Location: Rathore Manor, Dhruv's Bedroom Time: 8:00 AM
The first thing I felt was the ache in my spine. The marble floor, even covered by a rug, had been unforgiving.
I sat up with a gasp, disoriented. For a split second, the smell of damp walls and stale oil filled my memory, and I thought I was back in my small room at my uncle's house.
But then the sunlight hit my eyes—too bright, too clean. It streamed through massive floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating a vast, grey-toned bedroom that felt more like a museum than a home.
I looked toward the bed.
It was empty. The sheets were crisp and undisturbed, just as Dhruv had left them. The pillow and blanket I had tossed there earlier were gone, likely cleared away by him or a silent servant to hide the evidence of our separate sleeping arrangements.
Dhruv was not there.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. The air in the room felt lighter without his suffocating presence pressing down on me. Maybe he had gone to work. Maybe, for a few hours, I could actually breathe.
Knock. Knock.
I scrambled to my feet, my heart leaping into my throat. I quickly smoothed out the crushed, heavy lehenga I had slept in, trying to look somewhat presentable.
"Come in," I whispered, my voice hoarse from crying.
The door opened, and a maid entered. She kept her head low, respectful, but I saw her eyes linger for a fraction of a second on my disheveled hair and the wedding dress I was still wearing.
"Good morning, Ma'am," she said softly. "Sir left for the office at 6:00 AM. He instructed that you shouldn't be disturbed until now."
I nodded dumbly. "Okay."
"Also..." she hesitated, shifting her weight. "Suhana Ma'am asked me to inform you. The extended family and some close business associates are coming this evening to see the new bride. You need to be ready by 5:00 PM."
Panic flared in my chest like a match struck in the dark. Guests? Strangers?
I had to face more of them? I had to pretend to be the happy, beloved wife of a man who had made me sleep on the floor and called me a cheap copy?
Before I could ask anything, the door was pushed open wider.
Suhana walked in.
She looked impeccable in a pastel chiffon saree, her hair blow-dried to perfection, smelling of expensive lilies. In her hands, she carried a garment bag and a jewelry box. She swept into the room, her gaze landing on me like a physical slap.
"Still in that?" Suhana clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Go take a shower. You look like a wreck."
She tossed the garment bag onto the bed with a careless flick of her wrist.
"Tonight is important," she said, her voice sharp. "My relatives are coming. These are people who know the difference between silk and polyester with a single touch. I don't want you embarrassing us."
She pointed to the bag. "That is a Kanjeevaram saree. It costs more than your uncle's entire house. Wear it. And for God's sake, try to carry it with some grace."
I looked at the bag, feeling small. "I... I will try."
Suhana took a step closer, her eyes narrowing into slits. "Trying isn't enough. Listen to me carefully. These people... they will ask questions. About your family, about how you met Dhruv. Since we can't tell them the truth—that you were bought to cover up a scandal—you will do one thing."
She leaned in, her perfume overpowering the room.
"You will keep your mouth shut. Smile. Nod. Look shy. If you don't know what to say, just lower your eyes. Do not try to make conversation. Do not try to be smart."
She looked me up and down with a sneer. "Don't behave like the roadside girl you are. We have painted you gold, so try to act like it. If you open your mouth and your... class... shows, Dhruv will not be forgiving. And neither will I."
With that final warning, she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving the scent of cruelty behind her.
I stood alone in the silence.
I walked to the mirror. The girl staring back at me looked exhausted, hollow. The jewelry felt like chains around my neck. The heavy lehenga felt like a cage.
Is this my life now? I thought, tears pricking my eyes. To be a mannequin? To be dressed up, paraded around, and then thrown into a corner when the show is over?
I have no voice. I have no name. I am just Mrs. Rathore, the puppet.
I wiped my eyes furiously. No. I can't cry. Crying wouldn't help. I have to survive.
I turned toward the corner of the room where I had left my plastic bag—the only thing I had brought from my old life. A sudden, desperate need seized me. I needed comfort. I needed to feel something that was real, something that was mine.
