No doubt—

Those few meetings.
Those stolen glances.
Those words exchanged in secrecy.
That unspoken care wrapped in his cold indifference.

Everything that happened in a month had planted the seed of something undeniable—something neither of them could escape.

But Randheer, in their last encounter, had masked his emotions behind a wall of ice, ensuring she wouldn’t grow even an ounce of hope.

And yet—

It backfired.

Because while he had distanced himself, Ragini found herself drowning in him.

An entire month had passed, but her mind remained a captive to his thoughts. She had obeyed her brother, never once attempting to meet Randheer. But hearts were foolish—distance had only made her longing stronger.

Unbeknownst to her, Randheer too was a prisoner of his own mind. He couldn’t focus on work, couldn’t sit through meetings without his thoughts trailing back to her. She had invaded his existence in a way he had never allowed anyone to.

But last night, he broke all the wall and keeping his ego aside went to meet Ragini, making her as his, only to regret the very next morning and curse himself for actually fanning those ashes.

That night,his words,his mark,still on Ragini's neck..
And tonight—

Ragini lay sprawled across the cold, bare floor, surrounded by scattered papers, lost in the dark abyss of her own emotions. The only light in the room came from the moon, casting its silvery glow over her fragile frame.

In her trembling fingers, she held the delicate bracelet her mother had once given her—a bracelet that, after just a day with Randheer, had started reminding her of him instead.

A breath hitched in her throat, her lips unknowingly curving into a smile.

His face flashed in her mind, the way his gaze burned into her soul, the way his mere presence left her shaken. The warmth of his touch and an weird burning sensation over the red purple mark on her neck. Everything about him, raced her heart beat.

And suddenly a gust of wind rustled the papers around her, and her eyes landed on one in particular.

A sketch.

A sketch of him.

Drawn by her own hands.

Randheer Singh Thakur.

But not as the ruthless man the world feared—this was different. His expression in the drawing was soft, a small, almost impossible smile on his lips.

She traced her fingers over the pencil lines, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"Thakur Sahab… now I understand my own heart. And I won’t hold it back anymore. I will confess everything to you… then let’s see how long you can keep cursing love..cause I know, I'm not just one suffering the distances, it's the same suffering there, in your heart too...
And I know,that what went out as anger yesterday..but tomorrow..you won't deny.. you'll have to accept me,the way I'm accepting.. I'm ready to spend my entire life with you,live with all your marks,being marked as your..."

She leaned down and pressed her lips to the sketch, closing her eyes as if she could feel him there, real and tangible,and slowly whispered,
"I Love you Thakur Sahab.."

The single sentence made her heart pour out of body,race hell a speed.
She hugged the sheet tightly and lied on the floor, embraced in his thoughts.

Tomorrow—
Tomorrow she would tell him...

The Next Morning.

Ragini woke up with determination burning in her chest.
She straightened her room, brushing away the remnants of her sleepless night, and adorned herself in a sunflower yellow suit with intricate embroidery along the sleeves and hem. A simple dupatta draped over her right shoulder, her wrists jingled with green glass bangles—her favorite. Leaving her silky black hair open, she took a deep breath, glancing at herself in the mirror.

Her fingers brushed against the red-purple mark on her neck—Randheer’s mark.

She could still feel it.

A deep blush warmed her cheeks as she bit her lip, shaking her head at her own thoughts.

“No more hesitation.”

With that, she hurried downstairs, her heart racing with anticipation.

But—

She hadn’t expected the next,she was happy to confess Randheer but a big Strom was to engulf her happiness.

Coming downstairs,she greeted, hugging Naveen from the side.
"Good morning, Bhai!"

"Good morning, Princess!" he chuckled, ruffling her hair. "How are you feeling now?"

"I'm alright. Can I go to college today?"

"Of course, as you wish. But before that, I have something very special to tell you."

Ragini’s eyes lit up. "What is it, Bhai?" she asked eagerly.

Naveen’s smile widened. "I have fixed your marriage."

The words crashed into her like a tidal wave.

All the color drained from her face.

Silence.

Deafening, suffocating silence.

Her mind refused to process it.

Navya and Siddharth exchanged confused glances—Naveen had never mentioned this to anyone before.

"But… with whom, Pratap Ji?" Navya hesitated, sensing the tension radiating from Ragini.

"Kumar. Kumar Sehrawat," Naveen declared with certainty.

He turned to Ragini, brushing his fingers over her hair gently. "You know him, right? My business partner. He’s a good man, Ragini. He will love you, support you—"

But his words were a blur.

Ragini couldn’t hear anything beyond the ringing in her ears.

Her heart—her foolish heart—ached at the mere thought of belonging to someone else.

Her voice was lost, her body frozen.

"Ragini? Are you listening?" Naveen shook her lightly.

