Author's POV

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and rusted metal. The abandoned house groaned under the weight of its own decay, its wooden beams sagging like the ribs of a starving beast. Moonlight bled through shattered windows, casting jagged silver stripes across the floor. Shadows slithered along the walls, alive, watching.

Pranati’s breath hitched as consciousness returned in sharp, painful waves.

Her head throbbed—a dull, insistent drumbeat behind her temples. The taste of copper lingered on her tongue. Blood. She must have bitten her lip.

She tried to move.

Rope.

Coarse, unyielding jute bit into her wrists, her ankles. The fibers had already torn into her skin, leaving raw, weeping wounds. Her arms were wrenched behind her, tied to the legs of a rickety wooden chair. The wood creaked as she shifted, threatening to splinter beneath her.

Where am I?

Her vision swam. The last thing she remembered—

The well.

The cool night air. The weight of her wedding bangles, heavy on her wrists. The suffocating noise of the wedding had driven her out, seeking silence. She had gone to the old stone well behind the cowshed, the one she used to hide near as a child.

And then—

A prick. A needle?

Darkness.

Now, she was here.

Her pulse spiked.

Think, Pranati. Think.

She tested the ropes again, twisting her wrists until fresh blood slicked her skin. The pain was sharp, grounding. She needed to get out. Now.

A floorboard creaked.

Her breath froze in her lungs.

Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate.

A shadow detached itself from the gloom.

Pravin.

His face was gaunt, his cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. His eyes—God, his eyes—were black pits, sunken deep into his skull, yet burning with something unholy.

"You’re awake," he murmured, voice soft, almost tender.

Pranati’s stomach twisted.

"Pravin," she rasped, throat raw. "What the hell are you doing?"

He crouched in front of her, tilting his head like a curious predator. His fingers brushed her cheek, and she recoiled, her chair scraping against the floor.

"You don’t have to be afraid of me," he whispered. "I would never hurt you."

A hysterical laugh bubbled in her throat. Never hurt her? She was tied to a fucking chair.

"Then let me go," she demanded, voice shaking.

Pravin sighed, as if disappointed by a child’s tantrum. "You don’t understand yet. But you will."

He stood abruptly, pacing the room like a caged animal.

"Do you remember, Pranati? When we were kids? You used to climb the banyan trees near the temple. You’d laugh so loud the whole village could hear." His voice took on a dreamy quality. "I used to hide in the shadows, just watching you. Your smile… it was like sunlight."

Her skin crawled.

"You never noticed me," he continued, bitterness creeping into his tone. "Not in school. Not in college. Not even when I sat next to you in lectures. But I didn’t care. I knew one day, you’d see me."

His fingers twitched at his sides.

"And then he came."

The name was a venomous hiss.

Siddharth.

Pravin’s face contorted, his calm façade cracking. "You looked at him like he was the sun. Like he was everything." His voice dropped to a whisper. "But he’s gone now. And soon, you’ll forget him."

Pranati’s blood turned to ice.

No. No, no, no—

Pravin clapped his hands.

From the shadows, an elderly man stumbled forward—Panditji, the village priest. His hands were bound, his face ashen.

"P-Please," the old man begged, voice trembling. "I have a family—"

"Start the mantras," Pravin ordered, pressing a knife to the priest’s throat.

The pandit’s lips quivered as he began chanting, his voice breaking with fear.

Pravin dragged a rusted thali forward, arranging vermilion, rice, and a yellow thread. The fire in the makeshift havan flickered, casting monstrous shadows on the walls.

Pranati thrashed against the ropes, panic clawing up her throat.

"STOP!" she screamed. "You’re insane! This isn’t love—this is sickness!"

Pravin didn’t even flinch. He lifted the Thaali, stepping toward her.

"Love always wins," he whispered.

The priest’s chanting grew louder, faster.

Pravin reached for her neck—

Back at the house, around four in the morning chaos had erupted.

Amma’s scream had shattered the dawn.

"PRANATI IS GONE!"

The wedding bangles lay broken on the floor. The bed was untouched.

Everyone scattered around around the village in search of her

Sakshi too sprinted outside the house her bare feet slapping against the mud and when she reached near the well that’s where she found them.