I knelt on the floor and grabbed the cheap plastic bag. My hands trembled as I opened it.
"Maa..." I whispered.
I dug through the old clothes. I was looking for a small, velvet pouch. Inside it was a gold necklace.
It wasn't a designer piece like the ones Suhana wore. It was simple. A thin gold chain with a small pendant. My mother had bought it years ago, working double shifts, saving every rupee she could. It had cost fifty thousand rupees back then—a fortune for us.
I remembered the day she put it around my neck. I was ten. "This is your safety, Katha. If everything goes wrong, this gold will help you survive. It is my blessing."
It was the only keepsake I had of her. The only proof that someone had once loved me selflessly.
I pulled out a torn kurta. I pulled out the broken comb. I pulled out the blurry photograph.
I felt the bottom of the bag.
Empty.
My heart stopped.
I shook the bag upside down. Nothing fell out.
"No..." a strangled whisper escaped my throat. "No, no, no."
I frantically checked the pockets of the clothes. I checked the floor around the bag. I crawled on my hands and knees, checking under the sofa, praying it had fallen out.
But it wasn't there.
The realization hit me like a physical blow to the stomach.
In the chaos of leaving... in the rush when Dhruv had given me five minutes to pack... I had kept the velvet pouch on the table next to my bed in my uncle's house. I had meant to put it in the bag last, to keep it safe.
I had forgotten it.
My mother's necklace. Her last memory. Her safety net. It was lying on that dusty table in the house of the people who had sold me.
"Maa..." I crumbled onto the floor, clutching the empty plastic bag to my chest.
A fresh wave of horror washed over me. Dhruv had said I could never go back. He had said that for him, my family was dead. He would never let me go there to get it.
And my uncle... if he found it...
My greedy uncle would sell it. He would melt my mother's memory for cash without a second thought.
I sat alone in the billionaire's bedroom, surrounded by millions of rupees worth of luxury, weeping for the one thing that money couldn't buy.
I lost my freedom yesterday. Today, I lost my past.
I didn't think. I didn't plan. The moment the thought crossed my mind—he will sell it—panic hijacked my brain.
I ran out of the bedroom, clutching the folds of the heavy Kanjeevaram saree Suhana had thrown at me, ignoring the garment bag. I sprinted down the grand marble staircase, my bare feet slapping against the cold stone.
I didn't care who saw me. I didn't care about the rules.
I burst out of the main doors into the humid morning air.
The massive driveway stretched out before me. Near the porch, a black Mercedes was idling. A uniformed driver was polishing the windshield. He looked up, startled to see the new mistress running out, breathless and disheveled.
I froze.
The car. I could ask him. I could order him to take me. I was Mrs. Rathore now, wasn't I?
But then, the voice in my head whispered the truth Dhruv had drilled into me. You are a fake. A replacement. A paid actor.
If I took the car, the driver would report to Dhruv. Dhruv would know I went back to the place he had forbidden. He would know I had disobeyed his very first rule: No contact with the past.
"Ma'am?" the driver took a step forward, confused. "Do you need—"
I didn't wait. I shook my head violently and bolted.
I ran past the car, past the manicured lawns. I saw the small pedestrian side-gate open—a delivery boy was just leaving. It was my only chance. I squeezed through the gap before the security guard could turn around.
I didn't stop running until my lungs burned and the gleaming white mansion was far behind me. I hailed a rickshaw with trembling hands, giving the address of the one place I had prayed never to see again.
Location: The Old House Time: 10:15 AM
The smell hit me first—stale frying oil, open drains, and damp walls.
It was the smell of my childhood. The smell of misery.
I stood before the peeling blue door of my uncle's house. My chest was heaving, sweat dripping down my back. I raised a shaking hand and knocked.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
"Coming! Who is dying out there?"
The lock clicked. The door creaked open.
Ramesh Mama stood there, wearing a vest and pajamas, chewing on a toothpick. When he saw me, his eyes didn't widen with concern. They widened with terror.
