Manish hesitated, his eyes darting nervously between Prithvi and the small bag he held in his hands.

"My name is Manish," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze fixed on the floor.

Prithvi remained silent, his expression unreadable, as he waited for Manish to continue.

"I came... from Gauripur," Manish stammered, his nerves palpable in the air.

Taking a deep breath, he finally mustered the courage to speak. "Darasal, main yahaan yeh potli wapas karne aaya hoon," he said, holding out the small bag for Prithvi to see.

(Actually, I came here to return this little bag.)

Manish, a young man of the same age as Prithvi, stood before him, visibly shaken by the encounter.

"Darasal, main ne gaon aate kuch baatein sunni," he began, his voice trembling with emotion.

(Actually, while coming I heard some rumors).

"Thakur Sahab, meri maa ke doosri behen thi Aruna Mausi aur unki beti Tara meri ek matra chhoti behen hai. Humko pehle nahi pata tha ki Mama aise Tara ki shaadi kahin kara denge."

(Thakur Sahab, my mother's second sister was Aruna Aunt and her daughter Tara is my only younger sister. We didn't know before that Mama would arrange Tara's marriage like this.)

"Uss din Tara ne mujhe yeh potli diya tha," he continued, holding out the small bag as if it held the weight of the world.

( That day, she gave me this small bag)

𝘈𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘭 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘔𝘢𝘩𝘢 𝘚𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘪, 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘥, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺, 𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘢 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘦.

𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢'𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵. 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘹 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘥, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦.

𝘈𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘯𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘨𝘪𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘺.

𝘈𝘴 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘮 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴.

𝘈 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘹𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯. 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦

" 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘉𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘺𝘢 " , 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥, 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘺, 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘬.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘬. 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘯𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦.

𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢'𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥,

" 𝘒𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘪 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘩𝘪? " 𝘈 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯.

(𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢?).

" 𝘔𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘬 𝘩𝘶 𝘣𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘺𝘢, 𝘔𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘪 𝘬𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘪? " 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘪𝘯𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥.

(𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘉𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘺𝘢. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘴 𝘈𝘶𝘯𝘵)

"𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘔𝘢𝘮𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘴 𝘈𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘢 𝘈𝘶𝘯𝘵? 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦? " 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘯.

"𝘐 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘣𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘺𝘢. 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘐 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘩𝘦𝘳," 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥, 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴.

"𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢. 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘔𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘪 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘺, 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘯-𝘭𝘢𝘸𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘔𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘪," 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

"𝘕𝘰, 𝘣𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘺𝘢, 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘋𝘢𝘥𝘪 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘦. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘔𝘢𝘢 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧," 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥, 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦.

"𝘔𝘶𝘫𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘢 𝘣𝘩𝘪 𝘯𝘢𝘩𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘪 𝘬𝘪 𝘮𝘢𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘪, 𝘢𝘶𝘳 𝘔𝘢𝘮𝘢 𝘔𝘢𝘮𝘪 𝘬𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘪 𝘶𝘯𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘯𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘳 𝘬𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘢 𝘣𝘩𝘪 𝘮𝘢𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘢 𝘬𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘺𝘦 𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘳𝘢 𝘳𝘢𝘩𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘪, 𝘪𝘴𝘮𝘦 𝘻𝘢𝘺𝘥𝘢 𝘯𝘢𝘩𝘪 𝘣𝘢𝘴 5 𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘺𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘪 𝘫𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘪 𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘰 𝘬𝘦 𝘨𝘩𝘢𝘳 𝘬𝘢𝘮 𝘬𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘺𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘢, 𝘣𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘺𝘢 𝘢𝘢𝘱 𝘺𝘦𝘩 𝘮𝘢𝘢 𝘬𝘰 𝘥𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘦, 𝘵𝘰𝘩 𝘶𝘯𝘬𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘩𝘶𝘵 𝘬𝘢𝘢𝘮 𝘢𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘨𝘦" 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩'𝘴 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘮.

(𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘔𝘢𝘢'𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘔𝘢𝘮𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘔𝘢𝘮𝘪 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘔𝘢𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘰. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 5 𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦. 𝘉𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘺𝘢, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘔𝘢𝘢. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳.)

"But, fate dealt me a cruel hand," Manish lamented, his voice heavy with sorrow. "I couldn't fulfill the responsibility entrusted to me by my sister. The day I set out, I was met with the lifeless body of our dear Aunt."

His words carried the weight of grief and disappointment, a testament to the cruel twists of fate that had thwarted his intentions.

Taking slow, deliberate steps towards Prithvi, Manish's heart weighed heavy with the burden of his sister's plight.

As he knelt down, the sound of his footsteps echoed in the tense silence of the room, each step a reminder of the gravity of his purpose.

With great reverence, he placed the little pouch of jingling coins near Prithvi's feet, the coins bearing the weight of his sister's hopes and dreams.

Joining his hands in a gesture of humility and sincerity, he spoke in a voice filled with remorse and regret.

"Thakur Sahab," he began, his words laden with emotion,"Agar, jane anjane mein humse aur hamari behen se koi galati ho jaye toh hame maaf kare Thakur Sahab"

( If, unknowingly, I or my sister have committed any wrongdoing, if we have erred in any way, I humbly seek your forgiveness.)

His plea hung in the air, a testament to the deep sense of responsibility and remorse that weighed heavily on his heart.

As Manish departed, Prithvi stood there, his heart heavy with the weight of his wife's tragedy.

Each word uttered by Manish echoed in his mind, piercing through his soul like shards of glass.

The realization of his unwitting role in Tara's suffering struck him like a thunderbolt, leaving him reeling in a whirlwind of remorse and anguish.

In that moment of clarity, Prithvi's facade of stoicism crumbled, revealing the raw vulnerability hidden beneath.

His chest tightened with the agony of regret, tears threatening to spill from his eyes as the enormity of his unintended transgressions engulfed him.

"Fetch the midwife immediately," Prithvi commanded urgently, his voice quivering with a mix of anxiety and determination.

With each hurried step towards the kitchen, his heart raced with the weight of responsibility and regret.

The echoes of Manish's words lingered in his mind, tormenting him with the knowledge of the pain his wife had endured, pain that he unwittingly contributed to.

As he approached the locked kitchen doors, his hands trembled with a potent mixture of desperation and resolve.

His gaze met Padma's, silently pleading for the keys that held the answer to Tara's suffering. Despite the tumult of emotions raging within him, Prithvi's determination burned bright, fueled by an unwavering commitment to set things right, no matter the cost.

Prithvi's voice quivered with urgency as he pleaded with Padma for the keys, his desperation palpable in the air. "Dadi, give me the keys," he implored, his words carrying a weight of concern.

But Padma remained unmoved, her silence a barrier to Prithvi's appeals. Despite his repeated requests, she offered no response, her stoic demeanor revealing nothing of her thoughts or intentions.

Dadi, I need those keys," he reiterated, his voice tinged with urgency.

Yet Padma remained stoic, refusing to budge. "I won't give them to you," she declared firmly.

Prithvi's persistence was met with Padma's firm refusal, her declaration echoing through the tense silence that hung in the air.

Understanding the futility of further requests, Prithvi reluctantly retreated from the kitchen, seemingly conceding defeat.

But Padma's assumption of victory was short-lived as Prithvi soon reappeared, a determined resolve etched on his face.

In his hands, he wielded a long, heavy rod, its blunt end a stark testament to his intent to break the lock.

Realizing Prithvi's unwavering determination, Padma swiftly positioned herself in front of the door, obstructing his path with an unwavering resolve of her own.

The stage was set for a confrontation between the two, each determined to uphold their own convictions.

"Dadi, move away," Prithvi commanded, his voice firm with determination. Each word carried the weight of his resolve, echoing in the tense atmosphere of the kitchen.