Pranati’s footprints. Scuff marks in the dirt.

And a single, glinting needle.

Her blood ran cold.

She ran back to the house and screamed "SHE WAS TAKEN!".

Shravan came barreling out of the house, his face white with terror.

"Check the CCTV!" he roared into his phone. "Every road, every exit—FIND HER!"

Sakshi whirled on him, eyes blazing.

"This is your fault!" she spat. "If you hadn’t driven Siddharth away—"

Shravan’s face twisted in guilt. But there was no time for blame.

Pranati was gone.

And every second counted.

The knife glinted in Pravin’s hand as he raised it, the sacred thread trembling between his fingers.

Pranati squeezed her eyes shut.

This is it.

Then—

BANG.

The door exploded inward.

Rain and wind howled into the room.

And there, silhouetted against the storm, stood Siddharth.

His chest heaved. His knuckles were split, bloody. His eyes—God, his eyes—were black with fury.

Pravin snarled, lunging at him with the knife.

Siddharth moved like lightning.

A brutal dodge. A crushing punch to Pravin’s ribs. A knee to his gut.

Pravin staggered, wheezing.

Siddharth didn’t stop.

Another punch. A spinning kick.

Pravin crashed into the havan, embers scattering like dying stars.

Siddharth didn’t wait to see him rise. He sprinted to Pranati, his hands shaking as he grabbed a broken shard of glass and sawed through the ropes.

The moment she was free, she collapsed into his arms.

"I thought you left me," she whispered. "Why didn’t you fight for me?!"

He pulled back, eyes stormy. "I never left. Shravan tricked me. I only went as far as Hyderabad. I found out there was no breach—he faked it. Then Rafiq informed me Pravin was planning something. I followed him. And I found you."

And then—

He dropped to his knees.

Rain dripped from his hair, his lashes. His hands trembled as he took hers.

"Pranati," he breathed, voice raw. "I love you. More than my pride. More than my life."

His grip tightened, desperate.

"I should have fought harder. I should have torn the world apart before I let them take you from me. But I’m here now, on my knees, begging you—don’t marry him. Choose me. Not because I deserve you, but because I will spend every breath of my life trying to."

Her heart cracked open.

She cupped his face, her thumbs brushing away the rain—or were those tears?

"I choose you," she whispered. "Always."

A guttural scream tore through the room.

Pravin lunged, a rusted iron rod raised high—

He charged at Siddharth.

Pranati screamed, "Siddharth!"

BANG.

A gunshot echoed.

Pravin collapsed, howling, clutching his leg.

Siddharth whirled—

A man in black stood in the doorway, gun raised.

"You’re safe now, Miss Pranati," he said.

She gasped. "Rajat?"

Siddharth’s brow furrowed. "Who—?"

"The Chief Minister of Mumbai Yuvraj Bedi's assistant," she breathed.

Rajat stepped forward. "Aarohi ma’am arrived for your wedding. When she saw the chaos, she contacted the CM who ordered a search for you." He gestured to the door. "We need to go. Now. Our Men will take care of him" He said pointing towards Pravin who was groaning on the ground.

Siddharth didn’t hesitate. He scooped Pranati into his arms, carrying her through the rain.

She buried her face in his neck, shaking.

But she was safe.

For now.

The car sped through the storm, headlights cutting through the darkness.

Pranati clung to Siddharth, his heartbeat steady under her palm.

The golden morning sun spilled across the rooftops of the village, but it did not touch the shadows in the hearts of those who had spent the early morning in terror. The air was thick with unspoken fears, the weight of the dawn’s horror still clinging to the walls of Nannamma’s house.

Then—

The screech of tires.

A car skidded to a halt before the gates, kicking up dust. The entire household froze.

And then, like a miracle, she stepped out.

Pranati.

Her hair was tangled, her clothes torn, her wrists wrapped in bloodied cloth—but she was alive. And beside her, battered but unbowed, stood Siddharth, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist, as if he would sooner die than let her go again.

For one breathless second, no one moved.

Then—

"PRANU!"

