only solid thing in a crumbling world.
"Thank you..." I sobbed into his expensive shirt, wetting the fabric. "Thank you... thank you so much..."
Dhruv stood rigid. His hands hovered in the air, unsure of what to do.
For a second—just a fraction of a second—I felt his body soften. I felt his hand lower, almost touching my back to comfort me.
But then, the walls slammed back up.
He grabbed my shoulders.
"Katha," he said, his voice cold. "Get away from me. You are ruining my clothes."
He pushed me back. Not violently, but firmly enough to break the contact.
I stumbled back a step. The loss of his warmth hit me instantly. I looked at him, my eyes wide, and reality crashed back in.
Oh God, I thought, panic rising. What did I just do? I hugged him. I hugged the monster. Why?
I wiped my face frantically, stepping back further. "I... I am sorry. I didn't mean to..."
Dhruv straightened his jacket, smoothing out the wrinkles I had made. He refused to look at my eyes.
"Don't do that again," he said stiffly. "I don't like clinging. We are not that kind of couple."
He turned his back on me, reaching for the door handle.
"Come downstairs quickly. The guests are waiting."
He opened the door and walked out without looking back, leaving the heavy scent of his cologne swirling in the air.
I stood alone in the middle of the room, my hand still clutching the necklace.
"He is cruel," I whispered to myself, my fingers tracing the gold chain that now rested against my pulse. "He is cold."
I walked back to the mirror and looked at the necklace.
"But he brought you back to me, Maa."
I wiped the last tear from my cheek. A strange, confused fire ignited in my chest. I didn't know if I hated Dhruv Rathore or if I was terrified of him.
But for the first time since I had entered this golden cage, I didn't feel entirely alone.
"The Prince didn't come, Maa," I whispered to my reflection. "But the husband did."
I took a deep breath, fixed my saree, and turned toward the door. The show had to go on. But now, I had my armor.