He immediately looked behind me, scanning the street for black SUVs.
"You?" Ramesh hissed, blocking the doorway with his body. "What are you doing here? Why have you come back?"
Panic crept into his voice. "Don't tell me he sent you back! Don't tell me the deal is off! I spent some of the money, I can't give it back! He took you, you are his problem now!"
I stared at him, stunned. He didn't ask how I was. He didn't ask if I was hurt. He only cared about the check Dhruv had written.
"I... I didn't come for that," I panted, trying to catch my breath. "The necklace. Maa's necklace."
Ramesh blinked. "What?"
"I forgot it," my voice trembled. "In the rush yesterday... I left the velvet pouch on the table by my bed. Please, Mama. Just give it to me. I'll leave. I promise."
Ramesh's expression shifted instantly. The fear vanished, replaced by a guarded, shifty look. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms.
"Necklace? What necklace?"
"My mother's gold chain!" I cried out. "The one she gave me! It was right there!"
"Oh. That thing."
Vimla Mami's voice came from inside. She waddled into view, wiping her hands on a dirty rag. She looked at me with a sneer.
"We sold it," she said flatly.
The world stopped.
I felt like the ground had dissolved beneath my feet. "You... what?"
"We sold it this morning," Vimla shrugged, picking her teeth with a fingernail. "What do you need it for? Look at you. You are living in a palace. You probably have diamonds in your bathroom. Why do you care about that old, thin piece of gold? We did you a favor. We made your life easy, so be happy."
"How... how could you?" I whispered, tears instantly spilling over. "It wasn't just gold. It was Maa's. It was the last thing she gave me before she died! You knew! You knew how precious it was to me!"
"Precious?" Ramesh scoffed. He spat the toothpick out near my feet. "You want to talk about precious? Do you know what was precious? My peace of mind. Which you and your mother destroyed."
He took a step forward, his face twisting with years of accumulated bitterness.
"Your father ran away like a coward. He left your mother alone. And we? We had to take the burden. We had to feed her, feed you. And then she died, but she left her baggage behind."
He jabbed a finger at me. "She should have taken you with her when she died! But no, she left you here to eat my food and live under my roof."
I sobbed, my hands covering my mouth. "I worked... I worked for you! I did everything!"
"It wasn't enough!" Ramesh shouted. "And now? Listen to me clearly. We have no relationship with you. We gave you to Mr. Rathore. You are his property now. Not our niece. Just his thing."
"But the necklace..." I choked out. "You got five crores! Dhruv gave you five crores yesterday! Why did you need to sell a fifty-thousand-rupee necklace? Why?"
"It doesn't matter if it was my sister's," Ramesh sneered, his eyes cold. "Consider it my fee. My service charge for tolerating you for twenty-one years."
"Get lost now," Vimla waved her hand dismissively. "If your billionaire husband finds out you are here, he will take the money back. Go!"
They started to close the door.
"Wait! No!" I threw my hands out, grabbing the doorframe. I folded my hands, begging, my pride forgotten in the face of my grief.
"Please... please, Mama. Mami. I won't ask for anything else ever again. Just tell me... at least tell me where you sold it. Please."
Ramesh looked at my pleading face. A cruel smirk tugged at his lips.
"You want to know?"
"Yes, please," I wept.
"I sold it to the biggest jeweler in the city. 'Royal Jewelers' in Bandra," Ramesh said, his eyes glinting with malice. "Go there. Buy it back... if you can."
SLAM.
The door was shut in my face. The bolt clicked from the inside.
I stood there, staring at the peeling blue paint.
I was alone. Truly alone.
I had run from a golden cage to find a home, only to realize I never had one. My past had just been sold for cash, and the door to my childhood was locked forever.
I wiped my face with the back of my hand, a new, desperate resolve hardening in my chest.
Royal Jewelers.
I didn't have money. I didn't have a phone. I didn't have permission. But I had a destination.