Her Amma’s scream shattered the silence. She ran, her saree flying behind her, her face streaked with tears. She crashed into Pranati, pulling her into a trembling embrace, her fingers clutching her daughter’s shoulders as if to convince herself she was real.

"Naa Buji… Naa Buji Thalli…" (My child, my dear child) she sobbed into Pranati’s hair.

Pranati buried her face in her mother’s shoulder, her body shaking. "Amma… I’m okay. I’m here."

Her father reached them next, his strong hands framing her face, his thumbs brushing away the dirt and tears. His voice was rough with emotion. "Em chesaru ninnu? Evadu? Evadu Vaadu?!" (What did they do to you? Who? WHO WAS HE?!)

Pranati swallowed hard. "Pravin. But Siddharth… he saved me."

All eyes turned to Siddharth.

He stood tall despite his injuries—his lip split, his knuckles raw, his shirt stained with dirt and blood. His gaze was steady, but his hands still trembled faintly from the adrenaline, from the fear that had nearly swallowed him whole when he’d seen her tied to that chair.

Shravan stepped forward, his face pale. "How… how are you with her?"

Siddharth’s jaw tightened. "Because I never left for Dubai. You tricked me"

Silence.

Then—

"He sent a fake message about a hotel breach. Created a lie to get me away. But when I reached the airport and contacted my team, I realized there was no emergency. Then Rafiq—my friend—called and said he noticed suspicious movement around Pravin. I stayed back, traced his steps, and found where he took Pranati."

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Padmaakka clutched her chest. "Shravan! How could you?!"

Shravan’s face twisted. "I didn’t mean to hurt anyone," he mumbled, looking at the ground. "I just… I didn’t want Siddharth to spoil my wedding. I just wanted him away from here."

"And because of that, Pranati was kidnapped!" Sakshi screamed, her voice breaking. "She could have died!"

Shravan flinched as if struck. His shoulders slumped, his bravado crumbling. "I… I didn’t know Pravin would—"

"You didn’t care," Siddharth snarled. "You were so obsessed with winning that you didn’t stop to think what your games would cost her."

Shravan opened his mouth—then closed it. His eyes flickered to Pranati, desperate, pleading.

But she turned away.

And that small movement broke him.

A tiny voice cut through the tension.

"Panuuuu!"

A small blur of energy barreled through the crowd and latched onto Pranati’s legs. She looked down—and her face lit up.

"Kabir!" she cried, scooping the giggling toddler into her arms. He clung to her, his tiny fingers gripping her torn sleeve.

"I missshh you!" he babbled, pressing his chubby cheek against hers.

Pranati’s eyes welled with fresh tears. "I missed you too, baby. So, so much."

Just then, a graceful woman stepped forward her expression gentle her soft voice spoke from the veranda.

"Are you alright, Pranati?"

Aarohi Bedi stood there, elegant in a pastel saree, her dark eyes filled with quiet concern.

Pranati exhaled shakily. "Aarohi… you shouldn’t have come. It could have been dangerous."

Aarohi smiled gently. "How could I miss my best friend’s wedding? I’m fine. Rajat and the security are with me."

Just then, a deafening roar filled the air.

The villagers gasped as a helicopter descended onto the open field nearby.

And then he stepped out.

Yuvraj Bedi.

The Chief Minister of Mumbai.

Tall, commanding, his presence like a force of nature. His sharp eyes scanned the crowd before landing on Aarohi—and only then did his expression soften.

"Yuvraj Bedi? The Young CM of Mumbai?!" cried Dhana Akka, nearly stumbling.

The whole village erupted into chaotic awe.

"Papaaa!" Kabir squealed, wriggling out of Pranati’s arms and running toward him.

Yuvraj caught him effortlessly, lifting him into his arms before striding toward Aarohi. His free hand settled on her waist, pulling her close.

"Are you okay?" he murmured, his voice low, intimate. "If you’re even slightly uncomfortable, we’re leaving."

Aarohi touched his wrist. "I’m fine. Really."

Yuvraj exhaled, then turned to Pranati. His gaze flickered to Siddharth, assessing, before he asked dryly, "Soo Is there still a wedding today, or should we head back?"