"I won't move," Padma retorted defiantly, her stance unwavering despite Prithvi's insistence. Her eyes glinted with stubbornness as she stood her ground, refusing to yield to Prithvi's demands.

"Dadi, I am not here to listen to any of this nonsense, move aside," Prithvi insisted, his tone unwavering. He locked eyes with Padma, his gaze piercing through her defiance, urging her to relent.

"Agar tujhe jana hai toh mere laash se gujarna padega," Padma shouted, her voice filled with determination. Her words carried a chilling warning, a stark reminder of the consequences of defying her.

( If you want to go, you'll have to pass over my dead body.)

As the heated exchange unfolded, Kusum arrived on the scene, her presence adding a sense of urgency to the confrontation.

She watched with concern, realizing the gravity of the situation unfolding before her.

"As I respect you, Dadi, please move aside," Prithvi appealed, his voice laced with respect.

Despite the tension in the air, he remained composed, seeking a peaceful resolution to the standoff.

"I will no..." Before Padma could finish her refusal, Prithvi, not with force but with resolve, gently pushed her aside.

With a single decisive blow, he shattered the lock with the rod, breaking through the barrier that had stood between Tara and freedom.

The sound of metal against metal echoed through the kitchen,maybe signaling the end of Padma's control over Tara's fate.

As Prithvi entered the kitchen, his heart sank at the sight of Tara lying unconscious, her hand badly burned from Padma's cruel punishment. Without a moment's hesitation, he rushed to her side, gently lifting her fragile form into his arms.

Tara's body felt limp and fragile against his, her shallow breaths a stark reminder of the pain she had endured.

With determination etched into every line of his face, Prithvi carried Tara out of the suffocating confines of the kitchen, his steps purposeful and resolute.

Kusum followed closely behind, her eyes filled with worry and compassion for Tara.

Meanwhile, Padma remained rooted to the spot, her gaze fixed on the retreating figures of Prithvi and Tara. Anger and frustration boiled within her, mingling with a sense of humiliation at being thwarted by Prithvi's defiance.

Despite her outward composure, Padma's heart burned with resentment, knowing that her authority had been challenged and overruled by Prithvi's unwavering determination to protect Tara.

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As the evening sun cast its golden hues across the room, the midwife arrived to tend to Tara's injuries.

With practiced hands, she administered treatment to Tara's burned hand and ensured that she was stable before taking her leave.

Despite the midwife's efforts, Tara remained unconscious, her delicate features serene in repose. Prithvi sat vigilantly by her side, his gaze never wavering from her face.

Tenderly, he changed the damp cloths on her forehead, soothing her fevered brow with gentle caresses.

The room was filled with a palpable sense of worry and concern, as Prithvi waited anxiously for any sign of improvement in Tara's condition.

In the quiet of the evening, he remained steadfast in his determination to care for her.

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As Prithvi tenderly cared for Tara, a sudden knock at the door shattered the peace. "We caught them, Thakur sahab," the visitor announced urgently.

Prithvi nodded in acknowledgment, then turned to Kusum, instructing her to remain with Tara.

With a determined stride, he left the room and entered a larger space, where a fatty man stood guard over a woman bound to a pillar.

Emerging from the shadows, Prithvi advanced, his grip tight on a whip, his eyes ablaze with resolve. Each step conveyed his unwavering determination to confront the situation head-on.

In the expansive chamber, the flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows on the stone walls. A portly man stood at the center, his bulk intimidating, while a woman, bound tightly to a sturdy pillar, awaited her fate with a mixture of fear and resignation.

Prithvi emerged from the darkness, his presence commanding attention as he strode purposefully towards the man, whip in hand. Every step he took echoed in the silence, punctuating the tension that hung heavy in the air. His eyes gleamed with determination, casting an ominous glint in the dim light.

As Prithvi closed the distance, the man's resolve visibly wavered. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, betraying his inner turmoil. Amidst the palpable fear, the woman's voice rose in a desperate plea, her words echoing off the stone walls.