Snapping out of her daze, she forced a trembling smile. "Y-Yes, Bhai… I heard you. He must be a good man if you think so. But… can I get some time? I just… I need to decide for myself if I’m ready for marriage."

Naveen smiled at her words. "Of course, Ragi. Take your time. He is willing to wait for you."

Ragini nodded stiffly and fled the house.

That evening, Temple garden.

The evening sky was painted in hues of gold and crimson as the sun began its slow descent, casting a warm glow over the Temple Garden. The scent of fresh flowers mingled with the earthy aroma of the grass, creating a serene yet melancholic atmosphere. The gentle rustling of leaves and the distant chiming of temple bells added to the garden’s tranquility—an ironic contrast to the storm raging inside Randheer Singh Thakur.

For the past thirty days, this very place had become a part of his routine, his ritual, his punishment. Each evening, he sat on the same wooden bench, his fingers unconsciously tracing the engraved initials on its surface, hoping, foolishly hoping, that today would be the day she would return.

Ragini.

Her absence had been unbearable. The thought of her, the memory of her voice, the way she had looked at him with those innocent, questioning eyes—they all haunted him, taunting him for his own actions. He had been cruel to her that day, intentionally pushing her away, ensuring that she would never dare to return to him.

Yet, here he was. Waiting.

Lost in thought, Randheer barely noticed the breeze that carried a soft, familiar melody to his ears.

"Kaliyaan ye sada pyaar ki, muskaati rahengi..."

His fingers stilled. His breath caught.

That voice—her voice.

It had been a month since he last heard it, but he could recognize it anywhere, even in his sleep.

Slowly, as if afraid that his mind was deceiving him, he turned his head towards the sound.

And there she was.

Ragini Pratap Singh.

Draped in a sunflower yellow suit, her delicate frame sat amidst the lush greenery, illuminated by the dying light of the sun. Her black hair cascaded down her back, slightly tousled by the evening breeze, and a small red bindi adorned her forehead. The soft tinkle of her green glass bangles matched the rhythm of her trembling fingers as she clutched a small piece of paper against her chest.

Her voice—melodious yet laced with sorrow—flowed through the air like an aching confession:

"Khamoshiyan tujhse mere afsaane kahengi..."

Randheer’s heart clenched. There was pain in her voice, a deep, agonizing pain that resonated within him.

For a moment, he let himself drown in the sight of her.

For a moment, he forgot everything—his pride, his cold resolve, his own denial.

But then, she turned.

Their eyes met.

And time ceased to exist.

A month of separation, a month of restless nights, a month of yearning—it all condensed into that single moment. Emerald met obsidian, and unspoken words screamed between them.

His Ragini—she was here.

But her eyes…they held a storm.

Randheer took a step forward. His body moved on its own accord, drawn to her like a force he could no longer resist. He wanted to pull her into his arms, wanted to ask her if she had missed him as much as he had missed her.

But then, she spoke.

"I have something to tell you!"

Her voice trembled, yet it held determination.

Randheer stopped in his tracks, sensing the urgency in her tone. He forced himself to maintain his usual indifference, though his heart had already begun to race.

"Bhai fixed my marriage."

Silence.

A cold, suffocating silence.

The wind stilled. The temple bells ceased their ringing. The world around them faded, leaving only the two of them—standing at the edge of an abyss.

Ragini’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it was enough to pierce through his chest like a dagger.

Randheer’s jaw clenched. His fists tightened.

And then, he did what he did best.

He masked the storm inside him and responded in a voice devoid of emotion—

"That’s great."

Ragini flinched.

The earth beneath her feet cracked as she stared at him, disbelief shattering every piece of her heart.

No.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

"You really don’t care, do you?" Her voice wavered, yet she forced herself to continue. "You really don’t care about me? My feelings?"

Randheer swallowed, his self-control hanging by a thread.

"Express your feelings to your brother," he stated, his voice sharp, unforgiving.

And with that, he turned.

He couldn’t look at her.

If he did, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

But before he could take another step, her voice cut through him like lightning.

"I love you, Thakur Sahab!"

The ground beneath his feet felt unsteady.

His heartbeat thundered against his ribs.

Everything around them blurred, leaving only her confession ringing in his ears.

He stopped.

But he didn’t turn.

He didn’t let himself.

Because if he did, he would break.

And Randheer Singh Thakur never broke.

.
.
.
.
.

The Temple Garden bathed in the golden hues of dusk, the evening sky burning in a fiery mix of orange and red. A gentle breeze swayed the marigold flowers, their petals trembling like a silent witness to the storm that was about to unfold. The air smelled of jasmine, a scent that once brought peace to Ragini Pratap Singh—but today, it failed to calm the raging storm inside her.

She had come here with a heart full of hope, a heart that had spent endless nights whispering his name into the void, hoping, praying that maybe… just maybe, he would feel the same.