The crowd erupted into murmurs.

Siddharth stepped forward.

"There is."

His voice was firm, unwavering.

"I love Pranati. I want to marry her."

Shravan’s face twisted. "She’s my fiancée! I won't allow it"

"Let her decide," Yuvraj interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Every head turned to Pranati.

Her breath hitched.

She looked at Shravan—at the boy she had once loved, now a stranger filled with desperation.

Then at Siddharth—the man who had fought through hell to bring her home.

Her voice was barely a whisper, but it carried like thunder.

"I’m sorry, Shravan. I don’t feel the same anymore. I’m in love with Siddharth. And I want to marry him."

Shravan staggered back as if struck. His chest heaved with a silent sob, his pride crumbling.

Pranati’s father stepped forward, his expression grave. "Siddharth… do you swear to protect her? To love her?"

Siddharth didn’t hesitate. "With every breath in my body Mavaya."

Then came Nannamma, firm as a mountain. "The muhurtham hasn’t passed yet. If there are no objections, this wedding shall happen."

Every family member nodded.

"Then let’s begin!" cried Sai, clapping his hands

Chaos erupted—but this time, it was joyous.

The mandap was rebuilt in minutes. Flowers were strung. The scent of jasmine and incense filled the air.

Inside the house, Pranati was dressed in a crimson silk saree, gold jewelry glinting at her neck and wrists. Her cousins surrounded her, laughing, crying, adjusting her hair.

"You look like a queen," Sakshi whispered, her voice thick.

Pranati squeezed her hand.

In the mandap, Siddharth was already seated, his cream shirt and panchu crisp, golden threadwork glinting under the lanterns his wounds cleaned but still visible, he looked every bit the warrior who had stormed through hell for her.

Yuvraj sat beside Aarohi and Kabir in his lap. His arm wrapped around Aarohi’s shoulder.

"I’m only here for you," he muttered. "The things I do for your smile."

Aarohi smiled, leaning her head briefly on his shoulder.

The jeelakara bellam began.

The cloth separating them dropped.

And when Siddharth saw her—

His breath stopped.

Pranati looked divine. Ethereal. Her kajal-rimmed eyes sparkled with tears and joy. She was a vision of serenity and strength.

He was too lost to hear the priest asking him to tie the thaali.

"Siddharth!" she nudged..

He snapped out of it, chuckled sheepishly. His fingers shook as he fastened the sacred thread around her neck, his voice rough as he whispered the vows.

"I am yours. In this life and every other."

Pranati’s tears spilled over.

When the final mantras were chanted, when the akshantalu rained down like blessings, Siddharth took her hands in his.

"I’m sorry," he murmured, his voice breaking. "For every second I let you doubt me. For every tear you shed because I wasn’t strong enough. I swear to you—no more pain. No more fear. Just you and me. Forever."

Pranati pressed her forehead to his. "Forever."

Aarohi and Yuvraj came up to the stage. Aarohi hugged Pranati warmly.

"So happy for you," she whispered.

Yuvraj shook Siddharth’s hand.

"Well played. But you stole someone’s girl. You’ll be punished."

"Huh?" Siddharth blinked.

Kabir stood between them the newly married couple, glaring. Pushing Siddharth away from her trying to create distance between the couple and then turned towards Pranati lifting his hands up as a sign to pick him up in her arms and as soon as he was in her arms he wrapped his little chubby hands around her neck and turned his face towards Siddharth.

"Panu mine!" he declared in baby rage, hugging Pranati tightly.

Everyone laughed.

"See?" Yuvraj smirked. "My son won’t make your life easy."

Pranati and Aarohi chuckled while Siddharth took Kabir from Pranati's arms kissed his forehead, and said "Then I guess we’ll be co-owners of her heart."

And with that, the stars above witnessed the union of a storm and a silence.

Their love had been tested, broken, rebuilt. But now, it was eternal.

A forever sealed with tears, fights, chaos… and above all—love.

So this is the end guys. I hope you all enjoyed the book?

Thank you all for giving your precious time and money to this Book.

Please do share your thoughts on this book.

Thank you again my pretty ladies and handsome gentlemen.