Pranati’s pov 

Some mornings taste like fear. 

It was the way my body froze when Amma draped the yellow dupatta around my shoulders, talking about blouse designs and mehendi artists. The way every knock on the door made my pulse lurch. The way even the wind whispered doubts. 

The engagement had happened and the marriage date was set for 22nd of next month . My hand felt heavier with the ring Shravan slipped onto it, not because it was too tight—because it didn’t belong there. 

I wasn’t sure what scared me more now: marrying the wrong person… or the fact that it didn’t feel wrong enough yet to stop it. 

I hadn’t seen Siddharth since the rooftop. His words were haunting me still. 

“The thought of him touching you drives me mad.” 

He’d looked at me like I was air. Like I was flame. Like he hated himself for wanting both. 

And maybe I hated him too—for speaking those words so late. For making me feel things I had no right to feel anymore. 

But his silence the next day? That was worse. 

In the kitchen, the cousins were raiding the fridge again. Maneesha was stuffing her face with barfi, Sai was giggling about some reel, and Uma sat with a plate of cut fruits, blissfully unaware of all the chaos. 

“Let’s do a photoshoot tomorrow!” Anu suggested. “You and Shravan in traditional wear—sunset backdrop.” 

My stomach twisted. 

Sakshi called just in time. My lifeline. 

I stepped away into the storeroom and answered the video call. 

Her face lit up instantly. “Hey, bride-to-be. You look… dead.” 

I tried to laugh. Failed. “I’m so tired.” 

Her face softened. “Did you sleep at all?” 

“I couldn’t. Sakshi… everything feels like it’s moving too fast. I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.” 

She leaned closer to the screen. “Then pause. Just for a moment. Breathe. What happened with Siddharth after the rooftop?” 

“He told me he doesn’t want the marriage to happen. He said he’ll burn everything down if it does.” 

Her eyes widened. “Wait—what?” 

I nodded slowly. “Then the next day, he vanished.” 

Sakshi’s jaw clenched. “Classic him. Intense one minute, stone the next. But Pranu… he means it. I’ve seen that kind of love before. It’s the kind that makes people go mad.” 

My chest squeezed. “What if it’s too late?” 

“It’s only too late if you walk down that aisle knowing it’s not him.” 

Silence stretched between us. 

“I got another note,” I whispered. 

Sakshi stiffened. “What?” 

“It was under my pillow this time. Another photo of me. This one from the rooftop. It said, ‘You're glowing. But only for me.’” 

Her voice dropped. “Pranati… this isn’t a prank anymore.” 

“I know. But I can’t tell anyone yet. Amma would panic, and with the marriage talk... 

“Don’t brush this off, Pranu. You’re in danger.” 

That evening, the house gathered for chai and murmurs of a temple visit. I stayed behind, sitting by the big window, tracing circles on the fogged glass with my fingertip. 

That’s when I saw them. 

Siddharth and Shravan in the garden. Both standing too still. Too close. 

Their words didn’t reach me, but their body language screamed. 

Siddharth stepped forward. Shravan shoved him back. Siddharth’s hands curled into fists. Nannamma’s voice cut in from the porch, calling them, and the tension split like lightning, but not before I caught Siddharth’s last look. 

He was broken. 

And burning. 

That night, I dreamt I was standing on the temple steps in my bridal sari. 

But when I turned around, both Shravan and Siddharth stood behind me—hands outstretched. 

One held a flame. The other, a dagger. 

And I couldn’t tell which one would hurt me more. 

There are days when the wind changes direction, and you know something is about to happen—even if no one tells you. 

That morning, it was the silence in the house. 

A rare, strange stillness. As though the walls were holding their breath. 

Even Mahesh hadn’t blasted music yet. 

I stepped out of Satyakka’s rooftop room and walked into the main hall to find Nannamma murmuring with Amma near the kitchen, their faces tight with worry. 

“Shravan hasn’t come home,” Amma said. 

My breath hitched. “What?” 

“He left in the middle of the night,” Nannamma added. “No one knows where he went.” 

I clutched the edge of the wooden pillar beside me. “Did… did he leave a message?” 

“No,” Amma said. “And Siddharth isn’t home either.” 

The air buzzed with unfinished sentences. It was too early to ask questions. Too late not to worry. 

I found Maneesha brushing her hair in the veranda mirror. 

“You heard?” 

She nodded. “Sai said they fought.” 

My heart stumbled. “When?” 

“Late night. Near the cowshed. Sai saw it—said it was bad. Like fists-raised, ready-to-kill bad.” 

I turned away, my pulse pounding in my ears. 

So it wasn’t just words anymore. 

Later that afternoon, I stepped into the temple garden, desperate for stillness. 

But he was there. 

Siddharth. 

Alone, sitting on the temple steps, staring at the stone idol. 

His profile caught in that soft afternoon light, rigid and broken all at once. 

I should’ve turned around. But I didn’t. 

My feet moved on their own. 

He didn’t look up when he spoke. “He’s gone to bring your wedding outfit. He’s picking gold bangles too.” 

My voice came out hollow. “You followed him?” 

He looked at me then, eyes dark and haunted. “I stopped him.” 

A pause. 

“Then?” I whispered. 

“I punched him.” 

The wind tangled around us. 

I lowered my gaze. “Why?” 

His jaw flexed. “Because he wants what doesn’t belong to him.” 

“You mean me.” 

“I mean your soul,” he said, his voice rough now. “He doesn’t know how to touch it without shattering it.” 

Silence hung between us like a thread ready to snap. 

“I don’t know what to do,” I whispered. 

Siddharth stepped closer. “Then let me do it for you.” 

Before I could respond, his fingers brushed my cheek—just the side. Just once. But it was enough to send shivers racing down my spine. 

“I’m not asking you to choose me right now,” he said, “I’m asking you not to choose wrong.” 

My heart thundered in my chest as he turned and walked away—leaving me half undone, fully burning. 

That night, I found something waiting on my pillow again. 

This time, it wasn’t a photo. 

It was a pendant. 

A small, delicate heart-shaped charm I’d lost in college during my second year. 

One I never told anyone about. 

Taped to it was a note. 

“I keep the parts of you you forget. You’ve always belonged to me.” 

My fingers trembled. 

I swallowed a sob. 

I didn’t even know I was crying until the ink on the note smudged from a drop that wasn’t mine. 

Who was he? 

How long had he been watching me? 

And worse—how much more did he plan to take? 

Sakshi didn’t pick up her call that night. Maybe for the first time since all this began. 

And for the first time, I didn’t feel like I was standing between two brothers. 

I felt like I was being hunted. 

And no one knew. 

Do like and comments.