Pranati's POV

The faint jingle of anklets echoed from somewhere near the back of the house as the sun dipped below the horizon. The evening was scented with the faint aroma of jasmine and camphor, and in the living room, the murmur of hushed voices and careful greetings hinted at something more than just another casual visit. 

I was in the hallway, just outside the pooja room, when I heard my Amma’s voice—tinged with surprise, but carefully polite. 

“Of course, of course, come in. We weren’t expecting you today.” 

My heart slowed. Then raced. Padmakka. Mavaya. 

Shravan’s mother. 

Shravan’s father. 

And behind them, Shravan himself—wearing a simple white shirt and a look I hadn’t seen on him before. Not playful. Not teasing. 

Serious. Intentional. 

I ducked back, pressing myself against the cool wall for a moment, willing my breath to steady. I didn’t need to hear what this was. I already knew. 

A formal proposal. 

For me. 

Padmakka clasped Amma’s hands, her voice soft but deliberate. "We’ve come to discuss something important."

A hush fell over the room.

Padmakka took a careful sip before setting her cup down. "Amma, Anna… we’ve come to ask for Pranati's hand."

A pause.

Then—

"For Shravan."

The words landed like a stone in still water.

Shravan sat rigid beside his mother, his gaze fixed on the floor.

This is really happening.

My fingers curled into the fabric of my dress, nails biting into my palms.

My father’s eyebrows shot up. Amma’s lips parted. Nannamma, ever composed, merely folded her hands in her lap.

A slow smile spread across Nannamma’s face. "This is wonderful news."

My stomach twisted.

She turned to my father. "Isn’t it, ra?"

My father exhaled, rubbing his temple. "I… I always worried Pranati would move far away after marriage. But Shravan—" His voice softened. "Now i don't have to worry. She’ll stay close."

Close. Safe. Known.

The words should have comforted me.

Instead, they felt like chains.

Amma squeezed my knee, her eyes shining. "Pranu, beta, aren’t you happy?"

Happy?

I forced a smile. "I—I need time to think."

Padmakka’s smile didn’t waver. "Of course, beti. This isn’t a decision to rush."

But Shravan’s jaw tightened.

And Siddharth. 

His absence burned like a scar on my chest. 

When I finally retreated to the back verandah, the night air clung to my skin. The celebration had already begun inside—plates clinking, Manju aunty clapping her hands and saying “Ayyo, soon we’ll have a wedding!” 

I wanted to scream. 

A message blinked on my phone screen. 

Siddharth: Where are you? 

I didn’t reply. 

He sent another. 

Siddharth: Come to the corridor behind the storeroom. Now. 

My feet moved before my mind caught up. 

The corridor was dim, lit only by a flickering bulb. He stood at the far end, arms crossed, eyes dark. A tension radiated from him like heat from sunbaked stone. 

“You accepted?” he asked. 

No hello. No warmth. Just that. 

“What?” I blinked. “It only just happened. I haven’t even—” 

“You didn’t say no.” 

His voice was cold. Controlled. But there was a dangerous edge under it. 

“I haven’t said yes either.” 

“That doesn’t matter,” he stepped closer, the air thick between us. “If you even considered it, it means something’s changed.” 

I swallowed. “Maybe it has.” 

He moved so suddenly that I stepped back. 

“You think he’ll love you more?” Siddharth asked, stepping into the narrow gap between us, trapping me between the wall and his body. “You think he can give you what I can?” 

“I don’t want someone who only wants me,” I snapped, the words tumbling out like broken glass. “I want someone who loves me. Wholly. Not someone who uses me to release whatever he doesn’t know how to feel.” 

His jaw clenched. 

The flickering bulb above us hummed like it was holding its breath. 

“You don’t get to play possessive,” I added, quietly now. “Not when you keep pretending what happened between us means nothing.” 

He didn’t reply. 

I pushed past him, heart hammering in my throat. 

He didn’t stop me. 

Not this time. 

Later that night, I lay in Satakka’s room, staring at the ceiling fan turning endlessly. Anu and Maneesha were asleep, their breath calm. 

I wasn’t. 

Something crinkled beneath my pillow. 

I sat up slowly, heart already knowing. 

Another note. 

“Don’t choose him. He doesn’t see you the way I do. You belong to me.” 

There was no photo this time. 

Just the faint scent of paint. 

My fingers trembled. I closed the note quickly and slipped it into the folds of my diary, locking it shut. 

Familiar.

Too familiar.

My breath hitched.

Because suddenly, I wasn’t just torn between two brothers.

I was being hunted by a meneace.

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