But the man standing before her, Randheer Singh Thakur, had long forgotten what it meant to have a heart.

Ragini’s hands trembled as she clutched the piece of paper—the news of her engagement—against her chest. A bitter smile played on her lips as she forced herself to speak.

"Bhai fixed my marriage."

The words left her mouth like shards of glass, each one cutting her deeper.

Randheer stilled. For a moment, just a moment, she thought she saw something flicker in his dark eyes—anger, pain… jealousy? But then, like always, he buried it beneath his cold exterior.

"That's great, Miss Pratap, that you are getting married," he said, his voice sharp like a dagger. "At least you'll stay away from me, and your brother won’t doubt me for your intentions."

Ragini felt the air leave her lungs.

A cold, lifeless laugh escaped her lips, masking the soul-crushing pain she felt at that moment. A single tear escaped her eye, sliding down her cheek like a silent plea.

"You really don’t care about me and my feelings, Thakur Sahab?" she whispered, her voice barely holding together.

Randheer’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. His chest tightened at the sight of her breaking, but he didn’t let it show. He couldn’t.

"No, Miss Ragini Pratap Singh."

The finality in his voice shattered her.

Her world collapsed in that instant, but she refused to crumble. Not yet.

Ragini inhaled deeply, gathering the last pieces of her strength, and then, she let everything out—every unsaid word, every buried emotion, every desperate confession that had been waiting to escape.

"Par hume aapse Ishq hai, Thakur Sahab..."

Randheer’s body went rigid.

"Nahi kar sakte kisi aur se shaadi kyunki is dil mein aap hain.. aap ghar kar chuke hain.. pehle jo ishq mehej anjana alfaaz tha, aap mein mila hai hume... Thakur Sahab, aapse... aapse Ishq hua hai hume... I love you."

She sobbed, unable to hold back anymore, and before he could push her away—she threw herself into his arms, hiding her tear-streaked face in his broad chest.

Randheer froze.

His entire being screamed at him to hold her, to wipe her tears, to murmur soothing words into her hair. His hands twitched at his sides, his control slipping as he felt her tremble against him.

She was crying—for him.

She was begging—for him.

The girl who had always been sheltered, loved, and protected, was now on the verge of breaking, all because of him.

Randheer swallowed the lump in his throat, his fists tightening so hard that his nails dug into his palms.

He wanted to run his fingers through her hair, to press her closer and tell her that she was his, that she didn’t need to marry anyone else.

But he couldn’t.

Because he was the villain in her story.

Ragini sobbed harder, her delicate hands clutching onto his shirt as if she was afraid he would disappear. "I can’t marry anyone else… because I love you. I want to be yours, Thakur Sahab…"

The words hit him like a bullet.

Randheer inhaled sharply, his mask beginning to crack.

But then—he shattered her completely.

In a swift motion, he pulled back and grabbed her delicate throat, his grip firm yet not enough to hurt her. The sudden action made her gasp, her wide, teary eyes locking onto his obsidian ones filled with raging emotions.

"You know what, Ragini?" he whispered, his voice dangerously low.

A storm brewed in his eyes, a lava of anger, pain, and something darker swirling in them.

"Words like love, feelings, life—these things don’t exist for me." He leaned in, his breath fanning against her trembling lips. "What do you think? That I’ll say the same and take you with me?" His lips curled into a cruel smirk. "No way. Not in my entire life."

Tears streamed down Ragini’s face, but she didn’t break eye contact.

"The girls like you," he continued, his voice ice-cold, "are just a piece of toy. Understand?"

And then—he let go of her.

Ragini staggered back, almost falling to the ground. The world spun around her.

Her legs trembled, her body shivering from the coldness of his words. Her heart, the one that had so foolishly loved him, now bled in agony.

"No..." she whispered, blinking rapidly, trying to convince herself that she had misheard him.

But the way he stood there—unmoved, indifferent, merciless—told her that she hadn’t.

Her heart screamed in pain, but she refused to let it show.

Instead, she inhaled sharply, wiped her tears, and stared directly into his eyes.

"I’m not here for your cruel theories, Thakur Sahab." Her voice was no longer weak. It held a fire, a storm, a finality.

"I just want my answer. Just one sentence."

Randheer remained silent, watching her with unreadable eyes.

"Do you love me?" she asked, her voice steady.

The moment stretched between them, suffocating in its intensity.

And then—his answer came.

"No."

A single word. A single dagger straight to her heart.

Ragini staggered, but she held her ground. She nodded, swallowing back a sob.

"Fine then." Her voice didn’t waver this time. "Soon, you’ll be invited to my wedding as a guest. Wait for me to get married, Thakur Sahab."

And with that—she turned and walked away.

Randheer watched her go, his expression unreadable.

But inside?

Inside, he was burning alive.