The Woman Who Refused to Lose
Rachel Parulkar stood in front of the mirror long after midnight.
The reflection staring back at her was flawless.
And furious.
She clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms.
He chose her.
Not just publicly.
Emotionally.
That hurt more than anything else.
Her phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
She answered without hesitation.
"I need help," Rachel said softly. "Discreet help."
A pause.
"Yes. She's protected. That's the problem."
Her lips curved slowly.
"I don't need her gone," she continued. "I need her broken."
The next morning, Twinkle hummed as she packed fabric samples into her bag.
Rangeer watched from the doorway, arms crossed.
"You're in a good mood," he observed.
"I survived drama," she replied brightly. "That deserves celebration."
He laughed. "You're impossible."
She grinned. "You adore it."
He didn't deny it.
At the Sign residence, Najma felt it again.
That familiar itch between her shoulders.
She paused mid-step.
"Ranveer," she murmured, "we're being watched."
He didn't ask how she knew.
"From where?"
"Not close," she said. "Yet."
That afternoon, Rachel arrived unexpectedly at the Sign estate.
Her smile was perfectly polite.
"I wanted to apologize," she said to Najma. "For everything."
Najma studied her calmly.
Apologies that arrived this late were never sincere.
"I wish you happiness," Rachel continued. "Truly."
Najma inclined her head. "Thank you."
Their eyes met.
Rachel saw something that unsettled her.
Not fear.
Certainty.
That night, Rachel met a man in a darkened parking garage.
"You said she wouldn't survive without protection," Rachel said coldly.
The man shrugged. "No one does."
Rachel handed him a photo.
"Then don't touch her," she said softly.
"Touch her sister."