"Thakur sahab, have mercy on my husband. I assure you, he won't repeat his mistake. Please, for God's sake, spare him."," she pleaded.

" How much did she gave you? "

Prithvi's inquiry pierced the air, demanding an answer from the man standing before him.

The man, taken aback by the directness of the question and the implication behind it, found himself momentarily speechless, his shock palpable as he realized that Prithvi had unraveled the mastermind behind the deceitful scheme.

In a desperate plea for forgiveness, the man threw himself at Prithvi's feet, his words filled with remorse and supplication.

"Maaf kar dijiye Thakur sahab, aap hamare maibap hai," he begged, acknowledging Prithvi's authority and seeking mercy from him.

(Please forgive me Thakur sahab, you are our guardian.)

But Prithvi's expression remained stoic as he raised the whip, ready to mete out justice for the betrayal.

With a swift and decisive motion, he brought the whip down, delivering a punishing blow to the man.

The crack of the whip echoed through the room, a stark reminder of the consequences of deceit and betrayal.

𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘭 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘕𝘢𝘷𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘪, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢.

𝘈𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘢𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦.

𝘜𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘧𝘶𝘭 "𝘈𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘦 𝘈𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘳 𝘚𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘣," 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦.

(𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘣).

𝘊𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘱𝘪𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘥, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘪𝘯𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦, "𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳? 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴?"

"𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘢, 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘳 𝘚𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘣. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳," 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥, 𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳.

𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥, "𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴. 𝘓𝘦𝘵'𝘴 𝘤𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘦. 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘮 𝘐 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦?"

𝘐𝘯 𝘢 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘥, "𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘯𝘦𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘪𝘵."

𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘹𝘦𝘥, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥, "𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵?"

"𝘐 𝘴𝘶𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘥," 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘦𝘥.

𝘐𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘥, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥, "𝘞𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴, 𝘙𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦. 𝘉𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴."

𝘈𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥, "𝘐 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩, 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘳 𝘚𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘣. 𝘔𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘔𝘢𝘩𝘢 𝘚𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘪 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯'𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳."

"𝘕𝘰, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘦! 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘺!" 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘷𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳.

"𝘖𝘬𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦'𝘴 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘙," 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘵.

𝘍𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘥. "𝘏𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘳 𝘚𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘣?"

"𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴," 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥.

"𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴? 𝘈𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳, 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘳 𝘚𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘣," 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯.

𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘹𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘥, 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘶𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘚𝘈𝘕𝘑𝘈𝘕𝘈.

Kusum gently clasped unconscious Tara's hands, her touch a mixture of comfort and concern, when Manvi suddenly burst into the room, her breath ragged and panicked.

Concern etched across her face, Kusum addressed her daughter, her voice laced with worry,

"What happened, Manvi? Is everything alright?"

With tears streaming down her cheeks, Manvi struggled to articulate her distress.

"Maa, Prithvi bhaiya..." Her voice faltered, overcome with emotion.

Fear gripped Kusum's heart as she grasped Manvi's shoulders, urging her to continue.

"What about Prithvi? Tell me, Manvi."

But Manvi remained silent, her inability to speak amplifying Kusum's anxiety. Desperation crept into Kusum's voice as she implored her daughter once more, "Manvi, please. What happened to Prithvi?"

And then, in a trembling whisper, Manvi uttered the words that shattered Kusum's world:

"Bhaiya locked himself in THAT ROOM again."

As the weight of Manvi's revelation settled over them, Kusum felt her world crumble.

Dread coiled in her chest, knowing the darkness that lurked within "that room" and the battle they would face to save Prithvi from its grasp.

As Kusum heard Manvi's words, her heart skipped a beat. The dread she had long buried resurfaced with a vengeance.

"Not again," she whispered, her voice barely audible amidst the chaos of emotions swirling within her.

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𝙏𝙊 𝘽𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙐𝙀𝘿......